I was about 10 years old on a camping trip with my dad in the Adirondack Mountains, a wilderness area in the northern part of New York State. It was a beautiful day. The forest was sparkling. The sun made the leaves glow like stained glass, and if it weren't for the path we were following, we could almost pretend we were the first human beings to ever walk that land.
Isha rreth 10 vjeç në një udhëtim kampingu me babain tim në malet Adirondack, një vend i shkret në pjesën veriore të shtetit të New Yorkut. Ishte një ditë shumë e bukur. Pylli shkëlqente. Dielli i bënte gjethet të ndriçonin si xham i veshur, dhe nëse nuk do ishim duke ndjekur shtegun mund të pretendonim se ne ishim njerëzit e parë që po ecnin në atë tokë.
We got to our campsite. It was a lean-to on a bluff looking over a crystal, beautiful lake, when I discovered a horror. Behind the lean-to was a dump, maybe 40 feet square with rotting apple cores and balled-up aluminum foil, and a dead sneaker. And I was astonished, I was very angry, and I was deeply confused. The campers who were too lazy to take out what they had brought in, who did they think would clean up after them?
Arritem në vendin e kampit. Ishte një vend i pjerrët me pamje të një liqeni të kristaltë e të bukur, kur zbulova diçka të neveritëshme. Mbapa kasolles ndodhej nje pirg mbase 4 metra katror me mollë të ngrëna të kalbura dhe shuka letre alumini, dhe një këpucë atletike të çarë. U befasova, isha shumë e inatosur dhe shume e hutuar njekohesisht. Kampistët ishin shumë dembelë që të mblidhnin ato çka kishin sjellë me vete, kush mendonin se do i pastronte ato pas atyre?
That question stayed with me, and it simplified a little. Who cleans up after us? However you configure or wherever you place the us, who cleans up after us in Istanbul? Who cleans up after us in Rio or in Paris or in London? Here in New York, the Department of Sanitation cleans up after us, to the tune of 11,000 tons of garbage and 2,000 tons of recyclables every day. I wanted to get to know them as individuals. I wanted to understand who takes the job. What's it like to wear the uniform and bear that burden?
Ajo pyetje qëndroi me mua dhe u thjeshtësua disi. Kush pastron pas nesh? Si do që ta mendoni ose kudo që ta vendosni "ne", kush pastron pas nesh në Stamboll? Kush pastron pas nesh ne Rio de Zhanerio ose në Paris apo Londër? Këtu në Nju Jork, departamenti i higjënes pastron pas nesh, një sasi prej 11.000 ton mbeturinash dhe 2.000 ton mbeturina riciklueshme në ditë. Doja ti njiha ata si individe. Doja të kuptoja kush e bën këtë punë. Çdo të thotë të veshësh atë uniformë dhe të mbartësh atë barrë?
So I started a research project with them. I rode in the trucks and walked the routes and interviewed people in offices and facilities all over the city, and I learned a lot, but I was still an outsider. I needed to go deeper.
Kështu fillova një projekt kërkimi me ata. Vajta te kamionet dhe eca nëpër rrugë duke intervistuar njerëz nëpër zyra dhe objekte nëpër gjithë qytetin, dhe mësova shumë, por ende isha nje e jashtme. Me duhej te futesha më thellë.
So I took the job as a sanitation worker. I didn't just ride in the trucks now. I drove the trucks. And I operated the mechanical brooms and I plowed the snow. It was a remarkable privilege and an amazing education.
Keshtu pranova nje punë si punonjëse higjene. Nuk shkoja thjesht tek kamionët, tashmë i ngisja vetë kamionët. Ngisja fshesat mekanike dhe pastrueset e dëborës. Ishte nje privilegj i mrekullueshëm dhe një edukim i veçante.
Everyone asks about the smell. It's there, but it's not as prevalent as you think, and on days when it is really bad, you get used to it rather quickly. The weight takes a long time to get used to. I knew people who were several years on the job whose bodies were still adjusting to the burden of bearing on your body tons of trash every week.
Të gjithë pyesin per erërat. Era e keqe ndihet, por nuk është aq e fortë sa mendoni, dhe në ditët që është vërtet e keqe, mësohesh me të, shume shpejt. Per peshën duhet më shumë kohë për tu mësuar. Njoh njerez te cilet ishin me vite ne ate pune trupat e te cileve ishin ende ne pershtatje me barren e mbartjes ne trupin tend tonalitet e mbeturinave çdo jave.
Then there's the danger. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, sanitation work is one of the 10 most dangerous occupations in the country, and I learned why. You're in and out of traffic all day, and it's zooming around you. It just wants to get past you, so it's often the motorist is not paying attention. That's really bad for the worker. And then the garbage itself is full of hazards that often fly back out of the truck and do terrible harm.
Me pas eshte rreziku. Sipas zyres se statistikave te punes, puna e higjenes eshte njera nga 10 me te rrezikshmet profesionet ne vend, dhe e mesova pse-ne. Je gjithe diten brenda dhe jashte trafikut, cdo gje bucet rreth teje. Ajo do thjesht te kalluar nga ty, dhe ndodh shpesh qe motoristi mos te kete kujdes. Kjo eshte shume e keqe per punetorin. Edhe mbetjet jane plot me rreziqe te cilat shpesh fluturojne jashte kamionit dhe bejne nje dem shume te madh.
I also learned about the relentlessness of trash. When you step off the curb and you see a city from behind a truck, you come to understand that trash is like a force of nature unto itself. It never stops coming. It's also like a form of respiration or circulation. It must always be in motion.
Gjithashtu mesova se sa te pameshirshme jane mbetjet. Kur zbret nga trotuari dhe e sheh qytetin nga nje kamion arrin te kuptosh se mbetja eshte nje force e natyres ne vetvete. Ajo nuk ndalon kurre se ardhuri. Eshte edhe si nje form frymemarrjeje ose qarkullimi. Duhet gjithmone te jete ne levizje.
And then there's the stigma. You put on the uniform, and you become invisible until someone is upset with you for whatever reason like you've blocked traffic with your truck, or you're taking a break too close to their home, or you're drinking coffee in their diner, and they will come and scorn you, and tell you that they don't want you anywhere near them. I find the stigma especially ironic, because I strongly believe that sanitation workers are the most important labor force on the streets of the city, for three reasons. They are the first guardians of public health. If they're not taking away trash efficiently and effectively every day, it starts to spill out of its containments, and the dangers inherent to it threaten us in very real ways. Diseases we've had in check for decades and centuries burst forth again and start to harm us. The economy needs them. If we can't throw out the old stuff, we have no room for the new stuff, so then the engines of the economy start to sputter when consumption is compromised. I'm not advocating capitalism, I'm just pointing out their relationship. And then there's what I call our average, necessary quotidian velocity. By that I simply mean how fast we're used to moving in the contemporary day and age. We usually don't care for, repair, clean, carry around our coffee cup, our shopping bag, our bottle of water. We use them, we throw them out, we forget about them, because we know there's a workforce on the other side that's going to take it all away.
Kemi edhe turpin. Ti vesh uniformen dhe behesh i padukshem deri sa dikush te nxehet me ty per cilen do aryse si per shembull ke bllokuar trafikun me kamionin tend, ose po ben nje ndalese shume afer shtepise tyre, ose je duke pire nje kafe ne restorantin e tyre, dhe do vine te te perbuzin dhe te thone se nuk te duan afer tyre. Mua turpi me duket disi ironik, sepse mendoj fuqishem se puntoret e pastrimit jane forca me e rendesishme puntore ne rruget e qytetit per tre arsye. Ata jane rojet e pare te higjenes publike. Nese ata nuk i largojne mbetjet ne menyre efikase dhe efektive cdo dite, ato fillojne te perhapin permbajtjet e tyre, dhe rreziku nga ato fillon te na kecenoj ne menyra shume reale. Semundje qe ne i kemi ne kontroll per dekada dhe shekuj shperthejne dhe nisin te na demtojne. Ekonomia ka nevoje per ta. Nese nuk mundemi te flakim gjerat e vjetra nuk kemi vend per te rejat, dhe atehere motorrat e ekonomise nisin te zhurmojne kur konsumi eshte i kompromentuar. Nuk po mbroj kapitalizmin, thjesht po theksoj lidhjen e tyre. Dhe me pas vjen ajo qe une e quaj mesatarja jone, shpejtesia e perditshme e nevojitur. Me kete thjesht nenkuptoj se sa shpejt jemi mesuar te levizim ne ditet dhe kohen bashkekohore. Ne zakonisht nuk na intereson riparimi, pastrimi, mbajtja e kupes se kafes, e qeseve se blerjeve, shishen e ujit. Ne i perdorim ato, i flakim, i harrojme ato sepse dime qe eshte nje force pune ne anen tjeter qe do i largoje ato.
So I want to suggest today a couple of ways to think about sanitation that will perhaps help ameliorate the stigma and bring them into this conversation of how to craft a city that is sustainable and humane. Their work, I think, is kind of liturgical. They're on the streets every day, rhythmically. They wear a uniform in many cities. You know when to expect them. And their work lets us do our work. They are almost a form of reassurance. The flow that they maintain keeps us safe from ourselves, from our own dross, our cast-offs, and that flow must be maintained always no matter what.
Pra dua sot te sugjeroj disa menyra per te menduar per pastrimin qe mbase do ndihmojne per te permiresuar tuprin dhe ti sjellim ne kete bisede se si te artizanojme nje qytet i cili eshte i qendrueshem dhe njerezor. Puna e tyre mendoj se eshte nje lloj liturgjiku. Ata jane ne rruge cdo dite, ritmikisht. Veshin uniforma ne shume qytete. Ti di kur ti presesh. Dhe puna e tyre na lejon te bejme punen tone. Jan si nje form sigurimi. Rrjedha qe ata permbajne na mban ne te siguruar nga ne vete, nga zgjyrat tona, nga braktisjet tona, dhe ajo rrjedhe duhet te mirembahet gjithmone pa marre parasysh cfare.
On the day after September 11 in 2001, I heard the growl of a sanitation truck on the street, and I grabbed my infant son and I ran downstairs and there was a man doing his paper recycling route like he did every Wednesday. And I tried to thank him for doing his work on that day of all days, but I started to cry. And he looked at me, and he just nodded, and he said, "We're going to be okay. We're going to be okay." It was a little while later that I started my research with sanitation, and I met that man again. His name is Paulie, and we worked together many times, and we became good friends.
Diten pas 11 Shtatorit ne 2001, degjova hungerimen e nje kamion patsrimi ne rruge, kapa djalin tim foshnje dhe vrapova ne katin e poshtem dhe aty ishte nje burre i cili bente itinerarin e riciklimit te letres sikurse bente cdo te Merkure. U perpoqa ta falenderoja ate per punen qe bente ate dite nga te gjitha ditet, por fillova te qaja. Ai me veshtroi, dhe ai thjesht tundi koken, dhe tha, "Do jemi mire. Do ja dalim mire." Ishte pak me vone qe une nisa kerkimet e mia mbi pastrimin, dhe e takova ate burre perseri. Ai quhet Paulie, dhe punuam bashke shume here, dhe u miq te mire.
I want to believe that Paulie was right. We are going to be okay. But in our effort to reconfigure how we as a species exist on this planet, we must include and take account of all the costs, including the very real human cost of the labor. And we also would be well informed to reach out to the people who do that work and get their expertise on how do we think about, how do we create systems around sustainability that perhaps take us from curbside recycling, which is a remarkable success across 40 years, across the United States and countries around the world, and lift us up to a broader horizon where we're looking at other forms of waste that could be lessened from manufacturing and industrial sources. Municipal waste, what we think of when we talk about garbage, accounts for three percent of the nation's waste stream. It's a remarkable statistic.
Dua te besoj se Paulie kishte te drejte. Ne do jemi mire. Por ne perpjekjen tone per te rikonfiguruar se si ne si specie ekzistojme ne kete planet, duhet te perfshijme dhe te marim ne konsidearate te gjitha cmimet, duke perfshire cmimin shume real njerezor te punes. Gjithashtu do ishim te mire informuar per tu afruar tek ata njerez qe e bejne ate pune dhe te marim njohurite e tyre ne menyren se si mendojme, si krijojme sistemet mbi qendrueshmerine e cila mbase na merr nga riciklimi i buze trotuarit i cili eshte nje sukses shenues keto 40 vite, ne Shtetet e Bashkuara dhe ne shtete te tjera te botes, dhe na ngre ne nje horizont me te gjere ku ne mund te shohim forma te ndryshme te mbetjeve qe mund te pakesohen nga burime prodhimi dhe industriale. Mbetje urbane, cfare mendojme kur ne flasim per plehrat, llogaritet per tre perqind te derdhjes se mbetjeve te kombit. Eshte nje statistike e shenueshme.
So in the flow of your days, in the flow of your lives, next time you see someone whose job is to clean up after you, take a moment to acknowledge them. Take a moment to say thank you.
Pra ne rrjedhen e dites tuaj, ne rrjedhen e jetes tuaj, heres tjeter qe do shihni se puna kujt eshte te kujdeset per pastrimin tuaj, merni nje moment per ti mirenjohur ata. Merni nje moment per te thene faleminderit.
(Applause)
(Duartorkitje)