By Alex Ababio
In the early morning at the Dompoase landfill site in Kumasi, men, women, and children walk across mountains of garbage. Their eyes scan the heaps quickly. Their hands move fast—grabbing plastics, metals, bottles, and old electronics. These are Ghana’s waste pickers, also called scavengers, and they are the hidden workers of a growing but neglected economy.
Every day, they help clean Ghana’s cities by picking out items that can be recycled. They sell them to scrap dealers and middlemen for small money. Their work is dirty, risky, and often seen as illegal. But without them, the country’s waste crisis would be worse.
Living in Shame, Working in Danger
According to the Ministry of Sanitation and Water Resources, Ghana generates over 12,710 tonnes of solid waste every day. Out of that, more than 60% ends up in open landfills or on the streets. Waste pickers collect an estimated 20% of all recyclable materials, according to the Global Alliance of Waste Pickers. But their work is not officially recognized.
Many people look down on waste pickers. Some call them criminals or beggars. Others think they are just dirty and jobless. But most waste pickers say they are doing honest work.
“I’ve done this job for seven years,” says Adiza, a 32-year-old woman working at the Oti landfill. “People insult me, but I feed my children with this job. I collect plastic bottles and sometimes old copper wires. I earn GH¢40 to GH¢70 a day.”
But the job comes with danger. Waste pickers face cuts, infections, and smoke from burning trash. They have no gloves, no boots, and no safety masks. Many children work beside adults, breathing in toxic air.
At Agbogbloshie in Accra—once labeled one of the world’s most toxic places—waste pickers burn cables to get copper. The process releases deadly chemicals into the air. A study by Pure Earth and GAHP in 2021 showed that lead exposure from such waste processing affects thousands of children in Ghana.
The Silent Economy Nobody Talks About
Waste picking is part of Ghana’s informal economy, which employs about 85% of the working population, according to the Ghana Statistical Service. Yet waste pickers are rarely counted in official data. Most are not registered with any association, and they pay no taxes or pension contributions.
Still, their work feeds into a large recycling chain. The plastics, metals, and electronics they gather are sold to dealers who then supply recycling companies in Kumasi, Accra, and even abroad. In 2023, Ghana exported over $10 million worth of scrap metal, according to the Ghana Export Promotion Authority.
But the people at the bottom—the pickers—see very little of that money.
“This work is hard. But if the government helps us with machines, we can do better,” says Kwaku Boateng, a waste picker in Asokwa. “Sometimes we find old phones and batteries. People buy them. But we don’t have safety tools, so we suffer.”
Experts Call for Policy Change
Environmental experts and NGOs are now pushing for waste pickers to be protected and recognized. One of them is Green Africa Youth Organization (GAYO), which has trained some pickers in safe recycling practices.
“These workers are doing the job that formal waste systems are failing to do,” says Dr. Rita Armah, an environmental scientist at KNUST. “We must stop treating them like criminals. With training and support, they can be part of a national recycling solution.”
In 2022, the Ministry of Environment launched the “Ghana National Plastic Action Partnership” to reduce plastic pollution. But so far, waste pickers have not been included in any national recycling plan.
The Social Welfare Department in Kumasi admits that more needs to be done. “We know about these informal workers,” said one official who asked not to be named. “But we need better data, funding, and public education to address their needs.”
Beyond Survival—Towards Dignity
Many waste pickers say they want change—not pity. They want respect, fair prices for their recyclables, and a safer work environment. Some have even started small cooperatives to bargain better prices from scrap dealers.
At the Oti landfill, Adiza shows her small shed where she stores plastic bottles. “If we had better tools and uniforms, people would respect us more,” she says. “This is work. This is not stealing.”
Children in dirty clothes walk behind her, helping to tie plastic sacks. They are part of the next generation of waste pickers—unless the system changes.
The hidden economy of Ghana’s waste pickers is not just about trash. It is about survival, resilience, and dignity in the face of rejection. And it is time the country sees them not as a shame, but as silent environmental heroes.