A culture of waste

My dear Billy, The Mauritian propensity for wasting keeps breaking its own record year after year and is soon to be registered in the Guinness Book in words of gold. Each day that goes by finds itself enriched by a tremendous wealth of items that are thrust down the drain.

Everything departs –food, water, clothes, appliances, ideas, intentions, manners…just name it. And all are still perfectly serviceable but thrown away nevertheless.

We have developed the waste culture and every single member of the Mauritian society does his best at all moments of his precious life to contribute to the national waste heritage so that it is consolidated and bequeathed as a rich legacy to coming generations.

Go to any decent Mauritian home, my dear Billy, which is the cradle of civilization, and where the brave citizens of this country are fabricated. It’s sheer ecstatic delight to see the amount of wastage that is actively practised on the premises.

Even in the dry days of dire drought, some diehard patriots won’t think twice to forget put the irrigating, often irritating, sprinkler on and allow it to continue watering the flower plants and shrubs endlessly in the garden. Water is allowed to flow freely without let or hindrance in the basin while the whole family brush their teeth.

All the lights are on and for one split second, you wonder whether it’s Divali, and start rejoicing at the unlikely prospect of being offered some Divali sweets. The lady of the house, Mrs. Spendthrift, is watching her favourite serial on the kitchen Tv while preparing the family dinner; her fourteen-year-old daughter is also watching the very same serial on the Tv in her room. Her sixteen-year-old son has his ears plugged with earphones connected to his mobile while the hi-fi in his room is blaring out the latest Bollywood trash. He is busy doing his homework, but of course, this cannot prevent him from casting a glance at the Tv from time to time.

A radio set in a room somewhere is also broadcasting music of some sort but nobody is really listening. The father is in front of the Tv in the drawing room. Some documentary is on, but he is more concentrated on the newspaper and his Black Label which his colleague bought duty-free for him. As usual, all the fans are on in all the rooms, whether there’s anybody or not.

Suddenly their nephew and his family barge in from nowhere, with their two little kids. The younger one, a boy of two plus, is holding a king-size packet of Twisties which he elegantly spills all over the kitchen floor. His sister, who is two years older, carries a packet of Smarties in one hand and a small Kit-Kat in the other.

Mrs. Spenthrift immediately plunges headlong in the fridge and recuperates a plastic bag of prefabricated fish samossas which she deep-fries and serves the guests in a matter of minutes. But her nephew is fasting on that day and doesn’t take non-veg, while his wife is on a slimming course. Only Mr. Spendthrift tastes one. The rest of the samossas are destined for the garbage bin, much to the delight of the rats, cockroaches and other famished creatures.

The scene in the Spendthrift household is lived daily in thousands of other Mauritian families, nurtured on the culture of waste. They constitute the brave new generation of the wasteland who have had the pluck, courage and determination to break away from the age-old, anachronistic, backward customs and traditions of their illiterate parents and grandparents.

They have had the merit to do away with the dreary, comfortless lives of the lives of their forebears who foolishly saved every cent they could and sacrificed everything for their children.

It is said that the amount of food that is thrown away everyday in households, restaurants, and such other places, could feed all the poor for a whole week. But why should we bother about the poor, my dear Billy? Can’t they fend for themselves? If some people are disposing of their surplus in whatever way pleases them, who are we to object or tell them what they should do? Are we living in a democracy? After all, isn’t it their money, black or white, well-earned or ill-gotten, that they are spending?

It is a heartening sign that the spirit of muda goes marching on and has even spread in the government services and other places. Fortunately, the recent call by the authorities to prevent, or at least reduce wastage, has mostly fallen on deaf ears. One shudders to think what would happen if everybody suddenly embarked upon a saving spree. How many prospering enterprises would have had no alternative but to close down? Very often, one encounters the sign, “Save energy.

Use the stairs to go up or down one or two levels” near the lifts. How preposterous! What a cheek! Why should we spend our energy to save theirs? If you look carefully, my dear Billy, you will find that God Himself is probably the greatest wastrel of all. Just see the number of precious lives He is wasting on so many worthless fellows