Stinking filth: The political economy of scavenging
In late January 2006, the sewer ran over. Our well-heeled street in Chennai pulsated with excreted lava. A work crew arrived to lift the manholes and break the pavement. By mid-morning, they had put pipes into the sewer and had begun pumping out as much of the sludge as possible. The smell overpowered everyone. Then a few of the men and women put plastic bags over their hair, lifted up their lungis and saris, and descended into the sewer.
They stood in the black treacle of shit, piss and other assorted matter, using bamboo sticks as oars to move the sewage around, and then buckets to pass it out to be deposited on the street. A little later, they left the holes to wash their feet and hands with water from a white plastic container. One man gave me a big smile and said, "dirty," in. English.

