My Daily Dives in the Dumpster

I view my personal space in the context of “My Daily Dives in the Dumpster” by Eighner. Just like Eighner views the society as wasteful, I too hold the same view (Eighner, para. 4). This is based on the fact that, I passed through almost the same problems that the author encountered. This paper, therefore, relates to Eighners essay “My Daily Dives in the Dumpster” but specifically draws up my personal experience with regard to the situation I faced.

At times, people are forced to do things they have never thought of in their lives. Just like Eighner spend his days diving in the Dumpster. In my teenage years when my parents estranged and eventually my father died, I had a rough time fending for myself. Luckily, I managed to trace my uncle’s place, the home of a man who we had always shared a lot every time we met. To my surprise, he looked unwelcoming. That same day, he drove me to my grandmother’s place, the place I would call home at least for sometime.

The real thing is that, my grandmother was always sickly and could not manage to support anyone. With this, I had to learn some survival tricks; I took a small tin and landed on the street as a beggar. On lucky days, I managed to secure a few coins and other days, I spent counting the quantity of food that goes to waste when people who need it are just nearby. Like one day, as I took my space in the street to eke a living, one lady come by, unfortunately her hotdog dropped. Instead of living it for me to pick, she stepped on and crushed it into paste, I lamented. In the words of Eighner, “when someone first becomes a scrounger, he is ashamed of himself for having to go through the garbage of someone else. Eighner then puts it that the initial stage will pass over as the scrounger gets familiarized to what they are turning into. Eighner notes, in the second stage, that the scrounger will understand that, “perfectly good stuff is thrown away (Hannosh, para. 2)”. He as well admits that “perfectly good” food can be found in dumpsters and which can be eaten.

Everywhere I tried to go, I still found myself coming back on the street. Begging had become part of me that I had even drafted the time table. The funny thing is that, shop owners and even hotel owners who used to help me seemed to have reached their end points. One morning as I was doing my patrols, I heard one of the workers murmur behind me, “I am fed up seeing this guy walk around this place everyday”. All in all, I must admit that with caretakers live is always better, but on the street, the end of one thing marks the beginning of another.