You wouldn’t expect this to be such a joy, but for a perennial visitor of the Dunedin landfill, having your rubbish taken is a blessing not to be taken for granted.
And now, come July 2, we have bins, free bins for that matter! Hallelujah, we have been saved.
But have we really? Could the introduction of these bins be the first step in the rapid gentrification of our beloved studentville or is this the best thing that has happened to us since first-year fee’s free?
There’s something inherently contradictive about rubbish collection and the student experience. Any other flat chore is swell - but for some reason doing the rubbish repulses. Maybe it's because we feel crap doing it.
I mean, students are supposed to be saving the planet, so placing a brimming bin on the street would be a cardinal sin for any savvy environmentalist.
Yet, the rubbish stacks up, often sporadically depending on party plans and wealth levels, so we are forced to sort the rubbish out and place it on the streets in its hordes.
It’s probably no secret that for students, the DCC black bags just don’t work. We just have too much rubbish.
It is virtually impossible to catch up for the fact that rubbish production is so fast. This leads us to knock guiltily at the door of the Proctor who will supply any flat with an overflowing horde of rubbish with a trailer and a free ticket to the dump.
It was with sadness that I watched a trailer, filled with both rubbish and recycling drive off into the distance, taking with it not only my burdens but also a hefty chunk of my soul.
At one point I swear our flat was featured in an ODT montage of O-week carnage, a really low moment to be honest.
But now, salvation. The DCC’s planned changes to rubbish collection place the cost on landlords, a change that will likely be reflected in next year’s rent prices, but we’ll take it.
Additionally, regular service will be guaranteed, and most students’ rubbish levels will be manageable despite calls that 140l is not enough space.
Yet, like in politics, often one solution presents an onslaught of other problems. Let’s say the bins get instituted and hypothetically for a few years we have clean studentville streets.
All the while, people begin to think "Hey, North D has been looking quite nice recently I might capitalise by converting my crappy student flat into something a bit nicer." Instantanly, rent prices soar as well as property prices and the quality of homes.
One can only shudder in disgust thinking about how warm the flats will be. In the space of 10 years, students can’t afford to live in North Dunedin so have moved to Caversham, leaving a series of bourgeoise villas in their wake.
Like in Christchurch, the area surrounding campus would become a den for the upper-middle class. It would be an extremely beautiful, idyllic and peaceful place, so basically the apocalypse.
In that sense, I think there’s something immensely important in studentville clinging to its label.
Chaos breeds culture and experience.
The disappointment I had from missing collection every day last year was always accompanied by a subtle sense of "I’ll get you next week, cheeky bugger". The cat and mouse game we played, which was largely in my own head, was absolutely thrilling.
There’s something joyous in toughing it out, living in harsh conditions for the endorphin rush that such pain entails.
If things get too nice, students may be pushed out of the flats which, though usually average in quality and cleanliness, are packed with the history and character which only we can bring.
In this sense I think there is a smattering of danger in the July 1 changes to Dunedin’s rubbish collection system. Isolated, it’s a great measure for students to employ so things don’t get out of hand.
But proceed with caution. Next thing you know, studentville could be no longer .
We love our rubbish filled slice of city and I’d like to think it loves us. Let’s (mostly) keep it that way.
- Hugh Askerud is a 20-year-old local resident and student at the University of Otago, majoring in politics and religious studies
