By Ejiro Gray
They called it “Shoreline Gyrations”, cool name for a wild party, right? But to me, it was Club Plastic all the way. Swirls of forgotten fishing lines and fragments of old fishing nets, bottle caps, glitter, and me, particle of what used to be packaging foam, turned free spirit. But it’s not just me in that category, we are quite a number.
In a sense, “Monozygotic” is a word that could be used to describe us. Shards from one source, flung and scattered as far as the wind blows. But we still try to keep in touch, drawing on currents to bring us back together. You see, the more consolidated we are, the more powerful. But I digress. Back to the party, I swirl through currents like dance floors, vibing through plankton like a disco queen.
DJ Shrimp the Simp was on top of his game, spinning and guzzling us down with all the grace of a football player at the water stand at half-time. Next thing I know, we’re slurped up by a slick catfish which ends up on an open-fire grill with a side of roasted yam and plantain at aroadside joint downtown. The gourmand paired it with cold beer. A fine pairing, I must say. You see, we didn’t just crash the food chain, we headlined it.
My name is Polly Styrene and no, I’m not a parrot. Not even close. I’m a shard of plastic, no bigger than a sesame seed, one of many. But don’t be too quick to judge me by my size, some of my kin are even smaller, as small as a speck of sand. We’re brimming with confidence and ambition. Besides, like ants, teamwork makes the dream work, we know that only too well. We are scattered and reincarnated in the most unexpected of places. Yes! Unashamedly, my kin and I have been around and boy, do we have stories to tell!
“I have a Gut Feeling”
If I’m honest, the human digestive tract was never on my bucket list. I mean, what’s desirable about hanging out in a dingy wet alley? But, once I got in, oh boy, the story changed. What a ride! The mouth, the oesophagus? A warm slippery slide. But the stomach—now that’s where magic really happens. Bolus rolling in, acidic bubbles, enzymes like confetti – pure chaos; pure bliss! You thought I’d dissolve in that avalanche of hydrochloric acid, right?
You couldn’t be more wrong. If there’s one thing about me, I am so resilient! The OG of ‘Never say Die’! By the time I reached the colon, I’d made friends with a few glitter specks, half a synthetic fibre, a piece of thread and some other stuff I hardly recognize. We formed a kind of squatters’ union. You know how difficult they are to evict, even protected by law. Cozy, dark, slightly gassy, but peaceful. No immune response, no alarm bells. Just me and my crew, making ourselves right at home where you least expect.
“Plastic in Pink”
It was warm. A bit too warm, more than I’m used to. And quiet. A kind of humming, liquid stillness, the kind found at the bottom of the sea. I was nestled deep in a bloody cocoon, surrounded by clustered grape-like projections, among new cells learning to be human. A placenta, they called it. But somehow, I knew I didn’t belong here. For the first time, I didn’t quite feel clever or proud. I could hear the mother humming lullabies. Her baby hiccupping from time to time. And there I was – tiny, sharp, and completely out of place. Like a glitch in a miracle. I almost felt bad. But before you roll your eyes, I said ‘Almost’. I’m still a baddie! Because then I remembered; I didn’t get in this far on my own. They brought me in.
“Breathe…“
It started with the gentle airflow from the Air Conditioner in the living room. One second,I’m floating unnoticeably by a lavender diffuser; the next, I’m deep in a woman’s inhale. Sheis seated on the brown Persian rug in the staff pose, hands upright with palms together, facing each other. Legs extended and apart, bent at the knees, heels touching. Her spine is kept straight, her body is held in a balanced, upright position. Eyes closed in meditation; she takes deep measured breaths before changing position. She doesn’t realize her clothes are also shedding my kith, the movements and static cling accentuating our efforts. I nestle into her airways with every inhale, a little more of me. Every exhale, none the wiser. “For breath is life, and if you breathe well, you will live long.” Breathe in tranquility. Breathe out irony.
“Pure Spring Memories”
I felt the dust rise from the ground like a blast of confetti and cover me as a blanket. Nearby, I could hear the honking of cars, pedestrians scramble in a frenzy, there was a sense of urgency everywhere. They were in a hurry to find shelter before the rain came pelting down. But we remained there, kind of floating around lazily, till there was a whirlwind. It came on the tail of the draft, sweeping us up. I enjoyed the moment, the sudden and gusty atmospheric shift. Windswept, I danced around, happily floating in the air till I was carried by rainstorms. Landing in surface water springing up from underground aquifers, I found my temporary abode. Within days, I was bottled, sealed into a larger sized relative. Promising purity and vitality, it was labelled “PURE NATURAL SPRING WATER.” I laughed all the way to theshelf. Nothing like a cold drink… with a sprinkle of me.
“Turf Wars on Sunrise Beach”
Some of my cousins haven’t been as lucky. It hasn’t all been fun and games for them. Take for instance when club plastic landed them on the Sunrise Beach in Dar es Salaam. Once part of a light frisbee left behind by a family during a vacation, they gradually fragmented into bits and specks hanging all around. It was all well and good whenever the crashing waves swept them in batches into the ocean, till sometimes, they’re swept back to the shoreline. If you think about it, it was a perfect arrangement. If they were lucky, they’d get attracted to some crustaceans in the sand and if not, they always had the option of returning to base through plankton. Well, at least until a group of persons made what was not their business, their business.
Imagine an entire army of people going after these helpless, hapless things. Whatever happened to the expression, “live and let live”? They visited the beach, but their actions went beyond relaxation. These ones, they were on a mission – to attack and displace us. They claim our type are harmful to the environment. Sigh! To make matters worse they didn’t even come alone, they came with others in tow, drawing on the strength of other warriors from the Sahara Group Foundation, Amani Foundation and Lady Fatimah Orphanage. They called themselves Saharians – Earth Guardians!
But that’s just Sunrise Beach. The truth is my family has inched their way into every crevice of human existence. We are interwoven into things they’d never even imagine – things like disposable face masks, pill packs, makeup, dental floss, synthetic fabric and even tea bags. Attimes like this, I question our supposed role in the downfall of ecosystems and physical wellbeing. They make it seem like we showed up out of nowhere. We were made by these same humans to last forever. Can we then be blamed for our existence? Is it our fault they didn’t think things through? Well, I remain hopeful, you know why? Humans forget fast. And their need for convenience? Eternal!
Postface
Microplastics are harmful to both human health and ecosystems. They contaminate and disrupt food chains on land and sea, while triggering various health problems including inflammation and chronic diseases. It also is a cause of oxidative stress, with potential harm to the nervous system and reproductive systems.
Shockingly, the average human consumes about 5 grams of microplastics every week. To put it in context, that’s about the weight of your bank debit card. That’s an estimated 52 debit cards a year! By substituting single-use plastics with reusable containers, filtering drinking water, and choosing natural fabrics over synthetic, we can limit these invisible intruders in our daily lives.
Ejiro Gray is Director of Governance and Sustainability at Sahara Group. She writes and speaks on ESG strategy, inclusive energy transition, and sustainability leadership in emerging markets, with a focus on Africa.
Credit: www.vanguardngr.com
