Life in the diaspora: Recycling and waste disposal – the environmental culture shock for Nigerians in the UK
By Mary Opii
One of the most surprising adjustments Nigerians face when moving to the United Kingdom is the seriousness with which waste disposal and recycling are treated. Back home, refuse disposal is often straightforward, one bin for everything, collected by the waste truck or burnt in a corner of the compound. But in the UK, waste management is an organised system with rules, routines, colours, and schedules that can leave newcomers confused and overwhelmed at first.
Almost immediately after settling, you begin to notice bins, many bins. Black bins, blue bins, green bins, brown bins, and sometimes food caddies for leftovers. Each bin has a specific purpose, and mixing items is strongly discouraged. The council even leaves leaflets explaining what belongs where, and occasionally checks the bins to make sure residents are following the rules. For us Nigerians, used to a simpler system, this level of structure feels like a university course on rubbish.
You also learn that in the UK, recycling is not optional; it is a civic duty. Paper, plastic, glass, and metal often have designated containers. Food waste may have its own small bin. Even garden waste must be separated, if you have a garden. Some councils refuse to collect bins that have been “contaminated” with the wrong items. The first time this happens, many Nigerians panic, wondering what to do with a full bin that has been left behind with a warning sticker attached.
The schedules are another adjustment. Council waste collections happen weekly or fortnightly, and missing a collection can create chaos, especially in winter when rubbish builds up faster. Nigerians quickly adopt the habit of setting reminders or joining neighbourhood WhatsApp groups where someone always posts, “Blue bin day tomorrow!”
The environmental consciousness also extends to shops and public places. Supermarkets charge for plastic bags, encouraging customers to bring reusable ones. Recycling points appear in shopping centres, parks, and train stations. At first, Nigerians ask, “Why all this stress?” But with time, the purpose becomes clear. The UK’s commitment to reducing waste is not just a policy, it is a cultural value that influences daily behaviour.
One of the funniest diaspora experiences is learning what cannot be flushed down the toilet. In Nigeria, people flush tissues, wipes, cotton buds, and sometimes even items they shouldn’t. But in the UK, plumbers warn against flushing anything other than toilet tissue. The fear of blocking pipes in your rented apartment becomes very real when you realise repairs might cost hundreds of pounds and could be charged to you.
Living in flats comes with its own rules. Landlords outline clear bin expectations in tenancy agreements. Some flats have communal bin areas with strict opening and closing times. Cameras are sometimes installed to prevent illegal dumping. Nigerians learn to follow the procedures because the consequences; fines, warnings, and annoyed neighbours, are not pleasant.
Over time, however, something shifts. What once felt stressful becomes routine. Recycling becomes second nature. You begin to appreciate how clean the streets remain because of these strict rules. You even start educating new arrivals: “No, don’t put that food in the recycling bin; it goes in the brown one.”
And perhaps the biggest surprise is that this environmental discipline begins to influence how you see waste management globally. You recognise the importance of sustainability and the benefits of organised waste disposal. You start wishing Nigeria could adopt similar practices for the sake of cleanliness and health.
The recycling journey may begin with confusion, but it ends with responsibility. Through it, Nigerians in the diaspora learn not just how to manage waste in a new country, but also how small habits contribute to the wellbeing of an entire community.
