The Blue Monkey Review

But, trash is a problem all over the country. Scrupulous about their personal appearance and about the cleanliness in their homes and shops, Montenegrins seemingly have little care for their public spaces. Littering seems to hold no social stigma. I remember pulling into a roadside turnout in Greece (probably because we were lost and needed to study the map) and noting that all of the visible trash seemed to be inside the trash receptacles. A similar turnout on the mountain road to Cetinje had no receptacle at all and trash was everywhere. In Niksic the dumpsters line major streets rather than being tucked away in parking lots. When they fill up the people in the apartment blocs leave the shopping bags full of garbage all around the dumpster. Even though the garbage crews clean these up when they collect trash, some remains and accumulates. (It is fairly common to see fires set inside the dumpsters to take care of trash that has yet to be collected.) The snow that covered my temporary home town for most of February gave me an impression of clean streets. With the spring thaw, that impression is also melting away.

So, faced with this clear problem, the three of us conducted an impromptu seminar as we finished our cappuccinos. On one level, the problem has an economic element. Montenegro has few resources to spare on trash collection. Maybe the dumpsters along the main roads in Niksic are a beacon of hope. They are much smaller than dumpsters in the U.S., and the garbage trucks here are smaller, too. But I wonder if those dumpsters represent an effort to get Montenegro to clean up its act, or rather, its streets. They are made in Greece, and they all look about the same age, i.e., fairly new. And lately I’ve noticed that some of the garbage trucks carry the European Union symbol. Maybe outside funding has moved into the country to help meet this problem.

There is also the level of social control. For instance, Cindy and I both remember “keep America clean” campaigns from our youths (which were decades apart). “Give a hoot, don’t pollute” she quotes from one such campaign. Plus, she tells Bernard, you get fined in the U.S. for littering. But even social control depends on cultural factors. Cindy talks about the impression that her teachers made on her when they discussed littering and recycling at school. Bernard responds that they have programs like that in Unlcinj, “but when the children tell their parents they laugh at them.” Montenegrins have inherited attitudes that prevailed during Communist rule. They tend to see government as both corrupt and incompetent. Even though Montenegrins recognize the advantages of membership in the E.U., they don’t take kindly to initiatives from the Union or from NGOs that try to change practices here (E.U. efforts to establish gun control here meet with about the same response that they would in Pennsylvania, though probably without the violence that would ensue in the Commonwealth). But garbage, in particular, seems to suffer from cultural marginalization. The clearest sign of this is that garbage crews are overwhelmingly made up of Roma. If a non-Roma is in the crew, he will be the truck driver.

It strikes me that Montenegrins have to embrace the change in practice (and the change of culture it implies) or lose some part of their country. I’ve described the coast, so readers will know that this tiny country offers some stunning scenery and attractive destinations for tourists. But the country has far more than a remarkable coastline. When I first saw Lake Skadar from my seat in a bus I almost jumped off my seat. The mountains that cover most of the country offer hiking, skiing, and probably every other outdoor activity imaginable. But western tourists won’t put up with litter. If Montenegrin’s don’t clean it up, then parts of their heritage will be lost as outsiders realize the wealth to be reaped from the world’s largest industry.