Morocco’s overlooked waste pickers building a cleaner, fairer future

By Malika Akestour

Before he could read, Yassine Mazouat knew the rhythm of the landfill, the grind of truck tires, the clatter of tossed metal, the quiet envy of children returning with pockets full of scrap. 

Born in Akrach, a slum edging Rabat, he was not allowed near the dump like the other kids.

“Since childhood, I was curious and eager to explore the dump, but I couldn’t find a way to do so,” he said.

“My mother never allowed me to go with the neighborhood kids. Those kids would bring back toys and money from selling the materials they found, and I always envied them for that.”

Yassine’s mother encouraged him to focus on his education. But everything changed with his father’s death, and survival overruled his mother’s warnings. At 15, he joined the ranks of Morocco’s informal waste pickers, not realizing he would lead many of them one day.

“I was forced to work and study at the same time to meet my needs and support my family,” he said. “I became the one who hated going there… I finally understood why my mother was so protective.”

Unprotected and stigmatized

Across Morocco, tens of thousands of people scrape by on the margins, sorting through garbage for survival. Informal waste pickers, many of them women and children, are essential to the country’s recycling system, yet they remain legally invisible, unprotected, and stigmatized.

Estimates of their numbers vary wildly, from 7,000 to 34,000, with nearly 10 per cent of them children. For many, work begins at dawn and ends in landfills, where open fires, toxic fumes, and hazardous materials are routine. Health care, social insurance, and basic labour protections are out of reach.

In 2024, Morocco generated around 7.4 million tons of household and similar waste, yet less than 5 per cent was recycled or recovered, and 80 per cent of the country’s citizens still do not sort their trash.

Mazouat has seen the horrors of being a waste picker and decided to make it his life’s mission to bring “justice and decency” to the Moroccans in his profession.

Despite the financial challenges and thanks to his mother’s support, he pursued his studies while working. What followed was not just a rise from poverty, but a radical reimagining of what waste can become and those who live off it.

Today, he leads Attawafouk, Morocco’s first formal cooperative of waste pickers, formed in 2010. The cooperative manages over 600 tons of household waste daily and generates nearly $1 million in annual revenue.

Through unionization and legal recognition, the cooperative has transformed the lives of its 151 members, including 27 women, by offering contracts, monthly wages, social insurance, and health benefits. Workers now wear protective gear, receive regular medical check-ups, and are vaccinated against tetanus and hepatitis B. Bank accounts and stable incomes have replaced cash handouts, reducing workplace risks and financial precarity.

“The main challenge was unifying the visions of waste pickers, who had lived disorganized, individual lives under psychological and social stress,” he said. “The lack of financial resources was also one of the biggest hurdles we faced. Without funding, turning the vision of a cooperative into reality required persistence, creativity, and the trust of everyone in the team.”

The cooperative and its work

Attawafouk Cooperative emerged from launching the National Program for Household Waste Management, a government waste management program, in 2008. 

One of the program’s key objectives was to shut down informal, uncontrolled landfills and replace them with regulated sites that meet environmental standards. Among the sites marked for closure was the Aakdash dump, where more than 160 informal waste pickers worked.

A sorting center was planned within the newly regulated landfill to integrate these workers into the new system. Mazouat chaired a preparatory committee that led the creation of the cooperative. 

“Local authorities supported us and we got our license,” he said. “The real challenge was convincing people in social and economic vulnerability to join,” he explained. “Being educated helped me earn their respect, and since I spoke their language and lived their reality, I was close to most of them.”

According to Mazouat, the cooperative operates like a small or medium-sized enterprise and continues to grow steadily. Three teams rotate weekly between morning and evening shifts to ensure fairness.

“We share monthly financial reports with all members,” he explained. “The cooperative has 151 members, and its work now extends beyond sorting.” 

This evolution has also brought about new activities and operational needs. Members now work in various roles, sorting, transporting, and maintaining.

“We needed to improve the skills of our members by providing training in various fields within the cooperative,” he said.

Since 2011, the cooperative has operated under a structured financial system. Wages are paid through bank transfers, and bonuses are distributed equally to reflect the collective nature of the work. 

Members receive yearly bonuses, including during Eid and the back-to-school season. Even those without children receive the school bonus, in the spirit of fairness. Attawafouk also allocates about 1.4 million dirhams (about CAD $530,000) annually to insurance and social security, covering retirement, health care, and other benefits.

Mazouat also explained that Attawafouk generates income by selling materials sorted at the center, including paper, plastic, aluminum, and other recovered items. 

“Partners are responsible for purchasing these materials, and the revenue generated from these sales is used to run the cooperative,” he added. This revenue covers a range of expenses, including members’ wages, transportation costs, fuel, work tools, and insurance.

The profession is now viewed as legitimate. The cooperative banned child labour and restricted participation to adults under 60. It also helped reduce crime and drug use by gradually integrating people from vulnerable backgrounds.

“Today, members proudly tell their children they work in a cooperative that contributes to environmental protection,” he said. “Some even bring their children to visit.”

Challenges remain

Public health experts warn that the consequences of this informal work extend far beyond poverty. Majda Sebbani, professor of public health at Cadi Ayyad University, said that informal waste pickers face serious health risks due to unsafe working conditions.

“They’re exposed to physical, social, and chemical hazards daily,” she said. “Common illnesses include respiratory, skin, and musculoskeletal disorders.”

Additionally, contact with contaminated waste increases the risk of hepatitis, HIV, bacterial infections, and exposure to methane and toxic dust can cause chronic lung problems.

“They often suffer cuts and burns from sharp or chemical-laced objects,” she explained. “Poor hygiene and lack of access to care worsen their health.” 

Despite the cooperative’s work, unregulated landfills remain widespread in several regions of Morocco, causing serious harm to soil, groundwater, and public health, according to Oussama Bououarour, a researcher and environmental expert. These sites produce toxic leachate and polluting gas emissions, making them hazardous zones for public health.

“But closure alone is not a complete solution,” he cautioned. “It must be accompanied by efforts to strengthen sorting and recovery chains, and by direct support to cooperatives capable of managing waste sustainably.” 

He stressed that “local actors, especially those with years of hands-on experience dealing with waste, must not be excluded from this process.”

Bououarour added that Morocco’s grassroots efforts hold untapped potential. Although geographically limited, the experience of environmental cooperatives in Morocco has demonstrated real potential in transforming waste into resources. 

“Some youth-led cooperatives in urban outskirts have succeeded in sorting waste, producing organic compost, and creating recycled products sold in local markets,” he said. “These initiatives prove that a community-based approach can fill the gap sometimes left by local authorities and delegated management companies.”

However, Bououarour noted that these initiatives face challenges, including weak legal frameworks, insufficient funding, and a lack of institutional recognition. 

“Public support should go beyond temporary grants or short-term programs and should instead take the form of long-term integration policies that recognize cooperatives as key economic and environmental actors,” he added, highlighting that Morocco has made notable progress in legislation, sich as Law 28.00 on waste management and the adoption of national plans for household waste.

“However, in practice,” he added, “the country still lacks the necessary infrastructure, local innovation, and meaningful community involvement.”

He added that “the rhetoric of empowerment must translate into concrete policies that support the transition from informal labor to a social and solidarity-based economy.”

“If we truly want to build a just and effective circular economy in Morocco, we must rethink our environmental priorities,” he added. “Morocco has all the ingredients: the legal framework is in place, local initiatives already exist, and environmental awareness is growing.”

He argued that what the country needs now is real political will, smart investment in local human capital, and sustainable funding that empowers cooperatives and civil society to fully play their roles.

“The shift toward a fair environmental system will not come from the top down alone; it must be built from the ground up, from neighborhoods and small-scale grassroots efforts,” he said.

This article is published in collaboration with Egab.

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