SOME IDEAS ABOUT HOW TO MAKE USE OF WASTE GLASS COLLECTED FROM OUR WATERWAYS

SOME IDEAS ABOUT HOW TO MAKE USE OF WASTE GLASS COLLECTED FROM OUR WATERWAYS

It seems that wherever we go these days—rivers, creeks, esteros, even along our coastlines—we see not just plastic waste but also a good deal of glass bottles, jars, and broken fragments. While plastics usually get the headlines, glass is just as problematic. Unlike organic matter, it does not decompose; it just sits there, often breaking into sharp pieces that pose dangers to humans, animals, and the environment.

So, what can we do about it? Collecting it is the first logical step, and in fact, collecting glass is easier than collecting plastic because glass is just one category. Plastics, by contrast, have about seven categories, and these require separate processing streams. That makes glass, in a way, less complicated to deal with.

But what happens after collection? That’s where we need to get creative. In Bali, for example, they have the “Sungai Carafe”—a beautifully designed water container made from waste glass collected in rivers. The carafe is marketed not only as a product but as a symbol of ecological restoration. It proves that something once polluting a river can be turned into something useful and even elegant.

I like the concept, but I also ask: is a carafe the best use of waste glass here in the Philippines? Art pieces and decorative items are good, but they usually have small, niche markets. If we want real impact, shouldn’t we be aiming for products with bigger commercial value and broader demand? A well-promoted glass carafe could sell, yes—but how many households or restaurants will realistically buy them?

That leads me to a bigger question: Could we think in terms of building materials? Waste glass, after all, can be crushed and turned back into sand or silica. This could be used for road construction, cement mixes, or even as filler in eco-concrete. In some countries, glass is also made into tiles and bricks. Imagine barangays producing their own decorative glass tiles for local markets, or paving bricks that reduce dependence on quarried stone. Wouldn’t that make a bigger dent in both waste management and local economic development?

Of course, these ideas are not just for entrepreneurs. I see a strong role here for cooperatives and local government units (LGUs). Why not empower barangay-based cooperatives to run micro-recycling hubs? With the right machines—a hammer mill or glass imploder for crushing, and perhaps a small kiln for artisanal products—these hubs could transform collected glass into usable raw material.

The machines are not beyond reach. A hammer mill or crusher could cost in the range of $2,000 to $8,000, while a more sophisticated imploder (which produces sand-like cullet safely) may run up to $15,000. A small electric kiln suitable for glaze work starts at around $1,500. These are not cheap, but neither are they impossible. With LGU support, cooperative management, and perhaps funding from DTI or TESDA, barangays could get started. Compare that investment to the costs of constantly dredging clogged rivers or hauling endless truckloads of mixed waste to dumpsites, and the numbers begin to make sense.

We must also link glass collection with plastic collection. They usually accumulate in the same places anyway, and barangay material recovery facilities (MRFs) could be equipped to handle both. In fact, setting up a local showcase—a “Barangay Circular Market Day” where products from reclaimed waste are sold—could boost awareness and even generate pride. People might think twice before throwing bottles into rivers if they know those bottles could become part of a road, a tile, or a water carafe sold in their own community.

One more angle to consider: partnerships with artisans. Filipinos are highly creative, and we already have pottery traditions, glassblowing in some localities, and plenty of design schools. Why not tap students, designers, and artisans to collaborate with barangay cooperatives? They could co-create functional and attractive products, adding cultural motifs or local design elements that make each item unique.

The big picture, of course, is livelihood. Waste collectors, artisans, youth groups, and cooperatives all stand to gain from a system where trash becomes resource. And it is not only about jobs—it is about dignity. Turning waste into worth restores not just rivers but also community spirit.

So here are my questions to our policymakers and local leaders: Do we want to continue treating waste glass as useless debris, or do we want to see it as a potential raw material for industry and culture? Could we move beyond token projects and scale up barangay-level recycling hubs that feed into larger markets? And could we begin to think less about disposal and more about transformation?

If Bali can make carafes from river glass, surely, we can do something just as creative—if not more practical. After all, we are a nation that prides itself on ingenuity. Perhaps the next time we walk along a riverbank and see a pile of empty bottles, we might not just see trash—we might see the beginnings of a road, a brick, or even a new means of livelihood.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres
iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com

10-25-2025