So, I dig through people’s trash. Seriously. Not because I have a penchant for garbage or because I get paid to do so, but because I’ve helped to set up a small recycling program here in L.A. and part of this endeavor includes having to dig through a bit of garbage to get to your average recyclable container. The system is simple: there are several collection spots at religious centers around town. Every Sunday, people drop off their recycling and I pick it up. Later, I turn the goods into cash at a local center and donate all the money collected to international sustainability projects. The idea was: educate people about recycling and make money for a good cause at the same time. How much money do I make doing this you may ask? Not a great deal, but enough to build a water well in Zambia over a year’s time ($5,000). The plan, of course, was always to get bigger and more efficient, but scaling up proved a bit tough when all one has is a tiny Toyota and a couple friends helping her out. But what if I had lots of friends (about 1200), limitless trash to dig through and there was someone that was willing to pick up the goods from me, so I didn’t have to transport? This is the situation I’m creating for myself. But we’re no longer in Los Angeles, Toto, we’re headed to Honduras.

Actually, the situation is less than awesome. The 1200 people I’m referring to are the local “pepenadores” that are working (and quite possibly living) on the massive landfill in Tegucigalpa, Honduras. The trash is limitless perhaps, but it contains their daily income and food- both of which have to be found among the heaps of garbage. The environment is not friendly but highly competitive and often violent. The garbage collectors may not have to load their lot into the local equivalent of my little Toyota, but this leaves them vulnerable to those buying/carrying away the recyclables and the costs that they levy over the pepenadores- the absolute poorest of the poor in Honduras- a country with a poverty level higher than 65%. Once carried away, the recyclables are often exported out of the country to centers in El Salvador or Nicaragua, helping to ensure that real wealth distribution remains non-existent within Honduras’ borders. In short, not exactly the “scaling up” I had in mind previously.

So, how did I get into this mess (literally and figuratively)? I was crazy enough to join a team of entrepreneurs that are venturing down to Honduras to find a business amongst the heaps of trash. We’re taking our lead from similarly minded business professionals, like our friends at Tegu Toys- a start up that intends to do nothing less than completely alter the socio-economic structure of Honduras. Armed with an innovative and environmentally-friendly toy for kids (and tons of market research that promises its success), Tegu seeks to provide employment, pride and opportunity for Honduran citizens- keeping the primary capital flow in Honduras. Although the company is not yet launched, the energy and hope it has inspired is impressive.

It was the founders of Tegu that saw the possibility for systemic change in Tegucigalpa’s landfill and talked me and a number of others into venturing south. We’re a small group of business folk, each with our own unique backgrounds in sales, investing, management and advocacy…. Not exactly Ocean’s 11, but even Soderbergh would admire our drive and motivation. At the moment we’re knee deep in garbage…err research, but are stoked at the possibilities that lie ahead.

Tegu is launching its new toy products soon. Help them push progress in Honduras forward by supporting their efforts and buying product when it’s available. In the interim, if you’re looking for more sustainable shopping options, try one of our faves, The Good Guide.