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A shy homemaker battles pollution
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How a woman found her voice -- and raised it successfully -- against the contamination of a local wetland
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By Belinda Manning, as told to Eleanor Beaton
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My name is Belinda Manning and I'm not your typical environmentalist. I compost in my backyard but I don't hug trees. I'm just a woman who wants to raise her family in a healthy place -- who knew it would transform me into an award-winning crusader?
The tragedy that forever changed me
For almost a decade I lived a quiet life here on South Bishop Road in Coldbrook, N.S. I spent my days caring for my daughter, Shauna, now 15, running the household and driving her to swimming lessons. I didn't bother anyone and no one bothered me.
But then in 1999 something happened that forever changed me. I was out in my front garden when a truck filled with greyish, foul-smelling sludge barrelled past and turned onto a dirt lane that leads to Baltzer's Bog, a nearby wetland. Within weeks, the trucks were sailing past on a daily basis, trucking in mounds of sludge and returning empty.
Curiosity got the best of me. I decided to take a walk out to the bog to find out what was happening. As I drew nearer, I got a waft of one of the most unpleasant odours I've ever smelled -- a weird mix of rotting organic waste, manure and old socks. When the bog came into view, I almost gagged. Where once had been low lying shrubs, spongy green moss and wild cranberry bushes, was now giant trenches filled with skuzzy-looking grey water. Great big mounds of mud sat next to piles of stinking compost. A feeling of grief swept over me. That wetland was an important part of our community. Our children played there. They would tell us about the wildlife they saw -- ducks, deer, rabbits, even coyotes. I turned back home, holding back tears the entire way.
Working up the courage to fight
Before long, I heard about a meeting at our local community centre. I didn't socialize much back then, but my husband, Gary, encouraged me to go. I felt so nervous -- I didn't know anybody and I felt out of place. It hardly mattered though. Everyone was so fired up that the air felt almost electric. It took me almost an hour to work up the courage to raise my hand. But finally I did.
"A question from the back." The facilitator pointed to me. Legs shaking, I stood up. "What process do you use to compost the material you bring into the bog?" I asked. It was a simple question, but no one had thought to ask it. The owner of the composting company looked straight at me and said, "I turn it and turn it until it don't stink no more."
The room exploded into angry chatter. People were shaking their heads. I was shocked -- I didn't have a degree in environmental science, but I knew that commercial composting was a complicated process that required more than a couple of turns with a bulldozer. I went on to ask him a couple more questions. When the meeting was over a few people thanked me for coming out. I think I smiled the entire drive home.
I didn't miss a meeting after that night. No matter how scared I was, I'd make myself stand up and ask when I didn't understand something. I thought all those questions might have made me look a little foolish, but one day, to my surprise, I realized that people had started asking me the questions. My phone would ring with people looking for information, or even local media asking for my comments on the bog. I'd get caught up in engaging conversations and emerge a little wiser, and a lot more confident than I had ever been before.
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