I Went Green for 30 Days—What Happened Will Shock You

Two weeks ago, I did something most people in Lagos probably don’t do—I tried to recycle a broken blender.

That’s it. That was the start.

So, I’d been on this personal mission to reduce waste. I stopped using plastic straws, switched to bamboo toothbrushes, and started composting banana peels like some Gen Z eco-priest.

My neighbors thought I was doing too much. Even my mom side-eyed me when I swapped her Dettol for an “eco-friendly” disinfectant that smelled like burnt grass.

Anyway, the blender died. I didn’t want to just toss it in the bin. That’s how e-waste builds up, right? So, I Googled “where to recycle electronics in Lagos” and found this place on the mainland.

Small joint, but had 4.8 stars and two very passionate reviewers who mentioned the words “sustainability,” “upcycling,” and “Mother Earth” like they were gospel.

So I carried my dead blender in a tote bag and boarded a danfo. Yes, I walked into a yellow bus with a broken blender. The conductor stared at me. One guy actually asked if I was an electrician. I just smiled.

I got there, and the woman at the counter looked shocked that I came to recycle one blender. Apparently, people only bring things when they have a full trailer load. But she accepted it and offered me a tour of their workshop. Out of boredom, I said yes.

This is where it gets wild.

While walking through their workspace, I noticed something—my exact blender. Same model. Same sticker. Same scratch. My sticker said “JAYBEE” because I label all my kitchen gadgets. And there it was. On the shelf. In perfect working condition.

I was like, “Uhm… ma, that’s my blender?”

She laughed and said, “No o, that one was donated two months ago by a young man.”

Two months ago, I still had my blender. Or so I thought.

I texted my roommate immediately: “Bro, did you ever borrow my blender?”

He replied: “Oh damn, I thought it was spoilt. I gave it to that recycling center you’re always preaching about. Lmao.”

I was stunned. I had been blending with a different blender entirely—my neighbor’s, which I “borrowed” during NEPA wahala and never returned. So basically, we’d been swapping blenders unknowingly for months.

Anyway, I reclaimed my blender. They let me take it back after laughing at the drama. The woman even said, “This is why we label things o. Sustainability is good, but communication is better.”

I left the center feeling two things:

Slightly embarrassed.

Proud. Because even though my recycling mission spiraled into a mistaken appliance heist, at least I tried.

Now I always double-check before tossing stuff—and my roommate and I made a pact: we recycle, but we also communicate.

And yeah, I’m still composting banana peels.