The flour hangs in the air like snow. Thick, white, everywhere. On the floor, on the shelves, on the hair of Stanisław Nowak, who for forty-five years has been getting up at three in the morning to bake bread for his district. He is seventy-two years old, but his hands – wrinkled, covered with scars from burns – move with the precision of a surgeon.
A Daily Battle Against Discarded Waste
Every day, or almost, while walking her dog or going to work, Isabelle traverses Rue Arago in Villeurbanne, within the Lyon metropolitan area, situated between Grand-Clément and the Lyon district of Monchat. And nearly every day, the same sight greets her: beer cans, cigarette butts, cigarette packets, and bottles abandoned in the landscaped plant beds that line the road.
A resident of the neighbourhood since 2021, this 52-year-old school teacher finally decided to take action. Equipped with a litter grabber, she patrols her street and fills bags. “This is the fourth time I’ve done it, because it really annoys me to see all this rubbish,” she explains. An operation she repeats approximately once a month.
The Irony of Neglect
What infuriates her is the stark contrast between the effort put into developing the neighbourhood and the lack of respect shown by some residents. “We are lucky in this street to have small, well-maintained groves with vegetation,” she emphasizes. Then, with a touch of irony, she adds: “People might think that beer cans will grow in nature, but unfortunately, they don’t.”
Her worst hauls? She lists them without hesitation: a car oil can, used baby diapers, dozens of glass and plastic bottles, coffee capsules, electronic cigarettes. Not to mention the dozens of dog faeces, which she refuses to pick up. An inventory that speaks volumes about what ends up on the ground in her street.
Urbanization and Nightlife: A Recipe for Litter?
Isabelle has her own theory about the root of the problem. Rue Arago has become more densely populated since the early 2000s. Houses have given way to apartment buildings: “There’s social housing, high turnover, people probably feel less concerned.” And a nightlife has emerged, fostered by late-opening grocery stores. The result: numerous cans left behind in the early morning.
“There are a lot of people who come here at night to drink, especially when it’s very hot,” she observes. “There’s a lot of traffic on this street. We’re between a T3 tram stop, a TB12 stop, and a new T6 tram stop.”
A Metropolitan Responsibility, a Local Frustration
While Isabelle feels she is stepping in for public authorities, she’s unsure who to address. In Villeurbanne, as throughout its territory, the cleaning of streets, pavements, and gutters falls under the responsibility of the Métropole de Lyon, not the municipality. The authority maintains 327 km of roads and 10.5 million m² of pavements, according to its own figures.
Crucially, the Métropole claims to adapt the frequency of cleaning to each street: from once to thirteen times a week, depending on foot traffic and whether the road is commercial or not. A rhythm Isabelle says she doesn’t observe on her street.
“I see them pass about twice a year,” she states, while honestly acknowledging the limitations of her observation: she works during the day and cannot see everything. Nevertheless, her daily on-the-ground observation remains: “Since I pass through this street every day, I have the opportunity to see that the rubbish is not collected.”
Beyond Cleaning: A Call for Recognition and Prevention
What she demands is not necessarily more agents. It’s primarily recognition and prevention. More street bins, awareness signs, and education starting from school. “Perhaps also more prevention in schools,” pleads Isabelle, who, in her class, teaches her students to pick up their litter. “But perhaps it’s the adults who are setting a bad example.”
She goes further. If the City or the Métropole cannot manage everything, they should acknowledge it and organize mutual aid: “They should communicate, they should equip willing residents.” Because Isabelle is not alone. Another resident does the same and even offered her a litter grabber. And thanks pour in. “Many people thank me for doing it,” she recounts. “Many people tell me: ‘Oh, I do it in my neighbourhood too.'”
A Lingering Suspicion: The Electoral Cycle of Cleanliness
On paper, the local authority isn’t sitting idly by. In June 2024, the City of Villeurbanne toughened sanctions against illegal dumping: the administrative fine, directly enforceable by the mayor, can now reach up to 350 euros, compared to 135 previously. The municipality then indicated that it collected nearly two tons of bulky waste outside of regular collections each day. Every spring, the “Faites de la propreté” (Make Cleanliness Happen) event, co-organized with the Métropole, also attempts to mobilize residents.
However, for Isabelle, the gap between intentions and lived experience is too wide. Fatalistically, she offers a final observation, which is worth what it’s worth but which she stands by: the last time she saw the services pass was “just before the municipal and metropolitan elections.” A coincidence? A timing she certainly hasn’t forgotten.
Source: Own report, interviews with residents of Rue Arago in Villeurbanne, and information from local news outlets.
