They Melt Batteries to Make a Living, Inhale Poison Without Knowing

Nov 2 , 2025. By REDIET YARED ( FORTUNE STAFF WRITER )

The informal recycling of car batteries is a widespread practice. Workers often believe that lead is safe, handling the dull grey metal with their bare hands. However, health officials caution that lead is still used in everyday household items, such as utensils, cookware, and even paints for school walls, where it adds shine and perceived quality, but at a hidden cost, reports REDIET YARED, Fortune Staff Writer.

On a sun-dappled stretch of Swaziland St., near St. Paul Hospital, north of Addis Abeba, where the clang of spanners competes with the chorus of children playing, a quiet threat brews inside open garages.

Beneath the hood of a battered sedan, Waqjira Ejeta, a 40-year-old mechanic, father, and unwitting victim, melted down lead from broken batteries without gloves or a mask. He believes what many in Ethiopia’s informal recycling sector do: “It’s just metal. It can’t harm us.”

But it can.

Last week, Waqjira wore only a pair of grease-blackened overalls.

“It’s not like welding or handling a toxic chemical,” he said, squinting at the smoke that rises as he melted the metal. “We’re fine.”

For 13 years, he has worked here, earning a steady wage and raising two children alone. He boosts his income by buying broken batteries for 150 Br a kilo at Merkato’s Menalesh Tera quarter, melting the lead inside to make new battery poles and selling each for 500 Br. On good days, he pockets 2,000 Br.

What he cannot see, however, are the invisible particles seeping into his lungs. Unbeknownst to Waqjira, each breath delivers a dose of lead that builds up silently in his blood, a slow-acting poison that can attack the heart, kidneys and brain. According to health experts, the scale of the danger is dire.

The Institute for Health Metrics & Evaluation (IHME) traced more than 1.5 million deaths worldwide in 2021 to lead exposure, most from cardiovascular disease. Lead-acid batteries, essential for starting car engines and powering their electrics, rank among the chief culprits. Each holds six lead-lined cells and a reservoir of sulfuric acid that together deliver about 12.6 volts when fully charged. Yet, in Ethiopia, where informal recycling is common, many workers like Waqjira believe the dull grey metal is harmless.

Addisu Tibebu is the Chief Executive of Environmental Law Enforcement at the Federal Environment Agency. His officials inspected 45 paint and textile factories in 2015, where 17 were found over the permissible limit. However, He is a strong advocate for raising awareness before enforcing regulations.

“People unknowingly use lead in household items like spoons, pots and forks because factories use lead to make utensils appear shiny and high-quality,” he told Fortune."But real progress requires funding for laboratory equipment, training and technical capacity.”

Ethiopia has signed up to both the Basel and Bamako conventions, which govern trade in hazardous waste. On paper, the country recognises the hazards. On the ground, enforcement falls short. Used car batteries are broken up on pavements, their contents dumped in vacant lots or drained into open sewers, where toxic residues leach into soil and water.

“Lead is everywhere," said Bereket Tesfaye, an adviser at the German Corporation for International Cooperation (GIZ), calling the substance poisonous and a silent killer. "In our food, water, cosmetics, even the paint on our walls.”

He ticked off the harms, including damage to nerves, kidneys, the heart and, via the placenta, unborn children.

“Millions die from kidney failure and cancer without ever knowing the cause," he told Fortune. "The solution requires collective effort from authorities, the media, community groups and religious institutions.”

A few kilometres away, near Dejach Bekele Weya St., near the Federal High Court in Lideta neighbourhood, another recycler, who requested to remain anonymous, buys damaged batteries for 130 Br a kilo, refurbishes them and sells the units for up to 3,000 Br. He reckoned the trade yields 8,000 Br a week and says he pays between 10,000 Br and 40,000 Br a year in tax. The money supports his family. Nonetheless, the hidden cost lies in every breath he takes.

Ashrafedin Yuya, an environmental safeguard specialist at the Ministry of Health (MoH), acknowledged that lead poisoning had only recently caught officials’ attention. The Ministry now partners with more than 10 organisations to spread the word and to train medical staff. But, clinics rarely offer blood tests for lead, and few laboratories can measure the metal accurately.

Evidence from abroad underlines the risk. In Khyber, Pakistan, a study of exposed garage workers found average levels of 65.3 micrograms of lead per decilitre of blood, well above safe limits and sometimes soaring to 107. Data from Ethiopia paint a grim picture, too. According to Argaw Ambelu, president of the Ethiopian Environmental Health Association, a recent survey detected elevated lead in 18 million children under 14.

“The highest level we found was about seven times the safe limit,” he said.

Even old water pipes, he discovered, leach lead into daily drinking water. Argaw listed those most at risk, including construction workers, mechanics, paint mixers, and workers at textile companies. In adults, chronic exposure weakens the immune system, clouds memory, reduces fertility and heightens the danger of heart disease. In children, even tiny doses can chip away at cognitive ability, learning, and brain growth.

“Lead doesn’t just make children sick,” Argaw said. “It steals their future. It robs them of their ability to learn and thrive.”

On Swaziland St. the lunchtime heat rises. Taxis and buses moved forward, engines cut, and batteries were swapped. Mechanics in dark overalls darted between vehicles. Their banter masked a shared ignorance of the fumes curling around them. Waqjira cracked open another spent battery, the acrid scent of sulfuric acid mixing with dust.

“We’re fine,” he repeated, half to reassure himself, half to dismiss the idea that his trade might be lethal.

Lead contamination is not confined to garages. Addisu recalled finding excessive lead in paints used on school walls. Children chew pencils or fingernails, scrape paint chips, and trace invisible flakes home on uniforms. Women buy brightly coloured cosmetics that conceal unsafe pigments. Families cook in metal pots buffed with lead to gleam like silver. The toxin seeps into the stew and injera, alike.

Yet, resources are thin. Bereket of GIZ obserevd that sporadic training sessions have little effect without testing kits, protective gear or proper extraction fans. Many garages operate in densely populated quarters, where fumes drift across residential balconies.

“The lack of safety infrastructure makes prevention difficult,” he said. “But we can't wait. Awareness must come first.”

There are small signs of change. The Health Ministry is drafting guidelines for occupational safety in the informal recycling sector. A coalition of NGOs has begun distributing leaflets in the Merkato area, warning traders about the danger of open-air smelting. Local radio stations run public-service spots that link unexplained chest pain, tiredness and memory lapses to lead exposure. Faith leaders weave health messages into sermons.

Still, the informal battery trade thrives because it pays. Waqjira would finish work at sunset, wash his hands in a bucket of water turned cloudy grey, and head home to his children. He does not know that lead can accumulate in bone for decades, leaching back into the blood during illness or old age. He does not see that what he calls “just metal” might shorten his life.

For him and many others in the trade, the story of lead is one of livelihoods balanced against invisible harm. It is the glint of a polished cooking pot, the throb of a new car starter, the bright hue of a classroom wall, and the shadow behind a child’s poor grades or a mechanic’s unexplained fatigue. It is a problem recognised in treaties but not yet tamed in garages and workshops where rules feel distant.

Addisu, Bereket, Argaw and Ashrafedin agree on the path forward that better data, stricter enforcement, and urgent public education. They want to see laboratories equipped, regulators funded, factories monitored, and recyclers supplied with the necessary protective gear, including gloves and masks. They know that lead-acid batteries will remain part of the transport system. The challenge is to handle their toxic cores without compromising health for economic gain.

PUBLISHED ON Nov 02,2025 [ VOL 26 , NO 1331]