Lead Recycling Pollutes Addis Abeba's Backyards

Nov 1 , 2025. By Bereket Tesfaye ( Bereket Tesfaye (bereket.tesfaye@pureearth.org) is a program manager for Ethiopia of Pure Earth, a New York-based non-profit working to prevent pollution. )

UNICEF estimates that one in three children globally, around 800 million, have blood lead levels above five micrograms per deciliter, a threshold for concern. In neighbourhoods where informal ULAB recycling thrives, doctors have documented cases of developmental delays and chronic anaemia. Community health screenings remain rare, and few families are aware of the risks. Writes, Bereket Tesfaye (bereket.tesfaye@pureearth.org) is a program manager for Ethiopia of Pure Earth, a New York-based non-profit working to prevent pollution.

On a recent rainy morning, a visit to a small workshop in Lideta neighbourhood laid bare a public health risk often hidden in plain sight. The site, a cramped plot operating as both a garage and a hub for dismantling used lead-acid batteries, exposes unsafe practices that pose dangers not only to workers but to their families and the surrounding community.

The ground was littered with broken battery parts, scraps of metal, and plastic fragments, all left uncovered to the weather. A large container sat nearby, filled with sulphuric acid drained from old batteries. As the rain continued to fall, toxic residues leached into the earth, with no barriers to prevent their spread. Across the workshop floor, rainwater mixed with traces of lead seeps into the soil and increases the risk of contamination for anyone in the area.

The Lideta operation is not an isolated case. Across Addis Abeba, similar workshops are found, often in garages or in close proximity to them, where the business of vehicle repair and battery recycling is closely linked. At the Lideta site, regular auto repairs were taking place alongside the hazardous work of breaking apart and melting down old batteries.

Anecdotes from workers at the site made clear that environmental and health regulations rarely reach these informal operations. The man in charge had been running the business for almost a decade. The most frequent visits were not from health or environmental inspectors, but from local administrative offices.

“They usually come to ask for money, not to talk about safety,” he said.

Any concerns about exposure to toxins or community health seemed secondary to bureaucratic fees and paperwork.

As the work continued, signs of risk became more apparent. In a corner behind the piles of scrap, a furnace stood ready for the weekly smelting process. According to the operator, smelting happened every Saturday.

“Come back next week and you’ll see us working,” he offered. “We do what we can, but safety is expensive and no one really checks.”

No one at the site wore gloves, masks, or protective coveralls. No soap or washing facilities were visible. A large bucket, filled with water and darkened by repeated use, was the only washing station for workers’ hands and plates. Drops from the cleaning process fell into the bucket, spilling onto the ground and further spreading contamination.

This scene is not limited to those working directly with the batteries. The invisible journey of toxic exposure follows workers home at the end of every shift. After a day spent dismantling and smelting, the operator leaves covered in fine lead dust. It sticks to hair, skin, clothes, and the treads of shoes. On his way home, he may ride public transport or a shared taxi, touching seats and handles that become secondary points of exposure for other passengers.

At home, the risk continues. His children greet him at the door. They may hug him or sit in his lap, unknowingly transferring lead particles from his clothes to their hands and faces.

Laundry practices in such households often mean that work clothes are washed with the family’s garments, increasing the risk that lead is transferred to children’s clothing and household fabrics.

“Sometimes my kids run to hug me as soon as I come in," the operator said. "I never thought what might be on my shirt,” the operator said.

Children are especially vulnerable, their developing nervous systems making them far more susceptible to the effects of lead. Hand-to-mouth behaviour puts them at even higher risk, and lead poisoning can cause permanent intellectual disability, behavioural problems, lowered IQ, and anaemia. The operator’s wife, if pregnant, could be at particular risk. Lead can cross the placental barrier, putting the unborn child in danger of premature birth, low birth weight, and impaired brain development.

UNICEF estimates that globally, about 800 million children, or one in three, have blood lead levels above five micrograms per deciliter, a threshold for concern. In neighbourhoods across Ethiopia where informal battery recycling is common, medical workers have documented cases of developmental delays and chronic anaemia in children. Yet community health screenings for lead exposure are rare, and few families are aware of the risks.

The danger goes undetected mainly, becoming an intergenerational crisis with effects that may not be noticed until years later.

The absence of effective oversight at these sites is striking. The operator claimed that environmental or health authorities rarely visited. However, local officials arrive regularly, sometimes as often as twice a month, to handle fees or paperwork. There is little to no enforcement of safety regulations, leaving neighbourhoods exposed to contamination that spreads quietly and persistently. Rainfall carries toxic dust into drainage channels and soil. Over time, the poison spreads well beyond the workshop's boundaries, affecting neighbours, street vendors, and children who play nearby.

Most alarming is the exposure of children to these hazards. The operator at the Lideta site acknowledged that children sometimes play with the battery plates. Many such workshops in Addis Abeba are adjacent to homes, schools, or small businesses. Children are naturally curious, drawn by the excitement of machines and the presence of adults at work. Unaware of the risks, they handle contaminated tools, play on floors coated with invisible dust, and return home with dangerous residues on their hands.

The need for income pushes many to accept hazardous work. Without regulation, infrastructure, or health education, the risks multiply. For those living and working in these neighbourhoods, daily survival depends on balancing economic necessity with the hidden dangers around them.

Efforts to improve the situation remain sporadic. Authorities can create and regulate safer, centralised recycling zones with basic infrastructure, such as concrete floors, roofing, and proper ventilation. However, the approach so far has focused more on paperwork than on public health or environmental standards. There are a few programs to provide workers with gloves, aprons, or respirators. Hand-washing stations and safe storage for work clothes are almost unheard of in informal settings.

Community health initiatives that could test blood lead levels and identify early warning signs in children and pregnant women have not been widely implemented. Some public health advocates suggest launching education campaigns to help workers and their families understand the risks and take practical steps, such as changing out of work clothes before going home or washing hands thoroughly after work. Others propose economic support or incentives for operators who adopt safer practices.

But for many communities like Lideta, the actual costs of informal battery recycling remain unmeasured and largely unnoticed.

PUBLISHED ON Nov 01,2025 [ VOL 26 , NO 1331]