Let’s do our bit to ditch plastic and reclaim our beaches.
What used to be an invigorating morning run along a shoreline decorated with only pebbles, shells and sea gulls has turned into a never-ending sight of litter on many days. Each year, an estimated 11 million metric tonnes of plastic enter the ocean globally, and we on this southern slice of the continent are no exception to this grotesque generosity. From Blouberg’s windswept dunes to the rugged charm of Doringbaai, our beaches play host to a haphazard mosaic of discarded toothbrushes, bread tags, straws and the ever-ubiquitous plastic bag.
Recently, the entire coastline of the formerly pristine Grotto Bay was almost solid with nurdles. Those near-weightless plastic pellets, innocuous in shape but heavy with consequence, seem to appear more frequently on the Western Seaboard and the vast West Coast coastline.
Nurdles are made from common plastics such as polyethylene, polypropylene, polystyrene and polyvinyl chloride. Frequently spilled during manufacturing, transport and handling, these microplastics absorb toxic pollutants in the environment. And due to their small size and buoyancy, they’re difficult to clean up.
It’s estimated that trillions of nurdles enter waterways and oceans annually. Once in the ocean, they fragment into smaller micro- and nano-plastics. The ecological implications are staggering. They’re often mistaken for food by marine animals and seabirds. So this causes poisoning, starvation and bioaccumulation of harmful chemicals throughout the food chain.
Scientists have found microplastics in mussels off our coast, in sardines sold at our fisheries, and alarmingly, in the bloodstreams of humans. We have, quite literally, begun to consume our own waste.
How did we become such prolific polluters? The answer is outrageously ordinary. We buy. We unwrap. We toss. The result is overflowing landfills and stormwater drains that act as conveyor belts for our bad habits.
Truth is, we can’t recycle our way out of this mess because the system is flawed. Only around 9% of plastic ever made has been recycled globally. What remains is either incinerated, buried in landfills or washed out to sea.
So what can we actually do? Firstly, reduce. Not in an aspirational sense, but in real, domestic decisions. Choose loose vegetables over boxed or wrapped ones. Bring your own bags. Say no to straws. Use soap bars instead of shower gels. Secondly, reuse and repurpose. Glass jars aren’t just quaint — they’re a refusal to participate in the plastic cycle.
Thirdly, participate. Join a beach clean-up or start one. Every bit of plastic removed is a potential life spared — and possibly a mouthful of microplastics you won’t be eating in five years’ time. Lastly, make noise. Speak up at your local store. Write to your councillor. Lobby your school to go plastic-free. Policy shifts tend to follow the squeaky wheels.
Sadly, we can’t undo what’s already drifted to sea. But we can stem the flow. And perhaps, in the small, conscious rituals of our everyday we’ll begin to reclaim not only our beaches, but our health and sense of responsibility. And that, surely, is worth the effort.
