Hi, I'm Karin, and welcome to Our Human Planet.
No matter what country you're in
you'll find one group of people who are practically invisible.
Osaka city has more than 18,000 homeless
and most are struggling just to make ends meet.
They keep to themselves and don't ask for much.
They've been effectively expelled from Japanese society
and so are very hard for me to get to know.
Until one day, on a street in Osaka
I meet Nishida-san.
He's 63.
He specializes in collecting aluminum cans
and he's hard at work
three hours before most people get up.
And he's not the only one.
In the early 90s the Japanese economy went bust
and dumped a lot of older workers out on the street.
They don't all collect aluminum but still -
if Nishida-san is going to make a living
then he has to get up early and move fast.
"Keep going straight," he says
as he teaches me the ins and outs of the aluminum trade.
Nishida-san can tell at a glance
when an area has been picked clean
and knows which houses are worth keeping an eye on
and that in Japan, it pays to be polite.
He can't possibly open every garbage bag
so Nishida-san shows me how to take an educated guess
based on the kind of garbage that we're looking at,
what it sounds like,
and how it feels.
And sometimes with just a good swift kick.
Nishida-san is homeless
so everything he owns is on his bike.
His lucky teddy bear,
umbrella,
and a cooler full of clothes.
And though he says he doesn't need it
the next time we stop I'm going to fix his brakes.
Despite my endless questions
his bicycle is starting to look like an overburdened bumble bee.
And just in time - it's 10:00 a.m.
Osakans like their streets to be squeaky clean.
The recycle factory, it turns out,
is on the other side of Kamagasaki.
That part of town where most of the homeless spend the night.
Where you can buy a week-old paper dirt cheap
and people will do almost anything
to make a buck or two.
Or just escape.
A place where old temptations are hard to resist.
It's sake.
A tenth of his daily income for glass of wine.
Finally - the chance to cash in on his morning's work.
All sorts of people gather here.
This place clearly accepts a lot more
than just aluminum cans.
Bronze,
copper,
stainless steel.
By now I've realized
that you can't make it as a collector in Japan
unless you've developed a specialty.
In 5 hours pedaling Nishida-san has gathered 5 kilos -
11 pounds - that's about $8 dollars' worth.
That's not much to live on
in one of the most expensive cities in the world.
He says it's just enough for two square meals.
Day-old rice and fish and a cup of tea.
Then, every afternoon, after he's finished work
Nishida-san goes to the public library.
Nishida-san is proud of what he does
despite the lousy pay.
He says his job comes with some unusual benefits:
unlike most Japanese businessman
Nishida-san has time to read.