Solar lights the way out for ‘korobois’

PHOTO ERIC WAMANJI Joseph Masankai reads his Bible at night; his children listen on. Masankai is one of the people in Kajiado who are harvesting the sun for lighting at night.

What you need to know:

  • One only needs to visit plantations to appreciate the resolve by ordinary citizens to plug into the sun for light.

Joseph Masankai’s love for tradition is impeccable: he traverses the Kajiado plains looking after his livestock, lives in a manyatta, keeps his sword tucked at his waist, a lifestyle cherished for generations.

Nothing seems to have changed here except one thing — lighting at night.

Until recently, Mr Masankai used a tin lamp, or koroboi, to light up his home. He no longer does that as “the sun sets and rises almost immediately”.

“Darkness is no longer a problem,” he says as he drives his cattle towards the manyatta on this breezy January Friday evening.

It is pitch dark when he arrives at the manyatta. “Nowadays, I use solar energy for lighting,” he enthuses as he touches a switch and a light bulb comes to life, blinding us for a second.
A cheeky smile plays on his lips. Children cheer. A moth flaps against the shimmering light.

Meto village is the most unlikely of places to encounter an electric bulb. It is Kenya’s last bastion of traditional lifestyle.

Shining brightly

But thanks to the solar phenomenon sweeping across the country, here, the light is shining brightly.

“We have used tin lamps for ages but that is now in the past. One day, a saleslady introduced me to solar technology. I bought it and dumped the tin lamp. Today I can light two bulbs for about four hours. It’s very bright, like daytime. I no longer need to buy kerosene,” he said.

His neighbour, Ms Lillian Melil, has also retired her tin lamp. She has a bigger solar unit which can light four bulbs and a smaller lamp for the kitchen. The unit cost her about Sh10,000.

She sold three goats to raise the money and her life and that of her family changed.

Now her children study under a bright light and she can see clearly in the kitchen as she prepares their dinner.

With solar, there is also a communication revolution here — residents can now easily charge their mobile phones. In fact, one of the solar units comes with a multi-charger for 10 handsets.

Previoulsy villagers trekked for about 50km to Bissil to charge the phones for Sh100.

“Now, I charge my phone any time. I’m never out of reach,” Ms Melil says. “I can also inquire about prices of cattle at the market. This technology is really good for people of the manyatta.”

And that is not all. Ms Melil and Mr Masankai have discovered a nice little secret: light scares away predators that feast on cattle. So, every evening, they pull the cables and place the bulb on a pole near the boma. Ever since, no animal has been lost to a wild creature.

“I was also thrilled I could now easily read the Bible at night,” Mr Masankai, who is a pastor, says cheerily.

Indeed, the sun is rising at night. And this is not only happening in the manyattas of Kajiado, but in most villages.

“It’s a solar revolution,” says Jechonia Kitala a renewable energy advisor at SNV Netherlands Development Organisation.

Supermarkets, petrol stations, kiosks and even car boots stock the solar products.

And the Kenyan market is responding to the light. SNV and the German Society for International Cooperation Lighting Africa project is an ambitious undertaking which, in Kenya, targets 25 counties. In the past year, over 25,000 units were sold, providing light to over 100,000 people.

One only needs to visit plantations to appreciate the resolve by ordinary citizens to plug into the sun for light.

From the flower farms of Naivasha to the tea estates of Nandi Hills, workers are buying these units using credit through saccos, check-off systems, chamas or table banking.

Mosoriot in Uasin Gishu is a case in point. “Almost everyone in this area has a solar unit,” said Mr John Maritim, an accountant at Lelchego Dairy.

In rural Kenya, electricity is a tool of political seduction, reward and punishment. Tariffs are also very high and connectivity rates are prohibitive at Sh35,000.

“This solar can be our new M-Pesa,” enthuses Kitala.

This evening Masankai is bubbly with epic tales of his people’s conquests. His children listen attentively. He stops. Stares at the starry sky then mutters.

“One day, I will buy a big solar unit that will power a TV set. I want my wife and children to watch news. That’s my dream.”