Lighting the Way

Lucy Taylor meets three older women trained as VSO solar engineers, and finds that, besides bringing free electricity to their villages, these ‘Solar Mamas’ are lighting new paths to education, business and gender equality in Malawi.

One day in September 2015, eight women set off into the unknown, leaving behind their families to board a plane to Rajasthan, India. It might as well have been Mars; most of them had never travelled beyond their villages in the outskirts of Malawi’s capital Lilongwe.

“I had never before gone to a place where the people were all mzungus [foreigners],” explains Emily Kamwendo, 42, “so I was scared when we arrived. There was nothing familiar to us. At first we feared what people might do to us.”

Emily and the others had to brush off their fears and adapt quickly. They’d come with a mission: VSO had selected these semi-literate women to take part in a six-month intensive training course in solar engineering with the Barefoot College in Tilonia, India. As part of a VSO pilot project, it was hoped they would graduate as ‘Solar Mamas’: women with the skills to build and maintain solar lighting systems back home in Malawi.

Despite living less than an hour’s drive from the president’s house in downtown Lilongwe, the residents of Kalolo village have no access to the national grid. Like the vast majority of Malawians, they rely on fires and torches for light at night, and have to travel about 12km to the nearest trading post to pay for batteries and mobile phone charging.

“You could easily injure yourself at home in the darkness,” remembers Kalolo’s Village Headman George Nyaugu. “There used to be a lot of livestock theft – even I have had goats stolen in the past. Or there might be a snake in the house and you couldn’t see anything.”

Those weren’t the only dangers, explains Dines Msampha, 42, who lives here with her children and grandchildren:

“Before, the outside kitchen was very close to the house. One time my kids were using some lit thatch as a torch, and accidentally set fire to some clothes in the house. We were lucky no one was hurt”

It’s not just electricity that Dines missed out on. Like all the women selected to train as Solar Mamas, she never had a chance to finish her education:

“Growing up I wanted to be a doctor or an accountant, but we didn’t have the money for school fees,” says Dines.

“I was excited to do the Solar Mamas course. I was excited to think that a woman like me could be an engineer.”

The focus on uneducated women from poor rural communities has been part of the Barefoot College’s ethos since Indian founder Bunker Roy set it up in 1986. Speaking in 2016, Mr Roy said, “We are trying to prove a point that any woman can pick up the most sophisticated technology. If you train a woman, she loves training other women and wants to share her knowledge with others."

All eight of VSO’s Solar Mamas passed their courses, and since returning home have brought electricity to almost 200 households, as well as a primary school. In return for light and maintenance of their solar systems, households each make a small financial contribution towards a monthly salary (about £10) for the Solar Mamas, giving them a regular income for the first time in their lives.

Because of them, children are able to read and do homework after sunset. Women and men have more time for their businesses. Community members say that their costs are reduced because they no longer buy batteries or travel long distances just to charge their phones.

All of this has given people newfound freedom over their time, which they are using to create prosperity for themselves. Take Elinati Pattison, 48, another Kalolo resident who now has free electricity at home for the first time.

“In the past, I always struggled to find time for everything. I had to go and do farming, cook for the family and so on. So, the time left for my tailoring business was limited,” says Elinati.

“Now, I can work as long as I like. Sometimes, when I’m busy, I even work from 7pm to 4am! I am happy when I’m working on my business, because I want to be somewhere in life.

“My income has more than doubled. I am able to pay school fees and life is much better. I have improved my home and bought a pig, and am even able to help my relatives who are not so well-to-do.”

As to who installed Elinati’s lighting system? It was none other than Solar Mama Dines, who lives just around the corner.

“I was really happy for my neighbour Dines becoming a Solar Mama,” smiles Elinati. “It has never happened before in this village, so she’s setting an example that woman can also be engineers.”

Indeed, the Solar Mamas stand out in this community, in their Indian tunics and wide-legged trousers (a parting gift from Barefoot College). They’ve changed more deeply too, in the eyes of their husbands, children and community leaders – not all of whom were thrilled at first to see them up sticks and leave for India.

“At first my husband wasn’t happy,” admits Solar Mama Emily. “I don’t think he thought I was serious at first. As time went on, whenever I would try to discuss it with him he was very quiet, not saying anything. So one day, when I woke up I told him, point blank: ‘I am going to India.’”

Not only were husbands going to be losing their partners. Their wives would also be missed in terms of the often-backbreaking work traditionally assigned to women in the home: child-rearing, cooking, cleaning, farming. With his wife thousands of miles away, Emily’s husband Stefano suddenly found himself feeding the children and fetching water (carrying it in his hands instead of on his head, in the hope of avoiding the neighbours’ scorn).

“After Emily left, at first I avoided taking part in any home management issues,” he remembers. “My fear was the judgement from the community seeing a man doing such things.”

“I took responsibility for cooking. Now I appreciate that cooking is hard! In the past I would ask my wife, ‘will you cook this or that for me?’ Even if she was sick I would say things like ‘Ah, it’s just cooking!’ When she left I realised: ‘This woman does a lot of work here.’”

“At first, when my wife left, I felt like now she’s educated, she’s better than me. I was afraid that maybe she would divorce me. But, when she got back nothing had changed between us. She hugged me; I hugged her; she was so happy to see me. It made me appreciate her even more, because after everything she’d seen and done she still wanted to be with me. I’m very proud of my wife.“

In a community where people expect women to stay at home, cooking for the family, ensuring the kids are fed and wearing clean clothes – being a Solar Mama is a pioneering act. But this small pilot project (that VSO volunteers now hope to scale up to include technology like solar-powered maize mills and irrigation systems) has already achieved a lot. It has proven that women – when given the opportunity and confidence to do so – can provide a beacon of strength to all around them.

Dines shares a thought echoed by almost all the Solar Mamas when retelling their stories: “My perspective of myself has changed a lot. Now I know that I can do things on my own. I managed to build this house on my own, without a husband. I bought all the materials with my own money, and I built it alone with my own hands.”