Help harness the sun’s power to provide a brighter future for Africa’s children

Rosemary Bennett
Nyangwayo Primary School is short of many things. There is no running water, books are thin on the ground and the meagre collection of pencils has to be carefully rationed.
But there is no shortage of ambition. The head teacher, Joseph Komunga, is determined that his 750 pupils will not follow their parents into a life of subsistence farming, or scrape a living catching tilapia, the local fish, each night in Lake Victoria.
Gazing across the great lake where the school nestles on the shore, he vows that these children will instead become professionals — teachers, community health workers, nurses — or run their own little business in one of the bigger towns near by.
But to do that, and to push the children to their full potential, he needs light. The children arrive at school at 6.30 in the morning to begin their lessons, but the sun is so low in the sky that they have to sit outside for the first hour, limiting what they can do.

The unbearable heat means that everyone takes a nap at midday. Then the light fades quickly and by 4pm the children are straining to see their books. Studies continue with the use of kerosene lamps, which the teachers hate because they hurt the children’s eyes; they know the lamps are also highly toxic, spewing fumes into the poorly ventilated little classrooms. Respiratory disease caused by the lamps has become the biggest killer on the continent, with 1.5 million women and children dying every year.
But this is about to change. SolarAid, one of The Times Christmas charities, has chosen Nyangwayo to be the first solar school in Kenya.
From dawn, technicians have been at the school attaching four 120-watt solar panels to the classroom roofs. They will power 24 bulbs all day and four security lamps overnight.
Joseph Komunga has other plans for his electricity. He does not see why Kenyan children should have to make do with books and the occasional radio broadcast for their education. “They need visual aids. I want them to be able to see videos and computers. I want them to be able to listen to tapes and CDs,” he said.
He even has plans for a school barber shop. “We take hygiene very seriously. We want the children to have very short hair to prevent lice. We have an electrical point for a razor,” he says, pointing to the socket on the wall of the dilapidated stone classroom.
But lighting the dormitories must wait. The school also accommodates a dozen or so children overnight, mainly those who live far away or who are becoming sucked into doing too many chores at home.
“If I see a pupil struggling to get to school on time I will ask if they are doing work around the home. Then I will suggest that they stay here, especially if it is close to their examinations,” Mr Komunga said. But the lack of lighting brings safety fears. The children often use candles to find their way around and fires in dorms like this are common in Africa.
Today it is Saturday but the children have all come to school anyway, despite the long walk — five miles for many of them. Many of their parents have come too, along with the half dozen or so local chiefs. They cram into the only shady corner of the playground to watch the last solar panel being lifted into place. Mr Komunga is a remarkable head and a gifted leader. The children hang on his every word as he leads the rhythmic, ceremonial clapping as each chief is introduced. Every time the children fail to stop clapping at the right moment, and everyone collapses into laughter.
“Today we have been given this gift of light. We are blessed,” Mr Komunga booms out. The master switch is flicked, the bulbs all light up, and amid loud cheers the classrooms are transformed.
Now that power has arrived the teachers want school to start even earlier — 5am if possible. It will be an even more punishing regime for these six to 13-year-olds, but education is a serious business in rural Kenya.
“Just seeing this technology is very good for their education. The children see ... how things work and the possibilities technology can bring them,” Mr Komunga says.
Solar light at Nyangwayo is a community effort. Women from nearby villages are in charge of cleaning the box housing the batteries and the invertor, and get on the roof to clean the solar panels of dust and leaves.
The community has also helped to raise the money for the panels. Although 90 per cent of the cost is met by SolarAid, the charity believes that it is crucial for its long-term success that the equipment is not just given away.
These four panels have cost the school 67,000 shillings (£500). Mr Komunga’s own fundraising includes getting contributions from the local authority, the education department in Nairobi and, crucially, from parents, many of whom have paid 100 shillings towards the lights.
Solar power will help to generate income, too. The panels can charge 25 mobile phones a day, for which the school receives 20 shillings each. That, and the saving on kerosene, means that they will soon pay for themselves.
As the SolarAid technicians pack up their gear and plan the next school instalment — another three before the end of the year — Mr Komunga is visibly moved. “I want things to change,” he says. “I want all the boys and girls to go to secondary school when they leave. Most of the boys from round here become fishermen. I want to give them other skills so they have a choice, even go to university.
“SolarAid has opened the door to that future. I just feel sorry other schools are still in the dark.”