Leaning against the wall of the solar center, the bricks still damp having been formed two days before, I tried my hardest to slow down time. Zayem! Fati exclaimed every time a green light transitioned from a sea of small red LED lights. The green light indicated that the battery was fullycharged and ready to be rented out for the first time to the eager Nomdu One villagers gathered just outside. Dchen! Sowdatu chimed in when a second light stood out with a satisfying green color. Inductively, I gathered that Zayem meant one and Dchen must mean two (although for a good 25 minutes I thought the words were used for color description). I never learned the word for three in Dagbani, despite the fact that 3 batteries were required to power every household’s new Burro lanterns. By the time a third charger light turned green, it was a scramble between the two women entrepreneurs to see who would gather two or all three fully charged batteries and complete the transaction. Just as excited to be handing over the thirty Pesewas (the fixed price to rent three fully charged batteries), community members of all ages quickly huddled together to plant the batteries in the lanterns and unleash light into the village courtyard, each click and each lantern granting greater and greater illumination. While Lauren and Khadija floated to troubleshoot battery placement and document the momentous occasion, I succeeded in losing track of time watching the lights turn from red to green, and witnessing “empowerment” in so many ways.
By now, readers will be familiar with our solar entrepreneurship project and will understand the thrill that was our opening night. Months ago we were dreaming of this project, weeks ago we arrived in Ghana and first spoke to the village Chief, and only days ago we helped facilitate and witnessed the humbling construction of the community solar center. A physical signature that indeed, this wasn’t a dream and shared aspirations between Lauren, Nomdu One community members, and myself had materialized. With the construction of the center, our days in the village were numbered – we knew the transition of power from our vision to the reality of the women was imminent (sorry, I can't stay away from these electricity puns!).
That transition was opening night. Having visited every household in the community (68 in total!), where each household had on average 10 people, we made sure to notify hundreds of village community members that on opening night they’d be able to charge their cell phones and bring their new lantern to rent batteries and illuminate their compounds. For many households, this would be the first time they had non-kerosene light or light at all in their homes.
The opening event itself featured a mix of beauty, excitement, and wholly underwhelming calmness. While children jumped and clapped, grinning ear to ear, adults more successfully contained their excitement as they gathered. The smiles, however, were omnipresent. As family after family rented batteries and illuminated the space under the chief’s tree, however, I didn’t see what I had pictured the monumental opening night to be. Overly fetishized in my head, I had imagined hundreds of Nomdu One villagers gathered surrounding the solar center with their lights. Maybe someone would bring their radio, or better yet, play the drums I’d carefully eyed sitting in the corner of compound huts. Instead, a sea of quiet, calm, yet appreciative routine swept across the village once lanterns were lit. Waving goodbye, families would return to their compounds to utilize the new hours of the day to cook while the blistering sun was absent. An unintended consequence, children stayed up later and enjoyed their shadows and familiar company at an unfamiliar hour. When I fell back into time passing at a normal speed, it was clear that the nondescript routine that followed the community illumination was perhaps the most comforting phenomenon we could have hoped for Nomdu One. Brushing off the inherent white savior framework I was all too cognizant of at many stages of this “international development” project, I breathed a tired sigh of relief realizing that really this project achieved its simple goal. Far from life altering for many, the gift of community solar electricity meant more agency, more time, not saving. Nomdu One residents previously had kerosene lamps or lead-acid battery powered flashlights, and instead we brought durable, waterproof, clean-energy lamps. Healthier and cheaper, sure, but we didn’t bring the gift of light. In terms of cell phones, almost every household had one (despite being miles from the grid) and had previously walked great distances to charge them. Now, they would be able to drop it off in the center of town, say hi to friends on the way, and be supporting a local business on the way. And for our women entrepreneurs, this business wasn’t a life altering abandonment from the agrarian lifestyle – in fact, our last day in the village we didn't say goodbye to Sowda because she had to tend to some emergency business in the farm. Instead, for these women and for all the community members in the village of Nomdu One, this project set out to accomplish a simple and sustainable goal – to provide solar “power to empower” – and in doing so helped improve longitudinal health and unlock a myriad of opportunities with the extra time, light, and connection previously absent.
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