Lighting up an island - welcome to Chisi!

Today we are off to an island. We are going to visit a solar minigrid installed in 2024 by the Malawian Ministry of Energy and UNDP. The photovoltaic panels produce up to 45kw of electricity and are the only way to bring light to the 2,000 souls who live in Chisi, a lush little mountainous heap of soil, rocks and trees in the middle of Lake Chilwa, which extends over to Mozambique.

We set off from Zomba, once the capital of Malawi, early in the morning. We had to hire a Jeep as Chrispin anticipated the roads to be bad. I was kind of dubious - I thought that, at this point, I had seen the worst there was to witness in terms of poor roads. I should have learnt to give credit to this man a long time ago. The tarmac ends soon after we meet the first fields of maize. Initially, the compact muddy surface of the road provides relief: it is much better than constantly zigzagging to avoid potholes. We pass through various 'townships', which are no more than some sheds and makeshifts where people trade goods and services of all sort. We encounter and try to avoid endless people on bikes - sometimes I feel Malawi is the Netherlands of Africa for the numbers of bikes that are around. Everyone is transporting something: kids, bags of charcoal, firewood, bags of foods probably fetched in Zomba to sell at the townships. We pass plots where women are busy tending to the vegetables, a few schools. Occasional mosques scattered around as we are in the South of Malawi, where the majority of the population is Muslim. Everyone is busy. Life flows undisturbed. 

I am still thinking that Chrispin's assessment of the roads' condition was exaggerated when we start seeing water on the road. 'The road is a river', Chrispin says. It seems to be no problem for a bit, as the mud is compact and we just slide over it. But then, it turns into mud. We have been 'bumping' on the seats for a while, as the driver cruises at full speed constantly steering the wheel towards the best part of the road. But now, a different experience starts. I close my eyes as he accelerates over the mud to avoid getting stuck. When I open my eyes, we are on dry land... For just a few minutes. Then mud again. The maize fields have left space for rice fields. Yes, they produce lots of rice in Malawi!!! People on the roads and those living in the houses next to the road look at our car with curiosity. 

At some point, we are stuck behind a truck. The paddles we have just overcome look nothing like the lake dug into the road by the heavy rains that we have in front of our eyes. Some people are crossing it barefoot. The water reaches their knees. Someone crosses by bike, lifting the bike on top of their head if they are transporting only themselves, or pushing them against the strength of the water if they are unlucky enough to carry a load. We are assessing what to do: the truck is stuck on the side. We get off the car. Chrispin's trying to assess whether the jeep is as knee high as the water. These guys fear nothing. Seeing people emerging on the other side is enough for them to give it a try. 

We get back into the car, I have no time to seat properly that the driver is already accelerating. My window is down so I get splashed with muddy water. It's like being in a rollercoaster. Gas gas gas. The car has some hesitation, the driver keeps accelerating. His control of the steering wheel is commendable. We emerge safely on the other side.

After about 1 hour we reach Mchenga, where the road ends. The lake opens to our eyes in every direction. Mountains on the horizons and rice fields to set the lake's border. The sun shines and it's kind of a magic view. There are a variety of people here. Sellers of vegetables and snacks, motor taxis, fishermen. Some men are busy loading a boat with cement bricks. It's buzzing. Someone has even come this far to fetch firewood!

A boat is waiting for us. I jump in it. It is a very old, wooden boat with a Yamaha engine attached to it. The planks in the bottom are broken in places and there is water sitting at the bottom. Chrispin reassures me that it's water coming from the rains, not from the lake. We set off. People in rudimentary canooes pass by us, busy fishing or simply reaching the other side of the lake. They move their precarious boats with long thin wooded sticks. I have so much appreciation for their strength. Chisi Island does not look very far, but it takes about 30 minutes to get there. I look around marvelled. It is a beautiful sunny day and Chisi Island is getting closer in all its beauty. A remote, unknown, unspoiled island covered in green. Some weird dragonflies that look like they have drones attached to their wings zoom over us. I feel life is all concentrated here. I feel so lucky to be here...

The lake is placid, so the crossing goes smoothly. Thanks god as I wasn't sure the boat could make big waves. It wasn't of reassurance that the lake is only 3m deep. There are hippos in it, apparently, and crocodiles. Needless to say that, when we get to the other side, there is no 'harbour'. The men who 'sailed' us get off into the water, trying to get the boat as close to land as possible. Chrispin says I may have to accept to be lifted by one of them. I don't like the idea of a man having to carry me to the bank so I step into the muddy grass and on some precarious rocks until I am on the path. We then walk on a trail to the solar power plant. Here is where I start noticing the island is not so incontaminated. Trees are disappearing, cut down for firewood. We can see smoke up in the moutain, likely a charcoal kiln. A endless view of tree stumps is what we walk through. 

We are welcome to the plant by the technicians living in loco to tend to the systems and maintain it, while also sorting out the failures. We talk to them about how revolutionary electricity has been for people living here. Until a year ago, no electricity meant no work or activities after 7pm, where the sun sets. No fridges, no TV, no smartphones. The only little power they could get was from small solar panels households fetched for themselves to power small devices and torches. I can't believe there are places with no electricity in the Third Millennium. The technician says that the biggest revolution has been 'family unity and cohesion', as men living on the island don't have to leave anymore to go and watch the football matches on land. Manchester United being a source of divorce in Malawi is something I had not anticipated.

We are taken around the island on the back of an electric tricycle. Lots of houses scattered around fields. Kids screaming at me, quickly convinced I am a human and not a ghost when I smile and wave at them. We reach an open ground that looks like a football pitch to have a bit of a discussion about the revolutionary power of electricity for this community. We gather under a tree for some shade. There are women and men. And lots of young girls breastfeeding their kids as they engage with us. I am taken aback by the spontaneity of nature which we have lost in the West, too concerned to be prude and private and to 'behave' as expected (by whom?!). As usual, people are shy. They mostly talk Chicheva so I don't understand. Chrispin and Chris take turns to translate. It comes to light how 'unexposed' to 'modern life' people in the island have been. Imagine that there is only one car on the island: it was sailed across on the same boat we used to cross and it's a massive truck (I swear I saw a video of the crossing - not sure how the boat didn't sink!). Some people on the island, who never left Chisi, were shocked to see a car, they didn't know cars existed!

People talks about the pleasure of having cold drinks now that they have electricity to power fridges. The ludicrousness of watching football on their TVs. Some even cook with hotplates, although the way to giving up firewood seem to be very far away. Most of them are not aware clean cooking solutions exists. Not surprising given how remote this place is. We buy everyone biscuits and sofas before we leave.

 

The sky is 'cooking rain' again, it is so humid and hot. We are worried we may be caught by heavy waves on the crossing back - or stuck on mud on the drive back. But somehow, panic doesn't take over. I want to stay longer, absorb it all. I am so sad to leave: I feel this is one of the most special places I visited. As the waves on the crossing back get stronger, I feel like having a little cry: I don't know if it is joy for how lucky I am here to be here, compassion for the humble life of local people or awe for how creative these people are, always finding solutions within precarity and scarcity. I also felt a bit out of space and uncomfortable when visiting the island. I always attract lots of attention and I am not sure people actually like me to be here - I am yet to navigate the tension between being here for my project and the feeling of being nosey over people's lives. It's easy to romanticise when you are privileged, as well as to judge. What I tried to do was to observe and absorb, respectfully but always a step back while following the lead of Chris and Chrispin, my gatekeepers and the humans who make amazing things happen in Malawi - I am very grateful to have them with me.

Absolutely love those two - Dr Chrispin Gogoda & Christopher Hara