The power of water - Manchewe waterfalls and Chipopoma powerplant

Manchewe (location here! <--): I heard about this village and it's hydropower plant from my colleagues. I have seen plenty of pictures and videos. Still, what I am lucky enough to be immersed in today is just unbelievable. A mix of natural beauty, human ingeniousness and collective care that I have rarely seen elsewhere.

Perched up in the mountains in the North of Malawi, Manchewe is the usual off-the beaten track village which, in the West, we would describe as 'forgotten by god'. We leave M1, after witnessing the devastating floods affecting this area of the country. Leaving the tarmacked road, and starting to go up twisty muddy-red roads is a combo I don't enjoy. Only trees around and some scattered houses hidden by banana trees. Kids occasionally emerge from the bushes. Women carry heavy loads on their heads. Everyone carries heavy loads anyhow.

 

After 40' of bumpy, carsickness-inducing roads, Chrispin slows down. The roads suddenly flattens. Concrete buildings hosting 'shops' emerge. 'We are here', he says. John emerges from the bushes. His little daughter, that he just picked up from school, in his harms. A smile so big and warming I feel like I have known him forever.

 

John didn't go to University, but he is the electric power master. Grown up with the obsession of electronics, he was raised in Manchewe. He always had the dream of, one day, bringing electricity to the village. The high voltage lines crossing the uncontaminated landscape look sad. I look at them with bitterness: they transport power up North, recklessly crossing the valley with their postmodern layout without paying the service of connecting the village. In Manchewe, 2000 souls scattered on this high-altitude plateau, never fell into the government plans of last mile electricity distribution. Too remote. Probably, too insignificant. John, however, was not daydreaming. He was grateful to live in Manchewe and aware of his bounty. Grateful, especially to the bounty of water.

The high voltage line crossing the valley but skipping Manchewe

 

The Manchewe waterfalls seem to be the only obvious attraction to the village. A 200m drop down the scariest cliff. Below, endless green. The jungle is under our feet as John invites us to watch it from above. We stand at the top of the waterfalls, struggling to look down. I usually don’t mind heights but today is an exception. “Should we go?”, John asks. We totally abandon ourselves into his lead.

John’s dream started to take shape in 2017. He always knew he could do something with the waterfalls. Geeked out on turbines, invertors and generators, he pulled some funds together and brought the idea to build a hydroelectric power plant to those who matters. They took him as a fool, and someone was sent to arrest him. People are not allowed to produce electricity by their own in Malawi. But when they realise that this was “a good initiative”, they allowed him to carry on.

We embark on our journey down to the bottom of the waterfalls so as to reach the powerhouse. Initially, the track is easy, but I am mindful that we have to drop of at least 400m. We cross a very full stream, my fear of wet rocks and the strength of the water kick in. I am lifted to the other side by two very sturdy men. I feel like a baby. 

Then, we roll down a rocky, slippy, muddy path through the forest. Branches and leaves drop down the trees. John has the brilliant idea of telling us about the time he leaned on a tree for a rest and realised he was touching something squishy. It was a snake. Or, of when he saw a python and thought “if you want to chase me, please do what you want with me”. He jokes that both him and the python were too tired to run, so they both stared at each other with the mutual agreement of being harmless. Monkeys are jumping across branches, Chrispin says that people used to eat them and call them the “goats of the trees”. I am trying to concentrate, my pointless 100£ trail running shoes defeated by the steepness. I cant believe John goes up and down this track 3 to 4 times a day to check on the power house faults. 

Monkeys!!!

 

 

We finally reach the bottom of the waterfalls 1 hour later. My Garmin disappoints me by pointing out that was only 1 mile. In awe, we look at the water jumping down, our bodies temporarily relieved by droplets falling on our sweaty skin. We are sweating soo much that Chrispin exclaims "I am all water, like a banana tree!". 

The powerhouse is up some steps, a simple turbine and a generator (and probably other tech stuff I have no clue about) housed in a brick structure hidden in the trees. I can’t imagine how the infrastructure could have been set up in such an impenetrable landscape. John explains that the whole community came together to drag the turbine and the generator down the track. They packed them up on wooden sticks to create a rudimentary wagon, lifted by over 20 people at a time. The pipes into which the water is channelled are there for as to admire them from below, shining in the sun. It is so hot and humid. For some reasons, the view of the metal hit by the sun makes me feel ever warmer. 

The track we came down is the only way of access to the waterfalls, so how were the pipes installed, one would ask? Well, surely they couldn’t rely on helicopters or cranes or pullies given the lack of funds. John, obviously found a way around it: he taught himself how to abseil and rock climb. Of course he did. He practiced for weeks, putting his harness on and stabbing nails into the rocks in preparation to installing the pipes. Then, he just did it. In one week. With very little tools and a second-hand harness, bolting each and everyone with patience and care.

The 53 kw Chipopoma power plant now serves over 300 households. The name, Chipopoma, is an onomatopoeic word people use to describe the sound the water makes when it falls: "popopopo". John has the dream to extend the project to 100kw by exploiting a further drop of the waterfalls that is currently unused. Power lines have been dragged through the village to change people lives. Crazy to think until less than 10 years ago, residents of Manchewe didn’t have light at night, could not charge their phones, couldn’t have a hair cut nor powering simple ordinary tools that we take so for granted. Of course, no TV. “When the electricity came, people were shocked. They thought they had to go to the Mission (the town of Livingstonia, about 5km away) to have a cold drink. Now we have fridges! Now everyone has a smartphone because they can charge it!”.

John is the power master, I said. He is the one spearheading the operations of the plant, running up and down everyday to lubricate the belts of the turbines and to check why the power is suddenly out. He fetches new invertors and transformers from Mzuzu when they break or are stroked by lightening, he stays up to date with the technology coming out, buying new gadgets from China to help him manage the voltage. The whole community relies on John. “He is like a good”, Chrispin says. John has trained local youth to help him keeping up with the system: they have to ensure the pipes don’t get clogged, regulate the water flows based on how much electricity is needed, cool down the power house when the turbine spins too fast and gets too hot. But, ultimately, he is the only one who knows. The only one who knows how to always have it up and running.

They also need to “dump” electricity when people are using and too much gets produced. I am shown lots of equipment, including some sticks that heat up with excess electricity and release the heat in the water. I ask so many stupid questions, Chrispin patiently explains that all that is produced needs to be consumed, otherwise the system blows up. It is midafternoon and no one is using the electricity, so they are currently “dumping”.

One of the transformers stroken by a lightening 

I write from my fancy lodge in Manchewe, overlooking Lake Malawi. A storm has exploded outside and the power is off. Only the light of my laptop is keeping me company and I wonder if John is outside checking what has gone wrong. On the way back from the waterfalls, John took me to his house and showed me how he cooks. He has a small 3kg gas bottles and a little electric stoves he displays with pride. His mission is manifold, but always starting from small, realistic goals. The current one is convincing people that they can cook with electricity and stop cutting down trees for firewood.

John’s story is so inspiring. It is a story of a man that, rather than turning his back to the place he was from, decided to stay and put his genius mind at work to improve his people’s lives. It is a story of sacrifice, dedication, determination, hope and gratitude. I spent the day with him thinking “How is he not angry? How he is not bitter at his government completely neglecting him and his community?”. But the reply was in his smile, the smile of a man that doesn’t question what’s wrong or right, but knows how to do good, and would never subtract himself from doing all he can to set things straight and give the good example.

 John also set up a maize mills for the community to use

John says that his daughter is going to be an electrician: she follows him around everywhere pretending to use the screwdriver and twisting wires as he does!