Something from nothing

Long ago, President Daniel arap Moi decided that Kenya should stop being a third world country, and like all the other world powers start to make cars. They would be called Nyayo, his national slogan. The staff of the Nairobi technical university were instructed to develop the prototype, and sure enough a boxy Fiat 124 lookalike was duly produced, and driven around the Nyayo Stadium by His Excellency himself.

I, I’m sorry to say, sneered at the idea, knowing it was a waste of money, and that Kenya would never be able to compete in the car business. When it fizzled out, it wasn’t even worth saying “I told you so” because it was such an absurd project. And that was my reaction a few years later, in 1992, when the first mobile phone masts were being erected in Nairobi. “Ridiculous,” I said, “who on earth will be able to afford them?”

How wrong can one be? A little wrong? Just wrong? Completely wrong? Wrong wrong? I was all of those, because now Kenya’s mobile phone usage is so widespread that everyone’s got one. What’s more they are being used to incredible effect – for banking and money transfers, market information, following government expenditure – you name it, Kenya’s got an application, often homegrown, for everything, which makes the little devices almost indispensable.

The Congo has got a long way to go before it reaches that stage. The country is so vast that coverage will be totally uneconomic for many communities. But in the main towns and on the main routes, they are universal. Many people have two or three, and the first thing everyone does in a meeting is to lay their phones out on the table in front of them. It is not just bureaucrats who have them: everyone does, from the smallest market woman or farmer, to the taxi drivers and building labourer.

But there’s one big problem. If you don’t have electricity, how do you charge it? It’s strange that there has been almost no penetration of solar chargers here, probably because they are so expensive. Instead, people have to snatch charging time whenever and wherever they can find an electrical outlet. The first thing that people do when they come to the office is to ask for somewhere to charge their phone. People on the move, like drivers have a particularly difficult time: ten minutes here, thirty minutes there.

So along the street, there are people who sell charging time. Their presence is advertised by huge boards with about 30 socket outlets on them. You simply pay 100 francs (10 US cents) or so, and plug it in for however long you need.

But the charging stations also need electricity. Where can someone sitting at the edge of the road get it from? No problem: most of the main roads have street lights, and even if the lights themselves aren’t working, which is normal, the electricity in the lamp poles is. So, the cover is gently removed from the base of the pole, a plug is fitted, and hey-presto, there’s the power for your charging board. And while you’re at it, you might as well use the power for other stuff, such as a photocopying machine.

It’s not just phone chargers who “borrow” electricity. Householders do too. Right next to our office is an army camp. If you live there and want electricity, you have only to ask the local electrician (who maintains his monopoly status by any means necessary) to make the connection for you. For his normal fee he will take a wire from the local substation and it will be draped over a variety of walls, through trees, this way and that until it reaches your house. Little coloured scarecrow indicators of plastic are tied at intervals on each wire so that you know whose is whose. A very satisfactory arrangement. And when the electricity company starts to disconnect all these wires all that is required is a tiny show of force by the “customers” with machine guns to put an end to that nonsense. What’s the point of being in the army if you can’t play with your guns?

Unfortunately, the monopolistic electrician isn’t that careful. Often his wires droop very low, and are hit by a passing lorry or bus. Sparks fly and people get nasty electric shocks. Traffic is blocked for hours while he is hunted down to sort it out.

Taking a flimsy wire (very flimsy) for a couple of lights is one thing, but sometimes bigger fish try to do the same. They dig up the road, and secretly try to attach their grand house to the main cable, bypassing various safety devices. The results are usually disastrous. Three weeks ago there was sparking and arcing in the street like a firework display, followed by blackout. Last week-end someone else tried the something similar and the wires of the main fused together, thus putting out of action one phase of the supply to our office.

Getting something for nothing is an attractive proposition, but sometimes amateur electricians get fried. Mortally fried. Maybe someone upstairs has decided that there should be limits to what you should get from nothing.