I have no words…I cannot put sentences together…Joyous unloading of the container, FECECAV employees, solar technicians, SunPower Afrique. Nothing broken! By far the most popular item for our solar team was the radio Jon brought, which they immediately turned on and began dancing to those contagious West African beats, squealing with delight. All smiles at our American equipment and electrical supplies, and after the customs inspection, we got right to work.
Thursday we organized ourselves and starting mounting racking. This was the most invasive and noisy part of the installation, requiring small holes drilled through FECECAV’s thick concrete roof to bolt down the teak racks. Some FECECAV employees immediately freaked at the thought of collapsing roofs, unruly electricity coming down from the roof, the "smell" of batteries...showcasing the biggest challenge for the expansion of a solar industry in Togo, one we will have to combat head on and defeat with education if this dream is to suceed: lack of knowledge and understanding. Funny that the same ignorance exists in the US.
Our team took turns with the electric hammer drill, thrilled and engaged. They are so animated and hard-working, I will never be able to describe enough my pride and how fond I am of these boys. I will post videos and pictures when I have a better internet connection, as everyone in the world should share in this sheer delight.
Saturday and Sunday we pulled wires.
Today we are connecting batteries and installing ground wire, this afternoon we will run AC wiring to the meter and prepare for interconnection.
All installation techniques reinforced the electrical design and knowledge gained in training – once again I translated to French from Ron and Jon’s English (I am completely exhausted of talking...never thought I'd say that haha...if there are any professional translators out there reading this, I salute you), spotted throughout of course with my joking and laughing with my crew in Ewe. Me also loving every minute. I am unaccountably happy :)
This Thursday will be the grand unveiling. A Togolese PV system commissioning. The mayor will be there, the radio, all of FECECAV and my solar team.
Le vrai lancement de SunPower Afrique au Togo!
More to come…
Monday, June 28, 2010
Money Was Talking
24 June 2010
At 6AM Ron and I moto-ed to the Lomé station and jammed into a taxi, half filled with Kola nuts, on a mission to pick up the container from the port and bring it back to Kpalimé. After a stop in Keve, where it was market day and both sides of the road were lined with colorful stacks pagnes, women hawking platters full of peanuts and dried fish and general Togolese mayhem, we arrived in Lomé.
In Adidogome, the quartier of the Lomé FECECAV office where we were to meet Novinyo and the area in which the riots and mayhem of the past few days was the most “chaud” (hot), we saw blackened pavement and piles of tires on the side of the road, a large police presence, and the remnants of the protests…but as the taxi driver explained, the trouble makers had slipped back into the shadowy corners of Lomé, once again defeated by batons and tear gas.
We went directly to the Maersk office, expecting to head directly to the port. And thus began one of the most frustrating days of my life in Togo. Occasionally I have times such as this, where I wonder why I bother, discouraged and frustrated, conquered and overwhelmed…it is always washed away by the encouragement of my partners and my belief in what I do and the impact of SunPower Afrique, but this is not easy. For the second time on official business in Lomé, a few tears fell.
I learned from our “partners” at Maersk that my papers were not at all in order. I was made aware that SunPower Afrique has only touched the tip of the iceberg in procuring the necessary authorizations and licenses to carry out our import-export and official business in Togo. I was stunned and furious at the lies and secrecy. Again.
I need about 4 more critical documents. No one told me, no one gave me information, no one thought to share these essential procedures. However Simon and his colleagues at Maersk promised to navigate the treacherous and ravenous customs whitewater to get my container out that day. It was only later in the day when Novinyo realized what Simon had muttered under his breath in Ewe after this promise – “You will pay dearly…” He told us he would call when the container was on the truck and ready to depart.
They didn’t tell me before so that they could claim they are “doing me favors,” for which they are of course to be compensated. Same with the Ministry of Decentrealization, who also did not impart any of this information, but also for reasons of sheer misunderstanding of their own government’s procedures…I have a knack for timing. Since this year’s elections, no one knows where anything is anymore…ministers have changed and arbitrarily moved their offices and changed staff to surround themselves with their “associates.” In addition, since the government is now decentralized (since 2005, when Eyadema’s death forced the changeover from dictatorship to multi-party democracy) each ministry carry out licensures and approvals themselves. The result: I end up doing the same thing 8 times, as each ministry is entitled to their own lists of required documents, fees and examination. Stamps and bargains at every one. The inefficiency (and other things which I cannot write on this blog, as I am even now unsuccessfully trying to be politically correct and inoffensive…) is astonishing.
After traveling to at least 5 offices, (including one where the secretary hated me from the moment I walked in the door for whatever reason, refused to make eye contact with me and, when I placed the list I had received at the previous office – a different Ministry – in front of her, innocently, honestly!, asking if it was the same, she starting shrieking at me and asked Novinyo why the hell I was shoving papers in her face from a different department…) Novinyo pulled me aside after this visit. He told me my behavior was unacceptable, I need to shut my mouth, let him do the talking and understand that when I show documents from other offices and demand answers, the perception is that I am insulting them and telling them that they don’t know how to do their job. He then asked me if I had received a Quote from Maersk. This was where the tears came.
For nearly 6 months I have demanded this from Simon. He refused to answer and finally, when I copied my contacts in NY and his big boss, told me that I would receive this upon my arrival. Assuming this was normal procedure I accepted. When I told Novinyo I did not yet have anything except an $800 quote for trucking to Kpalimé (which he cried was ludicrous) he starting screaming. They are going to rob you!! How did you not tell me this?! If you have no quote they can do whatever they want!! They are going to steal everything from us!! I am your representative!! You HAVE to tell me these things Kira!! I felt like a naïve yovo, the worst feeling in the world, a bad partner, and a complete idiot…I also realized that Novinyo is a very special person. He helps me more than anyone else, taking days off from work to drive me around Lomé, negotiate for my documents and support SunPower Afrique. It was at this moment, when he told me I should have told him about the lack of a quote, that I realized how I can rely on him, and how he wants me to rely on him. I am so lucky. He told me to stop my crying immediately. I did my best.
Simon called. The container is on the truck. Come to the office, pay us, and get instructions. Sitting comfortably in the chilly AC of the office, they placed an invoice of $6000 in front of me. I truly thought I might throw up. Panicked, I looked at Novinyo and he warned me to be quiet with his eyes. I did just that. I won’t go into the details of the negotiations, as it is not well-advised for me to write this here, except to say that Novinyo is an expert, a hero and I believe that we embarrassed them into bringing down their fees (although I never did and probably never will get the itemized list I asked for for the “customs fees,” Simon telling me this is an “internal document.”) I somehow persuaded them to let me pay the ocean freight to DAMCO when I return to the states (honestly because I forgot to send the check before I left…it is sitting on my desk…) and, since it was after 5, I couldn’t go to the bank and withdraw the deposit of $3000. I proimised to come back with it next week and realized that somehow I managed to walk out without paying anything…
We then went to the port. Novinyo knew someone at the gate and managed to get us inside, and I felt like a fugitive, ducking between the massive trucks that travel up and down the Route National carrying palm oil and supplies to Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger. Ron and I also breathed in enough exhaust and dust to last a lifetime…the port is a bustling place, gritty and loud, dangerous and severe. I couldn't help but notice all of the qir conditioned SUVs full of yovos driving in and out...import-export opportunists preying on the West African market...gross...
Three hours and 11 stamps later (not kidding…) we piled into the massive 1970s Mercedes and pounded our way to Kpalimé in the black African night. We were stopped 6 times along the way for more customs inspections and “fees” and arrived in front FECECAV at 11:45pm. Since a customs agent is required to be present when the container is unloaded, we decided to wait until the morning (they were all sleeping in a sodabi-induced stupor) and, exhausted, collapsed at Petite Suisse.
Last night my friend Yao (FECECAV’s chauffeur with the piercing black eyes and enormous hands that immediately swallow both of mine when they meet – I wrote a lot about him in 2008 if you recall :) ) and I had a beer on the roof of Petite Suisse. Yao spent time in Ghana and does not speak very good French, so understanding his hastily constructed Ewe-French-Ghanaian English phrases is always a challenge. I recounted the saga of getting the container out of the port, and, 20 minutes later, after much tongue clicking and head shaking, he looked at me smiling.
“Oh Togo, Togo,” he said, “Money was talking.”
At 6AM Ron and I moto-ed to the Lomé station and jammed into a taxi, half filled with Kola nuts, on a mission to pick up the container from the port and bring it back to Kpalimé. After a stop in Keve, where it was market day and both sides of the road were lined with colorful stacks pagnes, women hawking platters full of peanuts and dried fish and general Togolese mayhem, we arrived in Lomé.
In Adidogome, the quartier of the Lomé FECECAV office where we were to meet Novinyo and the area in which the riots and mayhem of the past few days was the most “chaud” (hot), we saw blackened pavement and piles of tires on the side of the road, a large police presence, and the remnants of the protests…but as the taxi driver explained, the trouble makers had slipped back into the shadowy corners of Lomé, once again defeated by batons and tear gas.
We went directly to the Maersk office, expecting to head directly to the port. And thus began one of the most frustrating days of my life in Togo. Occasionally I have times such as this, where I wonder why I bother, discouraged and frustrated, conquered and overwhelmed…it is always washed away by the encouragement of my partners and my belief in what I do and the impact of SunPower Afrique, but this is not easy. For the second time on official business in Lomé, a few tears fell.
I learned from our “partners” at Maersk that my papers were not at all in order. I was made aware that SunPower Afrique has only touched the tip of the iceberg in procuring the necessary authorizations and licenses to carry out our import-export and official business in Togo. I was stunned and furious at the lies and secrecy. Again.
I need about 4 more critical documents. No one told me, no one gave me information, no one thought to share these essential procedures. However Simon and his colleagues at Maersk promised to navigate the treacherous and ravenous customs whitewater to get my container out that day. It was only later in the day when Novinyo realized what Simon had muttered under his breath in Ewe after this promise – “You will pay dearly…” He told us he would call when the container was on the truck and ready to depart.
They didn’t tell me before so that they could claim they are “doing me favors,” for which they are of course to be compensated. Same with the Ministry of Decentrealization, who also did not impart any of this information, but also for reasons of sheer misunderstanding of their own government’s procedures…I have a knack for timing. Since this year’s elections, no one knows where anything is anymore…ministers have changed and arbitrarily moved their offices and changed staff to surround themselves with their “associates.” In addition, since the government is now decentralized (since 2005, when Eyadema’s death forced the changeover from dictatorship to multi-party democracy) each ministry carry out licensures and approvals themselves. The result: I end up doing the same thing 8 times, as each ministry is entitled to their own lists of required documents, fees and examination. Stamps and bargains at every one. The inefficiency (and other things which I cannot write on this blog, as I am even now unsuccessfully trying to be politically correct and inoffensive…) is astonishing.
After traveling to at least 5 offices, (including one where the secretary hated me from the moment I walked in the door for whatever reason, refused to make eye contact with me and, when I placed the list I had received at the previous office – a different Ministry – in front of her, innocently, honestly!, asking if it was the same, she starting shrieking at me and asked Novinyo why the hell I was shoving papers in her face from a different department…) Novinyo pulled me aside after this visit. He told me my behavior was unacceptable, I need to shut my mouth, let him do the talking and understand that when I show documents from other offices and demand answers, the perception is that I am insulting them and telling them that they don’t know how to do their job. He then asked me if I had received a Quote from Maersk. This was where the tears came.
For nearly 6 months I have demanded this from Simon. He refused to answer and finally, when I copied my contacts in NY and his big boss, told me that I would receive this upon my arrival. Assuming this was normal procedure I accepted. When I told Novinyo I did not yet have anything except an $800 quote for trucking to Kpalimé (which he cried was ludicrous) he starting screaming. They are going to rob you!! How did you not tell me this?! If you have no quote they can do whatever they want!! They are going to steal everything from us!! I am your representative!! You HAVE to tell me these things Kira!! I felt like a naïve yovo, the worst feeling in the world, a bad partner, and a complete idiot…I also realized that Novinyo is a very special person. He helps me more than anyone else, taking days off from work to drive me around Lomé, negotiate for my documents and support SunPower Afrique. It was at this moment, when he told me I should have told him about the lack of a quote, that I realized how I can rely on him, and how he wants me to rely on him. I am so lucky. He told me to stop my crying immediately. I did my best.
Simon called. The container is on the truck. Come to the office, pay us, and get instructions. Sitting comfortably in the chilly AC of the office, they placed an invoice of $6000 in front of me. I truly thought I might throw up. Panicked, I looked at Novinyo and he warned me to be quiet with his eyes. I did just that. I won’t go into the details of the negotiations, as it is not well-advised for me to write this here, except to say that Novinyo is an expert, a hero and I believe that we embarrassed them into bringing down their fees (although I never did and probably never will get the itemized list I asked for for the “customs fees,” Simon telling me this is an “internal document.”) I somehow persuaded them to let me pay the ocean freight to DAMCO when I return to the states (honestly because I forgot to send the check before I left…it is sitting on my desk…) and, since it was after 5, I couldn’t go to the bank and withdraw the deposit of $3000. I proimised to come back with it next week and realized that somehow I managed to walk out without paying anything…
We then went to the port. Novinyo knew someone at the gate and managed to get us inside, and I felt like a fugitive, ducking between the massive trucks that travel up and down the Route National carrying palm oil and supplies to Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger. Ron and I also breathed in enough exhaust and dust to last a lifetime…the port is a bustling place, gritty and loud, dangerous and severe. I couldn't help but notice all of the qir conditioned SUVs full of yovos driving in and out...import-export opportunists preying on the West African market...gross...
Three hours and 11 stamps later (not kidding…) we piled into the massive 1970s Mercedes and pounded our way to Kpalimé in the black African night. We were stopped 6 times along the way for more customs inspections and “fees” and arrived in front FECECAV at 11:45pm. Since a customs agent is required to be present when the container is unloaded, we decided to wait until the morning (they were all sleeping in a sodabi-induced stupor) and, exhausted, collapsed at Petite Suisse.
Last night my friend Yao (FECECAV’s chauffeur with the piercing black eyes and enormous hands that immediately swallow both of mine when they meet – I wrote a lot about him in 2008 if you recall :) ) and I had a beer on the roof of Petite Suisse. Yao spent time in Ghana and does not speak very good French, so understanding his hastily constructed Ewe-French-Ghanaian English phrases is always a challenge. I recounted the saga of getting the container out of the port, and, 20 minutes later, after much tongue clicking and head shaking, he looked at me smiling.
“Oh Togo, Togo,” he said, “Money was talking.”
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
La Formation (Training) & Preparation for the Pilot Install
The first morning of our technician training was the most difficult. It is an extremely delicate balance for Ron, full of challenges. Our training takes place on the roof of Petite Suisse without a projector, instead we have our 3 laptops set up at intervals of a long table and an enormous easel with paper, on which I write important notes in French from Ron’s English powerpoint slides and explanations. I have learned so much…series connections, short circuit voltages (or, now I know, the lack thereof), Ohm’s Law, system sizing…and I have to understand it in order to explain it in another language from Ron’s sometimes overcomplicated (for those of you who know him and his detail-oriented brilliance…) descriptions. My patience here in Togo continues to stun me, as usual – I really wish I could take some of it back with me to the US but it never happens…
To his chagrin, I am constantly slowing Ron down, re-explaining a sample calculation in response to many blank stares, which only I can understand because I too am seeing a lot of this for the first time! However Ron’s experience with training is invaluable, and he teaches me that there are always different levels of competence in a class, and to allow the best to bore is just as bad as allowing the slowest to fall behind. Ron and I find our balance between covering all the material and allowing our group to copy my French notes and translations and, for many of them, everything that is on the screen, even though it is in English and completely unnecessary and they don’t even understand what it means…more lovely remnants of the French colonial education system: recite, repeat, regurgitate. I understand however, why one would want to write everything down, if one has never been given a printout of things presented…
By the second day we had convinced them not to copy everything down off the slide, just the important notes from the easel, as listening and comprehension (if Joy from Rotary is reading this I hope you will be proud!) I also swell with admiration for my sister, a high school math teacher in Brooklyn who works with a difficult population.
The 3rd day of training is fantastic as well, and Jon excels at one of his best traits: teaching practicality and construction. He explained racking and module mounting, not losing one shred of attention even when explaining how to square an array with a 3-4-5 triangle. Our team is engaged, enthusiastic and talented. I cannot even begin to explain my excitement. I am so full of affection for our technicians and what we are doing here! I am getting attached to each of them, getting to know their existing friendships and the new bonds they are forming with eachother. It is amazing to see those that have just met working side by side, heads bent over an Ohms Law equation or giggling over something the silly yovo just mistranslated. Over 2 years of passion, tears and frustration, fundraising, sweat (literally) and strength are coming together...if only we could do more! I feel as though this will become the next theme in my life…
But still we have no container…4 days ago the Togolese government raised the price of a liter gas from 500CFA to 600CFA, a difference of less than a dollar, but for the majority of the Togolese population that live on less than that dollar per day, the increase is devastating…as a result of some global economic dynamic that I am presently unaware of due to my disconnection to the outside world, gas prices have risen internationally, and the impact has now arrived in Togo. Not only those that own motos and cars are affected, it is those that do not have those means of transportation who must now pay a higher fare. If they can.
Lomé has been nearly impassable for days. The Togolese are rioting. You cannot get in and out of the capital, as groups of furious and frustrated citizens have set up roadblocks of rocks and burning tires (and anything else they can find to burn.) I am sure that to most outsiders, seeing the images of shouting young men wielding sticks and machetes in front of plumes of black smoke flash across slideshows of photos on bbc.com appear almost clichéd…this is Africa. But it is so much more complex…first, to most Togolese, the logical, rational explanation that an external factor (such as the Gulf oil spill, which I am assuming is the impetus of all this) has given the Togolese government no choice but to raise the price at which petrol is sold, is not understandable. Since when has this government ever taken care of them? Second, in many respects they are correct! Rather than squander the nominal wealth accrued by the Togolese government on lavish ministerial lifestyles…Third, there is an explanation that most here will never comprehend: corporate greed. I tend to believe, and in speaking with Jon and Ron about this over a delicious lunch of cassava and poisson, we all agree that the filthy, slimy, gluttonous and indecently insatiable international oil companies are exploiting this potential for speculation…and while it takes a little longer, it trickles all the way down to the streets of Lomé, now on fire.
Therefore, in addition to the delays at customs, which, inshallah, should be resolved by the end of the afternoon TODAY, we may not be able to get a truck out of Lomé…but we have a plan…between myself, Novinyo, Claude and our solar team, we are determined to drag our Titan to Kpalimé as soon as it is full (we will pay extra for gas!) The streets generally clear at night, except for the obstinate and truly foolish…so we have devised a plan to travel to Lomé in the night, and slip through the window of darkness. Of course, a Togolese Titan is about as silent and discreet as an elephant walking across a pool table.
To his chagrin, I am constantly slowing Ron down, re-explaining a sample calculation in response to many blank stares, which only I can understand because I too am seeing a lot of this for the first time! However Ron’s experience with training is invaluable, and he teaches me that there are always different levels of competence in a class, and to allow the best to bore is just as bad as allowing the slowest to fall behind. Ron and I find our balance between covering all the material and allowing our group to copy my French notes and translations and, for many of them, everything that is on the screen, even though it is in English and completely unnecessary and they don’t even understand what it means…more lovely remnants of the French colonial education system: recite, repeat, regurgitate. I understand however, why one would want to write everything down, if one has never been given a printout of things presented…
By the second day we had convinced them not to copy everything down off the slide, just the important notes from the easel, as listening and comprehension (if Joy from Rotary is reading this I hope you will be proud!) I also swell with admiration for my sister, a high school math teacher in Brooklyn who works with a difficult population.
The 3rd day of training is fantastic as well, and Jon excels at one of his best traits: teaching practicality and construction. He explained racking and module mounting, not losing one shred of attention even when explaining how to square an array with a 3-4-5 triangle. Our team is engaged, enthusiastic and talented. I cannot even begin to explain my excitement. I am so full of affection for our technicians and what we are doing here! I am getting attached to each of them, getting to know their existing friendships and the new bonds they are forming with eachother. It is amazing to see those that have just met working side by side, heads bent over an Ohms Law equation or giggling over something the silly yovo just mistranslated. Over 2 years of passion, tears and frustration, fundraising, sweat (literally) and strength are coming together...if only we could do more! I feel as though this will become the next theme in my life…
But still we have no container…4 days ago the Togolese government raised the price of a liter gas from 500CFA to 600CFA, a difference of less than a dollar, but for the majority of the Togolese population that live on less than that dollar per day, the increase is devastating…as a result of some global economic dynamic that I am presently unaware of due to my disconnection to the outside world, gas prices have risen internationally, and the impact has now arrived in Togo. Not only those that own motos and cars are affected, it is those that do not have those means of transportation who must now pay a higher fare. If they can.
Lomé has been nearly impassable for days. The Togolese are rioting. You cannot get in and out of the capital, as groups of furious and frustrated citizens have set up roadblocks of rocks and burning tires (and anything else they can find to burn.) I am sure that to most outsiders, seeing the images of shouting young men wielding sticks and machetes in front of plumes of black smoke flash across slideshows of photos on bbc.com appear almost clichéd…this is Africa. But it is so much more complex…first, to most Togolese, the logical, rational explanation that an external factor (such as the Gulf oil spill, which I am assuming is the impetus of all this) has given the Togolese government no choice but to raise the price at which petrol is sold, is not understandable. Since when has this government ever taken care of them? Second, in many respects they are correct! Rather than squander the nominal wealth accrued by the Togolese government on lavish ministerial lifestyles…Third, there is an explanation that most here will never comprehend: corporate greed. I tend to believe, and in speaking with Jon and Ron about this over a delicious lunch of cassava and poisson, we all agree that the filthy, slimy, gluttonous and indecently insatiable international oil companies are exploiting this potential for speculation…and while it takes a little longer, it trickles all the way down to the streets of Lomé, now on fire.
Therefore, in addition to the delays at customs, which, inshallah, should be resolved by the end of the afternoon TODAY, we may not be able to get a truck out of Lomé…but we have a plan…between myself, Novinyo, Claude and our solar team, we are determined to drag our Titan to Kpalimé as soon as it is full (we will pay extra for gas!) The streets generally clear at night, except for the obstinate and truly foolish…so we have devised a plan to travel to Lomé in the night, and slip through the window of darkness. Of course, a Togolese Titan is about as silent and discreet as an elephant walking across a pool table.
Oh Togo, Home Again
The electric atmosphere and energy in Africa surrounding the 2010 World Cup is contagious…more liveliness than usual crowds hotel lobbies and shops and cafés with small, staticky televisions. When an African team is playing, I would be willing to bet money on the fact that all eyes in the country are glued to the screen, filled with pride and anticipation. When you step outside, you can hear the buzzing of the recognizable horns from the stadiums in South Africa floating out of windows and open doors. Visiting my friends, everyone has a fingered piece of paper printed from the Cyber Café with the Cup’s schedule, on which they keep track of the scores of every match. The most exciting thus far has been the Cote d’Ivoire vs. Brasil match, in which, despite high hopes, Cote d’Ivoire and Africa’s star Drogba, lost the match in the tense and aggressive final minutes.
Our first weekend in Kpalimé, was spent with Aminou, head of one of our 2 groups of solar technicians, and by far the most enthusiastic. Often times it is almost painful to hear how much rides on the success of this project when looking into Aminou’s fatigued eyes, as he tells us “SunPower Afrique et l’Energie Solaire est mon avenir, depuis votre arrive je n’ai pas dormi” (“SunPower Afrique and solar energy are my future, since you have arrived I have not slept.”) No pressure…
Aminou took us to visit the installation that I had previously seen in the village of Agou-Akplolo, where we gave him a hydrometer and voltage meter we had brought with us, not to miss a training opportunity! Ron explained to Aminou and the boy who had been maintaining the batteries, how the system worked and how to maintain the batteries – neither of which were as understood as one would imagine they would have been, having been installed and maintained by the 2…Ron and Jon asked a lot of questions, both soaking in the methods of installation used as well as the level of true comprehension and knowledge. This has been one of the most interesting elements of our training –current methods vs. correct methods (often maintaining a very fine line in between and even more often, subject to interpretation); those who have already completed an electrical apprenticeship vs. those who have graduated from middle school; those who are and will always be laborers vs. the hidden minds of future engineers.
Piling back into the taxi, we continued further into the bush…stopping in a tiny, tiny village outside of Agou. No more than a handful of huts and sandy passages, a church and a massive Baobob tree, it was peaceful and quiet. Supposedly there was a solar system here…
A young boy (I can never tell the ages of Togolese children, since as a result of childhood malnutrition a 7 year old often looks like he is 4 and a 14 year old like he is only 9 or 10) silently led us to the Chef of the village to announce our arrival and ask for the whereabouts of the solar installation. Sitting in an aged wooden recliner, an ancient radio communicating in Ewe, and one inflamed foot propped up on a pile of sand, the village elder greeted us and pointed, instructing the young boy to take us to our destination. Few spoke French, as is often the case in rural villages, and I proudly showed off my growing vocabulary of my favorite vernacular :)
We arrived at a crumbling mud hut and looked anticlimactically at a rusting 25Watt (tiny) module atop a shockingly sturdy steel pole. Corroded wiring led to a charge controller long occupied by spiders, and then on to an empty battery box.
An old man came up to us and asked, in French, whether we were going to fix the solar. He continued, there is no electricity for kilometers, all of the surrounding schoolchildren would come here when we had light, and would gather around it to learn. Was this a TV commercial?? Like the “classic” African child with flies stuck to his tears, hands outstretched for a grain of rice? How could we refuse to return and repair what other yovos had long forgotten? We decided to use our precious extra PV module for this village, and promised to do our absolute best to return with it, along with a new charge controller and battery (which we will purchase in Lomé).
Returning to Kpalimé in the late afternoon we went to check on ourTeak, which we will be using as our module racking for FECECAV’s solar system. My dear friend Chantal enlisted her father, who is a wood sculptor and carpenter, to prepare 6foot lengths of the locally grown, durable wood. I had called and “placed the order” over a month ago. Upon our arrival, after several minutes of jubilant bouncing and shouts of “Kila! Kila!”from Chantal’s youngest son Eli, we arrived at a pile of 3 foot lengths of teak. Woops.
After about 25 minutes of back and forth, transfering of blame, me trying to calm Jon’s frustration and the ensuing offense taken by the opposite side, we reached an understanding and Papa Chantal planned to head of into the bush the following day to cut down a giant teak tree to meet our needs.
As I write this blog I think about the different way it would be written by Jon or Ron, experiencing the rusted out taxis with battered windshields and no seatbelts, elephant grass lined trails in the bush and shouts of yovo-yovo for the first or second time. I love the fact that while je suis habituée with it all, I still appreciate it. Everything. Every time. Every time I fall in love with Togo all over again.
Most nights Jon and Ron stay at Petite Suisse, where they have become prized visitors (I am old news by now) and, almost to the point of annoyance, are obsessed over as “Mister Jon” and “Mister Ron” (spoken with the notorious rolling “R” – Misterrrr Rrrron), and I go out to see my friends, loving every minute of the familiarity of being independent in Kpalimé and spending time with the group of people that have become my life here. Things are somewhat different now, but as is the case with nearly everything here, so much remains the same…
Walking home last night, the song “Uptown Girl,” blared out of a small bar on the side of the road. “Uptown girrrlll…livin in her white girrrl worrrllllld” it crackled out into the night. I did a double take as the lyrics took effect, laughed to myself and hissed at a taxi moto to take me back to Petite Suisse.
Our first weekend in Kpalimé, was spent with Aminou, head of one of our 2 groups of solar technicians, and by far the most enthusiastic. Often times it is almost painful to hear how much rides on the success of this project when looking into Aminou’s fatigued eyes, as he tells us “SunPower Afrique et l’Energie Solaire est mon avenir, depuis votre arrive je n’ai pas dormi” (“SunPower Afrique and solar energy are my future, since you have arrived I have not slept.”) No pressure…
Aminou took us to visit the installation that I had previously seen in the village of Agou-Akplolo, where we gave him a hydrometer and voltage meter we had brought with us, not to miss a training opportunity! Ron explained to Aminou and the boy who had been maintaining the batteries, how the system worked and how to maintain the batteries – neither of which were as understood as one would imagine they would have been, having been installed and maintained by the 2…Ron and Jon asked a lot of questions, both soaking in the methods of installation used as well as the level of true comprehension and knowledge. This has been one of the most interesting elements of our training –current methods vs. correct methods (often maintaining a very fine line in between and even more often, subject to interpretation); those who have already completed an electrical apprenticeship vs. those who have graduated from middle school; those who are and will always be laborers vs. the hidden minds of future engineers.
Piling back into the taxi, we continued further into the bush…stopping in a tiny, tiny village outside of Agou. No more than a handful of huts and sandy passages, a church and a massive Baobob tree, it was peaceful and quiet. Supposedly there was a solar system here…
A young boy (I can never tell the ages of Togolese children, since as a result of childhood malnutrition a 7 year old often looks like he is 4 and a 14 year old like he is only 9 or 10) silently led us to the Chef of the village to announce our arrival and ask for the whereabouts of the solar installation. Sitting in an aged wooden recliner, an ancient radio communicating in Ewe, and one inflamed foot propped up on a pile of sand, the village elder greeted us and pointed, instructing the young boy to take us to our destination. Few spoke French, as is often the case in rural villages, and I proudly showed off my growing vocabulary of my favorite vernacular :)
We arrived at a crumbling mud hut and looked anticlimactically at a rusting 25Watt (tiny) module atop a shockingly sturdy steel pole. Corroded wiring led to a charge controller long occupied by spiders, and then on to an empty battery box.
An old man came up to us and asked, in French, whether we were going to fix the solar. He continued, there is no electricity for kilometers, all of the surrounding schoolchildren would come here when we had light, and would gather around it to learn. Was this a TV commercial?? Like the “classic” African child with flies stuck to his tears, hands outstretched for a grain of rice? How could we refuse to return and repair what other yovos had long forgotten? We decided to use our precious extra PV module for this village, and promised to do our absolute best to return with it, along with a new charge controller and battery (which we will purchase in Lomé).
Returning to Kpalimé in the late afternoon we went to check on ourTeak, which we will be using as our module racking for FECECAV’s solar system. My dear friend Chantal enlisted her father, who is a wood sculptor and carpenter, to prepare 6foot lengths of the locally grown, durable wood. I had called and “placed the order” over a month ago. Upon our arrival, after several minutes of jubilant bouncing and shouts of “Kila! Kila!”from Chantal’s youngest son Eli, we arrived at a pile of 3 foot lengths of teak. Woops.
After about 25 minutes of back and forth, transfering of blame, me trying to calm Jon’s frustration and the ensuing offense taken by the opposite side, we reached an understanding and Papa Chantal planned to head of into the bush the following day to cut down a giant teak tree to meet our needs.
As I write this blog I think about the different way it would be written by Jon or Ron, experiencing the rusted out taxis with battered windshields and no seatbelts, elephant grass lined trails in the bush and shouts of yovo-yovo for the first or second time. I love the fact that while je suis habituée with it all, I still appreciate it. Everything. Every time. Every time I fall in love with Togo all over again.
Most nights Jon and Ron stay at Petite Suisse, where they have become prized visitors (I am old news by now) and, almost to the point of annoyance, are obsessed over as “Mister Jon” and “Mister Ron” (spoken with the notorious rolling “R” – Misterrrr Rrrron), and I go out to see my friends, loving every minute of the familiarity of being independent in Kpalimé and spending time with the group of people that have become my life here. Things are somewhat different now, but as is the case with nearly everything here, so much remains the same…
Walking home last night, the song “Uptown Girl,” blared out of a small bar on the side of the road. “Uptown girrrlll…livin in her white girrrl worrrllllld” it crackled out into the night. I did a double take as the lyrics took effect, laughed to myself and hissed at a taxi moto to take me back to Petite Suisse.
Begin at the Beginning – SunPower Afrique est Lancé au Togo
17 June, 2010
Our plane bounced into Lomé 2 hours late, and to my shock and awe, all 6 of our suitcases, backpacks and boxes chugged around the groaning belt within 10 minutes. I could not believe it. As per usual, zipped side pockets had been opened by curious fingers and greedy eyes, but all cargo remained intact. Baggage – check.
My heart pounded as we approached the xray machine, through which all baggage passes before leaving the airport, and nearly popped out of my chest when I saw the same beady eyes of the customs officer who held my solar panels hostage last December. I ducked my eyes, and somehow, by some magnificent stroke of luck he patted his colleague on the back, yawned and turned into his office (for his customary hourly nap.) My anxiety returned however when another customs officer, the equally hostile woman with whom I had haggled over and over, shrieked, “Eh! Toi encore?!” (You again?!) I smiled and said, “Yes! I am back to help more people use electricity here in Togo! And I have all of my documents in order!” She looked me up and down, looked wearily at the pile of boxes sitting in front of us, and waved me away. I imagine she was simply too lackluster to deal with it. I’ll take it. Customs – check.
Novinyo and Ametepe greeted us outside the baggage area, the hot humid air infiltrating our clothes and skin. Mutually thrilled to see each other as usual, we hugged, shook, snapped and greeted our way out of the airport. Jon and Ron were hysterical to see all of our luggage jammed into the tiny trunk and backseat of Novinyo’s Audi, and then became incredulous when we were instructed to squeeze ourselves into the car as well. I wasn’t surprised of course Smooth arrival and reunion with my beloved Togolese counterparts – check.
We spent the next 2 days in Lomé, buying various supplies such as a hammer drill with the correct voltage and a Togolese extension cord. The owner of the electrical shop in which we bought the drill had a Deka battery and Conergy PV module for sale! Novinyo, always the eager and opportunistic entrepreneur, immediately began excitedly discussing with him the posssiblities of distributorship. While often overwhelming, especially in Lomé, the potential for this project in Togo is off the charts.
On the morning of the 18th we went to visit our friends at Maersk, to bring our container of the port, load it onto a large truck (which they call here “Titan” pronounced “Teetan” – I don’t know why but I find this absolutely hilarious) and make our way to Kpalimé. Facile non?
Not so…
A certain Maersk employee, with whom I struggled to communicate from the states and had significant doubts in regard to his ability to smoothly carry out this timely operation (mostly due to his arrogant attitude, which, of course, is coupled with the fact that his office is chilled by a sweating air conditioner) immediately wiped the smile off my face that had not faded since I first saw Novinyo’s face. He had not explained the fact that, upon its arrival in Togo, the port and Maersk require at least 3 days to “examine the cargo” and “do the paperwork” to release it. Had I known, we would have arrived 3 days later! To top it all off, it was Friday. No work on Saturday, no work on Sunday, and Monday was a holiday (Togolese memorial day for those that died in the war of independence.) I was furious, but, as I have learned, bit my tongue and negotiated to get the container as quickly as possible. Jon, never quite so reserved, pushed these proud gentlemen to their limit, but, after taking its toll of my level of stress, was instrumental in explaining the desperate need for the equipment by the following Wednesday at the latest. They refused to promise Wednesday, but said they would do their best and “most likely we would have it by Thursday. What could we do…?
Begrudgingly we decided to head to Kpalimé without our panels, inverters, wiring, batteries, everything…we would start the training and return for the container the next week. See you Wednesday I said, and they forced a shifty smile and said, no promises Yovo.
Novinyo leant us his car and found us a driver, to take us to Kpalimé with our pile of baggage, and then return the same day with his vehicle. I told Ron and Jon we were headed home. I immediately fell asleep for the entire ride down the familiar trip from the capital to the foot of Togo’s majestic mountainous border with Ghana.
Our plane bounced into Lomé 2 hours late, and to my shock and awe, all 6 of our suitcases, backpacks and boxes chugged around the groaning belt within 10 minutes. I could not believe it. As per usual, zipped side pockets had been opened by curious fingers and greedy eyes, but all cargo remained intact. Baggage – check.
My heart pounded as we approached the xray machine, through which all baggage passes before leaving the airport, and nearly popped out of my chest when I saw the same beady eyes of the customs officer who held my solar panels hostage last December. I ducked my eyes, and somehow, by some magnificent stroke of luck he patted his colleague on the back, yawned and turned into his office (for his customary hourly nap.) My anxiety returned however when another customs officer, the equally hostile woman with whom I had haggled over and over, shrieked, “Eh! Toi encore?!” (You again?!) I smiled and said, “Yes! I am back to help more people use electricity here in Togo! And I have all of my documents in order!” She looked me up and down, looked wearily at the pile of boxes sitting in front of us, and waved me away. I imagine she was simply too lackluster to deal with it. I’ll take it. Customs – check.
Novinyo and Ametepe greeted us outside the baggage area, the hot humid air infiltrating our clothes and skin. Mutually thrilled to see each other as usual, we hugged, shook, snapped and greeted our way out of the airport. Jon and Ron were hysterical to see all of our luggage jammed into the tiny trunk and backseat of Novinyo’s Audi, and then became incredulous when we were instructed to squeeze ourselves into the car as well. I wasn’t surprised of course Smooth arrival and reunion with my beloved Togolese counterparts – check.
We spent the next 2 days in Lomé, buying various supplies such as a hammer drill with the correct voltage and a Togolese extension cord. The owner of the electrical shop in which we bought the drill had a Deka battery and Conergy PV module for sale! Novinyo, always the eager and opportunistic entrepreneur, immediately began excitedly discussing with him the posssiblities of distributorship. While often overwhelming, especially in Lomé, the potential for this project in Togo is off the charts.
On the morning of the 18th we went to visit our friends at Maersk, to bring our container of the port, load it onto a large truck (which they call here “Titan” pronounced “Teetan” – I don’t know why but I find this absolutely hilarious) and make our way to Kpalimé. Facile non?
Not so…
A certain Maersk employee, with whom I struggled to communicate from the states and had significant doubts in regard to his ability to smoothly carry out this timely operation (mostly due to his arrogant attitude, which, of course, is coupled with the fact that his office is chilled by a sweating air conditioner) immediately wiped the smile off my face that had not faded since I first saw Novinyo’s face. He had not explained the fact that, upon its arrival in Togo, the port and Maersk require at least 3 days to “examine the cargo” and “do the paperwork” to release it. Had I known, we would have arrived 3 days later! To top it all off, it was Friday. No work on Saturday, no work on Sunday, and Monday was a holiday (Togolese memorial day for those that died in the war of independence.) I was furious, but, as I have learned, bit my tongue and negotiated to get the container as quickly as possible. Jon, never quite so reserved, pushed these proud gentlemen to their limit, but, after taking its toll of my level of stress, was instrumental in explaining the desperate need for the equipment by the following Wednesday at the latest. They refused to promise Wednesday, but said they would do their best and “most likely we would have it by Thursday. What could we do…?
Begrudgingly we decided to head to Kpalimé without our panels, inverters, wiring, batteries, everything…we would start the training and return for the container the next week. See you Wednesday I said, and they forced a shifty smile and said, no promises Yovo.
Novinyo leant us his car and found us a driver, to take us to Kpalimé with our pile of baggage, and then return the same day with his vehicle. I told Ron and Jon we were headed home. I immediately fell asleep for the entire ride down the familiar trip from the capital to the foot of Togo’s majestic mountainous border with Ghana.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Back to the Yovo Show - 2 Days to Togo 2010
I am quite experienced at this point in my packing career...having eliminated all of the accesory accoutrements recommended in tourist guides and travel books, only carrying with me the basic items I have learned are actually useful to me in West Africa. Of course, most space in my baggages is occupied with gifts and goodies to impart upon my friends and family qui m'attendent.
It is both reassuring and stressful to know that I won't be traveling alone. Every time I make the trip halfway across the world on my own I relish the space from every single thing in my life, and simply enjoy my proud independence. This time around I will be a translator, a tour guide, an organizer and a mediator, balancing culture and work ethic, autonomy and dependence, delegating and ownership...
It is also quite a complex emotion to understand that 2+ years of project development and fundraising are about to materialize into SunPower Afrique's pilot project that will not only change lives in Togo, but create a tangible result of the potential of this organization.
Jon, Ron and I leave JFK at 10PM this Tuesday night (the 15th) and return on July 2nd. We will be in Lome one day before the container's arrival at the port, at which time we will accompany it to Kpalime. Two weeks of training and installation will ensue...battery maintenance and troubleshooting will be the crux of our training program (for which the manuals are not yet finalized and printed and I am starting to freak out a little bit...)
The 3 of us will be staying at Petit Suisse, like the old days :) Many things are different this time around, on every possible front. But I hope that I will always be the Yovo-avec-le-sang-Africain de Kpalime.
I have already invited the Director of the National Microfinance Committee and several of my "political" contacts to the system commissioning. Yes, I am excited. C'est un grand chose.
It is both reassuring and stressful to know that I won't be traveling alone. Every time I make the trip halfway across the world on my own I relish the space from every single thing in my life, and simply enjoy my proud independence. This time around I will be a translator, a tour guide, an organizer and a mediator, balancing culture and work ethic, autonomy and dependence, delegating and ownership...
It is also quite a complex emotion to understand that 2+ years of project development and fundraising are about to materialize into SunPower Afrique's pilot project that will not only change lives in Togo, but create a tangible result of the potential of this organization.
Jon, Ron and I leave JFK at 10PM this Tuesday night (the 15th) and return on July 2nd. We will be in Lome one day before the container's arrival at the port, at which time we will accompany it to Kpalime. Two weeks of training and installation will ensue...battery maintenance and troubleshooting will be the crux of our training program (for which the manuals are not yet finalized and printed and I am starting to freak out a little bit...)
The 3 of us will be staying at Petit Suisse, like the old days :) Many things are different this time around, on every possible front. But I hope that I will always be the Yovo-avec-le-sang-Africain de Kpalime.
I have already invited the Director of the National Microfinance Committee and several of my "political" contacts to the system commissioning. Yes, I am excited. C'est un grand chose.
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