Inhaling black smoke - the darker side to tin lamps

In my last blog, I wrote about our trip to the very remote Changalikwa Secondary School where we stayed for one night. SolarAid volunteer Charlotte and I were hosted by the Deputy Headmistress of Changalikwa, Mrs Gabwara, in her home on the school campus. We felt both honoured and humbled to be offered Mrs Gabwara's main bedroom for the night. Mrs Gabwara lives here with her husband and four children. Her sister, who is recently widowed with two very young children, also lives here.

The house was small for nine people with just two bedrooms, a living room, washroom and kitchen.

Mrs Gabwara led us through to the bedroom by the light of a tin lamp. She had kindly heated some water for us to wash with and for our comfort she left the tin lamp on the floor of the hallway between the bedroom and the washroom.

Now, this lamp was to burn all night - a beacon of light to help us to see our way - yet a toxic reminder to me of how nasty these things are. All night, I was deeply aware of the acrid smell of kerosene oil burning, despite having a closed door between me and it. I couldn't help but cough and splutter every time I passed through the hallway. The black smoke pouring out of it was both eye-opening and eye-stinging, as it burned in the darkness. The light this lamp provided was poor - more of a dim glow - just enough to see the contours of the room and illuminate doorways into more darkened rooms.

This was a poignant reminder to me; a reminder that Mrs Gabwara, her family and extended family, together with millions of other rural Africans have no choice but to rely on this lethal, unpleasant and polluting form of light every night, all year round. I experienced just one night of inhaling kerosene fumes. I was relieved it was just one night but it was a sobering, humbling realisation of how very lucky I was.

To help SolarAid in its mission to eliminate the burning of kerosene for lighting homes please support this project.