Goma’s Solar Transformation

The city of Goma, often synonymous with the Democratic Republic of Congo’s enduring conflicts, has long been a place where shadows stretched long and deep, both literally and figuratively.

For years, the hum of polluting diesel generators was the soundtrack to daily life, a desperate attempt to pierce the pervasive darkness that descended with nightfall, and with it, the threat of insecurity.

Yet, in pockets of this embattled urban landscape, a different kind of light is now emerging, quiet and steady, powered by the sun and fueled by an audacious vision of hope.

In neighborhoods like Ndosho, where just five short years ago electricity was a luxury enjoyed by a minuscule fraction, a modest but mighty solar minigrid has begun to rewrite the narrative.

The cacophony of generators has been replaced by an almost eerie quiet, punctuated only by the newfound vibrancy of a community awakening.

Streetlights, once a distant dream, now banish the lurking shadows where attackers once hid, offering a tangible sense of security that residents had long been denied.

New businesses, from carpentry shops to street vendors selling chilled drinks, are springing up, powered by an energy source that promises reliability and affordability.

This quiet revolution is the work of Nuru, a utility co-founded by Jonathan Shaw, a former teacher, and his Congolese partner, Archip Lobo Ngumba.

Their journey began humbly in 2017 with the DRC’s first commercial solar minigrid in Beni.

The success there caught the attention of provincial officials, who then urged them to consider Goma, a city where only a sliver of the population had access to electricity, predominantly from expensive, unreliable, and environmentally damaging diesel generators.

“I remember the first night that we turned on the public street lighting, just spontaneous celebrations in the streets, just people coming out of their homes, singing and dancing with our team,” Shaw recalls, his voice tinged with emotion.

“Just seeing what this meant to people… the sense of their dignity and value that somebody was willing to come and invest in their lives and their communities and their homes is so, so moving.”

It’s a powerful testament to how fundamental access to energy is, not just for economic development, but for restoring a sense of worth and agency to communities often forgotten by the broader world.

With crucial investor backing, Nuru established its 1.3-megawatt minigrid in Goma, later integrating it with a hydropower grid from Virunga National Park for added resilience.

The impact has been multifaceted and profound.

Beyond illuminating homes and streets, the grid powers essential services: phone and internet connectivity, a private company that pumps, treats, and distributes water, and a large grain mill.

The entrepreneurial spirit of Goma’s residents, long stifled by a lack of basic infrastructure, has been unleashed.

Shaw speaks of phone-charging stations, a small movie theater, and even individuals “just plugging in a little fridge and selling cold beer on the street.”

He marvels at the “ingenuity and scale,” admitting the effectiveness has been “far beyond what I could have imagined.”

The economic relief is palpable.

Mahamudu Bitego, a welder in Ndosho, now pays $10 daily for Nuru’s electricity, a significant saving from the $15 he used to spend on diesel.

More importantly, the electricity is “better because there’s no breakdown requiring costly repairs.”

This isn’t just about saving a few dollars; it’s about stability, predictability, and the ability to plan and grow a business in an environment where every advantage counts.

For residents like Choma Choma Mayuto Banga, the streetlights have brought a new layer of security.

“No one can hide under trees anymore,” he says with a sense of relief.

“If someone suspicious is hiding, we can spot them and escape.”

In a city scarred by violence and constant threat, light has become a silent guardian.

Operating in a conflict zone like Goma, however, is fraught with peril.

The Nuru site itself has been a silent witness to the city’s turmoil.

Unexploded grenades from past conflicts were discovered, one detonating and damaging solar panels.

Early this year, when Goma was seized by the Rwandan-backed M23 militia, an assault that claimed nearly 3,000 lives, Nuru’s electricity stood as a beacon of stability.

While power in other areas failed, Nuru’s grid kept flowing.

Shaw believes this resilience underscores its vital importance to the community, who, remarkably, guarded the solar farm’s gates to prevent looting or destruction.

“The only lights in the city, the only thing powering water and connectivity was our infrastructure,” Shaw recounts.

“It felt worth the whole project just to be there in some of the darkest moments in people’s lives and to be something they could rely on when nothing else was working.”

Despite occasional stray bullets, the community’s understanding of the panels’ value has largely kept them safe.

This Goma experience isn’t just a local success story; it’s a compelling blueprint.

With the Democratic Republic of Congo’s electrification rate hovering around a dismal 20%, decentralized, standalone power grids like Nuru’s offer a logical, scalable solution for population centers across the vast nation.

Nuru is already constructing another 3.7-megawatt plant in Goma, currently 70% complete, though paused due to security concerns.

Their ambitious goal is to serve 10 million Congolese by 2030, a vision that, if realized, would fundamentally transform countless lives.

The potential extends far beyond Congo’s borders.

Sub-Saharan Africa is home to approximately 565 million people without electricity, representing a staggering 85% of the global population lacking power.

Experts like Stephen Kansuk, the UNDP’s regional technical advisor for Africa, assert that off-grid solar power is the cornerstone of Africa’s energy future, especially in rural areas.

Initiatives by the World Bank and African Development Bank aim to provide off-grid solar access to 150 million people by 2030, powering everything from health clinics to schools.

Kansuk rightly emphasizes that solar energy is a “powerful instrument for climate adaptation and resilience,” serving communities most vulnerable to climate change, which are often the same ones deprived of reliable electricity.

Nuru’s investors, including the Schmidt Family Foundation, understand that renewable energy infrastructure can thrive even in politically unstable regions.

They recognize that these underserved communities, often on the front lines of climate change impacts, are precisely where such investments can yield the greatest social and environmental dividends.

Adding another layer of innovation, Nuru sells Peace Renewable Energy Credits (P-RECs) to corporations like Microsoft.

These P-RECs, verified as originating from fragile, conflict-affected regions, are more expensive than traditional renewable energy credits, but they allow buyers to amplify their social and environmental impact by directly supporting infrastructure development in areas of critical need.

As Kansuk aptly describes it, P-RECs offer a “rare convergence of climate action, development and peacebuilding — a triple win.”

Elizabeth Willmott, an independent consultant and former director of Microsoft’s carbon program, echoes this, suggesting that if a corporation is already purchasing renewable energy, “why not also support social and economic impact in communities that need it most?”

Jonathan Shaw believes Nuru has built invaluable goodwill in Congo, a place where grand promises often evaporate into thin air.

“I think people see that we’re not just throwing something up to get a light bulb turned on,” he states with conviction.

“We’re really building infrastructure that lasts for a generation.”

In a world too often defined by conflict and despair, the quiet glow of a solar-powered bulb in Goma stands as a defiant symbol of progress, dignity, and a future where light, in all its forms, prevails.