How the sun is powering a village’s dreams

Ivan Zhakata

Herald Correspondent

FOR generations, the sunset over Hakwata Village in Chipinge was a definitive curtain call. As darkness fell, life would shrink into the flickering, uncertain circles of candle and paraffin light.

Businesses shuttered, studies halted, and the community waited for the sun to return. But today, a new kind of sun has risen—one that never sets.

A 200kW solar mini-grid is now the beating heart of Hakwata and its current is pulsing through the veins of a community reborn.

In her small grocery shop, the steady hum of a refrigerator is the sound of a dream realized.

For 47-year-old Hamunyari Muzvozvo, this hum is the soundtrack of prosperity.

“Before, closing early was not a choice; it was a necessity,” she recalls, her voice tinged with the memory of risk and expense.

“Candles were a fragile defence against the deep night. Now, look!” She gestures to the fridge, stocked with cold drinks and fresh produce. My profits have grown.”

For the youth of Hakwata, the solar grid is more than power—it’s a lifeline. Tineyi Hakwata, 27, embodies this new energy.

Where once there was idleness, he now runs a bustling hub combining a grocery store, a printing service and a phone-charging station.

“Most of us had no source of income, no path,” Tineyi reflects, his eyes alight with purpose.

“Now, we are the path. We charge the community’s phones. We help schoolchildren with online research. This electricity didn’t just power our shops; it gave us a reason to stay, to build our futures right here, in the soil we call home.”

The air at the Hakwata business centre now rings with the sounds of progress.

The sharp buzz of an electric saw and the steady thrum of a welder’s torch have replaced the silent toil of hand tools.

Lovemore Hakwata, a 42-year-old welder, no longer makes the costly and time-consuming trek to Chipinge town.

“I am my own boss now, on my own land,” he says, pride evident in his stance.

“I make window frames, doors and scotch carts for our farmers. I have even hired two assistants.”

Nearby, carpenter Isaiah Mlambo Mahlathini, 54, showcases furniture with a finish that hand tools could never achieve.

“The electric tools are not just faster, they are better. I produce more in less time and the quality has opened new doors. I now supply schools and homes. This is not just a change, it is an upgrade to my entire craft.”

The transformation extends beyond commerce.

At Hakwata Clinic, the constant worry of spoiled medicines has vanished, replaced a medical refrigerator. Night-time operations are now safe and illuminated.

Perhaps the most profound change is at Hakwata Primary School, where the darkness once meant the end of learning.

Now, the classrooms glow in the evening, hosting study sessions for learners.