Category: William Kamkwamba

William Kamkwamba

Papa, why are you selling our goats? I like these goats.””A week ago the price was five hundred, now it’s four hundred. I’m sorry, but we can’t wait for it go any lower.”Mankhalala and the others were tied by their front legs with a long rope. When my father started down the trail, they stumbled and began to cry. They knew their future. Mankhalala looked back, as if telling me to help him. Even Khamba whined and barked a few times, pleading their case. But I had to let them down. What could I do? My family had to eat.

William Kamkwamba

With the money my mother earned from selling cakes, my father cut a deal with Mangochi and bought one pail of maize. My mother took it to the mill, saved half the flour for us, and used the rest for more cakes. We did this every day, taking enough to eat and selling the rest. It was enough to provide our one blob of nsima each night, along with some pumpkin leaves. It was practically nothing, yet knowing it would be there somehow made the hunger less painful. “As long as we can stay in business,” my father said, “we’ll make it through. Our profit is that we live.

William Kamkwamba

It was common for my father to sit my sisters down and tell them things like, “I saw a girl working in the bank in town, and she was a girl just like you.” My parents had never completed primary school. They couldn’t speak English or even read that well. My parents only knew the language of numbers, buying and selling, but they wanted more for their kids. That’s why my father had scraped the money together and kept Annie in school, despite the famine and other troubles.

William Kamkwamba

Mister Geoffrey, my experiment shows that the dynamo and the bulb are both working properly,” I said. “So why won’t the radio play?””I don’t know,” he said. “Try connecting them here.”He was pointing toward a socket on the radio labeled “AC,” and when I shoved the wires inside, the radio came to life. We shouted with excitement. As I pedaled the bicycle, I could hear the great Billy Kaunda playing his happy music on Radio Two, and that made Geoffrey start to dance.”Keep pedaling,” he said. “That’s it, just keep pedaling.””Hey, I want to dance, too.””You’ll have to wait your turn.”Without realizing it, I’d just discovered the difference between alternating and direct current. Of course, I wouldn’t know what this meant until much later.After a few minutes of pedaling this upside-down bike by hand, my arm grew tired and the radio slowly died. So I began thinking, “What can do the pedaling for us so Geoffrey and I can dance?