d.light: Solar power for the poor

A girl in India, studying with d.light

A girl in India, studying with d.light

About three decades ago, Donn Tice was an MBA student at the University of Michigan, studying with the late C.K. Prahalad, who was developing his argument that companies can make money and do good by creating products and services for the world’s poorest people. It’s an exciting notion, popularized in Prahalad’s  influential 2004 book, The Fortune at the Bottom of the Pyramid.

Today, Donn Tice is the CEO of d.light, which sells solar-powered lanterns to the poor. He’s trying to prove that his teacher was right, that a fortune awaits those who can create and sell life-changing products that help the very poor.

For now, this remains an unproven hope. Dozens of startups have ventured into the global south, selling everything from $100 laptops, cheap bikes, clean cook stoves and solar panels to the poor. Some have enjoyed success [See, for example, my blogpost, Clean Star Mozambique: Food, fuel and forests at the bottom of the pyramid] but few have achieved meaningful scale. Or made anything approaching a fortune.

The good news is that d.light is getting there. The company is now selling about 200,000 solar-powered lanterns and lighting systems a month in about 40 countries. By its own accounting, d. light has sold nearly 3 million solar lighting products and changed the lives of more than 13 million people. And, if all goes according to plan, the company will turn profitable this year.

“In addition to bring lighting to people who need it and power to people who can’t acccess it –which is our mission–we think we have the ability to demonstrate that this is a business model that works,” Donn told me, during a recent visit to the d.light offices  in San Francisco. Earlier this year, d.light was recognized with the $1,500,000 Zayed Future Energy Prize.

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The candy bar at the bottom of the pyramid

Last week, Nestle, the world’s largest food company, launched a barge called Nestlé Até Você a Bordo – or Nestlé Takes You Onboard – on an 18-day voyage up the Amazon River in Brazil. This so-called floating supermarket will bring more than 300 well-known Nestlé brands, including  Ninho (packaged milk), Maggi (soups and seasonings) and Nescafé (instant coffee) to 800,000 potential customers  in 18 cities who, who, until now, managed to get by without those products, or such treats as Nestle’s Crunch, Push-Up or my childhood favorite, Baby Ruth.

Nestlé Barco

In a press release, Ivan Zurita, the chief executive of Nestlé Brazil, is quoted as saying:

It will be a service to the population of the Amazon, who has streets and avenues in the form of rivers.  It is a project aligned with our concept of Regionalisation, based on the different profiles of consumers, where we deal with each region as a different area.

SnoCaps_ImageNot everyone is cheering. Under the headline, All Aboard for Ice Cream: Nestle Peddling Junk Food on Amazon River to Reach Brazil’s Slums, Michele Simon, a public health lawyer and author of a book called Appetite for Profit: How the Food Industry Undermines Our Health and How to Fight Back, calls this “especially disgusting news” and says of the Amazon dwellers:

I don’t think these people are lost or have been camping out too long, they’re just living their lives. They probably don’t even realize they are missing out on Toll House, Raisinets, and Sno-Caps. But no matter, if there are people out there so backwards to still be subsisting on food found in nature, Big Food will find them, by land or by sea, and set them straight.

Hmm. Simon’s outrage seems a little over the top, as libertarian blogger Katherine Mangu-Ward argues at The Atlantic website. Her first reaction to the Nestle story was a little different: [click to continue...]

Fighting poverty and global warming in Africa

Tree planting in Tanzania

Tree planting in Tanzania

Rarely do you find a business that attacks two big problems–global poverty and climate change–at the same time.

This week, I came across two such ventures. As it happens, they have a lot in common: Both operate in East Africa, both work with the very poor, both were started by executives who came out of the fossil-fuel industry and both are made possible by 21st century cutting-edge technology.

One is called TIST, which stands for The International Small Group and Tree Planting Program. (You can tell it wasn’t started by a marketing guy.) TIST organize small groups of farmers to plant trees, generate income from global carbon markets and reverse the devastating effects of deforestation in Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda and India. It’s been operating for less than a decade but has signed up a remarkable 65,000 farmers.

“It’s growing on its own by 50 to 100% a year,” says Ben Henneke, a veteran energy executive who started TIST after visiting Tanzania on a church mission back in 1998.

The other is Dissigno. A San Francisco-based startup, Dissigno operates a power and lighting project in Tanzania that provides villagers with battery-powered LED lights that are recharged with solar power. The company, which also has solar businesses in the U.S. and the Czech Republic, has big plans, hoping to expand its power and lighting business to Ethiopia, Botswana and South Africa.

“There are 1.6 million people around the world who don’t have power,” says Gary Zieff, a founder of Dissigno. “That’s a business opportunity for us.”

I met Henneke and Zieff at an energy and climate conference organized by Center for Sustainable Enterprise at the Kenan-Flagler business school at the University of North Carolina. Next week I’ll tell you about another entrepreneur who spoke at UNC about his plans to bring high-altitude wind power to the global south. Since I spend most of my time writing about big companies and the government, it’s great to connect with entrepreneurial energy.

TIST traces its origins to a service at an Episcopal church in northern Virginia where parishioners including Ben Henneke and his wife, Vannesa, were encourage by the rector join in a service mission. As Henneke recalls, Vannesa whispered to him: “Maybe we’re supposed to go to Africa this summer.” He replied: “I hope you have a nice time, dear.” Six months later, they found themselves in Tanzania, and they were astounded by what they saw. People were poor even by the standards of Tanzania, where annual per capita income [PDF] is about $440 a year. [click to continue...]