High costs have put off most investors from buying into the continent’s plentiful clean-energy reserves
3 min
Energy investment in Africa needs to more than double by the end of the decade if the continent is to meet its energy and climate goals. However, high costs are putting off much-needed investment in the region’s plentiful clean-energy resources and huge reserves of critical minerals, the International Energy Agency said.
“African countries have huge energy potential, including a spectacular range and quality of renewable-energy resources,” said Fatih Birol, executive director of the Paris-based agency in a report published jointly with the African Development Bank on Wednesday. “But these riches are largely untapped and they will remain so without greatly improved access to capital.”
Africa is home to more than half of the world’s best solar resources as well as possessing great potential for hydroelectric and wind-power projects, according to the IEA. It is also uniquely placed to contribute to industries behind the transition away from fossil fuels. It accounts for 80% of the world’s platinum reserves, half of all cobalt reserves, and 40% of manganese reserves, all of which are expected to be crucial to technologies such as autocatalysts and electric batteries, the agency said.
The report’s figures also pose a challenge for the West and the U.S. in particular, which is seeking to secure diverse sources of critical materials. In recent years, the West has lost clout in Africa as China has become the continent’s largest trading partner and fourth largest investor. Much of China’s investment in Africa goes toward energy projects and the nation’s lead in renewable technologies will likely see it grow as a funder of African renewable energy projects, the IEA said.
“Energy investment on our continent has fallen short,” wrote William Ruto, president of Kenya, in the report’s foreword. “It is imperative we take bold steps to more than double energy investment here in the next decade, with a primary focus on clean energy.”
From around $90 billion today, annual spending on Africa’s energy needs must more than double to $200 billion by 2030, two-thirds of which will need to go toward clean energy projects, the report said.
Despite the investment goal—which the IEA says will allow African nations to meet their agreed climate targets as laid out in the Paris Agreement and achieve universal access to modern energy systems—energy spending in Africa has been falling over the past five years as investment in fossil fuels has declined and spending on renewable energy projects has flatlined. The continent makes up just 3% of global energy spending.
The indebtedness of many African nations is holding back public spending on energy projects while private investors are reluctant to invest because of a prevalence of fragile states, absent regulations and perceptions of political or reputational risks.
All of these are pushing up the cost of capital which makes many African energy projects financially unviable despite ample local resources and proven technologies such as wind or solar power, the report said.
The cost of capital for a large-scale renewable energy project in Africa is up to three times higher than in advanced economies and China, the IEA said. For smaller projects, which will be crucial in rural areas, the costs are even higher.
Concessional financing—in which lenders such as international development banks offer developing nations more generous terms such as lower interest rates or longer repayment periods—will be crucial to overcoming those obstacles, the IEA said.
The IEA estimates that only half of electricity grid projects in Africa are commercially viable without such assistance, while most clean cooking projects would be unaffordable.
Despite accounting for 20% of the global population, investment in African energy projects is far too small, leaving much of the continent lacking basic access to electricity or clean cooking fuels, the IEA said.
Currently, 600 million people across Africa lack access to electricity and almost one billion have no access to clean cooking fuels.
$25 billion a year alone would be enough to provide basic access to electricity and clean cooking fuels to all Africans, equivalent to the cost of installing one LNG terminal, something European nations have done in record time following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.
The report came as African leaders met in Nairobi for the third and final day of the Africa Climate Summit, which has seen calls for debt relief for African nations facing the effects of climate change and hundreds of millions of dollars pledged to Africa’s nascent carbon credits initiative.
African nations are seeking redress for the effects of climate change they experience despite contributing little to carbon emissions, the main driver of global warming. The continent accounts for around 2% to 3% of global carbon emissions but is particularly exposed to extreme weather.
Copyright 2020, Dow Jones & Company, Inc. All Rights Reserved Worldwide. LEARN MORE
What a quarter-million dollars gets you in the western capital.
Alexandre de Betak and his wife are focusing on their most personal project yet.
No trip to Singapore is complete without a meal (or 12) at its hawker centers, where stalls sell multicultural dishes from generations-old recipes. But rising costs and demographic change are threatening the beloved tradition.
6 min
In Singapore, it’s not unusual for total strangers to ask, “Have you eaten yet?” A greeting akin to “Good morning,” it invariably leads to follow-up questions. What did you eat? Where did you eat it? Was it good? Greeters reserve the right to judge your responses and offer advice, solicited or otherwise, on where you should eat next.
Locals will often joke that gastronomic opinions can make (and break) relationships and that eating is a national pastime. And why wouldn’t it be? In a nexus of colliding cultures—a place where Malays, Indians, Chinese and Europeans have brushed shoulders and shared meals for centuries—the mix of flavours coming out of kitchens in this country is enough to make you believe in world peace.
While Michelin stars spangle Singapore’s restaurant scene , to truly understand the city’s relationship with food, you have to venture to the hawker centres. A core aspect of daily life, hawker centres sprang up in numbers during the 1970s, built by authorities looking to sanitise and formalise the city’s street-food scene. Today, 121 government-run hawker centres feature food stalls that specialise in dishes from the country’s various ethnic groups. In one of the world’s most expensive cities, hawker dishes are shockingly cheap: A full meal can cost as little as $3.
Over the course of many visits to Singapore, I’ve fallen in love with these places—and with the scavenger hunts to find meals I’ll never forget: delicate bowls of laksa noodle soup, where brisk lashes of heat interrupt addictive swirls of umami; impossibly flaky roti prata dipped in curry; the beautiful simplicity of an immaculately roasted duck leg. In a futuristic and at times sterile city, hawker centres throw back to the past and offer a rare glimpse of something human in scale. To an outsider like me, sitting at a table amid the din of the lunch-hour rush can feel like glimpsing the city’s soul through all the concrete and glitz.
So I’ve been alarmed in recent years to hear about the supposed demise of hawker centres. Would-be hawkers have to bid for stalls from the government, and rents are climbing . An upwardly mobile generation doesn’t want to take over from their parents. On a recent trip to Singapore, I enlisted my brother, who lives there, and as we ate our way across the city, we searched for signs of life—and hopefully a peek into what the future holds.
At Amoy Street Food Centre, near the central business district, 32-year-old Kai Jin Thng has done the math. To turn a profit at his stall, Jin’s Noodle , he says, he has to churn out at least 150 $4 bowls of kolo mee , a Malaysian dish featuring savoury pork over a bed of springy noodles, in 120 minutes of lunch service. With his sister as sous-chef, he slings the bowls with frenetic focus.
Thng dropped out of school as a teenager to work in his father’s stall selling wonton mee , a staple noodle dish, and is quick to say no when I ask if he wants his daughter to take over the stall one day.
“The tradition is fading and I believe that in the next 10 or 15 years, it’s only going to get worse,” Thng said. “The new generation prefers to put on their tie and their white collar—nobody really wants to get their hands dirty.”
In 2020, the National Environment Agency , which oversees hawker centres, put the median age of hawkers at 60. When I did encounter younger people like Thng in the trade, I found they persevered out of stubbornness, a desire to innovate on a deep-seated tradition—or some combination of both.
Later that afternoon, looking for a momentary reprieve from Singapore’s crushing humidity, we ducked into Market Street Hawker Centre and bought juice made from fresh calamansi, a small citrus fruit.
Jamilah Beevi, 29, was working the shop with her father, who, at 64, has been a hawker since he was 12. “I originally stepped in out of filial duty,” she said. “But I find it to be really fulfilling work…I see it as a generational shop, so I don’t want to let that die.” When I asked her father when he’d retire, he confidently said he’d hang up his apron next year. “He’s been saying that for many years,” Beevi said, laughing.
More than one Singaporean told me that to truly appreciate what’s at stake in the hawker tradition’s threatened collapse, I’d need to leave the neighbourhoods where most tourists spend their time, and venture to the Heartland, the residential communities outside the central business district. There, hawker centres, often combined with markets, are strategically located near dense housing developments, where they cater to the 77% of Singaporeans who live in government-subsidised apartments.
We ate laksa from a stall at Ghim Moh Market and Food Centre, where families enjoyed their Sunday. At Redhill Food Centre, a similar chorus of chattering voices and clattering cutlery filled the space, as diners lined up for prawn noodles and chicken rice. Near our table, a couple hungrily unwrapped a package of durian, a coveted fruit banned from public transportation and some hotels for its strong aroma. It all seemed like business as usual.
Then we went to Blackgoat . Tucked in a corner of the Jalan Batu housing development, Blackgoat doesn’t look like an average hawker operation. An unusually large staff of six swirled around a stall where Fikri Amin Bin Rohaimi, 24, presided over a fiery grill and a seriously ambitious menu. A veteran of the three-Michelin-star Zén , Rohaimi started selling burgers from his apartment kitchen in 2019, before opening a hawker stall last year. We ordered everything on the menu and enjoyed a feast that would astound had it come out of a fully equipped restaurant kitchen; that it was all made in a 130-square-foot space seemed miraculous.
Mussels swam in a mushroom broth, spiked with Thai basil and chives. Huge, tender tiger prawns were grilled to perfection and smothered in toasted garlic and olive oil. Lamb was coated in a whisper of Sichuan peppercorns; Wagyu beef, in a homemade makrut-lime sauce. Then Ethel Yam, Blackgoat’s pastry chef prepared a date pudding with a mushroom semifreddo and a panna cotta drizzled in chamomile syrup. A group of elderly residents from the nearby towers watched, while sipping tiny glasses of Tiger beer.
Since opening his stall, Rohaimi told me, he’s seen his food referred to as “restaurant-level hawker food,” a categorisation he rejects, feeling it discounts what’s possible at a hawker centre. “If you eat hawker food, you know that it can often be much better than anything at a restaurant.”
He wants to open a restaurant eventually—or, leveraging his in-progress biomedical engineering degree, a food lab. But he sees the modern hawker centre not just as a steppingstone, but a place to experiment. “Because you only have to manage so many things, unlike at a restaurant, a hawker stall right now gives us a kind of limitlessness to try new things,” he said.
Using high-grade Australian beef and employing a whole staff, Rohaimi must charge more than typical hawker stalls, though his food, around $12 per 100 grams of steak, still costs far less than high-end restaurant fare. He’s found that people will pay for quality, he says, even if he first has to convince them to try the food.
At Yishun Park Hawker Centre (now temporarily closed for renovations), Nurl Asyraffie, 33, has encountered a similar dynamic since he started Kerabu by Arang , a stall specialising in “modern Malay food.” The day we came, he was selling ayam percik , a grilled chicken leg smothered in a bewitching turmeric-based marinade. As we ate, a hawker from another stall came over to inquire how much we’d paid. When we said around $10 a plate, she looked skeptical: “At least it’s a lot of food.”
Asyraffie, who opened the stall after a spell in private dining and at big-name restaurants in the region, says he’s used to dubious reactions. “I think the way you get people’s trust is you need to deliver,” he said. “Singapore is a melting pot; we’re used to trying new things, and we will pay for food we think is worth it.” He says a lot of the same older “uncles” who gawked at his prices, are now regulars. “New hawkers like me can fill a gap in the market, slightly higher than your chicken rice, but lower than a restaurant.”
But economics is only half the battle for a new generation of hawkers, says Seng Wun Song, a 64-year-old, semiretired economist who delves into the inner workings of Singapore’s food-and-beverage industry as a hobby. He thinks locals and tourists who come to hawker centers to look for “authentic” Singaporean food need to rethink what that amorphous catchall word really means. What people consider “heritage food,” he explains, is a mix of Malay, Chinese, Indian and European dishes that emerged from the country’s founding. “But Singapore is a trading hub where people come and go, and heritage moves and changes. Hawker food isn’t dying; it’s evolving so that it doesn’t die.”
