Moldova's electricity war

Many people damage or get rid of their meters

By Sarah Rainsford in Kishinev, Moldova

The door-bell rings, the sound Moldovans have come to dread. The kettle inspector is here.

Nina Overchuk is just one of 80 census-takers visiting flats all over Moldova. She works for Union Fenosa, the Spanish company that one year ago privatised 60% of the country's electricity distribution network.

People will have to learn that they have to pay bills and taxes - otherwise the economy of this country will collapse

Valeriu Stavinsky, Deputy Energy Minister

From vacuum cleaners to lightbulbs, the inspectors want to know how many appliances are in each household. The more you admit to owning, the higher your bill is likely to be.

It is a controversial move, and trade union boss Ion Godonoga says the inspectors are breaking the law.

"Union Fenosa have to get into the flats to do their census properly, to count the appliances and read the meters," he says. "It's a violation of human rights.

"People don't have to let them in."

Some people refuse to open the door when Nina calls. Others are aggressive. Many are simply baffled. With widespread crime, many are afraid to let strangers into their houses, let alone list their most valuable appliances.

Tricking the meter reader

Every night, just before bedtime, Svetlana plugs in a strange metal box in her kitchen.

With no knobs or dials it does not look much, but thanks to some clever engineering by workers in Moldova's otherwise stagnant defence industry, this machine makes Svetlana's electricity meter go backwards.

Svetlana's box of tricks makes the meter go backwards

"The main thing is not to let it go too far, or it looks like the electricity company owes me," she says.

Svetlana is not alone in her fight against rising bills. Industry analysts say as much as 30% of Moldova's electricity is stolen each year.

A block of flats in central Kishinev, the Moldovan capital, is typical. On almost every landing electricity meters are missing or smashed, deliberately or otherwise.

With no way of calculating their usage, these residents have been getting free power for 10 years.

Union Fenosa spokesperson Diana Grossu says the census is vital.

"People have to realise we are a commercial company, not philanthropists," she says. "We deliver a product, and that costs money."

But it is a message that is lost on most Moldovans, used to cheap electricity subsidised by the state.

Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, prices have soared beyond the means of many. Some cut back, turning off the refrigerator in winter and using electric fires sparingly. Others like Svetlana become ever more inventive.

Missing cables

In the 1990s, as foreign investment flowed into the former Soviet republics, Moldova remained largely overlooked.

Union Fenosa's entry into the market is something of a test case and Deputy Energy Minister Valeriu Stavinsky says it is time for Moldovans to learn some hard lessons.

"Now that electricity distribution is in private hands, financial discipline can improve," he says. "Fenosa has the right to cut its customers off if they don't pay.

"It will take time, but people will have to learn that they have to pay bills and taxes. Otherwise the economy of this country will collapse"

In the capital city of Kishinev, the census goes on. But as Fenosa fights for its profits, many ordinary Moldovans are simply fighting for survival.

In the countryside, it is not just electric power that people are stealing. Distribution cables are going missing as well.

Driven by poverty, intrepid and desperate thieves scale live pylons at night to cut them down. One kilo of cable fetches around 5 lei, or 25 pence, on the black market

It is a hazardous business that costs the Department of Energy up to three quarters of a million pounds a year in lost hardware. The cost in human life can be dearer still.