The ship that continent kept connected

A ship size of a football field, planted by more than 50 engineers and technicians, cruisers to the oceans around Africa to keep the continent online.

It provides a vital service, as last year’s Internet Blackout showed when the damaged internet cables were buried deep under the sea.

Millions from Lagos to Nairobi have immersed themselves in a digital darkness: Message app exchange and banking transactions did not succeed. He left the job and the individuals who fight.

It was Léon Thévenin who repaired multiple cable failures. Ship, where the BBC team recently spent a week on board near the Ghana coast, this specialized repair in the last 13 years

“Because of me, the countries remain connected,” says BBC, in Shura Arendse, a cable carpenter from South Africa who works on board for more than a decade.

“People at home have a job because I bring the main food,” he says.

“You have heroes that save lives – I’m a hero because I save communication.”

His pride and passion reflect the feelings of a skillful crew on Léon Thévenin, who is eight floors and wears an assortment of equipment.

The Internet is a network server network – it is likely that at least one of the 600 optical cables around the world has collected information to present them on your screen to read this article.

Most of these servers are in data centers outside Africa, and optical fiber cables last along the ocean bottom, connecting them to coastal cities on the continent.

Data travel through the wires from hair -in hair, often grouped into pairs and protected by different layers of plastic and copper, depending on how close the cables are the coast.

“As long as the servers are not in the country, you need a connection. The cable moves from one country to another, connecting users with servers who store their information – whether to access Facebook or any other online service,” says Benjamin Smith, Deputy Head of Léon Thévenin.

The submarine optical cables are designed for work for 25 years with minimal maintenance, but when damaged, this is usually due to human activity.

“The cable generally does not break up independently, unless you are in an area where there are quite high currents and very sharp rocks,” says Charles Heald, who is in charge of a vehicle with remotely boat management (ROV).

“But most of the time, these are people who anchor where the rolling fishermen should not scrape along the seabed, so we would typically see the digging scars.”

Mr. Smith also says that natural disasters cause damage to the cables, especially in parts of the continent with extreme weather conditions. It gives an example of the sea along the coast of the Democratic Republic of Congo, where the Congo River is emptied into the Atlantic.

“In the Kong canyon, where they have a lot of rain and tides, it could create currents that damage the cable,” he says.

The deliberate sabotage is difficult to recognize – but the crew of Léon Thévenin says they have not seen obvious evidence of it.

A year ago, three critical cables in the Red Sea – Seac, Aae -1 and Eig – were separated, allegedly to the ship’s anchorThe distinct connection for millions throughout Eastern Africa, including Kenya, Tanzania, Uganda and Mozambique.

Just a month later, in March 2024, a separate set of breaks in Wacs, ACE, SAT-3 and Mainone cable along Western Africa caused heavy internet darkening across the internet Nigeria, Gana, ivory coast and Liberia.

Everything that required the Internet functioning was felt by the strain because the repairs were stretched for weeks.

Then in May, another failure: Seac and Eassy cables suffered damage along the coast of South Africa, guessing the connection in several East African countries.

Such errors are detected by testing electricity and the strength of the signal that are transmitted through the cables.

“There can be 3,000 volts in the cable and suddenly drops to 50 volts, that means there is a problem,” explains Loic Wallerand, a ship’s head.

There are local teams with a capacity to deal with errors in shallow waters, but if they are detected outside the depth of 50 m (164ft), the ship is invited to action. Its crew can repair cables deeper than 5000m below sea level.

The repair was testified by the BBC outside Ghana, it took a week to solve, but most of the Internet users did not notice because traffic was diverted to another cable.

The nature of each repair depends on the part of the cable that is damaged.

If fiberglass in the nucleus breaks down, it means that the data cannot travel with a net and should be sent to another cable.

But some African countries have only one cable that serves them. This means that the cable damaged in this way leaves the affected area without the Internet.

In other times, the protective layers of the fiber can be damaged, which means that the data transfer still occurs, but with lower efficiency. In both cases, the crew must find the exact damage to the damage.

In the event of a broken fiberglass, a light signal is sent through the cable and through its reflection point, the crew may determine where the interruption is.

When the problem with the insulation of the cable – known as the “mistake in Shunt” – it becomes more complex and the electric signal must be sent along the cable to physically monitor where it is lost.

After the narrowing of the possible area for the error, the surgery goes into Tes trench.

Built like a bulldozer, a trench, weighing 9.5 tons, was lowered under water from the ship where it is led to the ocean bottom.

About five crew members work with a crane operator to distribute it – after being released from his belt, named the umbilical cord, he hovers gracefully.

“Not sinking,” says Mr. Heald, explaining that he uses four horizontal and vertical thrusts to move in any direction.

The trench -these three cameras allow a team on board to look for a precise place of mistakes as it moves to the ocean bed.

After being found, the trench cuts the affected part using its two hands, then binds it to a rope that pulls back on the ship.

Here, a defective section is isolated and replaced by connecting and connecting a new cable – a procedure that looks like welding and lasted 24 hours in the event of an operation testified by the BBC.

Later, the cable was carefully lowered back to the ocean bed, then the trench made one last trip to review that it was well placed and took the coordinates so the cards could be updated.

When a warning of the damaged cable is received, the Léon Thévenin crew is ready to sail within 24 hours. However, their response time depends on several factors: the location of the ship, the availability of spare cables and bureaucratic challenges.

“Permissions can take weeks. We sometimes sail into the affected land and wait at sea until the paperwork is classified,” says Mr. Wallerand.

On average, the crew consumes more than six months at sea each year.

“That’s part of the job,” says Captain Thomas Quehec.

But talking to the crew members between the tasks, it is difficult to ignore their personal victims.

They were drawn from different origins and nationalities: French, South African, Philippine, Malagasi and more.

Adrian Morgan, the head of the ship from South Africa, missed five consecutive wedding anniversary.

“I wanted to stop. It was hard to stay away from my family, but my wife encouraged me. I do it for them,” he says.

Another South African, a Noel Goeieman holder, is worried that he may miss his son’s wedding in a few weeks if the ship is invited to another mission.

“I heard that we could go to Durban [in South Africa]. My son will be very sad because she has no mom, “says Mr. Goeieman, who lost his wife three years ago.

“But I’m retiring in six months,” he adds with a smile.

Despite the emotional toll, there is friendship.

When they are out of duty, crew members or play video games in a salon or share meals in the ship’s hall.

Their entry into the profession is as diverse as their background.

While Mr. Goeieman followed his father’s steps, the chief chef, South African Remario Smith, went to the sea to avoid the life of the crime.

“I got involved in the gang when I was younger,” says Mr. Smith, “my child was born when I was 25 and I knew I had to change my life.”

Like the others on board, he appreciates the role the ship plays on the continent.

“We are a connection between Africa and the world,” says head engineer Ferron Hartzenberg.

Additional reporting Jess Auerbach Riding.