I grew up without electricity. The township would be dark after sunset. Candles and paraffin lamps ruled when the night came.
That was back in the eighties when my eyes were stronger. Our powerful paraffin lamp was quite popular and when there was a funeral, neighbours would borrow it to illuminate the tent and overnight cooking beef stew.
We powered the television set with a car battery and only to watch 30 minutes of SABC dramas and an occasional soccer game when our parents would remind us to take off the battery terminals to save the energy. It helped that we only had access to three SABC channels back then, which went on the blink after 10pm in any case.
The car battery would deplete without notice and required a long walk to the garage in town to be recharged.
We would play street soccer until dusk and somehow managed to see the ball although most of the goals would be disputed, not least because there were no proper goalposts.
My encounter with electricity were intermittent, when I visited my cousin who lived in an electrified Skomplaas (mine village) during the school holidays. So excited I’d be that I’d switch the lights on and off, wowed by this light that could be flipped on from a wall switch.
Then in the nineties we moved to an electrified township and life improved in an instant. Candle holders and the paraffin primus stove were discarded to Mme’s (my grandmother’s) cupboard.
Power cuts were unheard of and fridges hummed incessantly. Over the years, we took it for granted that electricity would be with us forever.
The rollout of electricity to the previously disadvantaged townships fuelled the purchase of washing machines, fridges, television sets, stoves, computers, etc by the emerging black middle class, which grew our economy. The affluent installed electric fences and garage doors, which closed and opened at the press of a button.
Then in 2008, we were introduced to what Eskom calls loadshedding and suddenly power became a scarce commodity. We trusted the government would deal with the problem sooner but events these past few weeks have shown a remarkable inability to keep the lights on.
Loadshedding has truly plunged my country into the Dark Ages, and it is no longer funny. Power outages are outrageous and few people believe the words flowing out of the mouths of politicians when they claim they are addressing the problem.
I’m afraid we discarded Mme’s paraffin stove and candle holders too soon.
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