Power cuts here, there and everywhere

Power cuts in Zambia - I imagined them to be just an occasional inconvenience, and probably standard for a real African experience.

Well that’s how it first seemed. We would randomly lose power, normally for a few hours at a time and only every couple of weeks. Because no power also means no water for us living here in Kaniki, we soon learned to keep large containers of water around the house. We made sure that torches, candles and matches were left somewhere easy to find. We even begrudgingly accepted that the toilet could only be flushed if it really had to be! And other than that, we carried on with life as normal. After all, this is Africa!

Walking round the house with a candle during a power cut made me feel like I was in the Victorian times and the first time I cooked dinner on a gas stove using a head torch was quite an entertaining experience. One particular night, I was eating at a restaurant in town when the power suddenly went down. The restaurant reduced the menu to food options that could be cooked in a gas or pizza oven, and we ate by candlelight. Many businesses, including Baluba Farm which is just across the road from where we live, were forced to use generators so that they could continue to function whilst the power was off.

Dinner by candlelight

  

Unfortunately these occasional power cuts have become a much more regular, and now prolonged, daily experience. Zesco, the company which generates and supplies electricity to Zambia, is a public utility which means it is owned by the Zambian government. Zesco’s slogan ‘Powering the nation’ now seems a little ironic! Zambian energy is largely hydroelectric, and produced by Kariba Dam which is a hydroelectric dam in the Zambezi river basin between Zambia and Zimbabwe.

The Zambezi River at the Zimbabwe/Zambia border

In June we heard that there was a problem with the dam, because of the low rainfall this year. We then heard that the problem was that the dam was in fact damaged. At one point we even heard that Zesco were still exporting electricity to other countries, although they claim that they weren’t. It’s quite hard to know what is true.

‘Load shedding’ was introduced in June. This means that country-wide power cuts are scheduled to reduce electricity and shed the load on a wider scale, in order to prevent a collapse of the power system. Load shedding began to be scheduled several times a week and this was quickly increased to five hours a day, either 5-10pm, 10am-3pm or 3-9pm. Although these power cuts were inconvenient, they became a lot more manageable because we knew when they would occur.

It is easy to moan but I haven’t actually found the recent load shedding as bad as I expected. Having advanced warning means that I can charge my phone and laptop in preparation, and work out the best time in the day to have a shower. A gas oven solved the problem of how to cook, until the gas ran out too! After a couple of trips into town, I was finally able to get a small canister refilled with gas, although there was not enough to fill anything larger.

Evenings in candlelight

I suppose that I have experienced just a few ill effects of the power problem. However Zambia is the second biggest copper producer in Africa, so load shedding is having a very negative impact on the mines. They have had to cut jobs and reduce their power usage and try to make up for the deficit by buying imports which are more expensive. Businesses and farms have to rely on generators, which puts their costs up and this means that the price of food is rising. The kwacha (the Zambian currency) has plunged against the dollar, which suggests that an economic crisis may be looming.

Over the last couple of weeks our load shedding has been increased to eight hours of power cuts a day (5am-1pm or 1pm-9pm) and we have heard that it may increase to 12 hours at a time! As the sun sets at 6pm every evening, we are spending many more evenings in darkness. It reminds me that I am having an authentic third world experience but I also wonder what longer term impact this situation is going to have on the country. Excuse the pun but there doesn’t seem to be a lot of light at the end of the tunnel!

Life and Death

One Thursday afternoon, I went with one of our Zambian Arise volunteers to visit a grandmother who is a guardian for four Arise orphans. She used to work as a secretary so she had a good understanding of English, even though she spoke in Bemba. When we arrived at her home, I noticed several cars parked near the house - quite unusual as the people we support through Arise are unable to afford cars.

Sadly, the reason the cars were there was because the lady’s family and friends were gathering for a funeral. She explained that one of her own children had died just the day before. He was just 32 years old, the same age as me. As he had only been ill for a couple of weeks, it was quite a shock when he passed away.  I found out that the lady originally had 8 of her own children but only two of them are still alive.

Since I moved to Zambia, a number of people I know here have had to deal with death and attend family funerals. My teaching assistant's niece, who was only in her twenties, died recently.  Another colleague's sister died earlier in the year. One of the pastors we know here led a funeral for his 11 year old nephew who died from malaria, and another friend’s relative died in childbirth. Then last month one of the Arise boys in Grade 12 died from tuberculosis. These were all children or adults under forty.

Kansenshi Cemetery, Ndola

I’ve found that people here deal with death in a more matter-of-fact way than I am used to. This isn’t because they're not sad, because when I talk to them I know that they are. People still grieve and sometimes this is actually shown in a more extreme way than what we might expect. For example, you can spot women at the airport who have flown in for a funeral - they often wail loudly when they greet the people who have come to collect them and sometimes they collapse on the ground.

I guess the matter-of-fact manner that I’ve seen here probably comes from having to face the tragedy of death more often than many people do in more developed countries like the UK . I've learned that in Zambia it's polite to ask someone what happened when you hear that someone has died. It's more acceptable to ask after them even if you don't know what to say in response.

Large numbers of family and friends gather for funerals here. They all eat together at the home of the deceased, so it can put a considerable financial burden on the immediate family. Women wear traditional chitenges (bright fabric wrapped around the waist) and often an open coffin means people can view the body. The gathering at the home is referred to as the funeral and then the burial happens afterwards. Most people here don't approve of cremation.

We drive past a large cemetery on our way in to Ndola town. One day the traffic was really slow going past, and it turned out to be because a huge crowd of people were gathering for a burial. I wondered if it was someone well known in the area as there were so many people there. Music that sounded like a brass band was playing loudly. 

Sometimes life seems very short, and this is even more apparent in Zambia. I believe we feel like this because God designed us to live for eternity and what we see around us now is not all there is. There are so many unanswered questions and things that don't make sense to us as humans but I am encouraged to 'live by faith and not by sight' (2 Corinthians 5:7). We should also remember my sister Rachel's favourite saying… 'We're here for a good time, not a long time!'

Birthdays in Zambia

Some of my Zambian friends celebrate their birthdays with friends and family like we would in England. However, this is not representative of most Zambian people. A lot of the children we teach don’t even know when their birthday is, and not because they are too young to remember. Sometimes their parents or guardians don’t know the child's date of birth! If the child was born at home rather than at the clinic or hospital, then they don't have a birth certificate. In fact, it’s interesting how many children at school were born on the 1st January, according to their application forms!

I suppose that because birthdays aren’t such ‘a thing’ here, the children don’t know any different so they’re not really missing out. However, I think birthdays are a great reason to celebrate a person, and a good excuse to have fun. Yesterday I turned 33 and had a really lovely day celebrating. In true Zambian style, my day started with a power cut and boiling water on the gas stove so I could wash in a bucket (I can assure you that this was not the lovely part!). In the morning, I Skyped my parents and then one of my friends from home. A friend here then took me out for brunch. In the afternoon I spent some time being pampered, as my auntie kindly treated me to a massage, manicure and pedicure for my birthday! I have discovered a very nice salon in the centre of Ndola,quite similar to ones at home – not the mud hut my sister Rach said she imagined when I was telling her about it. In the evening, I went out with some friends for a meal in town, and then I Skyped my sisters and my parents again when I got home.

A big thank you to everyone who sent me cards, presents and messages for my birthday. I very much appreciated hearing from lots of people at home and am thankful for all the birthday love!

A full English breakfast!

Birthday pampering

Michaelangelo's Restaurant, Ndola

Me, Rosie & Holly