So let us face the fact that load shedding will be a reality for some time to come.
Every day we hear how Eskom’s power system is constantly constrained, forcing it to form partnerships with the private sector and even to buy power from neighbouring countries, just to keep afloat.
What is, however, bothersome about load shedding is not so much that it will become the norm, but rather the ensuing panic that follows the uncertainty as to when and if the power will be switched off.
When Eskom yells wolf, the public is expected to scramble to switch off geysers, stoves, pool pumps and who knows what other appliances, just to prevent darkness descending upon us. It is as if we are at war and, at any minute, we are expected to arm ourselves when the enemy comes marching along.
As soon as we hear of possible load shedding and of the system being constrained, we are expected to go into some kind of electricity-friendly combat mode. You have to act like Indiana Jones to discover where you have hidden the candles (never mind the matches if you don’t smoke), while you hope that the batteries in the camping-friendly lamp still work.
While you are in this mode, nervously eyeing the flickering light bulb, you then wait for the lights to go out and darkness to descend upon you.
You watch like a hawk as the seconds tick along – after all, you heard it was stage one load shedding, so you have planned accordingly.
As the minute hand finally ticks past the dreaded hour of supposed load shedding, you have this suspicion creeping up your spine that you were once again fooled into state of unnecessary panic. Time to pack away the candles.
Next morning you hear that Eskom had miraculously managed to avert a crisis, yet you were so busy boiling water, switching off appliances and catching up on some TV (just in case you are faced with hours of boredom) that you never had the chance to get the latest Eskom update.
Stage one already makes us nervous (I mean can we really trust the load shedding schedule?), never mind the panic when Eskom announces stages two or three (when the power is out of the hands of the metro). Then things really get interesting, especially when there are talks of multiple load shedding periods scheduled on the same day for the same suburb.
Fun times hey?
It is like having to constantly prepare for a raid, expecting planes to fly over and drop bombs on your beloved home any minute.
Sure, I was never in any war, but one can guess that the levels of uncertainty are not so far apart.
It also reminds me of having to live in America, where a storm shelter is more important that a garage. Every time the wind blows a bit funny you wonder if it is not time to run like crazy to that shelter to avoid the ensuing storm.
Ant then, when you have managed to lock yourself in the shelter like a demented survivor, you realise the storm is not really a storm, but only a gust of wind.
This is how it is getting in our country … you never know when you wake up in the morning if there will be power, neither are you ever certain that you will be able to finish cooking your vegetables.
Of course, there are alternatives, like getting solar panels, generators or gas stoves, but these are expensive options.
Maybe we should skip all that nonsense and just revert back to the days of lighting a fire and hoping the candles will last.
It’s not such a bad idea, after all the other day I had to resort to barbecuing fish fingers because the hungry child wanted those fish fingers.
Crazy, I know, to put fish fingers on a braai, but this is the time we live in (by the way, they were quite delicious).
Then, of course, when the power does go out, you are left with the uncertainty of if it is load shedding, or maybe another cable theft, or a faulty cable that has packed up. No use trying to phone the call centre.
Or, another possibility is that metro has decided your account payment was delayed for some mysterious reason, resulting in you having to pay an unnecessary reconnection fee.
What then does the future hold, when guaranteed power is becoming an illusion? I guess it will help to stock the fridge with minimal goods (to avoid large scale rot), to endure the agony of a cold bath and to embrace the reality of walking in the footsteps of our forefathers by living around candlelight.
For now, in summer, load shedding is manageable, but wait until winter, when Eskom will find they have few friends.
Interesting times indeed, adding fuel to our already panic-prone nation.
At least I don’t have a pool pump to switch off.
