Up NEPA!

It is 10pm and even though you left the office at 5pm, you have only just gotten home from a long day at work. The traffic on the bridge refused to let you be great. The drive on your street was dark, dimly lit by the kerosene lamps and the candles of neighbours that have come to sit outside for some fresh air. You prayed that by some miracle you have light at home. You did not get your shirts to the dry-cleaners this week and your single clean shirt is rumpled. Sadly, your hope did not have long to live because when you pulled up to your gate, darkness met you. Foolish of you to think that NEPA will single you out for its favour this evening. One for all and all for one. The transmission lines favour no one. You walk into your dark home, torch in hand, and as you open the door, you catch a whiff of something, it smells as though some food has gone off. That is when it hits you, this is the sixth consecutive day of being without power. The food you left in the freezer, with the hope that whatever chill that was left over from last week will hold the fort , has finally gone bad. You throw it out and open the windows, not just for fresh air, but some form of ventilation and reprieve from the heat.

You go to take a shower so that you can, at least, wash the sweat off. Grghghg … grghrgrgh, that is the sound the tap makes when you turn it on. It sounds like it really wants to give you this water so that you can shower. It tries and, raising your hopes, violently spits out a few drops… then…nothing. On the verge of tears, you remember that you fetched an extra bucket of water in the morning. Grateful for the small blessing in your otherwise gloomy day, you haul the bucket into the bathroom, place the torch face-up- so it lights the ceiling and you start to cleanse yourself of all the stress and chaos that was your day.

Perhaps it is that you are tired, or that the water, despite being cold, has a calming effect on you, but as you stare at the light emanating from your sole source of illumination on this very dark night, you are taken back to a scene of your childhood. You don’t know why you remember it, there is nothing distinct about it, but you see it clearly- the white bathroom tiles, the shadows, the torch, its light on the ceiling, just as it is in this moment. That was over twenty years ago. Then, you were excited about the adventures the shadows created in your head. Now, you are just sad.

You are sad, and you are ready to leave. You think of the test you recently took. You remember how excited you were that Canada was opening its arms to you. You recall that in that moment, the first thing you thought of was the fact that this scene will never occur once you get there. You will never again have to have your bath with your torch. You will never have to spend half your salary on diesel only to have it finish before the month is up.  You will be able to iron your clothes when you want to. You will be able to have ice cream in your freezer and a chilled bottle of malt in your fridge. The possibilities will be endless. A million fewer things to worry about. As you remember the prospect of your bright future, you become excited and then, you become sad again.

Sad that you are going to have to leave for a better place. A place where your life is valued, and you don’t have to pray not to get into a bad accident. You are sad that you have to leave this shithole of a country, where you dance and laugh and cry and shout all in the same day. You are sad that you are going to leave, what really, is your own. You are sad that your own is horrendous and insufficient to the point of fatality. You are sad. To live you have to leave.

And as you continue to wallow in your melancholic euphoria, you hear a loud voice,

“Up NEPA!”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the light that has suddenly filled the room.

Like your neighbour, your gratitude towards this NEPA of a thing bursts forth and even before you realise what you are doing, you feel the elation on your face.

There’s a part of you that questions how you can be celebrating the very thing that is making your life a living hell.

But you cannot help it.

“Up NEPA!”

You shout, as you quickly rush out of the shower to iron your single shirt.

Tomorrow is another battle, you might as well be properly dressed for it.

-O.F.P.