In the Dark

I was on the bottom floor of the Rosebank Mall last week, waiting in the line at the post office (which, if it’s possible, moves even slower in Africa than it does in America), when all of a sudden, I’m surrounded by darkness. There is a collective sigh of “not again,” but no one seems particularly annoyed. I look around at the others for some indication as to what to do next, but no one has moved. A man from behind the counter comes out and begins to close the doors. Now, I’m sure there is a good reason for this, but I definitely don’t want to be locked in the basement of the mall with the cast of characters currently occupying the post office. I quickly slip out of line.

“Wait!” I say in a loud whisper, though why I’m whispering I’m not sure. Something about the darkness, I guess. The man lets me out and I find myself in the packed corridor, with the thousand other people forced to abandon their day of Christmas shopping. Irritated, I climb the escalator (it’s been broken for a month so even had the power been on, I’d have still been climbing) and begin the walk to the other end of the mall. As I pass the darkened shops, I notice that every manager has closed and locked the doors. It occurs to me that this is probably to prevent looting; it makes sense that placing the store on “lockdown” would be part of the procedure.

What doesn’t make sense, you may be thinking, is why there is a procedure for this sort of thing to begin with. Surely this isn’t a usual occurrence, right? How many extreme acts of nature happen in Johannesburg, South Africa anyway? We’re not exactly in danger of snowstorms or hurricanes. And yet, we are no strangers to power outages. It happens all the time.

You don't have to be a nuclear scientist to know that we don't have enough power in South Africa. It’s not unusual to come home from work to find the contents of your freezer defrosted. You’re not surprised when a five mile journey takes an hour because the traffic lights are without power. You don’t bother to set the clock on the microwave because you’ll just have to do it again tomorrow.

We are constantly reminded via billboards and commercials to “Save Power!” We are told to turn off the lights and unplug appliances and even to switch off the outlet itself when it’s not in use. But this campaign isn’t about Africa going “green.” The constant reminders to conserve electricity are an effort put forth by the power company to ensure that we have enough power to go around.

Everyone knows it’s a problem, and yet we’re still not exactly doing our best to conserve. I’m certainly not using the clothes line instead of the dryer. Roger and I are still using the dishwasher and the computer and the big screen TV. And apparently everyone else is too, so sometimes, the power companies force the issue. They turn off the power on purpose, in an effort to “save” energy.

Ask a South African about the situation and they’ll roll their eyes and say “typical Africa.” And it is typical. Because it’s not just the power, occasionally it’s the water too. And if the utility shortages aren’t enough, you can also count on poorly paved roads and crumbling sidewalks and escalators that stay broken for months and mail that gets stolen and ATM’s with no cash and the list goes on and on.

When my sister-in-law came to the US for the first time (shortly before Roger and I moved to South Africa), she kept marveling, “Everything works here!” I didn’t understand what she meant. Of course it works. It just does what it’s supposed to. What was the big deal? Why was she so in awe? I should have been immediately suspicious about the country to which I was about to move.

You might say I’m looking back with rose colored glasses, but I know things go wrong in America too. Electronics malfunction. Cars break down. The cable guy doesn’t show up. And yes, storms can certainly cut the power off. However, most people don’t request a gas stove in their house so that they will have a way to cook dinner when the power goes out. And typically, if one day you go to the mall and the escalator is broken, you can expect it to be fixed by the next time you’re there. Not so in South Africa. You’ll be climbing that escalator for at least a month. And the cable guy? You’re lucky if he shows up two weeks after the original appointment.

I can’t offer any explanation as to why this is so. Certainly it’s not for a lack of a willing workforce. God knows, this country needs more jobs. And yet they can’t manage to send a couple guys over to the shopping complex to fix the escalator?!?!

But I should stop right there. As an American I have to watch what I say about my new home. A South African can make fun of their “first and third world country,” but they get rather defensive if I join in. Eventually they’ll just sigh and say, “What can you do?” They’ve gotten used to it. They don’t expect anything more.

Perhaps they’re just more laid back than me, but I do expect things to work and people to do what they’re supposed to do, when they are supposed to do it. And as the world continues to shrink, expectations are changing. South Africans realize that this isn’t how it should be, and with the 2010 Soccer World Cup approaching, they know the rest of the world will soon be noticing. So will they get it together, this new country of mine? Can they get organized and bring this place to its full potential? I certainly hope so, but to be honest, I’m skeptical. I’ll just be happy when someone fixes that damn escalator.