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Darkest Africa

It's 6pm. Potatoes are boiling, carrots are ready and onions are frying. Then, abruptly, everything goes black. Really black. Not a UK power-cut pseudo-black. Proper black-as-pitch black. I step out into the car port. I can barely see across to the flats opposite. The stars
above are just amazing and it is clear that power has been cut to the whole area – not just the hospital compound.

Inside the sounds of boiling gradually die away as the hot plates cool. I fumble around for my single candle, cursing. When I arrived there were frequent water shortages and I got into the habit of filling pans and the bath before I went to work. These power cuts are new and I am a poor boy scout – my only torch is a comedy "wind-up" one from Japan that gives light for 25 seconds unless you sustain a rapid, loud and wild winding. Puzzlingly, it also has a built radio.

I wander around the residences with my torch (furiously winding) and locate my dinner guests – unless they like partially frozen fish dinner is off. I try to call it Sushi but no one buys it. Nomfundo says she will pray for electricity – "My prayers are usually answered" she grins, "unless of course you don't have enough faith?!"

In the end Jabu, Nomfundo and two medical students on elective from the Uni of KZN come for drinks. I ask Jabu what he would like to drink. "A cup of electricity," he groans. He has satellite TV and had planned an evening in front of the cup final.

"What about your prayer?" I ask Nomfundo.

"Sometimes he takes his own time to answer," she replies serenely.

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