I don't got the power

Day 1 with no power brings audible sighs and quick action. Because my house has a battery back-up system instead of a generator it means we have a seamless transition to back up power and other than a brief flicker from the lights, all systems remain go. I move to triage the power supply, and the second fridge (yes, I have two but they're small) and the water heater are unplugged. Just in case it's a long one, I move some ice packs into the freezer so that I can use them later to keep food from spoiling if the battery goes.

In the evening a storm hits at the exact moment I drive with colleagues to dinner. We pulled over, because it's a total white out and the rain feels like it's pelting our souls. Speaking of pelting, hail starts falling from the sky and iron sheets from a construction site peel off like a banana and hurl toward us. No Ethiopian tonight. In the morning there was no evidence of the storm.

Day 2: Well it's gonna be a long one. In Gulu the power has been pretty consistent lately. When I first arrived, it wasn't uncommon to have 4-5 days without power every month or so. In the last couple of months we'd have perhaps a Saturday without power, at most a day and a half, but otherwise it's been pretty ok.

In the evening another storm hits. This one has a ferocity I've never experienced before. There is a sense that finding a basement would be a good idea.

Day 3: Um, well, a basement might have been a good idea. This was the day of our final SPRING celebration where we expected 140 people to enjoy speeches and dancing and displays of our work. It was held at the Bomah under big tents. At 7:30am I received a text that said “your tents at the Bomah are destroyed.” Oh SPRING, you are so curse-d! Panic set it when I drove out of my compound. Gulu looks like a war zone. The irony is not lost on me. Even when Gulu was a war zone it didn’t look like this. My neighbor’s tin roof blew off completely. Trees are down. Huge trees – the beautiful old oaks that line the main street by the court house came crashing down, destroying everything in their path. Power…yeah not so much. Power poles were scattered like tooth picks and the power lines were strewn like intestines everywhere. As I drove over several power lines I think I’m glad power’s been out and I hope it’s true about cars being grounded. It must have been a tornado. The damage is great.

The event went off without a hitch, even with massive trees blocking the entrance to the hotel. It seems that the storm only hit senior quarters where I live. Besides, the reliance on power in the developing world isn’t the same as it is at home. With fettuccine power lines splayed out as far as the eye can see, most people simply stepped over them and continued on their way to work or the market.

Day 4: No sign of the Umeme power company workers. Some Gulu prisoners are working on tree removal. Power in Gulu will not return in 2010 I think. At work, our massive generator collapses under the weight of expectation. It’s dead. Done. Finito. The battery back-up system at home is seriously limping and there’s not much more I can unplug.

Day 5: Power lines stay as they lay in senior quarters, but town has power. A glimmer of hope emerges and my café is back online at least. At Day 5 of a power outage, psychological effects emerge. The stress of finding a reliable power source to plug in my phone and computer is stressful. Equally stressful is light sources. I have solar lights, but will they go out? Will they go out now? How about now? Now? I’ve been prepared for the death of the battery. RIP 8:35pm.

Day 6: I’m actually afraid to look in my fridge. I think all is lost but I also think I just can’t face the mess. A brown sludge is oozing from the corner of the fridge. My kitten is happily licking it. At work we’ve got a little generator now cooking, which keeps our server and computers alive. I accidentally try to print something though for my noon presentation to multiple donors and the generator blew up. Power was lost for the rest of the afternoon.

Day 7: Power lines still on the ground? Check. Today we get a break though, because my friends and I leave Gulu and travel for the night to the Rhino Sanctuary. (Pretty cool, FYI)

Day 8: Back to Gulu and we discover that the water in the house is now gone. I have a reserve tank that I guess is now emptied. It’s jeri can splash baths from here on out. Ugh.

Day 9: It’s Monday and after a splash bath I head to the office to discover that power has returned. No it hasn’t. Yes it has. No it hasn’t. Yes. No. Generator on. Off. On. Off, etc. At home I briefly enter the fridge and extract a very fuzzy avocado. Luckily, Jeanne, who has a big government generator, has offered refuge. We eat fish tacos and drink ICED dawas (a Kenyan mojito). I haven’t imbibed anything but room temperature liquids. Ice rocks! We attempt to install a generator at my house, but the battery back-up system (RIP) will not allow it. Jose (pronounced “Joe-say”) the electrician isn’t picking his phone, which is a common response when expertise is needed at a clutch moment in Gulu. I briefly entertain calling Tonny, the café’s barista and amateur electrician, but then I just go to bed with my brain playing “no power no power no power.”

Day 10: I leave Gulu for Kampala. Woo hoo! So long Gulu, hello SERENA HOTEL. So long jeri can bucket bathe, hello infinity pool. I limp into reception complaining to everyone who asks that Gulu is not very ok. “The power is not there,” I say. They try to look sympathetic, but I guess like most things, the north-south divide applies to this situation too. A few days break from no power…ahhhhhh.