LOADSHEDDING BLUES

Just as salmon have no choice but to swim upstream, we have no choice but to accept the loadshedding forced upon us.

I really sympathise with non-breastfeeding moms who have to prepare and warm bottles for their newborns, as well as for the elderly who live alone. I also feel sorry for myself when I forget to preboil the kettle for a cuppa just prior to a power outage. Two hours without tea can be very long.

I’m in my late sixties and have always suffered from insomnia, so I read extensively. I was on the loo reading at 1am when the lights suddenly went out. Bummer! (Couldn’t resist that, sorry). I’d forgotten about the 1-3am loadshedding.

But my question is, with the nights still being humid, how do people manage to sleep without an overhead fan or air-con to keep them cool?

I simply can’t. As children we’d complain about sweating and my mother would firmly reply that ladies glow, men perspire and pigs sweat. So I either lie and glow for two hours before the power comes back on, or I awkwardly balance an LED headlamp contraption on my head and uncomfortably sit and read. Thank you so much, Eskom.

BEV, EMAIL

■ I almost feel as if South Africans have given up when it comes to loadshedding. In the early days of lights out everybody used to froth and fume and vloek Eskom.

When the latest round of loadshedding came around there seemed to be just a weary acceptance. Where are the candles? Do we have matches? Are the lamps charged?

It’s as if we’ve given up hoping that anything will ever change and just learnt to live with what’s really an unacceptable fact of life in South Africa. We need to stay angry.

STILL MAD, EMAIL