it took 2 weeks until the power was turned back on. two weeks.
you know, i used to live in a bus for 3 years, without electricity. i've camped. i've travelled. done without. but there's nothing quite like living in your own house without electricity. nothing quite like the 'before dark' ritual.
it's a story of being organised.
the sun traverses the sky in a slow arc; it's summer, luckily. it's warm, so we have no need to heat. but every afternoon, after tea but before sunset, i wander the house checking.
the torches are there, where they're meant to be and the batteries are charged. there's a light half-way between the lounge and the bedrooms- just in case. and another one in either room. just in case. there's one by the bathroom and one in the lounge itself. we don't use candles. (you don't live in a wooden house in earthquake season, using candles.)
the sun sets. we wind up the radio and listen to talk-back radio. i hate talk back, listening to sorry tales of sorry lives. but just now, these are my peers. these are other people sitting there in the dark and the radio has become our link. our tales are all similar, of no water, no power, of no sewerage. while being disconnected, we're all trying desperately to reconnect by a forgotten medium.
there was something that was attached to the terror of sunset that still hasn't left.
each night i still have my ritual. i check that torches are in place, charged. i fill my water bottle. i make sure there is a path, clear from clothes and toys- my escape route.
two weeks.
each night, as our home and suburb descended into a black so complete, it was hard to compare, i had a fear that rose. looking out of my windows (why draw the curtains?) to a neighbourhood that was dark... many neighbours had left, so i didn't expect to see light in their windows, but the street lights were out too. nothing. and quiet. even the sea paid its respects.
so, we carried water. we washed our smalls in buckets at the well across the road. we invented a complicated colour coded system for bucket usage, making deposits in the portaloo across the way. it was kinda like festival camping, just without the music, or fun.
and i've never known such charity.
some church ladies from the west side of town came by to collect our washing, returning it two days, ironed, later with freshly baked biscuits.
the army were out, purifying water. there were water stations at the civil defence posts. there was free food left and right- more bbqs and sausage sizzles than you could poke a stick at. a free 'supermarket' was set up, where we shopped for baby food and nappies. the hari krishnas, the sallys, the lot were there, dishing up delicacies. there was even a bunch of folk flying hot meals in by helicopter. cos without 'leccy, many folk couldn't cook food, let alone sterilise their water.
it seems so long ago now.
but the fear still lives in me.
