by Chimamanda Adichie
– Article written by award-winning writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, first published on the New York Times.
We call it light; “electricity” is too sterile a word, and “power” too stiff, for this Nigerian phenomenon that can buoy spirits and smother dreams. Whenever I have been away from home for a while, my first question upon returning is always: “How has light been?” The response, from my gateman, comes in mournful degrees of a head shake.
Bad. Very bad.
The quality is as poor as the supply: Light bulbs dim like tired, resentful candles. Robust fans slow to a sluggish limp. Air-conditioners bleat and groan and make sounds they were not made to make, their halfhearted cooling leaving the air clammy. In this assault of low voltage, the compressor of an air-conditioner suffers — the compressor is its heart, and it is an expensive heart to replace. Once, my guest room air-conditioner caught fire. The room still bears the scars, the narrow lines between floor tiles smoke-stained black.
Sometimes the light goes off and on and off and on, and bulbs suddenly brighten as if jerked awake, before dimming again. Things spark and snap. A curl of smoke rises from the water heater. I feel myself at the mercy of febrile malignant powers, and I rush to pull my laptop plug out of the wall. Later, electricians are summoned and they diagnose the problem with the ease of a long acquaintance. The current is too high or too low, never quite right. A wire has melted. Another compressor will need to be replaced.
For succor, I turn to my generator, that large Buddha in a concrete shed near the front gate. It comes awake with a muted confident hum, and the difference in effect is so obvious it briefly startles: Light bulbs become brilliant and air-conditioners crisply cool.
The generator is electricity as electricity should be. It is also the repository of a peculiar psychology of Nigerian light: the lifting of mood. The generator is lord of my compound. Every month, two men filled with mysterious knowledge come to minister to it with potions and filters. Once, it stopped working and I panicked. The two men blamed dirty diesel, the sludgy, slow, expensive liquid wreathed in conspiracy theories. (We don’t have regular electricity, some say, because of the political influence of diesel importers.) Now, before my gateman feeds the diesel into the generator, he strains it through a cloth and cleans out bits of dirt. The generator swallows liters and liters of diesel. Each time I count out cash to buy yet another jerrycan full, my throat tightens.
I spend more on diesel than on food.
My particular misfortune is working from home. I do not have a corporate office to escape to, where the electricity is magically paid for. My ideal of open windows and fresh, breathable air is impossible in Lagos’s seething heat. (Leaving Lagos is not an option. I love living here, where Nigeria’s energy and initiative are concentrated, where Nigerians bring their biggest dreams.) To try to cut costs — sustainably, I imagine — I buy an inverter. Its silvery, boxlike batteries make a corner of the kitchen look like a physics lab.
The inverter’s batteries charge while there is light, storing energy that can be used later, but therein lies the problem: The device requires electricity to be able to give electricity. And it is fragile, helpless in the face of the water pump and microwave. Finally, I buy a second generator, a small, noisy machine, inelegant and scrappy. It uses petrol, which is cheaper than diesel, and can power lights and fans and freezers but only one air-conditioner, and so I move my writing desk from my study to my bedroom, to consolidate cool air.
Day after day, I awkwardly navigate between my sources of light, the big generator for family gatherings, the inverter for cooler nights, the small generator for daytime work.
Like other privileged Nigerians who can afford to, I have become a reluctant libertarian, providing my own electricity, participating in a precarious frontier spirit. But millions of Nigerians do not have this choice. They depend on the malnourished supply from their electricity companies.
In 2005, a law was passed to begin privatizing the generation and distribution of electricity, and ostensibly to revamp the old system rooted in bureaucratic rot. Ten years on, little has changed. Most of the companies that produce electricity from gas and hydro sources, and all of the distribution companies that serve customers, are now privately owned. But the link between them — the transmission company — is still owned by the federal government.
I cannot help but wonder how many medical catastrophes have occurred in public hospitals because of “no light,” how much agricultural produce has gone to waste, how many students forced to study in stuffy, hot air have failed exams, how many small businesses have foundered. What greatness have we lost, what brilliance stillborn? I wonder, too, how differently our national character might have been shaped, had we been a nation with children who took light for granted, instead of a nation whose toddlers learn to squeal with pleasure at the infrequent lighting of a bulb.
As we prepare for elections next month, amid severe security concerns, this remains an essential and poignant need: a government that will create the environment for steady and stable electricity, and the simple luxury of a monthly bill.
——————–
If I read this write up two years ago I would have disagreed with the writer. Then I lived in Mabushi, Abuja and hadly had need for a generator. Ever since I moved to Lagos two years ago the story has changed. I now have two generators with erratic power from PHCN supporting the generators sometimes. I am buying another generator this week and planning for an inverter soon.
So from my personal experience and from listening to peoples’ feedbacks on live phone in radio programmes, the experience of people in many parts of Abuja is significantly and understandably different and unfairly better from the rest of the country.
Truth be told, the writer’s experience is not different from many in her socio-economic class, and that’s to say nothing of the millions who daily wallow in darkness at night because they cannot afford the luxury of generating their own power supply.
I don’t understand what is wrong in a Nigerian expressing her dissatisfaction with the poor supply of electricity . label her fictional at the risk of exposing your own shallowness and lack of literacy! there’s no need to sugar coat facts here…I agree with @Yinka. Do not twist Adichie’s words into some cheap political conspiracy theory. When she refers to the next government, it doesn’t necessarily imply a change in the individuals. You agree with me that whether the incumbent president wins or not, a swearing in ceremony must occur (which signifies a NEW tenure). Let’s brainstorm collectively to find solutions to our problems instead of burying our heads in the sand or playing to the gallery of some distant foreign audience by pretending they do not exist.
U actually have uninterrupted power supply? Please pray, do tell what part of the country you are. And it had better be the truth. If not please leave the writer of this article to speak the bitter truth as she knows it. We need electricity and we need it yesterday. This article paints my exact situation and it’s not funny anymore. She is not talking about any improvement as the operative word here is “uninterrupted”. So except you have a totally different thing to say, quit playing politics and learn to actually read what has been written
Some of the reactions to my comment make it sound as though I claimed to be enjoying electricity every day, all day. What I did say is that I have witnessed improvements that I’ve measured, notably an 80-90% reduction in average spend on generating my own power. I live in a place called Karu Site and my workplace is in Wuse II, both in Abuja.
I still suffer power outages, but not the way I used to. This is strictly a personal experience. If I relocate, it’s possible I may sing a different song. I’m not denying the problems or singing anyone’s praise. But I know something changed for the positive and I hope that it keeps getting better.
Physically and emotionally she’s still living in the US and not in Nigeria culturally. Why would she be bemoaning our poor public power supply situation as if it’s a new phenomenon unless, of course, I suppose that was what her objective was, she was arrogantly telling her Nigerian story in a veiled or not too veiled manner but arrogantly to impress her American audience at our expense. While her colleagues in the diaspora are tasking their thinking faculties on how to be part of the solution she’s behaving like a typical “a je butta” girl, a false lifestyle.
I am impressed as always each time l read any of your writings, l have share admiration for your dexterity and God given expertise in crystallising the point in your discuss in such fashionable manner that meanings are not ambiguous and muffled. This piece of work is undoubtedly not an attemlt at one of your fictional work and considering the timing and the subject matter, the picture of your country depicted with its poor light condition and the daily struggle with which the upper class in the society is go through daily is quite interesting and surely very catchy to your international audience who perhaps are alien to the struggle of the third world countires, the same people whom our continent’s very best slaved to build.
The message to vote for a government that will stabilise electricity in the forth coming election is clear, as your write up has without fair and investigative insight pass judgement of poor performance on the present government which the emphasis on your experience with poor light echoes. Each time l read from elites displaying shallow knowledge of the workings of our complex society and economy and in pretence invoke pictures comparing Nigeria situation to developed settings with outright disregards to the reality on ground while pointing to singular mortal as being responsible for ancient and age long protracted national problems it breaks my heart. Chimamanda not until you give insight on how successive governments has fared in assuaging the pains of Nigeria poor light situation and how the present government has made it worse with empirical reference to projects not executed or frustrated by this same government then you must spell it out that this write up is a fictional attempt that not be taken serious.
It lacks balance and fair representation of impression and it completely swept the surface of the subject matter, such writeup is too shallow and lack depth too cheap a piece to be credited to your literary fame and image.
Victor, after all she said, fueling of generators, purchasing of inverter and what have you. What else or which kind of research do you want her to do again? Please be objective in your criticism, do not say all you feel like saying just because you wanna get notice!
I’ll take that as a compliment. Regards.
With due respect to our dear Chimamanda, whom I genuinely admire, I would like to suggest that we’re coming to the time when Nigerians from different walks of life need to bring some of their expertise to bear in examining as well as solving national problems. Reading this article, one would think that it’s a tale of woe for all Nigerians where ‘light’ is concerned. But this is not so. Many Nigerians have come out to say that they have witnessed improvements in the power situation and I’m one of such persons. This is the case not only where I live but also at work. So, I would think that somebody of Chimamanda’s stature could consider going the extra mile to do a little research (and if need be hire some qualified hands) to get a fuller picture of the situation before proceeding to publish in a foreign paper. It’s her country she’s making to look bad, not the U.S. Sorry, but it looks a little like grandstanding to me.
Lucky you Victor. Lucky you indeed. I live in Gbagada and work in Ogba and the situation has worsened from what it was 3/4 months ago.
I had half-expected/hoped that as the elections drew nearer, steady electricity would be an easy vote bait for the incumbent, alas that remains a dream
Thanks for your reply and I really wish more people had my experience. Maybe it will happen sooner than later. Clearly each successor company of NEPA/PHCN will have its unique challenges. But the motivation to recoup their investment will force them get around those issues.
Victor, window dressing the situation does not make it better. I work in an office of over 40 pple on one floor, recently we have realized that there is a “formula” to this light issue!
A certain area might have constant electricity for about a month or two while other areas will be without, so the pple enjoying the “light” tend to say ” it has really improved”, forward a mth or two it will be the other way round! My argument, do not use your experience to pass judgement on the state of electricity in Nigeria, it should be a thing that at least 90% will agree that it is good then we can all say it is really better.
Hiding the facts and shortcomings of our nation does us no Good, who are we posing for?
I agree and you’ve misunderstood me. What I advocate is for a proper survey and an independent one at that. In my own case, it’s not a case of “off and on”. The change was a remarkable one that occurred precisely June 2012 and it’s been sustained ever since. Cheers!
Grandstanding? Seems you’ve turned logic on its head. Chimamanda speaks for millions of Nigerians suffering from epileptic and worsening power supply. Electricity improves only during the rainy season due to increased water levels to drive old rickety turbines. I also don’t understand the need for “research” and or “qualified” hands for something so glaring. I also don’t know why people when speaking the truth as it is, are accused of making our country “look bad” in the International scene. Truth be told.