Columns

That was a shock. It was a shock indeed. The day before the country celebrated its 72nd Independence Day some parts of this fair isle were plunged into darkness or so one immediately thought.

Reading the news from afar, it was not quite clear whether it happened in the night or the darkness was at noon, as Arthur Koestler would have said. Anyway, whatever the time, it all happened the day prior to an important anniversary when the national anthem would be sung in one language to show that the country had coalesced to sing from the same lyric sheet.

But to some, there was always the suspicion that something was not quite right. Why on earth did the power go off on this particular day? While all sorts of reasons were adduced by all sorts of persons, there would always be the suspicious ones that would smell a rat, or several rats for that matter. Was somebody or bodies trying to do the dirty on Gota and spoil the day for him?

Actually Independence Day had gone splendidly well from all that we heard from the Colombo cognoscenti sipping their beer or something more expensive and certainly more inebriating. And why not! This was the when our forefathers and their politically-motivated brethren from different communities had welded together to say goodbye to the last of the white rulers and lower the Union Jack.

They had watched the spruced-up military columns march past the country’s leaders and those assembled, while others watched the parade from the comfort of their homes stretched out on lounge chairs or whatever was at hand.

But then it happened. Not on that day but the next. It was in the wee hours of Thursday morning–around 1 a.m. if my information is correct- when everything went dark as the lights went out.

It all happened in the Kirulapone and Nugegoda areas where there are a legion of business houses and offices. Moreover, these are highly populated areas with several schools that begin quite early in the day.

They woke up sweating as their air conditioners and electric fans stopped and turned a comfortable night’s sleep into a messy break of dawn.

Those going to their offices and others to schools somehow struggled in the dark to prepare for the day under candle light, that is those who had stocked some candles at home not relying overly on the Ceylon Electricity Board which seems to be battling internal conflicts or engaged in taking on its political leaders who are not masters in the subject of power and energy.

At least they appear to have enough energy to engage in power struggles inside and outside the party.

When irate citizens who missed their sleep and failed to take their lunch packs to office and school finally got through to the Electricity Board, which proudly claims that its telephones lines are open 24 hours a day and 365 days a year to serve its customers, the CEB sent a message saying it was a “temporary breakdown” affecting the Kirulapone and Nugegoda areas.

I doubt that the electricity consumers in those areas required any information on who was affected. They were the very consumers who were trying to find out what was going on and when the supply would be back

Personally, I would go out and buy a few power lights and candles than rely on the CEB’s definition of temporary. Well I was not far wrong. The power that failed around 1 a.m. on Thursday was not restored till about 2 p.m. on Thursday. Now that, by my calculation, was more than 12 hours, a good half a day.

That, however, is not the end of the story. With the power back and those deserving of a siesta after sitting up half the night returned to bed got what the Japanese would call a “shokku”. Hardly had they curled up in bed when the power failed again or was switched off.

So off they jumped from the bed and went to find whether the temporary breakdown was likely to be more permanent than temporary and how long this temporary phenomenon would be compared to the earlier temporary power cut.

With little ado, until the power lords — as opposed to the lords with power — hopefully switch on the power so that the powerless people can get on with their daily tasks, they waited and waited and waited with diminishing hope.

To while away time on a wasted day some turned to the newspapers of the previous couple of days. That is how they came across an unnamed engineer of the CEB chiding the Power and Energy Minister Mahinda Amaraweera for making promises that the public would be assured of uninterrupted power supplies.

The engineer claimed that the CEB would be compelled to resort to turn to power shedding (whatever that means to a public hardly acquainted with such technical terms).

As far as the average citizen is concerned power shedding or not shedding has to do with what is going on in the UNP where attempts to shed its leader Ranil Wickremesinghe of his power has proved a far more difficult task than that encountered by CEB engineers.

It seems that despite the minister’s assurances the Ceylon Petroleum Corporation did not supply fuel to the CEB at a subsidised rate which is a dirty thing to do. After all it is the CEB that provides the power to the powerful lot in our land who have no problem of leading a good life power shedding or whatever that is called.

Personally, it would be a good thing if some of our prominent politicians irrespective of which party they come from, shed a few kilos by keeping away from the heavily subsidised meals that are served to the privileged parliamentarians whether they came into that august assembly on the public vote or the side door also known to some as the National List.

Unable to stand the antics of the CEB’s power cuts or power shedding which ultimately means the same thing to a harassed public, some gentlemen of this long suffering community headed off to a nearby market hoping to quench their thirst with a thambili also known as King Coconut.

Imagine their unmitigated surprise when one poor man was told that one thambili cost a meagre hundred rupees. Just one year ago he had paid Rs 35 per nut.

Now we know why it is called a King Coconut. Who could pay such a princely sum except monarchs and politicians who dip into the privy purse?

(Neville de Silva is a veteran Sri Lanka journalist who was Assistant Editor, Diplomatic Editor and Political Columnist of the Hong Kong Standard and later moved to London and worked for the Gemini News Service. Later he was Sri Lanka’s deputy high commissioner in London before returning to journalism.)