Power On: Will Eskom allow us to see Altetico Madrid march to victory in the Champion’s League? Perhaps. (Photo: Getty Images)
COMMENT
Thursday. Day 140 of locked down life.
Four full months of social distancing, sanitising, masking and, wherever possible, staying in the pozi.
Something which, before March 26, would have appeared impossible: a third of a year with no beach, no live music, no football matches, no company beyond my better half and a 14-year-old Fortnite fanatic.
I’ve had a bit of a lie-in, by my standards, anyhow. Sleep lasted all the way to 5am, rather than the usual 3.30am to 4am. Since the lockdown started, getting to sleep hasn’t been a problem.
Staying there has.
Like much of South Africa, I hit the bed feeling a little bit hopeful, buoyed by the news, albeit unofficial, that we may well move from level 3 of lockdown to level 2 in the coming days.
The restrictions on movement, alcohol and tobacco sales have done what they were required to do — lightened the load on the country’s medical services while slowing down the spread of Covid-19.
Even the National Coronavirus Command Council (NCCC) agrees that it’s time to move on, and has suggested that the government open up the economy before it collapses completely, from what we are told.
So does cabinet.
Like most of my compatriots, I awoke craving a “fellow South Africans” from the head of state, President Cyril Ramaphosa, confirming the move to a regime of lighter restrictions.
It’s time for a return to some form of normality; a restoration of the right to sell alcohol and tobacco, in the face of increasing evidence that the continuation of the bans is now doing more harm than good.
I haven’t had a cigarette in nearly nine years and I still have a couple of quarts left since before Banaphosa blindsided the nation “with immediate effect”, but it’s clearly time to move on and let the legal liquor and tobacco industries — and the millions of people they employ — make some money.
The illicit economy has had a fair run. Time to let the legal practitioners back in the game.
Level two, here we come.
Like the rest of the republic, instead of a “crack on” from the head of state, I woke, disappointed, to the announcement from Eskom of a new round of stage two loadshedding, due, we are told, to some overnight breakdowns somewhere in the national power utility’s generation system. The bad news doesn’t end there. The load shedding may move into stage three — whatever that means — when the evening surge in demand takes place.
Lovely. A Thursday night in the dark lies ahead, it appears.
I’m gutted.
I’ve been waiting all week for the Atletico Madrid Champions League quarter final fixture against RB Leipzig. The last game I watched before the lockdown kicked in was the demolition of Liverpool by Diego Simeone’s team. It will be awful to miss this game because of power cuts.
The problems don’t end there.
How is the lahnee going to give us the good news, all cheesy grin, shiny forehead and elbows, if we don’t have any electricity for him to broadcast the announcement and for us to watch him on the telly?
There’s bound to be a generator at Ramaphosa’s pozi, given that he’s the head of state, so the broadcast can still happen, but it’s a bit pointless him making the announcement if the rest of the country is in the dark, unable to watch, or listen, when he takes to the podium.
Does this mean he’ll call the family meeting on Friday instead?
Or will he hold off until Sunday, do the “with immediate effect” then, after giving us one last dry weekend, in the dark — no hot food, no TV, no cellphone signal — just to show us how bad things can get, to build our sense of appreciation, as it were, for when he finally moves us to level two?
My mind starts to race. The paranoia kicks in, as it tends to do when it comes to the actions of those who lead us.
Perhaps our sources got it wrong, and Ramaphosa was talking about stage two load-shedding, rather than level two lockdown, in response to the recommendations from the NCCC and cabinet.
Perhaps the leaks are all propaganda, planted by the legal booze and gwais lobby to try to sway things in their favour, and there’s no good news any time soon.
Stranger things have happened.
Perhaps the sources got it right, and Number One was planning to give us a break, but the Pacific Blue cigarette merchants, or the Take It Or Leave It booze dealers, got together and sabotaged a couple of power stations to delay the announcement, give themselves another day or two — even a weekend — to get rid of their stock, at ridiculously inflated prices, before the lifting of the ban can actually take place.