Power Outage, Rain, and a Bowl of Vegetable Soup – A Day in the Ghetto
Today it’s raining.
Sometimes more, sometimes less. Not a dramatic storm, but a steady, melancholic drumming on the tin roofs.
No real reason to go outside – or perhaps a very good reason to stay inside.
At the moment, I am staying in a ghetto. And as much as that might frighten some people – I find it exciting.
I know I once again acted against all well-meant advice. But I feel comfortable here. Authentic.
And as long as I’m not hurting anyone – except perhaps myself – my decisions should be accepted.
Power outages are part of everyday life here.
Generators? Yes, they exist. But they are used less often than elsewhere.
And honestly, that’s quite relaxing.
Because when they run, they really roar.
It’s like an entire machine park comes alive – loud, vibrating, exhausting.
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Today it’s quiet. No generator noise. Just rain, voices from the neighborhood, and the occasional honking.
I read that there was a power outage in Spain recently – just one day, and there was an uproar.
If every power outage here in Nigeria were reported, it would probably need its own news channel –
with several updates a day. And eventually, people might not even pay attention anymore.
I’m using the day to get some work done. Honestly, it’s not much fun.
But I think that’s pretty normal.
For many, work is a necessary means to an end. Not always joyful, often just duty.
Earlier today, we went out to eat.
I had heard a lot about it: in the South, especially in Calabar, the food is said to taste better.
And today, I had the chance to experience it myself.
We ordered from a Mama Put – a simple street kitchen run by a woman from Calabar – vegetable soup with swallow (Eba).
Along with it, water served in a typical plastic sachet, held by a reusable cup.
You bite off a corner carefully – and drink slowly, not all at once.
It tasted fantastic.
We sat in a small, older room, simply furnished, and slightly darkened due to the power outage.
But I love such places.
And I love rainy days.
Especially when you can look out through the open door.
Watching the street life, even if it’s quieter than usual.
But life still moves on.
The power is still out.
Here, they often cut the electricity during rainy days.
It might seem chaotic to some.
For me, it’s simply part of life here.
A part that teaches me to slow down — and to simply observe, taste, and live.