Power Supply Company Leaves me Crying in the Rain

In preparation for my full retirement, more than two years ago, I revived my friendship with two white South Africans I had met more than two decades ago, during my then frequent global sojourns.

Actually, I initially met the two at the famous Berlin International Travel Trade Fair, or ITB Berlin, its popular acronym. This is where all nations in this world come togather to market their tourist attractions. Naturally, buyers from all over the world also flock in to sample these unique products.

The two, whose names I can not divulge, used to own a tourist resort in Kwazulu Natal Province in that land of the Zumas and Ramaphosas.

And to be more precise, the two who are Boers in flesh and blood, were trying to take advantage of their country’s acceptance at the global table following the collapse of the apartheid regime, to expand their business to the rest of the ‘free’ and black Africa.

Our initial meeting in Berlin was very much accidental. I had gone into one of those huge beer halls within the expansive exhibition complex to sort out my body and spirit.

You see, having guzzled down my throat several Berliner Pilsners and Schnnaps the previous evening, I was looking for some concoction to contain my heavy wintry hang-over. It was in the wintry month of February.

I wobbled into that beer hall, where, surpringly I saw, among others, boiled cow hoofs, or as popularly called in Bongoland ‘makongoro’, being sold.

I rushed to the counter and ordered those ‘makongoros’ with their generous chunks of meat. Being true to myself, I also ordered a mortuary cold Berliner Pilsner to wash down my heavy meal.

I sat down at one corner of the hall enjoying my heavy meal. Suddenly, two huge white fellows with heavy ladden plates of ‘makongoro’ and two Berliner Pilsners each, joined me.

After the usual international dry greetings, they enquired as to how, of all the meals, I came to select ‘makongoro’. “Oh!” I responded, “This is a popular and common meal where I come from, and that is Bongoland.”

It was now my turn to ask these two bloated white males how they had chosen this sort of traditional dish. “Back home we also enjoy this meal. We are also from Africa, South Africa to be more precise,” they explained. I could now understand why they were so huge. Apart from their gargantuan appetite, Boers can be huge, very huge.

In due course we became friends, enjoying our ‘makongoro’ and quaffing generous amounts of lagers down our cold throats togather.

Following our Berlin encounter we continued to correspond and even visit each other as close friends. During one of my visits to Kwazulu, two or so years ago, the two broached the idea of expanding their business to Bongoland.

A few months later they visited me in Bongoland and expressed interest in establishing a Sunfower Oil Processing plant and a Diary Milk Processing and Packaging factory.

And I was happy that they picked Chalowe, my home village in Wanging’ombe District, Njombe Region as the location of the plants. I believe the greenery landscape, good well-paved roads, reliable water and power supply and my influence, were major factors in their decision.

We even surveyed potential sites for the projects. Naturally I was going to be their major local partner and co-director. What a relief and joy for a retiring Bongolander. The plants would also stimulate the economy in the area.

This last March they again came to prepare for the projects. And that is when tragedy struck. It so happens that the power supply transformer at Chalowe village broke down more than a month ago, 28th February to be more precise.

Actually, as I pen this third rate column the power company is yet to solve the problem. Chalowe and its environs have no power and have been reduced and condemned to the dark ages.

To make matters worse, my two investors after experiencing the power blues, left dejected promising to never ever think of investing here again.

My bright retirement future has simply vanished and I am left crying in the rain, which is presently mercilessly pounding Bongoland. And it is all thanks to the mighty power supply company.