The Dangers of Power Outages

The Dangers of Power Outages.

So among the many challenges of life over here, is learning to live without power. Ac-tually, learning to live without power might be a little easier than learning to live with random and prolonged power outages, which is what is going on here. Two days ago, we had power for three hours...from 1PM to 4PM. The day before we had it for 5 hours, but they were randomly spread out throughout the day in one hour intervals. It’s wreak-ing havoc on my refridgerator, but I suppose I should just be happy to have a refrigera-tor in the first place.

I am mostly bald. (You’ll see how this relates to random power outages shortly.) So yeah...I’m mostly bald, and since forever I’ve cut my hair REAL short. I can’t stand to have it not shaved short...you can feel breeze in it when it gets too long, it looks all fuzzy and ridiculous. Anyway, in the States I used to cut my own hair at least once a week with a home trimmer, and I brought that with me here. (Over here its such a pain in the ass though that I usually go for about two weeks between haircuts...which really pushes the limits on the fuziness factor.) Well in a week the weird electrical current here exploded my haircutter (despite the converter kit I had it plugged into) and I brought a trimmer here at a Chinese loja. Contrary to every other experience I’ve had with a Chinese loja product, this little trimmer has been a champ. No problems whatso-ever, and I’ve been happily short-shorn since I’ve been in Cape Verde.

Then came last week. Normally it takes me I guess about 6 or 7 minutes to shave my head. (I do still have some hair around the sides and the back...its just the top that’s shiny.) Anyway, last week, after 2 weeks without a haircut, in the middle of the day, 3 and a half minutes into my haircut, the power went out. I know it was exactly three and half minutes into my haircut because exactly half of my head was completely shaved. (The driver’s side half...not that it matters.) That is not something you can hide. I have a hat here, a big one even, but even it won’t hide a half shaved head. You can still tell that something’s not quite right when you see only half of a neckline cleaned up...only one sideburn. Normally I would not be too panicked about the whole thing, and could just wait for the power to come back on, or might just elect to try to stay in the house un-til dark and then go out with a hat. Not an option on the day in question though, having had some turtle-related trabalho (work) in Cruzinha later in the afternoon. Basically there was nothing for it. I would have to take a walk of shame. I figured it would funny though, a good laugh for my friends, which it did indeed turn out to be.

One day would have been ok to suffer the humiliation, but that was not to be. The next morning, I got up as usual, had my porridge and brown sugar breakfast, and then promptly left the house to go down to Vuk Taref (just down the hill from Txangreja), hav-ing forgotten my predicament. (There is currently no mirror in my house, so it’s not like I can check myself out before leaving the house, and in any event I’ve completely gotten out of the habit of doing that.) Thankfully I caught Te having a good chuckle as I was headed down the hill and he said “es koisa di kabexa k’bo ten.” Ah yes...now I remem-bered. I immediately turned back to the house and plugged in the trimmer and flicked the switch and...no juice. The power was still not there. I waited. And waited. And waited. I shouted down to the mini precio at 11AM and asked Te if he knew when the power might be coming back on, and he said it had already come and gone...Txangreja having had power during the very useful hours of 4 to 8AM. I asked him if he though it’s be coming back on. He said “Kuas nao.” (Prolly not.) So I stayed close to or inside the house that whole day, grateful to not have any commitments in Cruzinha, and waited anxiously for any sign of power. Music from a radio or TV, a streetlamp, anything. It did not come that day. A second day with a half-shaved head.

The third day came and I was up early to check for power. I set the alarm and every-thing. Still none. I waited. And waited. And waited. Basically, standing in my kitchen (it’s the only available power outlet) with the trimmer plugged in and ready to go. At 10AM the light came on in the kitchen and I flicked the switch on the trimmer...and the damn thing exploded in my hand. There was smoke and everything. I said aloud, in English and to none at all….”You have got to be shitting me!” I wanted to hit some-one...preferably someone who worked at the power company or a chinese loja. Thoughts of another day with the ridiculous half head of hair, the stories that my neighbors would be telling, making the hour-long car ride to Povocon, possibly even making the hours long car ride to Porto Novo, searching through the various Chinese lojas for a new trimmer (they are hard to find and very expensive).

Some of you might quite rightly question why I didn’t just go to someone here in town who also had a trimmer and ask them to fix me up. At first blush a good idea, until you’ve been through Peace Corps medical training where they inform you that MANY Cape Verdians have that weird skin fungus on their heads (I’d say about half the kids in town have it...it looks like...and may in fact be...ringworm, but I’m not sure what it is. Also, conditions here are less sanitary than what we’re used to in the States, and there is REALLY no telling where a hair trimmer might have been. I’d hate to even speculate. Basically we were fairly warned to get hair cuts at barbershops at our own peril.

In the end, I went to Povocon with the big hat and lucked out by finding a trimmer in the third loja that I tried. I paid WAY too much for it, and it’s not nearly as nice as the one I had before. This one takes about 3 passes before it cuts even my meager and gossa-mer mane. I give it one more use before it bites the dust. I’ll be ready though...now I’ll cut my hair every three days, just in case.