I think that these blog entries have become way too serious of late, for I have given insufficient emphasis to the good news. And we certainly have good news: electrical power has once more become a reality at A.U.—both in the Ag building and in my house. This is due, in part, to a sweet surrender. [Note: As always I admit to being an ignorant white boy, never fully “in the loop.” I think I have the following details right, but I could be in error.
A modern university runs on electricity. So long as AC power flows properly, batteries will recharge; computers will run; lab equipment will function; telephones and photocopiers will work; study-lights will burn; British tea will be brewed & served without excess inconvenience. Therefore, let teaching staff come or go; let students attend class or not; let food supplies abound or be depleted to the last plate of sadza: the infrastructure of a modern university will grind onward to the very edge of personnel-starvation if electricity is available.
Africa University strives to be modern in all things, so its founders took steps to ensure the uninterrupted supply of electricity. The most important of these steps was the construction of an on-campus substation that would be linked directly into the national power-grid and thereby free A.U. from all but the most catastrophic interruptions in service. The heart of the substation, of course, is an enormous transformer. According to rumor, the cost of this monster would embarrass a U.S. defense contractor, so the University prudently secured performance warrantees from both the transformer’s manufacturer and its installer. However, when the transformer died this winter, our warranties did us no good—because the manufacturer blamed installation problems while the installer blamed manufacturing defects. With Methodist zeal the University “lawyered up,” and we beat the manufacturer, who agreed to repair or replace the transformer. But there was a catch: we had to deliver the great beast, in its fully assembled state, to Harare. This was unaffordable by an order of magnitude, so the power crisis continued.
During the height of the legal wrangling, ZESA (the governmental electrical supply agency) sent a representative to examine the transformer. He declared, “We can fix it right where it stands, in one day.” When informed of this news, the manufacturer and the installer united: “The instant ZESA lays one finger on the transformer, both our warranties will be void, and the next time your substation crashes, you will really be screwed.” Well, ZESA had a ready answer for that threat. “We will maintain the transformer in perpetuity, but you will have to sell it to us—and thereafter we reserve the right to charge you rent on it, as we would on any of our other transformers.” At this point A.U. could not afford to worry about losing the chimera of electrical independence. However, few cognoscenti on this campus believed that a mere ZESA technician could resurrect the Sacred Transformer when engineers trained in America feared it was dead forever. Therefore, A.U. refused ZESA’s offer, again and again. Last Friday, however, driven by both desperation and hope, the Powers that Be finally surrendered. On Saturday a ZESA man showed up with a pocket full of tools, and by Sunday we had power. Indeed, the power has been so constant and so stable that even the VIM-installed stove and refrigerator in my house are working great.
I have told you folks the long Transmitter Saga for a reason. I want you to understand why I believe in this country, why, the international news media not withstanding, I am absolutely certain that Zimbabwe will prevail. I admit that things are complicated here these days. There’s too little food, too much inflation, too little diesel, too much confusion. Nobody yet knows exactly what to do about 2007’s problems, and the optimism so visible in 1993 is now more difficult to detect. But if you look hard, you will see a thousand small proofs that the spirit of hope and triumph is still very much alive—because, long-term, these people just can’t be beat. A fire may threaten the house, but a barefoot girl will run for water until the blaze is extinguished. Birds or mice may get into the wheat, but somebody will come to chase ‘em away—and be there, 24-7. Cooking oil may be “finished,” but Momma will raise extra peanuts and invent new recipes.
So this is the truth. As the Bible promises, lights will continue to shine in Zimbabwe’s darkness. And if some lights are overcome for a little while, and if the American PhD engineers say they cannot be rekindled, a ZESA man will eventually show up with a couple of hand-tools, and your freaking transformer will get fixed. Dum spiro spero; surrender to the hope that is in your heart.
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