Let there be Light

 

Having left our shoes at the door, we wander across the concrete lounge floor to see the table readily laden with slightly chewy beef stew, groundnuts in sauce, posho (mashed potato) and cabbage. The standard daily diet of our Ugandan friends. Quite how Sienna has managed to cook all this for the dozen of us on just one stove, I can’t comprehend.

 

It’s when we sit on her brightly coloured patterned sofas - the sort of thing DFS would have sold in 1975 - and tuck into our hosts food that it happens.

 

As if with a click of its fingers, the African darkness snaps in on us.

 

There’s nothing unusual about the electricity supply disappearing. There is no panic among Sienna’s household. Even though the seven foot tall fridge which lives in the lounge with the sofas is the only appliance to be affected, there are no worries about food “going off”. We had spotted the entire contents of the fridge earlier – one lonely jug of water.

 

So we joke around as the candles come out to reveal the African night. We start to clap our hands as if to wake the electricity supply again. Nothing. We begin to shout “Now!” as if guessing when it will reappear. Nothing.

 

On hearing all this, Sienna, our larger than life hostess wanders in and hushes the room. Then in her deep authoritative African voice she commands “LET THERE BE LIGHT!” and the three bare 40 watt bulbs obey, immediately glaring again, unveiling the flight of insects and a room full of people in stitches of laughter.

 

Chris Spriggs

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