Aig Imoukhuede
3 August 2005
column
The other day, one of my friends got his PHCN (now, how many of us know that is NEPA's new name? By the way, it means Power Holdings Company of Nigeria) bill for last month and, as can be imagined, it was not well received. For our purpose today, we'll still call that company NEPA.
"NEPA is asking me to pay an amount that is twenty-five per cent higher that what I paid in the previous month," he grumbled.
"Perhaps," I said, trying to be helpful, "your consumption of electricity went up by twenty-five per cent in April."
"It couldn't have," my friend said. "Where I live we had a total of one hundred and fourteen hours of power cuts in the previous month alone. It hasn't been reflected in my bill. NEPA seems to think it can get away with murder".
"It can," I said, sadly. "NEPA is never wrong. It says so in the law that set up the old Electricity Corporation of Nigeria (NEPA's predecessor in the business)."
"Isn't there anything I can do about these crazy bills?" my friend asked."
"Nothing. NEPA is a law unto itself. It cannot be sued, even when it has been criminally negligent."
"If I should reduce my consumption of electricity to next to zero, would NEPA still continue to send me crazy bills?"
"You can bet on it," I assured him. "That's why they are called crazy bills."
"We'll see about that," my friend grunted. "I shall carefully monitor my electricity consumption, and dare them to ask me to pay for what I didn't consume."
He got up and stomped off. I didn't follow him home, but I can just imagine what happened.
On getting home he knocks on the front door. His wife opens the door, and says: "Why didn't you ring the bell?"
"Is NEPA back?" he asks with surprise. "Power was off when I left home this morning, so I thought there was no point in ringing the bell."
"Power was restored soon after you left, and then was cut again three times within the space of four hours. Somebody at NEPA must have been playing with the switch."
"Well, it doesn't matter," he says. "We are going to reduce our dependence on NEPA, and we might was well start with the doorbell. From now on we knock."
The wife gives him a strange look, and then quietly shuts the door. Meanwhile, my friend has produced several printed cards from his pocket and proceeds to stick one under each of the light switches in the house. The cards have an inscription that says: Don't be fuelish. Please switch off the lights as you leave this room.
"Do you want a cold beer while you are doing that?" his wife asks from the kitchen.
"That's another thing," the man says. "We can't afford to have the fridge switched on all the time, even if that means having to do without cold drinks."
"Actually," the wife says, "this cold beer didn't come from our fridge. I sent Samson to buy it from a beer parlour."
"So what's wrong with our fridge?"
"It has packed up. I asked the repairman to have a look at it, and he says the timer or something like that is damaged. He blames it on power fluctuation and low voltage."
"Well," my friend says grimly, "soon NEPA won't be able to get at our fridge, because the fridge won't be switched on in the first place."
"And what else will we not be switching on?" the wife asks, her manner colder than the beer she is holding in her hand.
"The security lights outside," he says. "I counted fourteen of them as I was coming in. Having all those lights on attracts all the night insects from the neighbourhood."
"But," his wife says, "what about armed robbers? They will simply stroll into our house if we don't have the security lights on. Next you will be suggesting that we disconnect the burglar alarm to save electricity."
"I have already thought of that," he says. "We don't really need one. Our next door neighbour has just got himself a ferocious dog."
"Have you seen this dog?"
"No, but I have seen a sign on his front gate that says: "BEWARE OF FEROCIOUS DOG". A barking dog is the best burglar alarm. And it doesn't use electricity."
"If you think," his wife sniffs, "that I am going to allow myself to stay awake at night listening to the barking of somebody else's ferocious dog, you had better think again."
"I have done all the thinking I need to do," he says complacently, "and another conclusion I have reached is that we should remove all the bulbs from the servant's quarters. Samson should use candles from now on."
"But," the wife protests, "last December, while smoking in his room, this same Samson set fire to his mattress and nearly burned the house down. And that was only a cigarette. What havoc won't he do with a lighted candle?"
But the husband is not listening. "We don't need water heaters in the bathrooms," he says. " I enjoy a cold shower every morning, and I don't see why everyone else shouldn't."
"The water heater is on the yellow phase," his wife says, "and that phase has been off for a week now. In order to have a bath, those of us who are not cold shower fiends have been boiling water in a saucepan and then carrying the hot water upstairs in a bucket. I personally complained at the NEPA office about the loss of the yellow phase, and the man I spoke with said something about there being no ladder available to fix the malfunctioning transformer."
"How much does it cost to heat water in a saucepan over a gas fire?" the husband asks.
"I don't know. Why did you ask?"
"Just trying to find out if it is cheaper than using an electric water heater."
"I see," the wife says. "What other bright ideas - if bright is the word I want - do you have for cutting down our consumption of electricity?"
"I have noticed," the husband says, "that we have been dining under candlelight lately. I totally approve. Apart from creating a romantic atmosphere, it reduces our dependence on NEPA. By the way, what made you think of candles?"
"The dining room lights are also on the yellow phase. As for candlelight being romantic, ask your children what they think of it. Your daughter has been complaining that all those leaping shadows cast on the wall by the candlelight put her off her food. As for your son, he says that not seeing what he is eating is what puts him off his food. He is always in a bad mood by the time he goes to bed."
"Thank God he goes to bed, and is not sitting around watching television," the man says. "I think we should all decide not to watch television tonight. Watching the idiot box kills conversation. Moreover, I have always believed that we could save some money by reading books instead of switching on the television."
"Well," the wife says, "no one is watching television tonight, or tomorrow night for that matter -- "
"Oh, good."
" -- because, this afternoon, there was a power surge that reduced our idiot box to a smoking ruin. The TV repairman says it won't be ready for a week."
"How much will it cost to repair?"
"He doesn't know yet. He has to get some spare parts from Alaba Market. And while he is doing that I have asked him to look for new element (that's what he called it) for the electric iron."
"What is wrong with the old element?"
"That NEPA surge again. There was one while I was ironing your shirt. I was lucky not to have been electrocuted. And the air conditioner in our bedroom has also packed up. Something to do with a blown capacitor. Blown of course by NEPA."
"Thank God," the man says, "that we have a fan we can fall back on. It consumes less electricity too." But the wife recoils with horror, saying: "I am not switching on any fan, not after what one of my friends told me about her fan. When she switched it on, it revved up so much that, if she had not quickly switched it off again it would have taken off like an airplane. It was later discovered that NEPA was delivering 400 volts to her house at the time." She pauses, and then asks: "But what's all this talk about reducing our consumption of electricity?"
"NEPA," he says, "has been increasing our electricity bill by twenty-five per cent every month, power cut or no power cut. When I complained they told me that they were merely following what their meter reader recorded - and of course their meter reader is infallible." He shows her the bills for three previous months. "With bills like this I may have to cut the housekeeping allowance."
She stares at the bills for a long moment, then says: "Do you know where I can find a sign writer?"
"Why?"
"I want to put a "BEWARE OF FEROCIOUS DOG" sign outside our gate, to warn off the man who delivers these crazy NEPA bills."
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