As I sat in my office analysing emerging issues, I was greeted by a knock on the door. A local welder has delivered a charcoal iron for use on power-less days, as everything must be ironed regardless. [see photo - not the normal thing to find on a desk!] It's heavy with a flip lid that bolts down once hot charcoal has been poured inside. The heat pours out of the holes, meaning I will need to find some sort of oven glove so it can be used without harm by Awr (my housekeeper) and, in extremis, by me.
My landlord has already commented that having two candles lit is "so bright" but the value of light here is immense. Locals will even say "there's no light" to mean power, even if they're testing a stationary ceiling fan in the heat of the day. Explaining that sometimes we choose to burn candles to fulfil romantic ideals rather than purely for power seems odd, and many Gambian friends won't use candles at all for fear of fire in a country where the fire service can't be trusted to turn up with a water supply.
However, for illumination candles are my power source of choice, especially once my rechargeable lantern has run down or I feel like a mini adventure. Yesterday this included ensuring thorough cleaning of a grazed knee and shin in darkness after a fall into the raggedy, rocky rubble at the side of a road with powerless street lamps. The morning revealed that I made a reasonable job, even if I do look like an overgrown primary school child.
My favourite new skill is learning how to cook without light. Most recently I attempted to make a pleasant evening meal, a simple onion and tomato omelette and water. [see photo] Despite the fact that the term omelette generally applies to solid eggs rather than a mush, that the onions were full of character due to blackening, and the tomatoes managed to share themselves equally between pan and cooker top, the result was surprisingly edible. Or at least eaten by me. Romantically served by candlelight.
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