Where the Electricity Ends
We live in the 'big city' a.k.a. village of Puerto Lempira. Our town has 2 electricity providers... most people in the center of town have access to electricity 18+ hours per day. (Each provider disconnects the electricity for 5-6 hours per day.)
As the town spreads out, there are points in every direction where the electricity ends.
Every Saturday night, I take some little friends home to their house out beyond where the electricity ends. If they eat dinner with us or play a bit too long, darkness begins to settle before we drive them home. My trusty watchman, Aidan, comes with me as we journey from a sea of little lights into complete darkness.
House after small, wooden house without electricity; when the moon is bright, there is natural light. On dark nights, one cannot see 2 inches in front of one's own face.
Imagine it for a moment.
Night after night.
For your entire life.
Darkness invites darkness. The absence of light leaves a void for evil. The absence of the sense of sight leaves the sense of hearing razor-sharp. Homeowners strain to hear the early thieves as they walk from house to house looking for something to sell for a fix.
Sleep comes early for most homes out where the electricity ends.
Mama Tara's orphanage is out on the edge of our village. For years, Mama Tara had working solar panels. Lately, the batteries have gone from bad to worse to non-functioning.
Our friend, Greg, came and wired Mama Tara's for city electricity last November. The city provider did not want to pay to bring the electricity out to her place. After negotiation and patient waiting, we reached an agreement with the company. A great church in North Carolina came forward to pay for the 10 posts and electrical wiring to get electricity from the nearest transformer to Mama Tara's house.
Next... manual labor - cutting 10 trees out in the piney wood region of La Moskitia, loading those 500 lb posts into a truck to bring them into the village, painting the posts with tar to keep bugs from destruction, 4 men doing the back-breaking work of carrying the posts to the holes, ingenious minds figuring out how to raise the poles... and so on.
So, it goes, out where the electricity ends.
But, oh, the hope! One day, very soon, when the posts are ready and the wire is hung, the city company will come and flip a switch.
On that day, the electricity will end a little further down the line.
As the town spreads out, there are points in every direction where the electricity ends.
Every Saturday night, I take some little friends home to their house out beyond where the electricity ends. If they eat dinner with us or play a bit too long, darkness begins to settle before we drive them home. My trusty watchman, Aidan, comes with me as we journey from a sea of little lights into complete darkness.
House after small, wooden house without electricity; when the moon is bright, there is natural light. On dark nights, one cannot see 2 inches in front of one's own face.
Imagine it for a moment.
Night after night.
For your entire life.
Darkness invites darkness. The absence of light leaves a void for evil. The absence of the sense of sight leaves the sense of hearing razor-sharp. Homeowners strain to hear the early thieves as they walk from house to house looking for something to sell for a fix.
Sleep comes early for most homes out where the electricity ends.
Mama Tara's orphanage is out on the edge of our village. For years, Mama Tara had working solar panels. Lately, the batteries have gone from bad to worse to non-functioning.
Our friend, Greg, came and wired Mama Tara's for city electricity last November. The city provider did not want to pay to bring the electricity out to her place. After negotiation and patient waiting, we reached an agreement with the company. A great church in North Carolina came forward to pay for the 10 posts and electrical wiring to get electricity from the nearest transformer to Mama Tara's house.
Next... manual labor - cutting 10 trees out in the piney wood region of La Moskitia, loading those 500 lb posts into a truck to bring them into the village, painting the posts with tar to keep bugs from destruction, 4 men doing the back-breaking work of carrying the posts to the holes, ingenious minds figuring out how to raise the poles... and so on.
So, it goes, out where the electricity ends.
But, oh, the hope! One day, very soon, when the posts are ready and the wire is hung, the city company will come and flip a switch.
On that day, the electricity will end a little further down the line.
Comments
So glad to hear that electricity is coming to Mama Tara's. :-)