Lights Out

The nation held its breath as the now-familiar crackle of the post main news announcement sent shivers down spines. “Due to unforeseen rain patterns,” the elegantly dressed news anchor began, his voice dripping with practiced sympathy, “ZESCO is forced to implement a nationwide load shedding program effective immediately.” The anchor dissolved into a pre-recorded advert.

“Groans echoed across the nation.  Dusk had long settled, casting darkness that mirrored the despair in people’s eyes.  Dinner plans were attacked by blackouts, the whirring of working fridges a haunting death knell for perishables.

But this time, ZESCO, the ever-innovative Electric Corporation, has a solution! Behold The ZESCO Lights out game show! A live televised show, hosted by your flamboyant presenter, Sparks Chishimba. With Sparks exploding onto the screen. Sparks, a man whose smile could light a stadium (if there was any power, of course), promised to bring “light and laughter” into dark homes.

He walked around a live audience in his flashy polker dot yellow and black suit explaining the rules “The rules are simple, the rewards are glorious lights the punishment for losing is darkness. Each household will assign a member, preferably the most animated and fun, thrust into the spotlight via strategically placed webcams. Every ten minutes, Sparks will spin a giant wheel. Sections included: “Power Up for 30!” (limited electricity for a half hour), “Blackout Bingo!” (a soul-crushing three hours of complete darkness with a chance to win a bag of charcoal), and the dreaded “Grim Reaper!” – a desperate chance at humiliation for the chance to win… wait for it… a full twenty-four hours of electricity!”

Sparks finished explaining the rules to thunderous applause. With the monitors coming to life as more people logged into the new app to take part in the live game show. Grandmothers shimmied for meager wattage, teenagers rapped for flickering lights. One particularly desperate contestant, a gentleman named Mr. Bwalya, transformed his living room into a one-man talent show, juggling potatoes and reciting Chinua Achebe to the flickering glow of a candle. The nation, united in their misery, found themselves glued to their screens, a morbid mix of amusement and despair.

“On today’s episode of, ‘Lights Out!’ we will be killing two birds with one stone. We will be feeding and lighting up the nation. Let’s find out what you are willing to eat to keep those lights out in the other neighborhoods right after commercial.” Sparks shouted excitedly in his neon blue suit.

Welcome back to ‘Lights Out!’ let’s keep it lit! Folks, the power grid is looking a little shaky tonight, so it’s all up to you, our brave contestants, to keep the lights on in your neighborhoods!

Sparks walks over to Brenda, a middle-aged woman with a look of steely determination. “Brenda, you’re up first! Let’s see what your stomach is made of. Today’s special is… Vinkubala! Or assssss the maaa yaaaadi will say Mopani worms. These protein-packed delights are a Zambian delicacy but who will cook them for you? You have 15 minutes to cook and finish the Vinkubala, and your neighborhood gets an extra hour of prime-time viewing!” Sparks shouted with dramatic music following suit.

Brenda’s eyes widened with shock. “Vinkubala?  Those… worm things?”
Sparks grinned wickedly, “wormy and delicious!  Think of them like… african shrimp already dipped in too much caviar.”
Brenda grimaces her face in disgust, “I don’t know, Sparks. I’m more of a dunked wings kind of gal.”
Sparks chuckles loudly, “Well, Brenda, dunked wings won’t keep the Love Island marathon on! Look, how about this?  You take one bite, and we’ll give your neighborhood an extra 15 minutes of cooking power. Enough to get that nshima ready, unless you know the cup trick of course.”
Brenda looks around hesitantly, then sighs, “Fine. One bite. But if this tastes like it looks, I’m blaming you, Sparks!”

Brenda takes a tentative bite, chews slowly, then makes a face like she swallowed a lemon. Spitting it out she frantically cleans her tongue with the front of her shirt. “Oh dear heavens!  It’s like it’s still alive!”

Sparks laughs,  “Hey, you tried!  Don’t worry, there are plenty more challenges ahead. Next up, we have Chama! Sparks walks over to a young man with a healthy head of dreadlocks.

“Chama, ready to test your taste buds and your love for a lit home?”
Chama nods enthusiastically  “Born ready, Sparks! Hit me with your best shot!”

“Alright, alright, settle down there, champ.  Today’s treat is… mbeba! Tiny or big, rats, a Zambian delicacy popularised by the wonders in the east. Finish the bowl, and your entire neighborhood gets an evening of uninterrupted Wi-Fi! You could finally beat your friend at that online game his been bragging about!”

Chama’s eyes light up at the opportunity for electricity and Wi-Fi for the whole neighborhood, “Challenge accepted!  Bring on the ratty taste!”

Chama grabs the bowl and starts shoveling grilled rats in his mouth with gusto. He munches loudly, then swallows with a grimace as his face turns shades of green.

Chama waving his hand in front of his face, “Whew!  Those are salty little fellas!  But hey,  no pain, no Wi-Fi gain, right?”

Sparks claps him on the back, “That’s the spirit!  You’re a true champion, Chama! And folks at home, remember, there’s still plenty of time for YOU to join the fun!  Download the “Lights Out!” app and vote for your favorite contestant.  The contestant with the most votes gets to choose the next disgusting… I mean, delectable… challenge!  But wait, there’s more!  The viewer with the most votes also gets… a brand new solar phone charger!  So keep those votes coming! We’ll be right back after these… shockingly good commercials” Sparks said with a tap and a twirl revealing his super charged smile.

“Time to pay the bills so one of these lucky players can win more hours of electricity and some dope gifts for the voters at home. Stay tuned” Sparks spoke with the image cutting to commercials.

Sweat threatened to break on Spark’s forehead, the flamboyant yellow and black suit now clinging uncomfortably.  Ignoring the audience, he sprinted past dimly lit corridors, a desperate glint in his eyes. His haven – the dressing room – offered a moment’s peace.

He slammed the door, the silence thick and strange after the noise of the show.  He fumbled into his pocket for a key to open his desk drawer, pulling out a dented flask.  His homemade kachasu, a potent concoction he nicknamed “Blackout Juice,” burned a fiery path down his throat. It was his secret weapon.  Liquid courage to face a nation teetering on the edge.

Sparks dialed his burner phone, a lifeline to the woman holding his sanity.  “Honey, how’d I do?” he rasped, the moonshine already loosening his tongue.

Through the crackle of the connection, he heard her familiar laugh.  “Like a flashy elephant on a hot tin roof, Sparks.  But ey, you always knew how to entertain.”

He chuckled, a touch hollow.  “Yeah entertaining.  While the nation eats rats and worms for flickering lights.  They call me the ‘Light Bringer.’  More like the Master of Misery, wouldn’t you say?”

A beat of silence, then her voice, soft but firm.  “You’re keeping the hope alive, Sparks.  And providing a distraction, however twisted.  Remember why you started this.”

He let out a long breath, the moonshine warming but failing to dispel the gnawing guilt.  “Tell the kids I love them,” he mumbled

A sharp knock on the door shattered the fragile moment.  His stage manager, a harried woman named Beatrice, popped her head in.  “Five minutes, Sparks! We’re going live in five!”

He nodded, shoving the flask back in his drawer.  Taking a deep breath, he plastered his signature smile back on his face.  “Showtime, baby. Showtime.”

A manic grin stretched across Sparks’ face, brighter than the spotlights themselves.  “And there you have it folks!  Our champions for this round!  Chama you’ve earned a glorious week of uninterrupted power!  May your Netflix binges be endless and your phone batteries forever full!”  The crowd erupted in cheers for the winner, a bittersweet sound that echoed with the desperation for normalcy.

Sparks raised his hands, silencing the applause.  A more somber tone crept into his voice.  “But for the rest of you brave souls still battling the darkness, I have an announcement.  Tonight, TV1 joins the blackout.  Yes, you heard that right.  Solidarity, my friends!  A country in the dark, together wins… and suffers… together.”  A flicker of defiance sparked in his eyes.

“But fear not!  Head over to TV2.  They’ve got a special candle-lit documentary about… well, how to make the most of a blackout!  So, gather your families, dust off those board games, and let’s make some memories by the flickering glow of a candle.  Because remember, Zambia, even in the dark, our spirit shines bright!”

With a final flourish and a megawatt smile that faltered for a brief moment, Sparks bellowed, “Goodnight, Zambia!  And may the power grid and votes be in your favour, until next time.  Goodnight!”

The studio lights dimmed, then plunged into darkness.  Sparks blinked, momentarily disoriented.  The cheers of the audience morphed into a collective groan.  He stumbled offstage, the weight of his fabricated cheerfulness crushing in on him.  Blackout Juice offered no solace tonight.  The darkness had consumed the show, a chilling metaphor for the nation it mirrored.  As he walked through the deserted hallways, the only sound of his own ragged breaths, Sparks couldn’t shake the feeling that this game show, born of desperation, had become a twisted symbol of a nation held hostage in its own darkness.