Your guide to people, places, and happenings in NMB

By Mvume Ndimba

Today, Wednesday 28 January 2026, marks the first day in 5 working days that I stepped outside my home and didn’t hear a generator. 

I took a shower with warm water for the first time in days and had to tell my girl, “Don’t be surprised if the shower comes to talk to you, woman to woman” because the sensation was truly orgasmic! 

I think back to the earlier days of the black out… when we all came to learn what a Monopole was. I remember the timeline of 14 days being thrown around and I began to panic a little bit, I was truly afraid for my city and for my people. 

You see, if you let Twitter and the news tell you what life is like in this city, you’d have imagined the worst too, you’d have imagined that homes without generators would target those that have. You’d picture water shops needing to board up their windows to fend off angry looters, you would have imagined chaos in the streets. 

So, imagine my surprise, going to work every morning seeing extension leads that run over boundary walls, making sure your neighbour at least had a plug to charge their devices if they didn’t have their own generator.

Complexes turned into little communes, the common areas between homes turned into a make-shift meeting spot. Kids played in the streets while parents and neighbours watched from their stoeps, sharing stories and catching up with one another for the first time, maybe ever. 

Colleagues who were unaffected by the outage offered their homes up to those who were, if you needed a shower or a charger, they were there for us.  

People in their neighbourhood group chats would announce that they still had running water and invite those that didn’t to come get a couple litres. Major store franchises announced charging stations for all affected residents without asking a cent in return. It was truly heartwarming. 

I found myself in a random bar on Sunday hunting for a charger and something to do while I waited, the bartender immediately asked me if I’d ever been there before (red flag number one). I was the first person in the bar at the time, so we spoke briefly about her life, her family situation and how the company her husband worked for was taking advantage of him (shame on you Bozza Liquors). 

We spoke about how people of colour (she was coloured by the way) don’t look out for each other the way whites do, but then she quickly changed the subject when a regular appeared at the gate (red flag number two). 

I was only at that random bar to charge my phone… I figured I could easily kill 3 hours at this bar, sipping on my little Black Label and talking shit with the locals… except none of the locals looked like me… 3 beers in and maybe 32% battery life and I realised, “Oh… I’m the fly in the milk over here.”  

The entire bar, speaking Afrikaans to one another, and I’m just there, oblivious to the fact that I lack self-preservation skills. 

After my next beer I figured, fuck it. And started talking to some of the locals and wouldn’t you know it? It was some of the most enlightening conversation I’ve had in a while. 

I spent the rest of the evening realising that my fear of the city imploding under the pressure of having zero resources wasn’t my fear, it was someone else’s, someone I’ve never met, who never met me. Because one thing I know about us as a people, South Africans are survivors, we don’t lead with hate and destruction, we lead with community, we lead with patience and hold space for each other, because we know, we’re all in the same rickety boat in essence. 

I remember one of the patrons of this establishment, a police officer by trade, introduced himself to me, “Hi I’m X” I returned the courtesy, but because of the way he heard my name, he repeated to himself “Woman? Hmm okay.” to which i responded, “We can fight bro… like my name is Mvume, not Woman, if you’re going to be funny about this, me and you can go outside” He looked at me like he couIdn’t believe what i just said to him, I continued; 

“I’m prepared to lose the fight if I have to, but you’re not just going to fuck with my name like that.” 

We ended up being best pals for the rest of the evening, because really at the end of the day, we all want the same thing, we want love, respect, community, and some damn electricity. 

I would be remiss, however, if I didn’t end this column with some gratitude for all the hard working men and women who worked tirelessly to return the city back to some sense of normalcy. The hater in me is tempted to go deep into all the reasons we shouldn’t be proud of our local municipality’s fast response and willingness to reach out to private contractors to solve this massive issue speedily, but there’s enough of that going around as is. I am just happy our government took the issue seriously and acted quickly.