Brownout
Widespread electric power outages—comfortably called "brownouts" rather than "blackouts" here in Manila (and perhaps in other places as well)—were never, not even once, an inconvenience to the eyes of a small child.
For me, it was freedom. One of the peaks, if not the peak, of our childhood memories.
"Brownout"—with a lavish stress on the B and R while the rest of the letters were delivered in an almost easy, negligible manner—was, to me, a cherished occurrence and an invitingly comfortable interruption.
Whenever I picture our experiences during brownouts in retrospect, I always recall our world shutting off, leaving nothing but a spooky sight of jet-black emptiness, mottled with flashes of white flashlights. Then, our street would materialize into a candle-lit pavement, instinctively filled with passionate breaths. Through my eyes, I saw the familiar twinkle of candles dancing among the absences of light. Mosquitoes would rise and clamor, playfully leaping in the air. Our eyes seemed to reach into the mysteries of the darkness, lost in fascination. It was mesmerizing. And in those moments, I wished we could gather like that in the shade… not forever, but at least much longer than usual, just to feel that thrill once more, so alive when we were still absorbed and oblivious to the world.
I also remember how it was always so hot and airless. However, as young and lively as we were, we welcomed this kind of "inconvenience" with nonchalance. Rather than being irritated, we saw it as a chance to play even more. Brownouts were our closest ally when we wanted to stretch out our time hanging out with neighborhood friends.
I suppose the reason why kids have a soft spot for this kind of disruption is that brownouts usually happen at night. And by nighttime, as soon as it got dark, we were no longer allowed to play as we pleased. "Siesta na," my grandmother would say strictly as soon as we got home, looking sour-faced, while we were grimy and stinky from playing. I later learned that "siesta" usually refers to a rest after the midday meal, so I’m not sure why my grandmother used it in the late afternoon. But it was only during brownouts that we could have an exception to play outside. Since it was stuffy indoors, we were allowed to step out for some fresh air, which we often took as an opportunity to extend our childhood just a bit longer, now under the thrill of a dim, shadowed night.







