How Howard Came to be Wired

Knowing that power fluctuates in Zambia, I purchased as a gift, a to-die-for tool set that runs on rechargeable battery packs. I also purchased, as recommended, a universal electrical outlet adapter that can be made to fit any kind of plug one may encounter on one’s universal journeys. After unpacking and sorting out my things, I was very pleased to find that the universal adapter did in fact adapt to Zambia’s exotic outlets and that the gadget even had a couple of USB ports to plug in my electronic devices. After carefully reading the manufacture’s instructions (which I normally avoid doing), I plugged in my battery charger to top up before using the tools. As soon as I turned my back to walk away I heard a nasty sounding pop and turned to see an ominous puff of electrical smoke lofting to the ceiling. This had the effect of putting a damper on my entire operational plan, not to mention my day.

Part of me was frustrated that one quarter of the load I had hauled halfway across the world, fifty-five lbs of expensive gear, had been hauled for nothing. And part of me was crushed that I was not going to be able to amaze my hosts with my equipment. Fortunately, I had had the insight to pack a spare charger, but now I sure wasn’t going to plug the other one in to try again until I could find someone who could explain what had happened. I was a bit embarrassed to ask, but so what!

Howard the electrician

My question was answered the next day by Henry, our resident pretty-much-fix-anything man, who upon reading the fine print, (Okay, so I didn’t read all the manufacturer’s recommendations.) explained that I was now in 220 volt land, and that trying to plug any 110 volt device in here would result in the same kind of fireworks. My universal adapter wasn’t so universal after all. I took a trip to the hardware store only to find they didn’t have the device I needed and had no idea where to find one. All tools in this part of the world were wired to 220 and apparently, I am the rare person who travels the world carrying their own tools from home. I began to suspect that these tools were destined for the boneyard.

Then Howard, the chief electrician for the artist-in-residence facility, showed up at WayiWayi to do all the wiring. I liked him immediately. As I write this blog, he's been working here for about a week. He knows his business and has sure been a major problem solver for me.

Howard thought he knew of a place to find the device I needed to use my equipment. He went into the city to look for it, and after a long search from one store to another without finding it, only being referred to other stores, he showed up some hours later actually holding it in his hand. He had tracked it down! It was the last one available in the city! And I was back in business! Over the next week or so I had occasion to chat with him and, of course, let him borrow some tools.

On the evening he finished the wiring job, Howard returned the charger he had taken to confirm that it was truly blown. It was, but he showed me that he had taken it apart and tracked down the exact piece on the circuit board that was fried. He offered to go back and try to replace those parts to bring it back to life. I declined, saying I had a spare and came from a place where such things were usually just tossed. He told me how much he so had admired the craftsmanship and quality of its design.

Then Howard told me the story of how he had come to be an electrician. He was raised in Muntuwabulongo in a Southern Zambian village without running water or electricity. When he was a small boy a bus rolled into town, and Harold fell in love. He knew in an instant that he was going to go somewhere where he would work with big complicated things. Later, an instructor in a middle school was explaining how an electrical motor worked and had a small motor attached to a bell. When Harold heard the bell go off he said it “jumped into my heart." Actually became his heart. He finished his schooling at the top of his class and has been in love ever since.