There was a large explosion like a mortar bomb at 9.15am. The power went off. “That is now the sixth time,” said Stanford the gardener.

It is a decaying old 11kV cable just down the road that keeps on blowing. Most of the suburb is in darkness for about a week until the Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority sends someone to reconnect it and bind it up with brightly coloured insulation tape. It lasts until the next rainstorm when water seeps in and the join short-circuits spectacularly. It should be bonded with an impermeable jointing kit, but Zesa has no money to import any.

I walked over to have a look. A ditch has been dug around the fault and the cable rests on two stout branches. Zesa had to dig out the cable next to the corner of a concrete wall that has half-collapsed into the ditch. A metre or so of blue plastic ribbon had been draped on to the cable as a warning but was now covered in mud and the words “danger electricity” were barely visible.

The blasted ends of the join looked like a pair of charred two-fingered hands cauterised as they stretched to clasp each other. Beneath it, in a puddle at the bottom of the ditch, was a black and tan young dog. It was alive. It was trembling and breathing heavily, and its eyes were glazed.

I can only think that it was passing the ditch and lifted its leg on the imperfectly wrapped cable and took the equivalent of a bolt of lightning in a painful place.

The cable was still live, so I left the dog there. I went to report the fault to Zesa and to pay my month's bill of Zim$3 million, which is worth about 50p, and the reason why Zesa has no money to buy jointing kits. In its determination to ensure the people have cheap electricity and vote for President Mugabe, the Government has caused a functioning power utility to wither, forcing the poor to rely on firewood and the better-off on generators, both at enormous cost to their respective resources.

I returned to find the dog gone but a small gathering of neighbours around the ditch. A young man emerged from over the road, asking if anyone had seen his puppy. I described the animal that had been in the ditch. His face clouded over in distress. But we agreed it could have been far worse than a shaken dog.

After a year of worsening power cuts, we have learnt that it is pointless to throw up our hands in despair. Dave from down the road took his pickup to the nearby Zesa depot and collected a few technicians. They jumped in with alacrity. When he fetched them after the last explosion, they got sadza (the local staple, stiff maizemeal porridge) for lunch. I offered a couple of rolls of insulation tape. Mrs Chikwine has been collecting money so her husband can buy a jointing kit when he next goes to South Africa.

Only 30 hours later came the sound that brings a sensation close to ecstasy, the thump and hum of the fridge as the power comes back on. Power to the people.

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