Perpetual Darkness: How Load Shedding’s Unrelenting Grip Chokes Zambia’s Poor- Sensio Banda

Perpetual Darkness: How Load Shedding’s Unrelenting Grip Chokes Zambia’s Poor

Zambia is a nation of vibrant spirit and immense potential, yet increasingly it is defined not by progress, but by darkness. Across Lusaka’s townships and Copperbelt’s compounds, the lights go off, often for 21 hours a day, leaving millions with only three hours of electricity. For the wealthy, this is a headache that can be eased by expensive diesel generators. For the poor, it is nothing short of catastrophe: a systematic dismantling of livelihoods, a threat to public health, and a profound failure of governance.

This crisis is not an act of God. It is not simply the drought or the empty reservoirs. It is the inevitable outcome of decades of underinvestment, short-term political expediency, and a refusal to plan for the future. What is unfolding today is the predictable and preventable collapse of an energy system that has been neglected for too long.

Government officials often point to low water levels at hydropower stations, blaming the drought for reduced generation. There is truth in that. But to stop there is to miss the deeper problem. A 2022 report by the Economics Association of Zambia made it clear: electricity tariffs have been kept artificially low for years. Politically popular, yes, but economically disastrous. By suppressing prices, successive governments have deterred investment in new generation capacity.

Meanwhile, demand has not waited. Zambia’s electricity needs have been growing at a rate of 150 to 200 megawatts annually, fueled by urbanization, industrial expansion, and the aspirations of a young population. Yet supply has stagnated. The mismatch is chronic, not sudden. The rolling blackouts we endure today are the late payment on decades of policy missteps.

For Zambia’s low-income households, load shedding is not about lost convenience; it is about lost survival. Small-scale entrepreneurs, the welders of Kalingalinga, the hairdressers of Mtendere, the hardware store owners of Chibolya, are left powerless, their tools idle for nearly a full day. Reports from the Pulitzer Center describe plummeting sales and entire livelihoods extinguished by prolonged outages. These are not multinationals with balance sheets to absorb the hit. These are ordinary Zambians fighting to feed their families, and the government’s inaction is starving them.

Beyond income, the human cost is staggering. With fridges useless, food spoilage has become epidemic, threatening household food security and exposing families to illness. A study on ResearchGate found that many Zambian households reported both spoiled food and limited cooking options directly tied to outages.

The darkness also makes people less safe. When streets and compounds are unlit, crime rises. For students, the absence of electricity is a cruel barrier to learning, forcing thousands to abandon evening study and widening the educational divide between rich and poor.

And then there is the psychological toll. A ClimaHealth survey revealed that more than one in five Zambians reported depression linked to constant stress and disruption from load shedding. Darkness does not only extinguish light; it extinguishes hope.

What has been offered in response? Diesel generators. Electricity export recalls. Sporadic announcements of future solar projects. These measures are not solutions. They are band-aids on a gaping wound. Generators are costly, polluting, and out of reach for most households. Export recalls are reactive and symbolic. Solar projects are promising but moving at a glacial pace.

What Zambia lacks is not ideas, but urgency. It lacks a transparent, compelling roadmap for an energy future that is reliable, diversified, and resilient. Without this, despair grows, and with it, fear. If the trajectory continues, a 48-hour blackout will not be an unthinkable nightmare, but a lived reality.

This is not merely a power crisis. It is a governance crisis. Load shedding is not just about kilowatts; it is about trust. It represents a failure to plan, a failure to invest, and a failure to protect the most vulnerable. Every day that outages continue, public confidence erodes further. Inequality deepens as the rich insulate themselves with generators and solar panels, while the poor remain trapped in perpetual darkness.

The social contract is weakening. A government that cannot keep the lights on cannot claim to safeguard dignity, prosperity, or opportunity.

The way forward is clear, though politically difficult. First, Zambia must reform its tariff structure to attract the private investment desperately needed to expand capacity. Artificially cheap electricity has proven to be a false economy. Second, the country must accelerate diversification beyond hydro. Droughts will remain a reality in a warming climate. Betting the nation’s energy future on rainfall is reckless. Solar, wind, and regional interconnectors must be scaled with urgency.

Third, planning must be transparent and participatory. Citizens deserve a clear roadmap with milestones, not vague promises. Accountability mechanisms must ensure projects are delivered on time and on budget.

Finally, social protection must be built into the transition. While reforms will raise costs in the short term, vulnerable households must be cushioned through subsidies or lifeline tariffs to prevent deeper poverty. Energy reform cannot succeed if it further punishes the poor.

Zambia stands at a crossroads. It can continue to stumble in darkness, blaming droughts while livelihoods collapse, or it can summon the courage to invest, reform, and lead. This is not a technical problem alone. It is a test of governance, of political will, and of moral duty.

Zambians deserve more than flickering excuses. They deserve light, literal and metaphorical. They deserve to study at night, to run their businesses, to keep food fresh, to walk safely in illuminated streets. They deserve an energy future that powers possibility, not one that shackles them in despair.

The government’s failure to act decisively is not just mismanagement. It is an assault on dignity. And unless bold steps are taken now, perpetual darkness will become not just a condition of the present, but a defining feature of Zambia’s future.

The Struggle Continues

Sensio Banda
Former Member of Parliament
Kasenengwa Constituency
Eastern Province