It was match day. Mr. Okonkwo wore his lucky red boxers, sent his wife to the market, and sat proudly with cold zobo and hopes high. Arsenal was playing.

Just as the match kicked off — PHOOOM! Darkness.

“Jesus!” he shouted. NEPA had taken light.

He ran outside. The whole street was out too — shirtless uncles with dead generators, aunties fanning themselves like church ushers, and kids chanting, “Up NEPA!”

He tried his gen. It coughed once… and died.

Defeated, he shuffled to Mama Chika’s shop where 20 people were packed around her solar-powered TV like sardines in heat. Arsenal was losing. NEPA briefly brought back light — just long enough for the final whistle to blow.

Mr. Okonkwo slumped.

A small boy tapped him and said, “Uncle, plug your phone before they take it again.”

Because in Nigeria… even the electricity has mood swings.