Light Off, Feelings On

In Ghana, nothing tests your character faster than “Light off.” One minute you’re a responsible adult with plans, ambition, and leftovers in the fridge. The next minute, ECG humbles you. The fan stops mid-spin like it got tired of your problems. The TV freezes on someone’s surprised face, which feels personal. Your phone battery is at 23%, and suddenly you remember every bad decision you’ve ever made. You sit there in the dark, sweating gently, pretending you’re not angry, telling yourself, “It will come.” It doesn’t.

Neighbors begin to emerge like it’s a community meeting nobody scheduled. Someone shouts, “Is it only our area?” Another person replies, “The whole place.” A generator starts somewhere far away, and you feel jealousy rise in your spirit. You check your phone again. 21%. You open WhatsApp, not to chat, but to see if other people are suffering with you. Status after status confirms it: “Light off be like…” “ECG pls.” You feel seen.

As the night deepens, emotions you buried under productivity start knocking. In the dark, you remember that message you never replied. That almost-relationship that died quietly. That plan you’ve been postponing since 2021. Light off doesn’t just turn off electricity—it turns on reflection. By the time the light finally comes back with a dramatic POW, you don’t even jump anymore. You just blink, squint, and whisper, “Ah. So life goes on.” Then you rush to charge your phone like nothing happened.

In Ghana, we don’t say therapy.

We say light off.