We would check for signal, restart phones twice, build Uberkoets with horses, and organise rugby before explaining load shedding to confused townsfolk.
Picture for illustration: iStock
A friend made an interesting statement last weekend. “If we were suddenly zoomed back to the year 1900, I can tell you exactly how South Africans would react,” she smirked.
First, we’d check for signal. There we’d stand in the dusty street, holding our phones up to the sky with offerings to tech gods, she said.
Someone would restart their phone. Twice. As if the AngloBoer War might resolve itself after a software update.
Within five minutes, the first question would arise: “Okay, but where’s the nearest coffee shop?”
There would be silence. And horses. And a man in suspenders staring at us. By day one, we’d divide into groups.
The “It’s fine, we’ll make a plan” crowd would start organising. Someone would build a braai out of suspicious-looking rocks.
Another would insist we can absolutely improve ox wagon aerodynamics if we believe in ourselves.
Then, there’d be the entrepreneurs: “Listen, guys. Hear me out. We will invent Uber. But with horses.” Within hours, Uberkoets would be operational.
The influencers would suffer the most. “How am I supposed to document this?” They’d attempt charcoal selfies on cave walls.
The practical aunties would take one look at us and say, “Right. Everyone calm down. Who knows how to bake bread without having to go to Woolies?”
Nobody would raise a hand. By week one, we’d start explaining modern concepts to confused townsfolk: “Yes, one day we will have load shedding.”
They’d blink. “So, you’re saying in the future you choose not to have electricity sometimes?”
We’d stare at our shoes, because we do not want to lie.
Sport would save us. Within days, someone would organise rugby. We’d explain that in the future we win multiple World Cups.
National morale would soar. Someone would attempt to invent the vuvuzela early. History might not forgive us for this one.
And politics? In 48 hours there’d be a community meeting, three committees and at least one person insisting we need a subcommittee to investigate the committee.
But here’s the thing: after the panic, sarcasm and failed attempts to “just Google it”, we’d adapt. We’d braai.
We’d argue. We’d laugh. We’d probably try to improve something that wasn’t broken.
Because if there’s one thing about South Africans, be it 1900 or 2026, we’d complain dramatically and then make a plan. Preferably with extra firewood.
