Ireland has (had) a fuel crisis this last week.
Blockades. Empty forecourts. Queues snaking around petrol stations when the trucks finally got through. People panic buying. The news in full drama mode. Irish people looking slightly shell-shocked at the idea that you might not be able to fill your tank.
And I watched South Africans in this group just… handle it.
No fuss. Tanks already topped up. A little stash of essentials sorted. Sharing which forecourt still had diesel, like it was completely normal information to have.
Because for us, it is completely normal information to have.
We arrived with more than just boxes and paperwork
We arrived in Ireland with a full skill set we did not even know we had. No one named it for us. No one put it on our CVs. But it was there.
The load shedding skill set. You know the one.
Checking the Eskom schedule before you made plans. Keeping candles somewhere you could actually find them. Knowing which neighbours had a generator and which ones would be knocking on your door. Plan A, Plan B, and a Plan C you could execute half-asleep.
It was not just load shedding, either. The water outages. The petrol queues during strike action. The general understanding, baked into you over years, that systems fail and you adapt.
That is not a thing you learn. That is a thing you become.
Ireland has its own version of this. Weather.
When a red weather warning hits here, the country shuts down. Roads close. Schools send the kids home. Supermarket shelves empty overnight.
And every single time, it is the bread and the toilet paper that go first.
I have been here long enough that I should not find this funny anymore. I still find it funny. There is something uniquely Irish about a Status Orange warning triggering a national scramble for sliced pan and Andrex.
And the worst part? Human nature got me too.
I heard about the fuel running out and immediately climbed in my car and filled up. I knew. I knew it. But I did it anyway.
Sigh.
I am part of the madness.
Whitegate and the Garda on my road
The part that hit a little closer to home got me a little emotional.
I live near Whitegate in East Cork. The refinery there was at the centre of the blockades this week, and the Garda presence was significant. Three of my friends live close to it and were dealing with ID checks just to get to their own homes.
No strangers. Keeping it locals only. They wanted to keep more potential human fuel away from the protesting fire.
I can go a week or more without seeing a Garda anywhere. This week, every single exit on my road to the city had Garda presence, escorting trucks, managing streets, directing traffic.
It was a little jarring to my normal.
This is Ireland. It is not South Africa.
The context is completely different. I am not comparing the two.
But it was a reminder that no country is without its difficult moments. And a reminder of what this community does in those moments.
Gets on with it.
Checks in on each other.
Makes a plan.
Two countries. One instinct.
Same human response.
Neighbours helping neighbours. Someone knowing which road was still open. Getting creative when Plan A falls apart. Finding a Plan B before most people have even noticed there was a problem.
That is something South Africa built into you. And Ireland gets to benefit from it, whether Ireland knows it or not.
And to my EV friends… here’s to Irish storms and power outages. You can giggle now while the rest of us battle for petrol.
You know who you are.
