We’ve been expecting this

I’m trying to take seriously the advice that we should keep enough supplies at home to survive for 72 hours. But I’m Jewish and I live in Johannesburg, which makes it difficult to understand what we’re supposed to do with the rest of the food. 

For those who’ve missed it, governments around the world have been encouraging households to prepare for emergencies. In March 2025, the European Commission included a minimum of 72 hours’ essential supplies in its preparedness strategy. The Netherlands has been campaigning about coping without electricity, water, or internet, with another phase launched in October. 

The concerns include extreme weather, cyberattacks, conflict with Russia, and disruptions to essential services. The advice is intended to help households manage while emergency services respond. There’s no announced appointment with the apocalypse. 

Still, two groups have been preparing for this for years. 

Jews. And Joburgers. 

Together, we could probably survive 72 years, let alone hours. Although we’d need final numbers by Thursday. 

Start with the Jewish contribution. Who doesn’t have a week’s supply of potato flour? Nobody knows how much that actually is, but we buy it before Pesach as though we’ve received intelligence that potatoes are about to be discontinued. There’s always that moment in the supermarket when you can’t remember whether you have three packets or six. So you buy four. Nobody wants to be the person who brought down Pesach through poor carbohydrate procurement. 

Then there’s the freezer. Beneath the ice cream containers containing absolutely no ice cream is enough food to sustain a small evacuation centre. You’ll need to defrost three things before identifying lunch. Bear Grylls should try that before getting excited about eating a beetle. 

Our difficulty wouldn’t be feeding unexpected arrivals. It would be accepting that they genuinely didn’t want anything. We could survive a global catastrophe. Someone refusing a plate would require international mediation. 

If Jews bring the food, Johannesburg brings the engineering. 

Many households have spent years assembling solar panels, inverters, batteries, water tanks, and gas cookers. Among my friends are men who can tell you their battery percentage more readily than their wedding anniversary. Ask how their children are and you’ll get, “Fine, I think”. Ask what they’re running off the inverter and cancel your afternoon. 

Europe is being encouraged to imagine life without municipal services. Johannesburg could offer an exchange programme. Stay with a local family. Experience Stage 6. Leave with a qualification. 

Of course, this expertise has come at a cost. Backup systems are expensive, and many people endure failing services without them. Nobody should need a small “Gresswold” to answer an email. 

Perhaps we should pair households. One supplies electricity and water. The other arrives with food, serving dishes, and concerns about whether everyone’s eaten. Like Jdate, but you disclose your inverter capacity before discussing your feelings. 

I should find all this reassuring. For once, we have the equipment, the experience, and enough potato flour to see out several administrations. 

But there’s something unsettling about watching Europe prepare for the life we’ve spent years trying to buy our way out of. We bought the inverter because we wanted the lights to stay on. I don’t remember wanting to be ahead of an international trend. 

For years, I’ve wondered when Johannesburg would catch up with the rest of the world. 

I never considered that they would be catching up to us.