The interruptions force staff to call patients and reschedule appointments
In Calamar, Bolívar, a municipality where nearly three-quarters of its electricity disappears before reaching those who pay for it, the consequences of systemic neglect have found their most vulnerable face: children with neurodevelopmental disorders whose therapy sessions vanish twice a week alongside the power. The rehabilitation center Cenmerevivir stands at the intersection of infrastructure collapse and medical necessity, where a utility company's maintenance calendar and a community's accumulated debts are measured not in pesos but in interrupted speech, stalled motor recovery, and families rescheduling hope. This is what happens when the long decline of public infrastructure finally reaches the threshold of the irreplaceable.
- Every Tuesday and Thursday, six hours of darkness cancel speech, occupational, and physical therapy sessions for children who cannot simply pause their development and resume it later.
- Cenmerevivir's legal representative has formally alerted both municipal authorities and Afinia, warning that therapeutic continuity—the very foundation of neurorehabilitation—is being systematically broken.
- Behind the blackouts lies a system in freefall: 76.7% energy losses, only 35% of users paying their bills, over 55 million pesos in accumulated debt, and three-quarters of evaluated transformers running beyond safe capacity.
- Community anger has already spilled onto the national highway in protests and blockades, forcing the mayor to navigate between a utility's operational demands and a health emergency unfolding in real time.
- Afinia's modernization program and municipal agreements offer a path forward, but illegal connections, a non-payment culture, and degraded infrastructure mean the children's treatment calendar remains hostage to a crisis years in the making.
In Calamar, Bolívar, every Tuesday and Thursday morning the power goes out for six hours. For most residents this is an inconvenience. For the children receiving neurorehabilitation at Cenmerevivir, it means their therapy simply does not happen.
The Centro Médico de Rehabilitación Integral Vivir serves children and adolescents with developmental disabilities across pediatrics, psychiatry, and multiple therapy specialties. Its neurorehabilitation program is the only one of its kind accessible to families across the surrounding region—more than ten thousand active users depend on it. When the lights go out, speech therapy sessions are canceled, occupational appointments disappear, and physical therapy stops mid-treatment. Staff spend the aftermath calling families to reschedule, creating delays that ripple through the entire month. The center's legal representative, Marina Esther Vargas Molina, has formally notified both Afinia and municipal authorities that the interruptions are destroying the continuity of care these children require.
Afinia frames the cuts as necessary maintenance—its Periodos de Continuidad Concertada—designed to replace overloaded transformers, upgrade equipment, and modernize a grid in critical condition. The numbers justify the alarm: 76.7% of electricity flowing through Calamar's system is lost before reaching paying customers, only 35% of users pay their bills, accumulated user debt exceeds 55 million pesos, and three-quarters of evaluated transformers are operating beyond safe capacity. Afinia notes that the electricity currently being wasted in Calamar could power the entire neighboring municipality of María La Baja.
The crisis is not one of scarcity but of theft, non-payment, and decades of infrastructure neglect. Illegal connections drain the system; past transformer failures have been traced to unauthorized taps. The mayor, Yelitza Castellar, has reached agreements with Afinia to help fund new equipment and conduct a load census, but community frustration has already erupted into highway blockades. Long-term solutions are taking shape while, twice a week, the children of Cenmerevivir wait in the dark for their treatment to resume.
In the municipality of Calamar, in Bolívar state, children receiving treatment for neurodevelopmental disorders are losing access to essential therapy twice a week. Every Tuesday and Thursday, from eight in the morning until two in the afternoon, the power cuts off for six hours. The interruptions are scheduled—part of what the utility company Afinia calls maintenance and infrastructure modernization—but the effect on the children is immediate and concrete: speech therapy sessions get canceled, occupational therapy appointments vanish from the calendar, physical therapy stops mid-treatment.
The Centro Médico de Rehabilitación Integral Vivir, known as Cenmerevivir, is the facility bearing the brunt of these cuts. It serves children and adolescents with developmental disabilities across multiple specialties including pediatrics, psychiatry, and dermatology, but its neurorehabilitation program is what makes it essential to the community. The center's legal representative, Marina Esther Vargas Molina, formally notified municipal authorities and Afinia that the power interruptions are preventing the continuity of care these children require. Therapeutic work—whether it's helping a child learn to speak, regain motor function, or develop occupational skills—cannot simply pause and resume. The interruptions force staff to call patients and reschedule appointments, creating cascading delays that ripple through the month's carefully planned agenda.
The crisis in Calamar is not simply about maintenance schedules. The municipality sits at the center of a perfect storm of infrastructure failure and financial collapse. According to Afinia's own data, Calamar experiences energy losses of 76.7 percent—nearly three-quarters of the electricity flowing through the system vanishes before it reaches paying customers. Only 35 percent of users actually pay their bills, making Calamar the second-lowest collection rate in the northern zone of Bolívar state. The accumulated debt from users exceeds 55 million pesos. These numbers are not abstract: they mean the electrical grid is being starved of both revenue and stability. The company reports that 75 percent of the transformers it evaluated are operating above their maximum safe capacity.
Afinia frames the scheduled cuts as necessary intervention. The utility has activated what it calls Periodos de Continuidad Concertada—periods of planned discontinuity—ostensibly to allow crews to replace damaged transformers, upgrade equipment, and modernize the network. The work includes changing hardware, insulating lines, trimming vegetation, and reinforcing poles. Without these interventions, the company argues, the system will continue to deteriorate. But the timing and frequency of the cuts create an impossible situation for a medical facility that cannot simply shut down.
The mayor of Calamar, Yelitza Castellar, expressed concern that the power cuts have already sparked community protests and blockades on the national highway. The municipality is caught between the utility's operational needs and the health crisis unfolding in real time. Cenmerevivir serves more than ten thousand active users, many of them families who have traveled from surrounding areas to access specialized care that does not exist elsewhere in the region.
Beneath the maintenance schedule lies a deeper problem: widespread electricity theft and non-payment. Afinia reports that illegal connections drain the system, and past incidents—including a transformer overload that left families without power—have been traced to unauthorized taps. The company has worked with the mayor to establish agreements for addressing these issues, including a commitment from the municipality to help fund a new transformer and allow crews to conduct a load census. But these are long-term solutions to an immediate crisis.
The energy losses in Calamar are so severe that Afinia notes the electricity currently being wasted could fully power the neighboring municipality of María La Baja. This is not a problem of scarcity; it is a problem of theft, non-payment, and infrastructure so degraded that it cannot function. The scheduled power cuts are meant to fix the system, but they are breaking the health services that depend on it. For the children in Cenmerevivir's neurorehabilitation program, the cuts mean interrupted treatment, delayed progress, and families forced to reschedule care around a utility company's maintenance calendar.
Citas Notables
The power interruptions are preventing the continuity of care these children require— Marina Esther Vargas Molina, legal representative of Cenmerevivir
The municipality has been signaled by Afinia for facing critical problems of energy losses and low payment culture, which strains local electrical infrastructure— Afinia (utility company)
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does a rehabilitation center for children have to shut down twice a week? Can't the utility work around their schedule?
The utility says the work is essential—they need to replace transformers, upgrade lines, modernize the grid. But Calamar's electrical system is in crisis. Three-quarters of the electricity is being lost or stolen before it reaches paying customers. The infrastructure is failing, and Afinia believes these cuts are the only way to fix it.
So it's a choice between fixing the system now or letting it collapse entirely?
That's how Afinia frames it. But the children receiving therapy can't wait for the system to stabilize. A kid learning to speak, relearning to walk after an injury—that progress doesn't pause. When you cancel a session, you're not just rescheduling an appointment. You're interrupting a process that requires consistency.
What's actually wrong with the electrical system in Calamar?
Multiple things. Only 35 percent of people pay their bills. There are illegal connections draining power. The transformers are overloaded. The debt is massive. It's not that the utility is being unreasonable—it's that the municipality has a fundamental problem with how electricity is being used and paid for.
Can the municipality fix that?
Not quickly. The mayor has made some agreements with Afinia—the municipality is supposed to help fund infrastructure improvements, allow crews to do audits. But that takes time, and the children need care now.
So who loses in this situation?
The children. The families. The therapists who have to reschedule. The utility is trying to solve a systemic problem, but the cost is being paid by the most vulnerable people in the municipality.