Venezuela's government has ordered schools and businesses to remain closed as a power outage goes into its fifth day. The opposition says at least 17 people have reportedly died as a result of the blackout. Each hour that passes without power in Venezuela brings more havoc and stress to a country already on edge.
Pro-government motorcycle gangs, known here as "colectivos", roam the dark streets enforcing order at gunpoint while there were sporadic episodes of looting amid the desperation.
Many parts of the country are still cut off and even when the electricity returns, it is often patchy and only lasts for a few hours before dropping out once again.
Without internet, mobile phones, banks, credit-card machines, electric cookers or air-conditioning, ordinary life is bordering on the unbearable for many people, especially in low income communities.
Little wonder some are ready to snap. "I have a two-year-old son. Yesterday evening there was nothing to eat," a visibly angry woman named Majorie told the BBC. A shop near her home was looted, she says, and a neighbor gave her some boiled rice. When he asks me for food, what am I going to give him? I can put up with the hunger. As adults, all we need is a glass of water. But what's a child supposed to do?"
During the interview, a group of mothers, equally desperate and distressed, start to bang on the doors of the shuttered supermarket, demanding to be let in. Inside, the cash registers and card machines were not working and the staff were only accepting U.S. dollars in payment.
"We don't use dollars in this country, we don't earn in dollars, we earn in Bolivars", said Majorie, her voice rising once more. "We don't want to loot stores, we don't want to cause problems. What we want is food. We're hungry."
For others, the issue is even more grave than a chronic lack of food. A lab technician at a children's hospital talked about the impact of the blackout on patients.
"On Thursday, no-one had any information as to why the emergency generators didn't start, what was happening or why everything was still dark in the intensive care unit." A colleague told her that the children in that ward were being kept alive by manual respiration.
"As we walked through the ward, we saw a mother crying and we found out that one of the babies in intermediate care had died", according to the technician. Despite the best efforts of the medical staff, one of the newborns in the neonatal ward died later that first night, too. A generator was eventually delivered to the hospital, but in a sign of the chaos reigning during the blackout, it was delivered not by health or government officials but by the feared colectivos.
And it is not just food security and healthcare which are falling apart, even laying someone to rest has become almost impossible.
María Errazo's son was killed in the poor neighborhood where she lives on Thursday, when the power outage first hit. Since then, his body has been held at the Bello Monte morgue.
With most government offices closed since Thursday, Maria has not been able to get hold of the required paperwork to view her son's body or to have it released for burial. But even if Maria could bring her slain son home, she could not afford the funeral. Venezuela's rampant hyperinflation has wiped out the value of the little savings in Bolivars that she has.
"We don't have the money," she says stoically of not being able to lay her son to rest. Banks are closed and there is hardly any mobile phone coverage. "I can't even make calls to try to find a solution," she says.
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