The weekend in Makeni

Outside the APC office in Makeni

Makeni in the evening

Jordan in the Wusum Hotel pool

I didn’t really know what to expect when we set out for the president’s hometown. Makeni is north east of Freetown and a three hour car ride though lush greenery and past thatch roof huts that could sit on a tourist post card. Well, anything more I say would sound like a clump of clichés, but take my word for it, it was beautiful.

This is where President Ernest Bai Koroma grew up and locals quickly pointed out the two houses that his father had constructed. One is now a regional office for the All People’s Congress party. Stephen was here on business, he was conducting two workshops for local journalists over the weekend. Jordan and I were just tempted by the free ride and the opportunity to blend in with the locals in Freetown by saying we’d been upcountry.

As Stephen departed for this workshop Jordan and I chewed over options. To call Makeni a city or town is a bit of a stretch, it’s a large village. There’s no power anywhere, the wires that hang uselessly from the poles may as well have been clotheslines. We had heard about the Wusum Hotel, the only place in town with a swimming pool so we hailed a couple of motorbikes and sped off for a dip.

There’s something about the water that makes you introspective and that’s just what Jordan and I did while bobbing about on inflated bottles of Vicco malt. I think we bonded that afternoon.

That was the highlight of my day. Evening was odd to put it mildly. First we had drinks at a bar that was basically a cow shed with plastic chairs. Then after meeting a couple of British girls back at the Wusum we all decided to go dancing at the Flamingo disco because according to one of the girls, Charly, “wild things happen there.”

The Flamingo is probably the cheesiest nightclub I’ve ever been to. The raised dance floor is set against a wall of mirrors where overzealous dancers get down with their own reflections. There were more than enough attempted grabbings, guys trying to dance in your personal space and the ones who wanted to whisper something in your ear. Men in nightclubs are exactly the same the world over. I think Jordan had a good time, but I really really wanted to go home.

Guys here get gropy when they’re drunk and many of the women allow it which I think sets a bad precedent for us and perpetuates the 'cave man' syndrome. But I’ve decided now that I don’t care if people think I’m rude, the next person who tries to touch me inappropriately is getting kicked in the nuts.