I have heard a lot about Abidjan's legendary military roadblocks, and even scooted through and around a couple of them myself. "If I haven't made eye contact with them, I don't stop," says Pauline, as I regret making eye contact with a whistling soldier on the way back from the beach, and bow my head hoping I haven't done any damage.

On Friday night, well Saturday morning really, we were coming home from the Ritz Discotheque when we came across a roadblock on the otherwise-deserted bridge. The taxi driver, a man who had assured us that we were in safe hands because we were with an 'old chauffeur', fell silent and switched off his engine, watching with worrying disinterest as five armed military men in green fatigues demanded to see our papers.

"Where is your vaccination certificate?" asked one of me through the window, knowing full well I hadn't taken it out dancing with me.

"You must get out of the car," said another, opening the door, "we want to check the car."

I did not know what to do and I was afraid. We sat tight, did not look at them. But they were all looking at us.

"Are you refusing to get out of the car?" he asked, and I tried to push the worst from my mind. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash silver car approaching, slowing down as it approached us. As Pauline and I climbed cautiously out of the taxi, staying as far away from the soldiers as was possible, one of them went over to the car which had slowed to a halt beside our taxi. I saw two men in the front seat. They started a discussion with the soldiers.

After some moments, we were told we were free to leave, but that we must "thank monsieur"- indicating to the silver car.

"Have a nice holiday in the Ivory Coast," said one of the soldiers to me as he handed back my ID card. "We like to please all visitors to this country."