Sierra Leone notes continued

Sunday

When I got back to town, the first thing I had to do was to check my emails, read the news, and update my blog. I went up to the hotel where I spent last week, which has wireless internet, and ordered some coffee. The manager was happy to see me and asked me all about my trip.

The obese owner of the hotel, a man who is rumoured to be funding the election campaign of one of the favourite candidates, was sitting at a table next to me. After half an hour I noticed my internet connection had gone so I went over to the reception to ask if there was a problem with the router.

“We have changed the password,” said the large lady in the silken boubou at the desk who I had not seen before. I guessed she was the owner’s wife. She glared at me, managed not to suck her teeth, and went back to looking at her computer screen. I didn’t move, because I thought she was going to give me the new password. A few moments later, she looked up at me and said, “Yes?” and in total disbelief I realised that they had changed the password to stop me from using it.

“It is only for guests,” said the lady, charmed with herself.

“But I was a guest here for a week,” I protested, “and I am having a drink.” I started to burn with embarrassment as one by one the entire staff of the hotel gathered around.

“Yes, well, you are not a guest now,” she said and looked back at her computer. The manager of the hotel, my friend, stared at his hands as if they would save him from this awful situation, and I walked away feeling utterly humiliated.

Luckily, I had already found a great guesthouse by then, run by a magical lady who has built a guesthouse in her retirement. By her own admission, it is a Sierra Leonean Faulty Towers, though perhaps she did not realise that this drew images of total disarray and fundamental breakdown. The first night, I had a room which backed onto the generator so that I spent the night with my head pounding to the sound of an enormous motor. The next morning I asked to be moved and was given a very nice room next door in which all seemed well.

Until I took a shower, and realised that I was getting terrible electric shocks from everything that I touched, including the bar of soap. The shower tray must have been alive with current.

Living in Senegal, my electric shock threshold is much higher than it was when I lived in a place with safe electrics, but I did have images of being fried alive in the bath and was finally afraid to even go into the bathroom.

It turned out that the plug on the air-con unit had melted and the wires inside were touching. The whole room was a death waiting to happen. While I had dinner, the jolly staff brought me four candles while the electrician, called out on a rainy night, turned off the power and fixed the problem.

Tonight I was feeling, well, hungover and tired. My friend and I had been on a long mission to the beach for lunch in which we had to swim across a crocodile-infested (I suspect) lagoon with a ripping current to get to the actual, gorgeous, beach. We were tired. I got home to find there was no water.

Emerging into the bar and pretty restaurant, I was met by the four happy staff who work there who have taken to me like their sister. They call me Aunty when I still do not know their names. Seeing I was in need, they brought me a cold Star Beer, nudged me into a comfy arm chair and opened the wooden chest which had a tiny little TV inside.

They turned on the Africa Magic channel and together- me in the arm chair and the waiters standing around chuckling and saying aa-ha! when anyone did anything they agreed with-we watched a three hour Nigerian feature film, the moral of which appeared to be that women who look for rich husbands end up alone, and that one should never invite the mother-in-law to stay. The script was full of beautiful African English, much teeth-sucking, and so much irony and greek chorus drama, that by the end we were all so involved that the poor customers in the restaurant practically had to go and cook their own food. It was just like being at home.