A weekend not wasted

Customs did us one massive favour: they allowed us to have our first entertaining weekend in Freetown. After BMI delays and customs hassles we didn’t arrive at our guesthouse until the early hours of Saturday morning. Having had plenty of sleep and a wander onto the beach in front of us we went into town to do ‘admin’. Phones needed to be unlocked, sim cards needed to be bought, chargers needed to be lost and we needed to witness the mayhem that is Freetown. We drove through a market (see photos) that was so full of people that if a car needed to go somewhere it would just mow people and their stalls down until they moved, and they did.

The only guidebook to Sierra Leone enthusiastically encourages the nightlife in Freetown, so we thought…when in Rome…. We ended up at Roy’s (named after the owners unborn son) with two local boys who were there to look after us. Perusing the drinks menu, Jay spotted a Dimple. No one knew what it was, the locals said it was nice so we ordered a round. There is possibly a worse combination of 2 drinks in the world, but I doubt it. Whiskey and tequila in a deliciously disgusting mix. Say the name Dimple and Alix still shudders. It was not to be repeated. But we weren’t about to let that ruin our night. We played some very sketchy pool before heading to Aces the local hip-hop nightclub – our guidebook describes it as ‘seedier than a pomegranate’ and we’d have to agree. Full of middle-aged white men sleazing onto local girls with the decidedly loose description of hip-hop music in the background. There’s either more business in Sierra Leone than we realised or the NGOs have been here far too long. After confirming that our behinds just didn’t cut it on the dance floor, informing a Dutch guy who worked for the local beer Star brewery that it was not good enough and finding Jay (and what was here name?!?!) we left hip-hop in the hands of the experts.

Sunday morning we woke to a Spam and mayonnaise breakfast. Attempting to order a taxi to the beach, we got quoted $200. Even 20 miles on dirt and moguled roads isn’t worth $200 so we headed into town to find James. Sunday was football day. We went to a local premiership play-off match between Kingtom and St John’s, and what an experience it was. Sat on seating made from branches we ate peanuts from a lady’s head and watched the fiercely contested match. At half time it was still 0-0. Then the riot police arrived. Armed with visors, gas masks and tear gas guns, they were there to escort the referees off the pitch and protect them during the break. I don’t know if we felt safer that they were here or more concerned that they were necessary. Second half underway, a football or two in the face, St John’s scored much to the jubilation of the crowd. Goal etiquette is to run onto the pitch cheering wildly, hug every player and wait to be beaten off the pitch by the men with sticks (and a santa hat). These weren’t riot police, these were purely men with sticks for the sole purpose of beating people off the pitch. Match resumed, a riled Kingtom fought back with an equaliser. Received by the other half of the supporters running onto the pitch in celebration. The match ended 1-1 with a re-play scheduled for the following day. How anyone can score at all is impressive on a dirt pitch with chalk outlines, random bits of pavement in the middle and the odd drain cover just for you to trip over and dogs running on the pitch. Referees escorted off once more, it became clear why the riot police were necessary with the very boisterous crowd.

Excited that our first local event had gone smoothly, independence was the order of the day. Breaking from the set plan, sending our driver home to have a rest, we got into a taxi to a local eatery. For us, the journey was a bargain at £1.50, for the driver who may have lost a fuel tank, an exhaust and other extraneous items, it may have been a very expensive trip down a bumpy road to Lacs Villa. Halfway through a delicious meal, coming somewhere from beyond the pitch black trees next to us we heard massive cheering and celebrations. Someone’s birthday perhaps?? Thinking nothing of it, we paid up, got into a taxi (with markedly better suspension) and headed home. On the way the taxi man explained that Sierra Leone were playing Egypt in the African Cup of Nations. Egypt being reigning champions were tough competition for Salone, who despite huge support rarely do well. Sunday was a big day in Salone history. Taking the lead in the second half, Egypt equalised just before the end, but this didn’t dampen the celebrations for the best Salone result in six years. En route to our guesthouse, the car could go no further due to the human road block of revellers. Vouvousela in Jamie’s ear, thumping on the car and screaming had to be witnessed before we were allowed to continue. It made English fans look tame, Sierra Leoneans certainly know how to party.