THE sun had gone down on another sweltering West African day and mosquitoes and bats filled the humid air while goats roamed the sandy ground of this swampland.
In a clearing away from the bamboo-thatch huts that offered slim shelter from the oppressive heat, sat a circle of chairs, 13 of them on the front row, with all eyes turned on the man dressed in a white ëhigh-highí suit, the African tunic and trousers worn by the boss men.
For he was the former Chelsea and Manchester City striker, once the best footballer in the world, George Weah. And today at around lunchtime, if arrangements go to schedule, which they never do around here, he will be sworn in as the 25th president of Liberia.
We are a 30-minute drive out of Monrovia, the capital of unimaginable poverty. It is not so much a journey to where we find Weah at this secluded resort as a slalom of horn-beeping danger, dodging pedestrians with food balanced on their heads, snaking motorcyclists without helmets and high-speed cars that intermittently come at you the wrong way.
For the moment, Weah is relaxed, away from the formal engagements that lead up to his inauguration. He offers me a plate of jellof ó rice, tomatoes and fried chicken and fish ó from the buffet and contemplates why he is seeking to emulate Samuel K Doe, a president he respected.
Yet, for some reason, his family still live in that little dwelling he was born in. His shy sister, Rebecca Nogbeh, asks for a can of soda in return for an ëinterviewí.
She is proud of George and will be going to todayís ceremonial installation wearing a specially made dress. But, still, there she is chiselling a chunk of coal into smaller shavings to sell on so that she can eat.
Having failed to become president when he first tried in 2005, Weah was the overwhelming winner this time, taking more than 60 per cent of the vote. The people clambered into every space to catch a glimpse of him on his many speaking engagements last week. They cheered him fervidly.
He told them that after retiring from football, he went to college to study for diplomas aged 40, addressing the accusation that he is a high-school failure ó not a ëbookmaní, as they say here. It makes Ron Atkinsonís slip of the tongue while commentating on Weah ó he called him the big librarianí ó all the more piquant.
Education is surely a key to improvement for Liberia, a country so rich in rubber yet one in which they do not have the wit even to make a condom.
Yesterday, Weah was at church, driven there in a 4x4 with blacked-out windows. This is a largely Christian and highly religious society and Weah and his Jamaican wife Clar worship regularly.
In a land where more than eight out of every 10 people, many of them former child soldiers of a hellish war, barely exist on just on a pound a day, President Weah will need all the assistance he can summon.
© Daily Mail