...just another Freetown night...

It's good to know that in a crisis situation I can be counted on to run around my room four times looking for my pants.

Let me explain...

Last night, around 11pm, I was awoken from what promised to be a peaceful and restorative slumber to to the sound of Janet bellowing for our night-guards, Mohammed and Suliman.

"Mohammed! Suliman!....Mohammed!! Suliman!!"

Man, those two never listen when they're being called, I thought. Earlier this evening Heleen had been trying to get their attention as well because the dog was berserkly barking at something moving in the corner of the compound. We've had a bit of trouble with a giant cobra recently. Nothing to be alarmed about. Yet. I was sure that was what the current problem was. Maybe the dog finally got ahold of the snake.

"Mohammed! Suliman! Mohammed!! Suliman!"

There was a bit of rising panic in Janet's voice now. I was starting to wake up. I'd say the bellowing had changed to a more high-pitched shrieking. Hmm...something must be up.

"Mohammed!!!!! Suliman!!!! Suliman!!!!!! Mohammed!!!!"

Oh dear. Something must be wrong. I should really get up and see what's going on. At this point I couldn't figure out where any of my clothes were and I realised I couldn't just charge upstairs in my underwear, it just wouldn't be culturally sensitive. Imagine Suliman and Mohammed's shock if they saw me in my knickers. So this is the part where I ran around my room trying to find some pants. I think I made a few laps around my room with my eyes closed. Or they could have been open. It was dark. And although we did actually have light last night, I'm not in the habit of actually turning it on anymore. It's hard to remember where the light switch is when you never use it. Especially at 11pm at night when you've just been roused from peaceful slumber.

"MOHAMMED!!! SULIMAN!!! HELP!!"

Uh oh. I've got to find some pants! But Janet needs help! I run to the stairs...oh wait...I need pants...I run back to my room...but Janet needs help....NO PANTS!!! NO PANTS!!! Dear God, I can't see anything. Oh wait, I remember taking off my shorts before bed. There they are. Ok. Pants accomplished. I tear up the stairs.

SMOKE. A LOT OF SMOKE.

Janet is still screaming for Suliman and Mohammed. (You must applaud her. I would have given up long ago. Had they expired down there in the garage?) Clearly, the new kerosene fridge we got two weeks ago is on fire. I had no idea what to do.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Find the guards!!"

I run out the kitchen door to be met with Suliman on the stairs. (They aren't dead. What a relief. The kitchen is still burning though...)

"Wetin di mata?"

"Faya!"

Suliman takes off. He's going to get water, I presume. I run back into the kitchen and turn a few circles outside the store room where Janet is battling with some flames. I still have no clue what to do. I know water isn't the answer. That will only spread the flames; you can't use water on an oil or gas fire. I'm not on fire myself so 'stop, drop, and roll' are out. I'm at a loss.

"TOWELS!"

Ah ha! Of course...towels to smother the flames. I grab one from the kitchen table. Janet comes streaming out of the pantry with a flaming floor mat and throws it outside. Suliman beats it with a blanket. I thrust the towels at Janet.

"MORE TOWELS!"

Right. Got it. More towels...but surely not the white ones? Umm....the blue ones? But they're a set....just grab something, Emily! Ok, more towels. Got it. I scoop up a pile of towels from the laundry table and run back to the kitchen. Janet must be ready to pass out from the smoke which is thick and suffocating. I hope she doesn't die in there. It really would complicate things. I wet a hand towel for her to put over her face. She doesn't. It's because she's superwoman, I think.

Heleen has arrived from the annex apartment.

"What's going on?"

"The kerosene's on fire!"

Mohammed arrives with a bucket of water.

"NO WATER! IT WILL SPREAD THE FIRE."

Mohammed rotates like a pro basketball player and runs back down the stairs. (Where is he going?)

I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a wet dish towel, Heleen is shining a flashlight into the pantry, and Janet is laying towels over the fuel tank of the fridge. At least someone has a clue.

The flames die out. The fire is gone. I go to the living room to open the balcony door. Heleen turns on the fan. Janet emerges from the pantry, a little sweaty, but seemingly no worse for wear. My legs are like jelly. I'm pretty sure I won't be able to sleep for the rest of the night because my body has just produced enough adrenaline to power an entire unit of elite fire fighters.

At least those guys know where their pants are.