“I promise you that today, TODAY, you are going to see George Weah!” the public relations officer said to me while driving around the outskirts of Monrovia in a beat up yellow taxi.

During the thirty or forty minute drive, he probably said this about thirty or forty times. PRO, we’ll call him, works for the CDC, Geogre Weah’s political party. I’d met him a week or two earlier when I stopped by the headquarters. Since then, we’d spoken on the phone half a dozen times to arrange what turned out to be this very car ride.

Weah was in Monrovia to support the CDC’s candidate during a somewhat impromptu feeling senate race to fill the open seat for Monrovia’s district after the previous senator had died.

I don’t remember hearing about a senator dying, or plans for elections, but all of the sudden a few weeks ago the streets were plastered with political posters. People were wearing brand new tshirts stamped with candidates faces and logos. My favorite slogan was, “You know it works.” Pick up trucks with megaphones seemed to be talking about politics instead of the usual cell phone promotions or amplified public drunkenness.

I wanted to see Weah out some sort of curiosity. I’m not a big soccer fan, but this man is more than soccer to Liberia. I was also pretty sure I could send some photos to a newswire, and quickly got confirmation from an editor in Abijan that he was interested.

So the phone calls between me and the PRO began. Times were set, times were cancelled. Promises were made, promises were broken. When I finally got so frustrated with him that I told him he wasn’t doing a very good job of “public relations”, he hung up on me. Then he called me back a minute later and said we could go, but only if we went right then.

And so I found myself heading out to George Weah’s house. With a very enthusiastic PRO.

“Geogre Weah is the king of Liberia! If he say to Liberia, ‘lay down,’ they will lay down!” the PRO told me with pride. “I promise you that today, TODAY, you will see George Weah! You are with me so you have to see George Weah TODAY.”

When we drove past the Governance Commission, the PRO belted out, “That Amos Saywer! He eating all the money!” (Amos Sawyer is one of the more respected members of the political elite in Liberia.)  When we drove past a new hotel, he said, “Ellen built that hotel and when George Weah is President, we will seize this building for the people!”

Closer to George Weah’s house in a neighborhood called ELWA, just past Rehab Junction (no relation drug problems) he said, “Everyone wants to live here because this is where George Weah lives!”

At his compound, at first I was requested to “wait small” since George Weah was resting. “You will see George Weah today!” and then in quickly became clear I wouldn’t see him at all. Having now wasted several hours, taxi fare, and way too much phone credit, and would soon disappoint my editor, I was, as the PRO called me, “vexed.”

“You can wait! You will see George Weah today!” I refused to wait, and got ready to leave. The PRO seemed personally insulted. He gave me back my business card. I accepted. I think this was supposed to be symbolic, but I’m not sure of what.

Voting yesterday was apparently as disorganized as my trip to see George Weah. Ballots were missing, polling stations closed, and people unsure of when to vote. The results of the elections have still not been announced, but I’m told they will be announced TODAY.