Wednesday, April 2, 2014

In Jest of MUSIGA

Just one pageant probably plays per night – pick whenever – in the city of Accra. Performers pitch bruising background battles to snatch a slot in the spectacle. Fiercer flashpoints erupt everywhere when fatuous awards are arriving. Every flippant, flippety-flop figures that ‘four or five figurines will be fine for me.’ Why, then, do performers pretend to pool together with one positive purpose?