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Anonymous
Jan 7, 2020, 9:02:41 AM1/7/20
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“You must kill them. All of the batty men run when you see them. All up in your community, mon, me gon’ kill them. Man need a woman, can’t live without them, that’s why me comin’ after them!”
That’s what I sang into the microphone.
I paused. “So what is the ‘Batty Man’? Is that like the police or somethin’?”
We were in a makeshift studio close to the Arts Center in Accra, Ghana. Lonely Planet accurately describes the Arts Center as, “a warren of stalls selling arts and crafts. The level of aggressive hassling may make you want to keep your cedis in your pocket but if you have the patience and wherewithal, you can come away with good-quality handicrafts from all over Ghana.”
It’s where I met drum makers, traded beat up Nike’s for a yellow Ghana track suit, and hung with Rastas. I got my weed under a sign that said “No War” from a guy who had a guitar case full of joints. I ended up living down there for a while.
“No mon. Homosexual”
Hold up. I put down the mic.
That’s what I sang into the microphone.
I paused. “So what is the ‘Batty Man’? Is that like the police or somethin’?”
We were in a makeshift studio close to the Arts Center in Accra, Ghana. Lonely Planet accurately describes the Arts Center as, “a warren of stalls selling arts and crafts. The level of aggressive hassling may make you want to keep your cedis in your pocket but if you have the patience and wherewithal, you can come away with good-quality handicrafts from all over Ghana.”
It’s where I met drum makers, traded beat up Nike’s for a yellow Ghana track suit, and hung with Rastas. I got my weed under a sign that said “No War” from a guy who had a guitar case full of joints. I ended up living down there for a while.
“No mon. Homosexual”
Hold up. I put down the mic.
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