At every festival, someone brings the costume that steals the show.
I saw it at the village square. Red dust, white canopies, drums beating. Then he appeared — big black gorilla, chest out, mouth open, roaring at children. Everyone laughed. Everyone ran. Everyone wanted picture.
Costume during festival is not just cloth. It is power. The man inside that gorilla fur is maybe shy man who sells akara. But inside costume, he becomes king of square. He becomes fear and joy at same time. Children scream but they come closer. Elders smile because they remember.
Festival costume makes us forget ourselves. It lets us become animal, spirit, masquerade. For few hours, you are not you. You are story.
That is why we love it. During festival, we are allowed to be someone else loudly. No one judges. Costume gives permission to dance foolishly, to roar, to make people laugh.
I think we all need festival costume sometimes. Life is too tight. We need day to wear fur and roar and remind village that we are still alive, still playing.
IMAGE IS MINE THUMBNAIL IMAGE DESIGNED WITH AI
