By Raffique Shah
September 04, 2010
IT’S still dark, wee hours this Sunday morning, the steady drizzle having no impact on the growing crowd that is gathering at Woodford Square. I am dressed in a Rasta wig, fake-Shabaaz beard, jacket sans tie, looking more like a vagrant than the men at the ticket booths at the two entrances to the Square. It’s going to be a good day for hangings. People are queuing, some jostling, others scalping, but all more than willing to pay the $100 entry fee to witness the country’s first public executions since the days of slavery.
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