Voodoo in Haiti

by Alfred Métraux

  Anyone singled out by the loa could only avoid the summons at risk to himself. Some time after he had dreamed the dream which we have just mentioned, Tullius became seriously ill. He believed he had been struck down by the mystères who had grown tired of his inability to make up his mind. He felt all the more guilty since loa had announced, at his birth, by means of various miracles, that he was predestined to serve them: his mother fleeing from a cyclone which had burst on the region, took refuge in a church and was there gripped by the first pangs of childbirth. She then distinctly heard the noise of drums and religious chanting: this was the sound of her guardian spirits Ogu-balindjo, Linglessu, and Mistress-Mambo-Nana, who were coming to her assistance. She had her baby in the porch, to the dismay of the curé who would have liked to rush her to hospital. Finally—another omen of an exceptional career—the baby came feet first.

  The case of a famous mambo of Port-au-Prince, Madame L., affords another example of a person not daring to resist a super-natural vocation. She was a zealous Catholic, proud of belonging to the Société du Sacré-Cœur. She was covered with pious medals and her certificate of baptism was framed on the wall of her parlour. In spite of her repugnance, the loa insisted on her becoming a mambo and she gave way only because she was afraid of their ‘punishment’. In return they helped her to set herself up and contributed to the success of her treatments. They did not require her to give up her Christian duties and that is why, on her altar, a prayer book stands cheek by jowl with the playing cards and rattle of the seer.

  The call of the spirits is sometimes heard by people who seem in no condition to comply with them. I was told the extraordinary story of a peasant who became a Protestant after the death of his son: he wanted to get his own back on the loa who had disregarded his prayers. In fact he bore them such hatred that he had sworn never again to have anything to do with them. Then, one evening, when he was returning from a gathering at the church, he met three mysterious beings on the road. He distinctly heard one of these say ‘No—it is not he...’ whereupon he lost consciousness. A few days later, waking from a deep sleep, he found on his chest the emblems of a hungan: two ‘thunderstones’ and the pack of cards of a soothsayer. Realizing his danger he took the hint. He gave up Protestantism, went back to the bosom of the Catholic church and became a hungan. It is said that he brings about remarkable cures and that his predictions always come true.

  The profession of hungan can be hereditary. Naturally a father likes to hand on the secrets of his art to his son, and train him up to take his place. The mere fact that the sanctuary, and the spirits which live in it, form part of the inheritance entails a responsibility for the heir from which he can only escape with difficulty: on the one hand the loa and the clientele of the humfo constitute a sort of capital which a family does not lightly give up, and on the other the abandoned, famished spirits may turn on the person whose duty it is to feed them. The struggle which takes place in the soul of the man who finds the profession of hungan repugnant and who in spite of this is pushed into it by his family, soon takes on the nature of a personal conflict with the ancestral loa. He feels they are threatening him. He attributes every illness, every disappointment to their hostility and so, weakened by fear, he often gives in to what he imagines to be a supernatural appeal. Sometimes the very opposite happens. A son wishes to succeed his father but the spirits are against it and put every obstacle in his path.

  Most candidates for the priesthood go through a course of instruction lasting several months or even several years with a hungan or mambo who wishes to take them on. They learn the technique of their profession by passing through all the ‘grades’ of the Voodoo hierarchy, serving their master successively as hunsi, hungenikon (choirmaster), la-place and confiance. The master’s fame is reflected on his pupils and these, when they become mambo or hungan, talk with pride of their apprenticeship.

  Some priests say they got their education directly from the spirits. Among the loa, Ogu, Legba, Ayizan and Simbi regard themselves as proper hungan and undertake the instruction of certain novices, selected by them. A man who has received his asson from the ‘mysteries’ will pretend to be proud of it—in order to conceal a feeling of inferiority, for he who claims supernatural patronage has never had the advantage of a proper training and so tries to say as little as possible about his ‘knowledge’. He is known as a hungan-macoutte,{47} a name which bears a disparaging nuance. Similarly it can happen that priests who want to make innovations in ritual without offending their terrestrial masters, attribute the novelties to the fuller instructions which they say they have got from the loa.

  The transmission of ‘knowledge’ can be effected through a magic object. A hungan of Port-au-Prince, who had set himself up in Marbial, was gifted—so people said—with such extraordinary powers of second sight that he managed to amass a fortune which was estimated at more than 10,000 gourdes (i.e. $2,000). On his deathbed he gave his sœur baptême{48} a piece of silk which he always wore round his waist. As soon as the girl girdled herself with it she was possessed by a loa, and inherited, on the spot, her brother’s gifts. She followed in his steps and became a mambo.

  When a candidate to the priesthood has completed his apprenticeship he must pass through an initiation which is surrounded by the greatest secrecy. If we are to believe what I was told by one hungan, the rites observed on this occasion are more or less the same as those of the kanzo initiation which we will discuss later. It is simply tougher: ‘there are more punishments’. The hungan-to-be is shut up in one of the sanctuary rooms for nine days. He lies on a straw mat with his asson by his side. His head rests on a stone under which a pack of cards has been placed. He may only sit up for a few minutes. His dreams during his confinement are extremely important: they are the means by which the gods—particularly the local ones—convey him their instructions. The formal enthronement of the hungan is called lifting’ (haussement) because the main rite consists of raising the candidate three times in an armchair amid the cheering of all present. ‘Lifting’ is also practised whenever a community member achieves a new grade in the Voodoo hierarchy.

  The gift of clairvoyance which earns a hungan the title of divino (seer) is obtained at the end of a special ceremony, ‘the gripping of the eyes’ (la prise des yeux) which is looked upon as the highest degree of priestly initiation.

  THE DIGNITARIES OF THE ‘HUMFO’

  Initiates, men or women, who regularly take an active part in ceremonies and who help the priest in his functions, are called hunsi, a word of Fon derivation meaning ‘the spouse of the god’. Together they make up a little court round the mambo or hungan or, more exactly, a society sworn to the worship of the loa and made up usually of more women than men. Hence we shall speak of the hunsi as feminine, although the title is common to both sexes.

  There are many different reasons which prompt people to belong to a society. They might join simply because they live in the neighbourhood of a sanctuary or because a member of their family is already part of it. Others attach themselves to a priest (or a priestess) because they have been treated by him or simply because they admire his style or have a high opinion of his ‘knowledge’. Equally a devotee might tend to visit a sanctuary where his own loa took precedence over others.

  Hunsi who agree out of piety to serve the loa in some chosen sanctuary, are tied down to many duties. They must be prepared to spend whole nights dancing and singing beneath a peristyle and to be possessed by spirits. A hunsi is committed not only to offer sacrifices to the loa of the humfo, but also to devote herself to the humblest tasks, without hope of any reward beyond the friendship and protection of the loa, as well as living in dread of divine punishment should she prove negligent. The singing and dancing can be a satisfaction in themselves but the same could scarcely be said of the down-to-earth chores such as cooking food for the loa, cleaning the peristyle, collecting and making ready the sacred objects—in short fulfilling the rôle of ‘spouse of the god’. Moreover the hunsi can only
do their job adequately if details of ritual are familiar to them. The initiation of the kanzo, during which they receive proper instruction, rounds off the religious training acquired by assiduous attendance at the humfo.

  Zeal, devotion to the hungan or mambo, and obedience are the main qualities expected of a hunsi. She must be as deferential to the mambo, whom she calls maman, and to the hungan whom she calls papa, as she would be to her own parents. The good name of a sanctuary depends much on the discipline and esprit de corps of its hunsi.

  It is high praise to say of a hungan that he keeps his hunsi in good order; the negligence or lax behaviour of a hunsi upsets the serious atmosphere which should obtain when loa are expected. Naturally the occasional mischief and inattentions of the hunsi are resented by hungan as personal slights. Lorgina, whom illness and old age had made suspicious and touchy, was always complaining of her hunsi. She found them idle, irresponsible and above all radi (hardi—brash and disrespectful). When possessed by a severe loa she seized the opportunity of lecturing and sometimes chasing them with a whip. Once I saw her beat an unfortunate hunsi in fury and then take her on her knee to comfort her. Of course hunsi punished like this could not complain since it was the loa who had chastized them—without Lorgina knowing anything about it...

  The misbehaviour of hunsi weighed on Tullius too. One day when he had got Guédé-fatras into his head he lectured his hunsi at length on the theme of obedience and to edify them told the story of the young woman who having been whipped for making some mistake in procedure, not only bore no grudge against her maman but came and sang to her:

  Salânyé onaivo

  M’respèté hûngâ mwê

  M’respèté mâmbô mwê

  Salânyé onaivo

  I respect my hungan

  I respect my mambo.

  For his part the hungan has responsibilities towards the hunsi: he is their counsellor and protector and if they find themselves without means of support, through no fault of their own, he houses, feeds and clothes them until he has found them a job. When they are ill, he looks after them as though they were members of his family.

  The hungan unloads part of his responsibilities on the most devoted and zealous of his hunsi. She who is promoted to the rank of hungenikon or ‘queen chorister’ (reine-chanterelle) is mistress of the choir during ceremonies. The standard of the liturgical singing depends upon her. It is she who with arms dramatically uplifted, sings out in a full strong voice the first notes of the hymns, and she who subsequently scolds and chivvies the hunsi if they sing feebly. Finally it is she who shaking her rattle (chacha), breaks the rhythm of the singing which she wishes to stop. It is she also who identifies each loa as it appears, who chooses the songs to be sung in its honour and stops them after the approved number of couplets or at the order of the hungan. During fêtes the hungenikon work themselves silly night after night, all night long, never sparing themselves and without even seeking the relaxation and rest which is to be found in the dizziness of trance. For a hungenikon, no less than a drummer, must remain in possession of her faculties and attend to what is happening; otherwise chaos would bring the ceremony to an end.

  The head storekeeper, also called the hungenikon-quartermaster, is a man or woman appointed to be in charge of the offerings. The la-place—abbreviation of the Commander-in-Chief of the city (commandant général de la place)—is the master of ceremonies. His emblem is a sabre or a matchet with which he juggles in an elegant manner. He marches in front of all processions and controls their movements. He is also responsible for keeping order during ceremonies. Last of all the personages of importance we must mention the confidant (le confiance)—the right-hand man of the hungan and the ‘beast of burden’ or major-domo who takes care of the administrative chores of a humfo.

  The staff of a humfo—hunsi, hungenikon, la-place, drummers, etc. as well as people who have been treated there—pititt-feuilles (small leaves), or who have become regular attendants—pititt-caye (children of the house), make up what is known as the ‘humfo society’. This sometimes assumes the character of a mutual assistance association. The ‘support society’ (société soutien) is not always the same as the humfo society, although it would be difficult to draw a boundary between them. As its name suggests, the société soutien, by means of its subscriptions, helps towards the maintenance of the humfo, defends its interests if they are threatened, and helps the hungan to organize the ‘big feastings of the gods’ which he is bound to give. These societies have been most aptly compared to the parish councils of the Catholic Church. Hence the hungan try and stiffen them with influential politicians or prosperous tradesmen, whose moral or financial support could be of use.

  Associations like these, which grow up round a humfo, are often modelled on the co-operative work groups which are to be found everywhere in the Haitian countryside. They comprise a whole hierarchy of dignitaries whose rolling titles flatter the vanity of the members. The ‘ranks’ are conferred in the course of a ‘lifting’ ceremony, and they turn the little groups into a parody of the State—with a President, a fully-fledged Minister, Secretary of State, Senators and Deputies, Generals, Government Commissioners, etc. Women are not left out of this generous distribution of titles and lofty functions. There are the ‘flag-queens’ (‘reines drapeaux’), the ‘silence queens’ (‘reines silence’) whose job it is to enforce complete silence during ceremonies, the ‘empresses of Dahomean youth’, the ‘directing ladies’ and even the agaceuses who incite people to drink. The humfo society itself always has some fine name like Gold Coast, God First, Polar Star, Who Guides, The Flower of Guinea Society, Remembrance Society, etc., which is written up proudly on the façade of the main caye-mystère.

  Certain priests do without a society. They content themselves with the appointment of a père-soutien or mère-soutien to whom they apply in times of financial emergency. The only compensation available to the bearer of such a title—and such a burden—is the honour of ‘keeping up’ the humfo.

  THE ECONOMY OF A ‘HUMFO’

  Becoming a hungan or mambo can be an expensive business. First of all the ceremony called ‘the taking of the asson’ costs 400 dollars or more, according to the reputation of the initiator chosen. Then, to practise his profession a priest must first get together a humfo which means buying a piece of land, and putting up several groups of buildings including a peristyle. Finally, the accessories of worship, fairly cheap in themselves, represent a considerable expense in view of their number. In other words a Port-au-Prince hungan must invest at least a thousand dollars before he can practise. Given the standard of living of the average Voodooists this outlay, which is merely a minimum, represents a veritable fortune. To amass such a sum many young men temporarily take up other work which will enable them to save up. One of the best performers in Catherine Dunham’s troupe was in fact a young hungan who had recently ‘taken his asson’ and was hoping, by touring the world, to save enough to set himself up. Some hungan begin by practising their art in small, single rooms, treating the sick and telling people’s fortunes; in time they hope to get enough money to build a big humfo.

  The responsibilities of a hungan are usually heavy: we have already seen how he is morally responsible for housing, feeding and clothing those hunsi who through no fault of their own have become destitute. In addition, at more or less regular intervals he has to hold a ‘general service’ for all his loa. Even if he is helped by the humfo society this ceremony is inevitably a burden. It can go on for two weeks during which time the hungan must support the hunsi and his guests. I heard of a feast in which four bullocks, fifteen goats and about a hundred chickens were sacrificed: the total cost was more than a thousand dollars.

  These expenses are fortunately balanced by considerable profits. Many hungan and mambo appear comfortably off or even rich compared to their usual customers. The main income of a hungan comes from his fees for treating the sick. A ‘course of treatment’ can bring him in, on average, anything from fifty to
a hundred dollars. Although hungan only deal with ‘supernatural’ illnesses, that is to say those caused by loa or sorcerers, they nevertheless constitute a serious source of competition for ‘medical doctors’. Indeed they like to compare themselves with the town doctors and say their own methods of therapy are as rigorous as those of their colleagues. People in Lorgina’s establishment maintained that she had an understanding with a doctor in Port-au-Prince by which he sent her his desperate cases—and, of course, vice versa. Thus this doctor sent her a patient whose internal organs were ‘inside out’ and a tubercular case for whom X-ray ‘predicted death in a short time’. She was able to cure these two difficult cases because her ‘knowledge’ enabled her to diagnose the illnesses as outside the conventional scope of doctors, both being cases of witchcraft against which the bookish science of the Whites could do nothing. Madness, epilepsy and tuberculosis, which are essentially supernatural diseases, are the special province of certain hungans. Shortly before his death the hungan Abraham had toyed with the idea of turning his house, which adjoined the humfo, into a clinic for the insane. He flattered himself that he could cure lunatics by attacking the evil spirits which were tormenting them. This would be easy for him, people said, because he was in constant touch with all sorts of petro loa. The loa who help hungan to carry out such treatment also make sure the patients pay whatever they have promised. If an invalid gets well and then refuses to pay the hungan, the matter is placed in the hands of the loa who will not only put the person’s health back where it started, but—if he continues to turn a deaf ear—will kill him into the bargain. Good loa assist the hungan who serves them, provided he treats his clientèle honestly. If he exploits people, they abandon him and withhold from him the ‘knowledge’ he needs.