Voodoo in Haiti

by Alfred Métraux

  Inside the cavern there were more and more possessions and soon everyone there, with a few exceptions, succumbed to Damballah or Grande-Bossine. This cavern, this dismal pool, these people possessed, convulsed on the surface with their eyes turned up, their mouths agape, their tongues lapping the air, put one in mind of the damned teeming on the banks of the Styx. But the attacks did not last long. Whether it was the god that quitted them or whether they found calm in giving in to him, they managed to get to the beach where they rubbed their bodies with handfuls of vegetation. The heat, the lack of air and the darkness began to trouble me. This feeling of oppression was shared by people near me who also seemed anxious to get out. After some lively discussion it was decided that the women, who seemed the most frightened, should be evacuated first although several men insisted on going out before them. Those who could dive were guided by the ferrymen towards the neck which was not easy to find among the rocks. The others were carried on the backs of guides to the opening where they had to start climbing. The two ferrymen who were continually diving to show the pilgrims the way out, only paused long enough to get their breath. When everyone was out Lorgina and the other women who had been kept from entering by their embonpoint, soaked themselves in the waters of the spring.

  Having given the bathers time to dry themselves and dress, Lorgina led them to a small pond situated not far from the Balan spring. We had hardly arrived there before the other mambos went down into it and rubbed themselves vigorously with medicinal plants. While they were going through with this ritual toilet Tullius did a fine vèvè on the bank representing Damballah the snake. As before he lit candles which this time he stuck in the hollow of a tree. Lorgina came out of the pond and went and sat on a palm trunk by the water’s edge. She stayed there motionless, her eyes half-closed, when suddenly she was shaken by tremblings that became more and more violent. It was Damballah possessing her. People busied themselves round about her and gently and respectfully she was helped back into the water. She remained near the edge, up to her waist, and the expression of pain remained on her face. Then darting out her tongue she made the staccato sounds which pass for the language of the snake Damballah. With index and small finger raised she pointed out the hunsi on the bank and splashed them gaily until they came up to her as required. Two hunsi entered the water and unfurling the flags of the society took up position behind Damballah as his guard of honour. Tullius came and offered him an egg nestling in a pile of flour. Lorgina having taken it was immediately hidden from view by a sheet which was stretched over her. Other hunsi poured almost the whole contents of a bottle of scent over her but she, tearing it out of their hands, motioned the other two mambo to come near. As a token of goodwill the ‘god’ poured scent over their heads in the outline of a cross. The hunsi, fully dressed, joined them in the pond where they sprinkled each other. This game, which must have been basically ceremonial, was followed by many crises which may either have been provoked by the sprinkling or simply due to the fact that the moment had come for the hunsi to receive the master of the pond, the god Damballah, into their bodies. Soon they stopped hissing and darting their tongues, and climbed out again on to the bank along with Lorgina. Then came the turn of the men to go down into the water. They too sprinkled each other and were ‘mounted’ by the spirit of the pond.

  We all went back to the Balan spring where we had to take in a supply of water and offer the spirits the food which had been prepared for them. When the loa had been saluted with songs and prayers the share of food allocated to them was thrown into the hole prepared in the morning. Then, quickly, the hole was filled in and a vèvè traced on the loose earth. The remainder of the food was divided out and the ceremony ended with an open-air luncheon which was both sumptuous and gay. The journey back was full of incidents. These were due to the enervated condition of the hunsi for whom the sudden pleasures of a brief holiday had alternated with strong mystical emotion. When we got back to the humfo the hunsi formed up in procession behind Lorgina who made a tour of the sanctuary, stopping at the four points of the compass to salute the spirits. She also came and shook her rattle and prayed before the house of the Guédé and the entrance to her peristyle. Finally she scattered four libations of water and rum in front of the poteau-mitan. The mambo saluted each other according to rada etiquette and the hunsi came and pirouetted and prostrated themselves before Lorgina. Just when we were about to disband a woman who, on the way back, had already shown signs of excitement and who had quarrelled with her companions, became subject to a strong ‘attack of loa’. She rolled on the ground, violently convulsed. It was Damballah again. His appearance at such a late hour was certainly regarded as ill-timed, for the mambo and her acolyte at once set to work to get rid of him.

  Between this water quest and Christmas there was, to my knowledge, no other ceremony. But in the course of my sojourns in Haiti I twice was present at the actual ceremonies of Christmas, once with Lorgina at Port-au-Prince and the second time in the Léogane neighbourhood with a rural hungan. The contrast afforded by the two interpretations of an identical ritualistic theme is worth showing in some detail as it throws into relief the extent to which Voodoo varies from one milieu to another.

  CHRISTMAS EVE AT PORT-AU-PRINCE

  The ceremony which I am about to describe was conducted according to the petro rite. The orchestra was made up of two drums beaten in a rapid and staccato rhythm accompanied by blasts on a whistle out of the depths of the night. From the first dances onwards the hungan and his acolytes carried out sprinkling of kiman. They filled their mouths with this liquid and sprayed it over one shoulder whilst throwing one forearm on to the opposite shoulder in a gesture which was full of arrogance.

  A strong spicy smell engulfed the peristyle. The hunsi, dressed in red and blue, went in procession to the house of the Guédé where they received packets of leaves. They put them on their heads and in Indian file came back dancing under the peristyle. As they entered they were sprinkled with kiman. They went through a few dance movements and then knelt before a large tank decorated with vèvè traced out in chalk. They put down the leaves and before rising piously kissed the earth. The leaves must first be crumpled and stripped of their stalks so as to liberate their salubrious powers. This operation, like all the other preparations for the fête, takes on a ritual character.

  A dozen hunsi gathered round the receptacle and set to work amid dancing and singing. Lorgina, standing in the middle of the peristyle, gave out a series of veritable croaks and showed signs of dizziness: a petro spirit whom I was unable to identify had come into her. Her arms were rubbed with scent and a green cloth tied round her loins. The hunsi came to salute the divinity who, in reply, ‘twirled’ them. Lorgina, or rather the god within her, did not always seem entirely well-disposed towards her servants for occasionally she ‘twirled’ them with such sudden violence that they lost their balance. It is true though that movements which appear brutal may, when they come from a ‘god’, be no more than the expression of a desire to induce possessions.

  Towards ten o’clock in the evening a mortar was brought in decorated within and without with vèvè. It was in this implement that the dried plants used for magic powders were ground down as prescribed by ritual. The following plants were listed to me as ingredients: trois-parôles (Allophyllus occidentalis), bois-dine (.Eugenia fragrans), grand-bois (?), zos-douvant (Eugenia crenulata); but the strong and piquant smell which emanated from the powder and which made those who took it sneeze, was due to the presence of bloodwort and ogan. Two men with silk cloths round their necks approached the mortar. Each took from the hungan a pestle which had first been presented to the four cardinal points and which, like the mortar, was inscribed with symbols in chalk. They saluted each other, crossing their pestles, and then brought them down alternately in the mortar, keeping exactly in time to the drums. The hungan came back with ashes to trace out symbolic figures all round the mortar. Lorgina, once again possessed by a spirit, smoked a big cigar in a corner. F
rom time to time one of her acolytes came and emptied the mortar and filled it again with dry leaves. He passed the results of the milling through a sieve before tipping it into a calabash. So strong is the magic power of this mixture that, while dealing with it, he sometimes reeled as though a spirit were trying to enter into him. The powder is not fully effective unless the blood and flesh of a chicken are contained in it, so one was now brought by the hungan who, having brought it into contact with the Poteau-mitan and ‘signalled’ it to the four cardinal points, placed it on the edge of the mortar where Lorgina, still entranced, executed it with one blow from a sabre. The priest then sucked the blood which pumped out of the palpitating body and cut the bird up into several slices which he threw into the mortar. Now the heavy pestles resumed their battering and in a few seconds the chicken was nothing but a pulp of blood and feathers. The same hungan sprinkled this with clairin and set fire to it. The uprush of flames induced a number of possessions. Jean-Dantor—that is to say a woman possessed by the spirit of that name—took a little boy, three or four years old, by one leg and dangled him for a few seconds over the flames. The child screamed with terror but suffered no harm. The remains of the chicken scorched by the fire were added to the powder. Thus ended the rite called ‘grinding-leaves’ (piler-feuilles).

  Those who take part in the preparation of the ‘bath’ hope their health will be the better for it and their luck improved. That is why women freely offer their services for the stripping and crumpling of the leaves, and why men volunteer to grind them. With such a crowd of willing helpers the work is soon finished. The sulphurous water of the Balan spring, mixed with clairin, is poured into the mortar along with various ingredients, intended to increase its efficacy, such as pepper and pimento and a chopped-up bullock’s heart. Then small charges of powder are detonated on the edge of the tank and this results in yet more possessions.

  A large boucan fire was burning in the court. Out of it reared up an iron bar, the pince of the loa Criminel. The hungan went and took out a brand which he threw in the ‘bath’. This then burst into flames while the hungan stirred it like a cook with a bit of wood. He then returned to the pyre and brought out the reddened pince (he wisely gripped it by the very tip) and threw it into the tank. As the sizzling marriage of fire and water was consummated, the loa Brisé possessed Lorgina and her face immediately changed: now a hard and furious god, whip in hand, she threw herself on the hunsi lashing them cruelly—doubtless to make them dance with more ardour. The drum-beat became more urgent, the dance faster, more hectic and ‘hotter’. Clearly the hunsi were giving in to a growing exaltation. Several among them even became all but entranced. They tottered and staggered or, seized with giddiness, remained struck still where they stood. None, however, were ridden by a loa. They were merely ‘tipsified’ by spirits who had settled on them briefly.

  The whole ceremony coming under the sign of the petro and magic, it followed that it should be used as an opportunity for undertaking spectacular treatments. A sick man advanced on the hungan with arms outstretched. The hungan poured on to his palms a charge of powder which immediately exploded, throwing out an enormous flame. Burning spirit was spread over the hands of a hunsi who rubbed them as though she were soaping herself. Spectators and hunsi alike gave themselves willingly to these spectacular but not very dangerous ordeals. The hungan then went the rounds of the gathering with a calabash full of magic powder of which he gave everyone a pinch to snuff. This substance is said to cure physical disorders and also to remove bad luck. The magic bath was first taken by a little girl of about five. She was put in the tank and was rubbed from head to foot with the leaves. The receptacle was then taken into the house of the Guédé where all the hunsi shut themselves in to he washed by the hungan and his acolyte. The bath ceremony lasted all night but naturally the highly developed sense of modesty of the Haitian made it impossible for me to attend.

  Here is the description of the same ceremony carried out in a country setting. An arbour, specially built for the occasion, served as a peristyle. The fête began with the consecration of a vast pyre which was to burn all night. The site for it had been marked out with a vèvè: the drawing of a circle sliced with eight radii, these being produced beyond the circumference. Branches were laid along these radii, leading out from the centre where pine sticks and glowing embers had been heaped up. The hungan sprayed kiman with his mouth, proceeding as follows: three times over his shoulder with the arm folded back, four times on the fire, three times in the air and again three times on the fire. A large mortar was brought in under the arbour and placed on a mat. The hungan sanctified it, tracing vèvè inside and out, then ‘dressed’ it with white cloth as is sometimes done with certain drums. Two large pestles, also covered with symbolic designs, were leant against the mortar. Shortly afterwards everyone assembled for the ‘thanksgiving’ (I action de grâces). The hungan, sitting on a little chair in front of the drums, chanted a series of Paters, Aves, Credos and Confiteors which were punctuated by the responses of the congregation. Passing without transition from God and Saints to loa, he recited a long prayer in which Creole words alternated with passages in langage.

  Three verses of this interminable invocation are engraved on my memory. The first evoking cockcrow and waking up in an African village is moving in its simplicity.

  Nâ Guinê ju I’uvri, kok I’ap châté kokoliko

  Twa Pater, twa Ave Maria

  Wâgolo, ki menê I’Afrikê sòti nâ Guinê

  Day is dawning in Africa and the cock crowing cocoriko

  Three Paters, three Ave Marias

  Wangolo, who is leading the African who has left Africa.

  This invocation was accompanied by piercing blasts on a whistle and the sharp, dry sounds of the petro whip which was cracked near the tank.

  The prayer lasted nearly an hour and a half. As soon as it was over, there came the sound of the quick, staccato rhythm of the petro drums. Two men with the lower half of their faces covered, one by a white cloth, one by a red, advanced on the mortar and seized the pestles. After being sprinkled on their arms and hands they began to pound the leaves (piler feuilles) while the congregation celebrated the divine twins (marassa—in this region they are invoked and saluted before Legba). The choir then went on to hymns in praise of the petro loa. Spirits seldom fail to come quickly when they are sung or danced for. A sudden scuffling in the congregation made me think a riot had broken out; in fact it meant merely that a number of spirits had arrived and were struggling with their ‘horses’ in order to ‘mount’ them. The latter rolled on the ground at the mercy of crises which threw them from side to side in a sort of sacred frenzy. The tumult only ceased when the loa finally got the better of their ‘mounts’. The spirits who revealed themselves were Simbi, Simba, Malalu, Kita and Grand-Bois. Two women were even possessed at the same moment by Grand-Bois!—one of them was Docelia, the daughter of the master of the house. She was a Negress of about twenty, well filled-out and built and muscled like a fair-ground wrestler. In order to look more like Grand-Bois she had put on a ferocious mask. Her heavy chin sticking out in front, and her dilated nostrils gave her the muzzle of a beast. Her loins were at once encompassed with a cloth and her sandals removed. With a sort of wild barking, she jumped on to the mortal where she remained balanced with legs apart and hands on hips—her head pushed out she shook her shoulders in time to the drums, jigged up and down, shouted and sang her head off, only pausing to exhort the men with the pestles to redouble their exertions. Here are a few couplets of her song, taken down on the spot as they came:

  Grâ bwa zilé...zilé o (bis)

  Gea bwa môté bwa, I’álé

  Aaa dié

  M’alé lâ Grâ bwa

  M’pralé kéyi fèy mwê

  Grand-Bois zilé...zilé

  Grand-Bois climbs on the wood, he has gone

  Aaa dié

  I am going to Grand-Bois

  I am going to pick my leaves.

  The other Grand-
Bois climbed the mortar in his turn. At first she was resisted by her companion who as daughter of the house felt the position was hers by rights, the other girl being merely a distant relation. However, soon reconciled, the two danced and sang as one. While the pestles were rising and falling without pause between their separated feet, Docelia, carried away by frenzy, caught on to the roof beams, raised herself and hanging for a moment in mid-air, flourished her legs in time to the music. She let herself slip down back on to the mortar, only to repeat the whole performance a few minutes later. The acrobatics of the two possessed girls would have upset the mortar if some men had not run up and held it firm. The pestles only paused when those wielding them were relieved or when the receptacle was emptied and refilled by the hungan. Halts were marked by blasts on a whistle. Bark and roots were pulverized before the leaves. The bunches were ‘orientated’ to the four cardinal points before being thrown into the tank while the choir sang: