Tell My Horse: Voodoo and Life in Haiti and Jamaica

by Zora Neale Hurston

  One man stood out against all the rest and insisted that Baron Cimeterre and Baron Samedi were separate deities. Maybe so, but I do not blame the others who think that they are the same. The general belief is that both, if one could consider them separately, live in the cemetery. This physician, who says that he is an authority, maintains that Baron Cimeterre has his abode in an elm tree, lives always in the forest, and may be worshipped anywhere in the woods. Baron Samedi lives in the cemetery or anywhere else he chooses. Baron Cimeterre speaks with authority like a great lord while Baron Samedi always announces his presence with “Ca ou vley?” (What do you want of me?) Both of them, like Guedé, can open tombs and command the dead to do their bidding. Baron Cimeterre is absolute ruler of the cemetery and Baron Samedi is also. This authority says that both of these gods are doctors and point out roots and herbs to be used, and that they give specific directions as to how they must be used. Sometimes he prescribes leaves and states that they must be powdered; at other times he might use those same leaves as a tea; at other times he might use the same leaves as a poultice. But Louis Romain, who is a great houngan, says that this god is not a doctor. Papa Loco is the god of medicine and knowledge.

  Some say that you must talk to Baron Samedi or Cimeterre with a cow foot. That is necessary because you must place your hand in his while you make your request of him. When he leaves, he will take away with him whatever he is holding. So you get the foreleg of a cow with a foot attached and offer that as your hand. He holds to the foot and when he leaves you, merely let go of the other end and all is well. You do not lose your hand and arm as you would have done had you not taken care.

  Baron Samedi delights in dressing his “horses” in shabby and fantastic clothes like Papa Guedé. Women dressed like men and men like women. Often the men, in addition to wearing female clothes, thrust a calabash up under their skirts to simulate pregnancy. Women put on men’s coats and prance about with a stick between their legs to imitate the male sex organs. Baron Samedi is a very facetious god like Guedé. He is simple in his tastes also. Since he craves neither hounfort nor altar, when the houngan wishes to summon him to ask a service, he goes into the court and to the tree which is the repository of Baron Samedi and sprinkles the ground with clairin or rum and lights either three or thirteen white candles.

  The people love Samedi because he knows the herbs and roots to make them well and because he is a loquacious god and gives them plenty of detail along with the medicine. Sometimes he sends the dead on a mission. Sometimes he will not permit a soul to leave the cemetery because he will not permit them to be used to do a mischief to a person he has chosen, nor to one who has placed himself under his protection. Baron Samedi has no especial offering. When the houngan wishes to summon him outside of the hounfort, as in the woods or the plains, a shot fired in the air will summon him and he will appear and ask, “Ca ou vley?” In certain parts of Haiti, however, they offer Baron Samedi a black goat or a black chicken. It is placed on a plate and placed beneath the tree for him. Beside the plate they place an ear of corn, a bottle of clairin and three bottles of Kola.

  Baron Cimeterre is also very popular all over Haiti. He is also a doctor of medicine and prescribes a great number of healing baths for the sick people under his care. He is very powerful but also temperamental and full of whimsy.

  The houngan who wishes to summon him goes to the elm tree consecrated to him and raps three times with the baguette of a Rada drum and recites the prayer common in all voodoo ceremonies. He then demands of Damballah the authority or permission to enter into communication with Baron Cimeterre. He says to Baron Cimeterre, “Ce ou minn, Baron moi vley. Chretiens besoin concones ou.” (It is you that I call for or want. Living people need you.) Then he sings a song to Baron Cimeterre. Baron becomes incarnate in the houngan or in a canzo. Sometimes he employs the dead. It is Baron Cimeterre that one invokes to draw a dead man from his tomb. Without this formality, one could not leave the cemetery with the souls one had invoked.

  One offers Baron Cimeterre a black goat or a black chicken, which is prepared and placed at the roots of the tree. At the moment of invocation one pours rum or clairin on the roots of the tree.

  November first and second are great days of obligation to these spirits. The houngan and the Mambo go to the cemetery on the night of the first to begin the invocation for All Saints Day which follows. The graveyard is blazing with lighted candles for this important celebration. It must have been a joyful thing to the Africans newly arrived in Saint Dominique to find their worship of the dead confirmed in the European All Saints Day, but the services to Baron Samedi or Cimeterre are more than just an expansion of Halloween. The Christian Church has merely given the cult an annual feast day. The rest of it has come out of Africa with adaptations on Haitian soil. This cult of the dead has so many ramifications that it touches in some way the majority of the Voodoo cults and services.

  CEREMONY OF THE TETE L’EAU

  In Haiti spirits inhabit the heads of streams, known as sources, the cascades, and the grottoes. Sometimes the spot has a master, or a mistress, and sometimes it has both. The loa most commonly found in possession of these nooks and grottoes are Papa Badere, Cimby Apaca, Papa Sobo, Papa Pierre, and the white woman, Mademoiselle Charlotte.

  Spirits occupy all of the sources, cascades and grottoes, but certain places in Haiti are ruled by spirits who are known to reside there by everyone in the country. For instance, the grotto at Leogane is inhabited by Madam Anacaona. Papa Sobo rules the grotto at Turgean and Cimby-Apaca-endeux-eaux.

  The ceremony Tete l’eau (Head of the water) is a thing to induce the belief in gods and spirits. It is held on a night when the moon is shining full and white—and in Haiti the moonlight is a white that the temperate zones never could believe possible. The ceremony is held from nine to ten o’clock at night; that is, the ceremony does not begin until that hour. About that time the adepts and the invited guests begin to arrive at the source. There is a large white table cloth and sometimes two. Dishes and silver sufficient to serve all of the company is provided.

  The houngan opens the ceremony by invoking the Master of the source. As always he salutes first the superior spirits. He invokes The Master of All Things, then Jesus, Mary, Joseph and John the Baptist. He recites the Ava Maria, the credo, the Pater Noster. The adepts respond with the prayers. Then the houngan sprinkles the source, the cascade or the grotto, as the case might be, with flour, breaks three to thirteen eggs in the source or cascade. He turns himself towards the four cardinal points successively, and taking in his hands the sealed bottles of fine wines, he offers them with an air of majesty to the spirit. Opening then the bottles, he pours some from each on the ground all around the source. The different wines are poured separately and in turn. At this moment of making the libation the houngan approaches the source, strikes three blows upon the Rada drums, and the resonance rolls over the moonlit water and the towering rocks sheathed in verdure. He strikes three other notes from the Petro drums, which sing so humanly, and the rhythmic sound departs in pursuit of the other music fleeing over the hills. A gun is fired and all of the assistants bow themselves toward the source and remain with the head bowed while the houngan intones the liturgic song:

  “Faitre, Maitre, L’Afrique Guinin ce’ protection

  Nous Ap Maide’, ce d’lo qui poti mortel, protection

  Maitre d’lo pour-toute petites li”

  (Master, African Master of Guinea, we ask your protection. The water, which is able to hear mortals, we ask protection for all of us children.)

  At this exhortation the crowd responds. Then the houngan commands the houncis and the canzos present to prepare a plate for the spirit who protects the place. They immediately spread the table cloth beside the source and lay the plates for all, but they are careful to reserve a particular plate for the god or goddess. This plate that the houngan carries himself to the source before anyone touches anything to eat, is thrown into the water with all that it contains. It
must contain a piece of everything served at the feast for the main course and a piece of each of the cakes for the dessert. Only after this is done may the adepts and the guests approach the table to eat. And there is plenty to eat and to drink! There is roast turkey, chicken, beef, goat and white rice. Great plates of different kinds of bread and several kinds of cakes. To drink there is champagne, red wine, white wine, beer, clairin, tafia and various liqueurs. Nearly always, the spirit becomes embodied in the houngan and thus takes part in all of the eating and drinking. There is music and happiness. The feast usually continues until three or four o’clock in the morning.

  This ceremony is a lovely and impressive affair when conducted by a member of the upper class. Like the ceremony to Erzulie, it loses in beauty and purpose when it is celebrated by people too poor to make the proper provisions. Many wealthy people who do not wish to make a public announcement that they make food for Voodoo gods, merely announce to their friends that “A repast is offered on the banks of such and such a river very near the source,” or often the servants of the family organize the service if not too many outsiders are asked. In this case the food is merely served on a plate at the source and the drinks poured. This ceremony is so beautiful in setting and spirit that it is necessary to participate in it to fully appreciate it.

  The most famous cascade in all Haiti is at Saut d’Eau, a triple waterfall just above Ville Bonheur. Every year, people make a pilgrimage from all over the country to this beautiful waterfall which translates into “leap of the water.” Up until about three years ago there were two divisions of the falls, but since the flood in Haiti of 1933 there are now three beautiful torrents tumbling down from their great heights that men might see and worship.

  My sister-in-law, Emma Williams, wife of Dr. Leonard Williams of Brooklyn, was visiting me in Haiti when the day in July came for everybody to go up to Haiti’s holy place of miracles. Hermann Pape had offered to drive us in his car, and we so gladly accepted. It was a lively party in Hermann’s sedan with plenty of food and things to drink. We bumped along the rocky road and passed people walking briskly with youth. Old people padded along and stepped aside to let us pass. Women and men rode bourriques and horses. They went any way they could, but they went. It is the great annual “going up” in Haiti. When it came time to ford a river with the car, we paused. The men went in for a swim and the women spread the table beside the stream and we ate, ascended spiritually a little on the beauty of the scenery and drove on to Ville Bonheur.

  We got to Ville Bonheur after dark and found a great number of little booths selling candy, Kola and the things that people usually buy when they go off gala. There was music of different kinds. Hermann got into one of the many dice games that were going on. It was very strange to me because they played it with three dice in a cup instead of two in the hand the way I had been taught. We were all tired but the great crowds, the flambeaux and candle-lighted places kept us moving from one excitement to another. It was like a fair only less hard and brittle. There is a softness and gentleness of manner about the Haitian peasant that makes itself felt whenever and wherever you get near him. The ground was practically paved with mango seeds and everybody was looking for a place to sleep. The insides of the few houses of the town had already been taken, for many people had come the day before. The women who were selling candles were doing a great business. Many of them were pushing about through the crowd selling the new prayers to the miraculous virgin and the two others. These printed prayers to the three women of miracles were printed partly in Spanish and partly in French to accommodate both the Haitians and the Dominicans. We bought both prayers and candles.

  Finally Hermann found us a place to sleep. It was under the porch of a little caille. The car was moved over there and we got out our folding cots. Hermann slept on the natte beside us. The other young man who had come along to help Hermann with the driving as well as to enjoy the trip finally wandered off and we simmered off to sleep at last.

  We woke and found several peasants standing around us in utter silence and gazing down on us in our riding breeches and boots. As soon as we stirred, they were happy to help us find water to wash our faces and get ourselves fixed up. We were going up to the spot where the miraculous virgin lit in a palm tree. At daylight throngs were pouring into the enclosure where the church stood and slowly trickling out again.

  We had that small cup of coffee that all Haitians take in the morning. But first we must get all six of the persons in our party together. We found the two ladies easily but that other young man remained invisible until Hermann met Ti Jean and he told him that our missing companion had found a lady friend to sleep with and was late abed. Hermann led us all to the house and was all for us peeping in but we declined and waited until he came out of his own accord.

  We had coffee and waded through the sellers of candles and amulets. These amulets were little heart-shaped affairs made of printed cotton with a string to wear about the neck. Some were selling colored cords to hang as an offering upon the sacred tree at the falls. We bought things and went into the enclosure where an unfinished church was standing. This is where the sacred palm tree once stood. On either side of the path were blackened stones, and each one of these stones was surrounded by an ecstastic crowd anointing themselves with the candle grease that sobbed down over the stones from the votive candles. They anointed their faces and their arms and their bare breasts. Some had ailing feet and legs and they anointed them. Several women were rubbing their buttocks and thighs without any self-consciousness at all. And thousands upon thousands poured into the place and up to the church and back again. The mass was celebrated at an early hour and when we entered the enclosure the people were pouring out of the church. There was Ti Cousin, the great houngan of Leogane, striding past all in snowy white linen; Dieu Donnez St. Leger, the great one of famed Archahaie, going toward the church. The scene was like a great place of flame in that no part of it was still at any time and it had so many different movements making up the whole. And it had its changing colors like fire too and one could feel the inner heat from the people.

  This great shrine of Haiti got its first breath of life in 1884, they say. In that year a beautiful, luminous virgin lit in the fronds of a palm tree there and waved her gorgeous wings and blessed the people. She paused there a long time and the whole countryside saw her. Seeing the adoration of the people, the Catholic Priest of the parish came out to drive off the apparition. Finally she sang a beautiful song and left of her own volition. She had not been disturbed at all by the priest. People came to the palm tree and were miraculously cured and others were helped in various ways. The people began to worship the tree. The news spread all over Haiti and more and more people came. The Catholic Church was neglected. So the priest became so incensed that he ordered the palm tree to be chopped down, but he could find no one who would chop it. Finally he became so incensed at the adoration of the people for the tree that he seized a machete and ran to the tree to cut it down himself. But the first blow of the blade against the tree caused the machete to bounce back and strike the priest on the head and wound him so seriously that he was taken to the hospital in Port-au-Prince, where he soon died of his wound. Later on the tree was destroyed by the church and a church was built on the spot to take the place of the palm tree, but it is reported that several churches have burned on that site. One was destroyed by lightning. That is the story of the Virgin of Ville Bonheur.

  The cascade at Saut d’Eau attracts as many people as the palm tree. From Ville Bonheur they mount on horseback to the falls. There the people drape their offerings of colored cotton cords on the sacred tree, undress and climb the misted rocks so that the sacred water may wet their bodies. Immediately many of them become possessed. The spirit Agoue’ ta-Royo enters their heads and they stagger about as if they are drunk. Some of them talk in the unknown tongues. Louis Romain, the houngan of the Bolosse who was preparing me for initiation at the time begged me not to enter the water. He said, and others
agreed with him that Agoue’ ta-Royo, the Maitre L’Eau (Master of Waters) might enter my head and since I was not baptized he might just stay in my head for years and worry me.

  The belief is widespread in Haiti that Agoue’ ta-Royo carries off people whom he chooses to a land beneath the waters. One woman told me that she had lived there for seven years. There are thousands who say that they have been there. They say they have no memory of how they got there nor how they left. There is a great belief in a land beneath the waters. Some say it is not beneath the waters, but one must pass through the waters to get there. One man told me that there is a place in Haiti where a great cave has been hollowed out by a waterfall and that if one knows the way they may pass under the fall and enter this great cave. He says that there is an opening from the cave like a chimney that permits one to emerge again and that this is where people have been taken who speak of having been under the water for years. He promised several times to show me this place, but he never got around to it. Some day when I have a great deal of leisure, I shall visit Haiti for the express purpose of visiting the kingdom of Agoue’ ta-Royo and see things for myself.

  There was a fly in the ointment that day. The local priest who is a Haitian had used his influence to station a gendarme at the falls. Therefore there were few cases of possession. There was a lavish denunciation of the priest though. High and low were there and all felt that a police at the waterfall at Saut d’Eau was a desecration, but expressions of fervor were not to be suppressed entirely and the hundreds of people entering the eternal mists from the spray and ascending the sacred stones and assuming all possible postures of adoration made a picture that might have been painted by Doré. It was very beautiful and fitting. Whether they had the words to fit their feelings or not, it was a moving sight to see these people turning from sordid things once each year to go into an ecstasy of worship of the beautiful in water-forms. Perhaps the priest has some good reason for attempting to break up this annual celebration at the waterfalls. I only heard that the Church does not approve and so it must be stopped if possible.