Voodoo in Haiti

by Alfred Métraux

  Some of the possessed have a considerable repertory of tricks. Their talent is particularly evident when they are possessed several times in succession and have to change their identity without intervening pause. They can, like a hungan I saw one evening, become successively Ogu-balindjo, a shrill god who sprinkles his head with well-water, and then on the spur of the moment turn into Guédé-fatras and carry out an acrobatic dance which in its turn gives place to transformation into Petit-Pierre—a gluttonous and quarrelsome spirit who to the joy of the gallery tries to pick a quarrel with the audience. Another time it was a woman who, prey to the goddess Veleketé, racked her body into strange shapes with her tongue hanging out and her neck twisted. She had managed to distort her body in the most terrible manner when suddenly she stopped incarnating the hideous Veleketé and became a blithe and frolicsome divinity.

  Whenever a depressing atmosphere develops as a result of the violence of possessions, then Guédé appears, puckish and obscene. He sits on girls’ knees and pretends to be about to rape them. The congregation revels in this sort of fun and laughs heartily.

  Ritual trances pose a fundamental problem: are they genuine dissociations of the personality, comparable to those found in certain cases of hysteria, or are they entirely simulated—merely part of the traditional cult and obedient to ritualistic imperative? To put it differently, when a man becomes the vehicle of a god, has he lost all sense of reality, or is he simply an actor speaking a part? This question can only be answered by firmly establishing the basic data relevant to the problem. First and foremost it is essential to realize the part played by possession within the social and religious system which has attached so much importance to it.

  Trance usually occurs during religious ceremonies, private as well as public. Spirits must take part in the homage which is paid to them and must themselves receive the sacrifices offered. Their appearance is expected and takes place at the desired moment. When the feast is being celebrated in a private sanctuary the spirits only ‘enter into’ the members of the family. If a stranger went into a trance it would be thought bad taste and he would be asked to remove himself. As a general rule it is the same people who are visited by the same spirits each year. Possessions are as arranged as the details of family ‘services’.

  But when a public sanctuary organizes a dance or a grand ceremony, possessions are not restricted to office-holders of the cult, mambo, hungan and hunsi. Many spectators, mere visitors, are abruptly picked upon by a god and for a few moments take part in the dances and rites.

  The confusion caused in the smooth working of a ceremony by successive possessions is more apparent than real. Only very seldom is the arrangement of worship disturbed by epiphanies. The main rites are always accompanied by possessions since it is desirable, and even necessary, that the main loa concerned should take part in them. They usually go into the person officiating and also into the man or woman who is pacing for the ceremony. In showing themselves they give an earnest of their goodwill and guarantee the efficacy of the ceremony. If the gods kept away it would be a sign of their indifference, or worse, hostility. When a present is brought for the loa, the priest, who will be the only real beneficiary, is careful not to thank the donor. Marks of divine gratitude will be shown later during a feast when the god incarnates himself in the priest or some other person.

  Collective possessions take place without fail whenever in the course of a ceremony the crowd get worked up by some spectacular effect such as the leaping flames of alcohol burnt in honour of Ogu, or when the zin (sacred pots), coated with oil, suddenly catch fire, or when small charges of powder are detonated to greet a god. Moreover some connection may be noted between possessions and certain drum-rhythms: the musicians seem to be capable of inducing trance by redoubling their effort. They themselves, then, seem subject to delirium; though they are seldom genuinely ‘mounted’. Hungan, too, know how to overcome the resistance which certain people put up against the god. They dance in front of them, staring at them all the time and making certain gestures which seem to have the suggestive power of hypnotic passes. On the other hand people who are subject to ‘attacks’ of possession but who, for one reason or another, do not wish to give in to them, make use of various magic procedures to ‘moor’ the god where he is. Sometimes they do their hair in a certain way or sometimes they carry in a corner of their head-cloth some ingredient effective against an attack of loa, such as wax. Spirits who have been ‘moored’ can do no more than make a person ‘tipsy’; their passage is quick and has only a moderately inebriating effect. To avoid being mounted a person can also remain seated with arms crossed and wearing a forbidding cast of countenance.

  Possessions also occur in ordinary, daily life. In fact it is in lay surroundings that the psychological function of possession becomes clear. Trance sometimes amounts to an escape-mechanism in the face of suffering, or simply fatigue. Dr. Louis Mars witnessed an attack of loa which took place in someone undergoing an operation; it broke out at the very moment when the pain was at its sharpest. On another occasion he saw two people became possessed just after a motor bus accident in which they had been involved.

  People who have to make some exceptional effort sometimes ask a spirit to help them—in other words they hope their task will be made easier if attempted in a state of trance. Stories are told of shipwrecked sailors who were able to reach land thanks to the god Agwé entering into them. In the course of a pilgrimage to the Balan cave, in the neighbourhood of Port-au-Prince, mambo Lorgina who was moving over stony ground slowly, because of rheumatism, was suddenly possessed by Legba: instead of limping and pausing every few seconds as she had been till then, she went on her way with a resolute step and without apparent weariness. Apart from this sudden access of energy the possession had no other effect upon her.

  It was freely said in Port-au-Prince that the dancers who had taken part in a dance marathon were all ‘mounted by a loa’. Hungan and mambo who had ‘doped’ them as an inoculation against the nostrums of their rivals, took care that their possessed condition was not too apparent. But the malicious and uncontrollable Guédé could not contain themselves. In the very middle of the competition the nasal voice of a Guédé cried out ‘Sé mwê Papa Gédé—mwé fò...’ (It’s me, Papa Guédé, I’m strong.)

  The characteristics of a loa can be very useful to the person in whom they are temporarily vested. A thief who has Damballah within him can slide through the narrowest openings like a snake. He can also climb with the utmost speed and even if he falls from the top of a telegraph pole he suffers no ill effects, because ‘nothing is impossible for a person possessed by a loa’.

  Trance does indeed make strange exploits possible. Mme Mennesson-Rigaud witnessed the most appalling gluttony on the part of the loa Guédé-cinq-jours-malheureux (Guédé Five Days Unhappy), who had revealed himself at the end of a big manger-loa (food offering for the spirits). Dragging himself along on his knees and elbows, he moved among the offerings all of which he gobbled, only pausing to distribute occasional handfuls to the children. Having returned to his normal state the possessed complained of hunger and asked for food. He was given a plateful which he cleaned up as though he had an empty stomach.

  Trance can provide a person with a means of escape from an unpleasant situation. One of the ordeals of initiation obliges novices to beg in public places. Some are ashamed to do so. They ask the hungan to call down a spirit into them. Once possessed they need not feel embarrassed since it is not they but the loa who stretches out his palm.

  The individual in a state of trance is in no way responsible for his deeds or words. He has ceased to exist as a person. Someone possessed can express with impunity thoughts which he would hesitate to utter aloud in normal circumstances. It is an observed fact that the possessed hold opinions or give free rein to aggression which can only be explained by repressed grudges. Their indiscretion is sometimes shocking and throws the whole crowd into a flutter. People show their disapproval and implore the go
d to shut up. Possession in this respect has much in common with drunkenness in America, which often excuses outbursts of frankness in the same way.

  The state of possession gives weight to advice which a priest, or anyone else, wishes to give the congregation. How often have I seen mambo Lorgina transformed into one of the mighty loa, scolding her hunsi or exhorting them to be obedient and grateful to the good Lorgina.

  Certain hungan hide behind their loa, protesting to their clientèle that it is not they who care for and counsel them, but the spirits of which they are merely the servants. Lorgina attributed the success of her medical treatments to Brisé, the ‘master of her humfo’. Possession allows a spirit to take the place of his ‘horse’ and assume his functions. Some loa have a liking for the profession of hungan and incarnate themselves in those who are officiating in order to control the ceremony in their place. This was done, it seems, by Guédé-Achille-piquant who finished up by being regarded as the true master of the humfo of a certain Dieudonné, who, not being a hungan, always performed the offices with this loa in his head.

  Possessions sometimes occur in the middle of the market at Port-au-Prince. A prospective buyer may suddenly perceive that the woman behind her stall is saying the most preposterous things to him in a nasal tone. He need not be surprised. It is Guédé who is ‘riding’ her and indulging in a bout of frankness, just to cheer everyone up.

  Some possessions satisfy obscure cravings which have a masochistic tendency. The possessed, in fact, sometimes hurls himself to the ground as though flung there by some power greater than himself, or bangs his head against a wall. In certain exceptional cases, rare it is true, women have ripped up or burnt expensive clothes. These acts are interpreted as punishments for some ritual fault which the ‘horse’ has committed. The vengeance of a loa can also take other forms, scarcely less cruel. He will come down into his ‘horse’ in the middle of church, at the Elevation of the Host, and so cause a distressing scandal.

  Loa who wish to humiliate their ‘horses’ put them in a dangerous or ridiculous position or abandon them suddenly, to such effect that the person possessed, becoming aware of and pained at his plight, suffers for it. M. Marcelin told me that during one ceremony a woman was possessed by Damballah and climbed up a tree where she prepared to hang by the legs from a bough which might have broken beneath her weight. The congregation became frightened and did not know what to do. An old woman traced out a vévé in the middle of which she put some sweetened water and an egg. She then sang: ‘Damballah-wèdo everyone is perfectly happy. It’s you who are in a bad temper. If you see Damballah, give him a caress from me.’ When she saw the offering the possessed woman came down from the tree, drank the water, swallowed the egg and immediately returned to her normal state.

  Last, but not least of the functions of possession, is the pleasure which it gives to poor souls ground down by life. They are able, by virtue of such a mechanism, to become the centre of attention and play the part of a supernatural being, feared and respected. Histrionics and exhibitionism undoubtedly do play a large part in the phenomenon of possession, just as they do in the case of genuine hysterics.

  Voodoo adepts say that spirits prefer to come down into people who resemble them. In other words there would seem to be a correlation between the character of the god and that of the devotee who represents him. Gentle people are inhabited by calm and friendly gods, while the violent harbour fiery and brutal spirits. It is true that the practice of Haiti, unlike that of Dahomey and Brazil, allows one person to be ‘ridden’ by several different divinities. The analogy of a loa and his ‘horse’ should only be applied therefore to the loa-tête, that is to say to the spirit who first possessed the subject and became his official protector. Not uncommonly, however, devotees are possessed by loa whose character is the very opposite of their own. Trance, then, acts as a form of compensation.

  This last aspect of trance suggested a Freudian interpretation to Professor R. Bastide.{60} In his view, possession allowed the repressed personality to come to the surface in a symbolic form ‘in a jovial, festive atmosphere without any of the sinister colouring which Freud gives it’. It was ‘a confessional which was played not spoken, a physically active cure—based on the muscular exaltation of dance instead of on a horizontal, disguised couch, in clinical half-darkness’. The comparison is slightly forced and attributes too much to individual pressures, when very often trance is a ritualistic reflex. We are also entitled to ask just what are the repressed drives which a person ‘exteriorizes’ through the medium of trance. Apart from the cases mentioned above, a subject’s behaviour is rigorously laid down by tradition, and far from expressing himself the possessed tries to personify some mythological being whose character on the whole is foreign to him. Most of the possessed apparently get nothing more out of their condition than does an actor who lives his part and gains applause. And the approval of the congregation is measured merely by the amount of attention it devotes to his words and actions.

  Too often people imagine that a crowd exalted by mystic enthusiasm is the usual setting for Voodoo possessions. In fact those who attend ceremonies as spectators only cast an occasional absentminded glance at the goings-on. They gossip on the edges of the peristyle, smoke cigarettes, or nibble at tablettes (pralines). At no time is the crowd subject to collective delirium, or even to a degree of excitement propitious to ecstasy. The traditional dances of Voodoo—yanvalou, doba, Dahomey, petro—all carried out with great seriousness, a subtle sense of rhythm and admirable suppleness—are far from being Dionysian. Only at certain ceremonial moments does the degree of excitement reach enthusiasm.

  Ritual possessions are often attributed to nervous disorders of a hysterical nature. Twenty-odd years ago Herskovits had already refuted that explanation by drawing attention to the stylized and controlled nature of the phenomenon and its frequency in a society in which it was the normal means of communicating with supernatural powers. The number of people subject to possession is too large for all of them to be labelled hysterics, unless the whole population of Haiti is to be regarded as prone to mental disorders.

  If trance is suited to an innate disposition in Haitians, then we may well wonder what mutation can account for the fact that the same faculty has disappeared from regions with the same ethnical composition, but where African religious tradition has either disappeared or been preserved less faithfully.

  Possession could hardly be explained entirely in terms of psychopathology. Such an explanation is probably only valid for a limited number of people who are unquestionably true neurotics, people subject to what has been called dissociation of the personality. Is hysterical anaesthesia to account for the impressive performance of those men and women who while inhabited by a god, handle red-hot bars of iron, without apparent discomfort? In ceremonies which I attended the possessed brandished plenty of pinces (bars of iron) reddened in fire, but they contrived to hold them by the very end. The hunsi who danced in the fire jumped prudently on logs which the flames had spared. All the same I have no reason to doubt the word of those who have seen the possessed grasp red-hot bars with wide-open hands. It is difficult for me to give an opinion of feats such as may be found in other religious manifestations, and among sects which practise an extreme form of asceticism. As for those Haitians who while in trance munch glass—their performance is of the same order as that of our own travelling showmen. According to Voodoo logic the ‘horse’ should not suffer for actions initiated by the god on his back.

  Apart from chaotic preliminaries there is in most cases of possession a theatrical element which unavoidably suggests a certain amount of simulation or at least of intentional delusion. We are entitled to doubt the authenticity of possessions which come, so to speak, on request, the moment ritual requires. The loss of consciousness, without which, from an absolute standpoint, there can be no possession, is at most partial with many subjects, if not actually non-existent. Take the woman who when wearing a new dress is possessed by Damball
ah. She avoids throwing herself on the ground in case she spoils it, although the serpent-god normally requires his ‘horse’ to wriggle along the ground. Take the person who refers to events or matters which she could only know about if she has remained in full possession of her memory. Take another, finally, who too obviously uses his divine immunity to give vent to his spite or his greed. How often, when talking to someone possessed, I have learnt that the god I was hoping to meet is none other than himself! More than one person possessed has been guilty of such give-aways and lapses. Here are a few examples: one day Lorgina, who was supposed to be possessed by Brisé, nevertheless begged for help from this very loa and praised him just as if she were merely his ‘servant’ and not Brisé himself. Her attitude would have made sense if the god had in fact left her, without warning, and without anyone noticing; but Lorgina then sprinkled her speech with oaths—of which Brisé is prodigal—and this showed that she had forgotten her rôle and, becoming aware of it, was trying to recoup.

  Organizing the details of a fete, which I wished to offer Guédé, I found the mambo and her acolytes, who were allegedly possessed by Guédé, became only too human when the question of money arose. Once the discussion was over and agreement reached, they again remembered their rôles and behaved like true Guédé. I remember one possessed who completely forgot she had a god inside her the moment I gave her news of a woman from her own village.

  Thanks to imperceptible signs it is sometimes possible to foresee when a person intends to fall into a trance. When I was on the sailing boat which was taking me back from the Islets where we had been sacrificing to Agwé-taroyo, a hunsi asked me to jump into the water. Feeling that she was going to be possessed I replied that I thought it wiser to stay with her and prevent her from jumping into the sea should a marine god suddenly visit her. I had scarcely finished speaking when she closed her eyes and began breathing heavily. Two men seized her but she managed to break free and threw herself writhing into the lowest part of the boat. There it was possible to overpower her. She grew calm and of her own accord went and lay down on a mat. She had been possessed by Agau who is a ‘diving’ god, which explains the efforts made to keep her from the side. The insistence with which this woman pressed me to jump into the sea suggests that even then she was intending to identify herself with Agau.