The obviously stylized behaviour of people possessed does not in itself allow one to be sure whether the origin of possession is voluntary or not. Only very rarely do you see a subject genuinely fight against trance and be overcome in spite of himself. I remember seeing a well-dressed woman in a crowd which was admiring the dances of people possessed by Simbi. She was certainly a member of the Port-au-Prince petite bourgeoisie. She seemed ill at ease and was looking at the dancers with an abstracted expression. Suddenly she shut her eyes, and her face contracted as though she were in pain. She began to sweat profusely, her shoulders and arms became stiff. In a few moments she was shaking all over and then was violently convulsed. The hungan came to where she was swaying, quicker and quicker, from side to side on her chair. From his closed fist he stuck out a thumb and pressed it into her forehead as though he were driving in a peg. With face still convulsed she closed her eyes as tight as she could, but in less than a minute her tremblings came to an end. She looked round about her and her sweating eased off. She seemed relaxed and remained seated as though nothing had happened.
Song, or more often drumming, has an undeniable effect on certain subjects. The hungan Tullius, during an audition in Paris, was listening to the tape recording of a ceremony which he had himself conducted when he was suddenly seized with dizziness at the exact moment when he had been possessed during the ‘live’ recording. There and then, dancing on a Parisian stage, he was properly ‘ridden’ by the god Damballah, much to the annoyance of his colleagues.
That possessions can occur during ceremonies which formally rule them out affords another proof of the suggestive nature of the phenomenon. One evening, during the rites which celebrate the seclusion of initiates—rites from which gods are carefully kept away—three people showed signs of possession. Two calmed down of their own accord but the third had to have his forehead pressed by the mambo before he returned to his senses.
The preliminary crisis has a contagious effect, particularly upon people who are nervous and unstable. That is why the sight of a possession often has the effect of provoking others, not only among the hunsi who are ready to be ridden by the gods but also among the spectators who have come as visitors or out of curiosity. In Voodoo circles, among the masses, a nervous crisis is not regarded as cause for shame or even anxiety. There is nothing mysterious or abnormal about it; on the contrary—it is a mark of divine favour. It would seem that those who have once been affected by and given in to suggestion become gradually more and more likely to succumb to trance. Their crisis, which is at first incoherent, ends by attaining the stylized behaviour which I have tried to describe.
Among the apparently stylized possessions which are presumably spontaneous, it is impossible to distinguish between those initiated by psychic infection and those which reflect a private impulse on the part of the subject. We may well wonder whether the convulsive and trembling phase may not be for many—I was on the point of saying for most—devotees of Voodoo, a sort of physical technique{61} which induces the ‘delusion’ of divine possession. This of course is merely hypothetical yet is it not possible that such a simulation of a nervous attack might actually assist the evacuation of the real personality in favour of a borrowed personality? Might not the exaltation and dizziness consequent upon such frenzied agitation, create a mental climate propitious to a certain amount of auto-suggestion? If this were so, then possession would engulf the senses in the wake of the heralding symptoms.
When watching some of the possessed it is tempting to compare them to a child who is pretending to be, perhaps, an Indian or an animal, and who helps the flight of his fantasy by means of a garment or an object.
Adults are the accomplices of this waking dream by supplying helpful disguise. The possessed then move in an atmosphere which is even more propitious than that of the child: the public does not pretend to believe in the reality of their play, it does believe in it sincerely. Among the poorer people and even in certain circles of the Haiti bourgeoisie, the existence of loa and their incarnations are articles of faith. Anyone possessed shares this conviction. Having undergone or simulated a nervous crisis his state of tension is such that it is not so easy for him to distinguish between his own self and the person he has been representing. He plays his part in good faith, attributing it to the will of a spirit who got inside him in some mysterious fashion. In short it would seem that merely for a person to believe himself possessed is enough to induce in him the behaviour of a person possessed—and that without any intention of trickery. Filliozat{62} compares possession to a ‘suggested state’ and explains it as ‘a momentary forgetting either of intentions based on normal activities, or of any real sensation of one’s actual condition’, all of which results in a person ‘acting against his normal will or believing himself to be in some other state than the actual one’.
The ‘forgetting’ of the possessed is not always a piece of crude mystification. For a person to admit that he remembers what he has said or done as a god, is to admit that he was not genuinely possessed—it being impossible to be oneself and a loa at the same time. Better convince himself that he has forgotten everything than admit that he pulled the wool over the eyes of everyone present, and of the divinity too. Whoever puts himself into a trance must keep up the pretence right through to the end. To simulate possession does not necessarily imply a sceptical attitude. The hungan Tullius whose possessions were often ‘done’ to oblige, was haunted by fear of the loa and took very seriously—even tragically—the threats and warnings which he received from the mouths of other people possessed.
The state of possession can be explained, therefore, by the extremely religious climate which obtains in Voodoo circles. The ubiquity of the loa and their incarnations are the object of beliefs so profound and so unquestioned that possessions are received with less fuss than the arrival of a friend. If a woman rolls on the ground or writhes, the spectators merely say ‘she has a loa’. This faith is contagious: it is shared by part of the Haitian clergy who naturally see in this phenomenon the work of the devil. A few cultured Whites accept possession as a supernatural manifestation and take an interest in Voodoo which borders on faith. The frequenting of sanctuaries demands from the detached and polite observer the use of expressions which in fact amount to an acceptance, by him, of the authenticity of possession. Indeed it is impossible to mention the behaviour of someone possessed without attributing it to the god who has gone into him. It would be improper to make the ‘horse’ responsible for the actions or utterances of his invisible rider.
The following story gives an idea of the conviction to be found among the possessed themselves. A young woman ‘ridden’ by the goddess Ezili had danced during a ceremony with a young man to whom she afterwards accorded her favours. While still in a state of trance she gave the young man a hundred dollars—all her savings. In this she conformed to the generous nature of the goddess. Next day, no doubt regretting her gesture, she pretended she had been robbed and would not accept the explanation of her friends—who said simply that she had no memory at all of what really happened. She brought an action against the young man. When the judge was informed of the circumstances he ordered the young man to give the money back; but the girl was at once seized with fear and refused to accept it. She was rightly afraid of going back on the divinity who had guided her while she was supposed to be unconscious.
V.—EPIPHANY OF THE GODS
Spirits when they wish can take on material shape and reveal themselves to men without making use of the body of someone possessed. Several peasants assured me they had seen Ezili in the flesh during the terrible flood which ravaged the Marbial valley in 1935. Just when the people who lived along the river Gosseline were fleeing in panic toward the high ground, they saw a boat lighted by candles coming down the river. In it was a splendid Negress surrounded by women who were chattering, laughing and singing the following song:
Ezili, Ezili o fâm kay mwê ralé kò (bis)
Si u mâdé-m pu m’a ba
u-li
Siu mâdé-m kòchô, ma ba u-li
Ezili, o, si u mâdé kretye vivâ m’a ralé kò mwê
Ezili, Ezili, o women of my house go away
If you ask for a chicken, I will give it to you
If you ask for a pig I will give it to you
Ezili, o, if you ask for a live Christian I shall steal away.
Hungan and mambo have more opportunity than ordinary devotees of meeting the loa in broad daylight. Lorgina prided herself on a conversation which she had in the sea with Agwé-taroyo. She described what happened with a wealth of detail. She had to go to Miragoane. Remembering a previous awkward crossing, she had this time decided to go by land. On the eve of her departure Agwé-taroyo appeared to her husband in a dream and told him to go by sea without fear. As a token of good faith she gave him a snuff-box and told him to make use of it. During his voyage his boat was hailed by another boat whose captain was a handsome Mulatto with green eyes and a luxuriant beard. The sight of him filled everyone with fear, but Lorgina had an intuition that she was face to face with Papa Agwé. The Mulatto turned to her and said in good French ‘Lorgina, how are you?’ He then inquired politely about the purpose of her journey and assured her all would go well; and with these words he vanished. The journey went well and it was from then on that Lorgina continually took snuff.
Of all Voodoo divinities it is Zaka the peasant god who most often reveals himself in concrete form. He appears abruptly in the guise of a rather rough peasant, clad in a deep blue shirt, trousers rolled up to his knees, a big straw hat and carrying the alfo (basketwork bag) which is an indispensable item of the countryman’s equipment. Often he limps, for he suffers like many a peasant from a crabe (a yaws lesion) on the sole of his foot. With the awkwardness and tone of voice which is attributed to people of the hills he begs a glass of rum or a bit of cassava. Woe to those that refuse him. Zaka disappears without more ado and whoever spurned him for his shabby, boorish appearance will soon feel the edge of his anger. He does not forgive easily and his victim must humble himself for a long time at his feet before obtaining a pardon. It is certainly no mere chance that stories concerning Zaka nearly all centre on the theme of his being despised for his lumpish and ragged appearance. Such tales unquestionably reflect the feeling of the peasants who, when they come to a town, are exposed to the rebuffs and disdain of its citizens, without ever daring to show temper or even drop the subservient tone they affect.
VI.—DREAMS
Spirits are apt to communicate with the faithful by means of dreams.{63} It would be hard to find a Voodooist who has not at some time or other been visited at night by a loa. In this respect priests and priestesses are particularly favoured. Spirits constantly come and give them advice and medical prescriptions, or talk over with them some new rite which they hope to see introduced. That is why people are always reluctant to waken a hungan or mambo.
Supernatural beings seen in dreams usually have a human form. They readily assume the appearance of a friend or relation—a guise which serves them as well as does a person possessed. The dreamer is not deceived: one detail of dress, a symbolic object or simply his own inner certainty reveals to him the identity of his nocturnal visitor. One young woman of Marbial, lying ill, was visited by Ogu who appeared to her in a dream in the form of her brother. At no time did she think it was the latter since the apparition was in uniform and her brother was not a soldier. She decided therefore that it must be some warrior loa, a member of the Ogu family. He led her out of the house by the hand and showed her plants which she must use in the preparation of a magic bath. When she woke up she faithfully followed the god’s prescriptions and never had cause to regret it. A female loa can appear as a man in a dream just as in ordinary possessions. Often when telling of a dream, people omit to mention the form taken by the god, just as when awake they speak of encountering a loa without paying any attention to his ‘horse’. It is possible to be possessed by a loa during sleep. Whoever has had this experience remembers it well, unlike the person who, possessed when awake, remembers nothing of what he did or said.
It sometimes happens that while sleeping a person takes part in dramatic events which are no mere simple fantasies of the imagination but genuine visions which reveal to the sleeper that his life is in danger and the spirits disputing it among themselves.
Marie-Noël who was ‘queen-chorister’ for a grand hungan of Port-au-Prince told me of an extraordinary dream{64} in which she learnt that if she were persecuted by wicked people who wanted to kill her by sending dead souls against her, she could none the less rely upon the protection of powerful divinities. In the dream a policeman in khaki uniform had come to ask lodging for the night. He warned her he would have to leave early and that he had no money with which to pay. Marie-Noel replied, ‘That doesn’t matter, stay and sleep here and tomorrow morning I’ll call you punctually at four o’clock.’ The policeman went to bed and slept. Meanwhile some malicious people slandered Marie-Noël. One of them said, ‘I’m going to have Marie-Noël arrested; I’m going to send a he-dog to open her door.’ And indeed a male dog did jump against the door and pulled it, whereupon she opened it. Behind it Marie-Noël saw three policemen all in white. Her guest who had been asleep protested: ‘This is all wrong: you have no right to behave like this! Only if someone steals are policemen called in to arrest him.’ Marie-Noël began to weep but her defender said to her, ‘Don’t cry. Dress. Wherever you go I will be beside you.’ And in fact when Marie-Noël went out he placed himself at her left hand while the three policemen took up positions behind her.
Marie-Noël was taken by the policemen to the station which lay near the cemetery. There were many people there, each with a candle in his hand. They were dead. A big sergeant sat behind a desk with a corporal beside him. They had black stripes on their sleeves. They alone carried no candle. The corporal told Marie-Noël to light a candle. Marie-Noël refused and a lively argument broke out between her and the corporal. The sergeant called her before his desk and said to her, ‘You will light one here.’ Marie-Noël refused with heat and said, ‘Even if you put a pistol to my head I’ll never light a candle.’ She then asked to be taken to the central police station to be judged, whereupon the sergeant asked her: ‘What is your name?’
‘Marie-Noël Auguste.’
‘Auguste who?’
‘Auguste Gustave.’
He went on like this till he had reached back to the fifth generation. Then in an outburst of rage he shouted, ‘Good heavens—whenever this woman comes into my office I never manage to get her name. You can go.’ Marie-Noël went out of the police station with the khaki policeman who all along had kept beside her without opening his mouth. They parted at a crossroads and she woke up. A few days later when she was asleep the god Ogu, sword in hand, appeared before her and said, ‘Do you recognize me? It is me Ogu-badagri, the nago royo Negro, who came as a policeman in khaki uniform...The other policemen who came to fetch you were dead men. The man you were hauled in front of was Baron-Samedi [the god of the dead]. If you had lighted a candle you would have been lost.’
Loa appear to their servants in dreams to warn them of sorceries by which they are threatened. A woman of the Saline quarter, in Port-au-Prince, told me she had escaped being poisoned thanks to the intervention of Damballah-wèdo. She had dreamed a Mulatto advised her not to touch a dish which someone was going to offer her. And indeed on the following day she was visited by a neighbour who brought her a fine plateful of white rice. She immediately threw it out, well clear of the house. The dish was poisoned for out of it there crawled a huge, hairy, green worm.
The loa also appear to their servants in sleep to tell them that some favour which they asked for has been granted. I knew one devotee, the mother of a very fair-skinned baby, who said this child had ‘been given her by Damballah’. Before it was born she had dreamed of a very tall, thin white man (the snake Damballa is a white god) who was holding a white baby in his arms. She said her child moved in a s
upple and undulating way, which proved that it was the serpent god who had sent him.
VII.—THE CULT OF TWINS
Twins (marassa), living and dead, are endowed with supernatural power which makes them exceptional beings.{65} In the Voodoo pantheon they hold a privileged position beside the grands mystères. Some people would even claim that they are more powerful than the loa. They are invoked and saluted at the beginning of a ceremony immediately after Legba; in some regions, notably Léogane, they even come before him.
Any family which includes twins, either among its living members or in one of its ancestral lines must, under pain of ‘chastisement’, serve them with offerings and sacrifice. Sometimes a family reeling under a series of misfortunes learns from a hungan that it has been neglecting twins far back in its ancestry ‘at the time of Guinea’. A child counts as a twin when it is born with webbed feet, for this is a sign that it has ‘eaten’ its brother in the womb.
Dead twins are deified and their spirits are as formidable as they are made out to be—quite the equal of living twins—choleric, violent and extremely touchy. There is a link between marassa and rain. They can foretell it and even bring it on if sufficiently wooed with offerings. The twins are represented by images of Cosmas and Damian, the martyr twins. Saint Nicholas (who brought back to life the three children which the wicked butcher put in the salting-tub) passes as their father; Saint Claire as their mother. To obtain a favour of the marassa it is customary to appeal to Saint Nicholas, with face turned toward the east.
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