Voodoo in Haiti

  The initiates return to the sanctuary where they wash themselves with hot water and rub their bodies with a manger guinin (African food offering). They put on new clothes and take the things they have worn during initiation to the mambo who is supposed to own them. Those who wish to keep them may buy them back for a sum which, though symbolic, still gives rise to bargaining and hard words. The mambo, or more precisely the loa inside her, does not always conceal his impatience for the hunsi’s haggling. The small coins kept under the ears or stowed away in the folds of a kerchief are also collected. Some of the total is given to the drummers, some put aside to pay for a Mass.

  The hungenikon gathers up all the necklaces and tottering and staggering carries them into the sanctuary. The ceremony ends with dances during which many loa maît’-tête make a point of coming down into the initiates. With heads now strengthened, their possessions are free from the brutal and chaotic. The loa is now ‘in the saddle’—for good and all—and his ‘horse’ need never again be afraid of ‘losing its footing’.

  XII.—MYSTICAL MARRIAGE IN VOODOO

  A Voodooist seeking the co-operation of a god in order to achieve some ambition, or simply wishing to put himself under the god’s special protection, can make the god a formal proposal of marriage; and the same course can be taken by a god who wishes to bind himself more closely to a devotee. Does not the marriage sacrament provide the most permanent and unbreakable legal bond which can unite two beings?{79}

  When a god and his mortal partner have pronounced the ritual phrases and exchanged rings, as a sign of plighted troth, they know that henceforward they will have a common destiny and will be able to depend upon each other. Marriage entails obligations and responsibilities; if the loa’s duty is to watch over his spouse, then in return he must be given presents. One night a week must be reserved for the loa; the night of the day consecrated to him. To give this night to a mortal would amount to adultery which might be seriously punished. Some human spouses make up a bed for the loa and sleep in it the allotted night.

  Many Voodoo adepts think twice before uniting themselves to a god on account of the expense: for it is the mortal who provides the trousseau; and if the divine half is a coquette like Ezili, the cost of this can be considerable. There will have to be a silk dress, head-scarves, scent, jewels and much else. What is more, the divine spouse will take umbrage if cakes and wine are not available at the wedding reception; the price of these, added to the fees of officiating priests, can swallow up the savings of several months or even years. That is why many are afraid to obey when gods ask for their hand in marriage.

  Ezili, patron goddess of lovers, has strong matrimonial tendencies. She usually ends by offering her hand to any man who serves her with zeal, particularly if he is himself about to take a wife. Then she insists on marrying him first, fearing she may be supplanted. Usually the two marriages are celebrated within a few days of each other. If the human fiancé hesitates or procrastinates too much, then supernatural warnings become ever more numerous and insistent. Should he persist in turning a deaf ear, minor disappointments, setbacks and finally serious accidents remind him that Ezili is not to be trifled with. If he marries a mortal without first marrying the goddess, then his human wife will not live long. More patience is shown by the gods to a devotee who has no intention of marrying. He can then fob them off with assurances of respect and vague promises. A person who wishes to marry a god or goddess in the hope of securing protection has therefore everything to gain by remaining celibate for the time being: he will thereby save himself a great deal of bother.

  The first marriage I ever witnessed between a loa and a human being took place at Jacmel on the day of the Kings. Some friends had taken me just outside the town to a little sanctuary where I found myself in a considerable throng of people, many of whom belonged to the local petit bourgeoisie. At one end of the peristyle, beneath a red satin canopy, a table had been set up complete with candles, holy water, prayer book and a variety of things to eat. This altar was surmounted by coloured posters representing the saints. Two vèvè drawn on the ground showed a heart (Ezili), and a snake (Damballah).

  The ceremony began with the ‘baptism’ of the wedding dress and of two silk handkerchiefs. Having sung a few liturgical songs in a beautiful bass, the père-savane signed to the ‘godparents’ to come forward, each couple carrying a different object. Opening a prayer book he intoned a few prayers and then asked them in an almost threatening manner whether they were good Christians and if they really intended to baptize the head cloths and dress which they carried. He inquired the first name of each article carried. The godmothers, perceptibly frightened, answered uneasily in whispers. The père-savane trumpeted out the names as soon as they were given and sprinkled holy water on each piece of clothing.

  After an interval devoted to dancing, the woman who was due to marry Damballah appeared in the peristyle. Serious and anxious, as though overawed with the solemnity of the moment, she took up a position seated on a chair near the poteau-mitan. The père-savane sat beside her on a stool and chanted more prayers; then, without change of tone and to the noise of his sacred rattle, he proceeded to invoke the gods of Africa. The fiancée, who till now had remained impassive, began to show signs of nervousness. Her features contracted and her body became agitated by an ever more pronounced trembling. She seemed prey to violent emotion which she mastered with difficulty; clearly it remained liable to burst out. Suddenly her mouth opened and from it came ceaseless rapid staccato sounds. From then on all doubt was at an end: the woman was possessed by Damballah. No one seemed at all surprised by this metamorphosis. The père-savane continued to roll out his litanies, pausing only to tell the possessed to go and get ready. She complied and went off to one of the sanctuary rooms. When she came back she was dressed in white from head to foot; she was wearing a silk turban and held in her hand one of the handkerchiefs which had just been blessed. Supported by two women she made a tour of the hall, walking face to face with the hungan who walked backwards in front of her shaking his rattle as though luring her with it. The women stopped and finally with flexed knees they did three pirouettes to ‘salute’ their guide. The fiancée moved toward the altar, flanked on one side by her ‘godmother’—a pretty girl dressed in town clothes—and on the other by her ‘godfather’—a prosperous-looking person with a distinguished bearing. Since Damballah is in fact a mute loa it was necessarily the ‘godfather’ who was asked by the père-savane if he would take the lady to be his wife. He asked the fiancée the reciprocal question and slipped two rings over her finger: her husband’s and her own. He then read out the marriage certificate which ran as follows:

  LIBERTÉ, ÉGALITÉ, FRATERNITÉ

  Republic of Haiti, 5.847.—The year 1949 and sixth day of the month of January at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. We, Jean Jumeau, Registrar of Port-au-Prince, certifies (sic) that citizens Damballah Toquan Miroissé and Madame Andrémise Cétoute appeared before us to be united by the indissoluble bond of the marriage sacrament. Inasmuch as Madame Cétoute must consecrate Tuesday and Thursday to her husband Damballah without ever a blemish on herself, it being understood Monsieur Damballah’s duty is to load his wife with good luck so that Madame Cétoute will never know a day’s poverty: the husband Monsieur Damballah is accountable to his wife and owes her all necessary protection as set down in the contract. It is with work that spiritual and material property is amassed. In execution of article 15.1 of the Haitian Code. They hereto agreed in the affirmative before qualified witnesses whose names are given. [Signatures.]

  Assuming that the witnesses take on the heavy responsibility and answer in the affirmative.

  This deed to abrogate all laws and legal statements which are contrary to it.

  Asked whether they agreed to accept each other as husband and wife they replied separately in the affirmative in front of qualified witnesses hereinafter named; and they signed the register...

  By virtue of which we certify the act of marriage sta
ted hereunder has been registered as required by the law.

  Certified true copy.

  The witnesses were asked to put their signatures at the bottom of the deed. The bride made signs which suggested she wanted something to eat and was led to a small pile of flour in which had been embedded an egg. She knelt and was immediately covered with a sheet. When she had gulped down the egg, some rice pudding and other dishes, all white, were passed in under the sheet. As soon as she had tasted a dish it was taken away and put on the altar. Once the meal was over the bride—still possessed by Damballah—made three libations of water before the drums and then clasped both hands of each guest in turn. While doing this she seemed to have forgotten her divine role for she no longer flickered out her tongue or hissed. Suddenly, without any sort of warning, she was abandoned by her invisible husband and possessed by Ezili. As ‘horse’ of this new divinity she proceeded to simper for all she was worth, rub herself shamelessly against the young men and give them long kisses. Possession by Ezili finished as abruptly as it began; the bride regained her calm and serious manner and went off to don her town clothes again. The fete ended with the usual set of traditional dances in honour of the main ‘Guinea’ divinities.

  The second marriage to which I was bidden was that of Mlle L. C. who was to become one of the most popular folk singers of Port-au-Prince. When I met her she was still a hunsi in one of the town sanctuaries. To ensure success for her artistic career, then at its outset, she had thought it would be a good idea to unite herself in matrimony with Ogu-balindjo, one of the protectors of the sanctuary to which she was attached.

  I went with her, as godfather, to the altar where the pèresavane pronounced the ritual formulae. During the ceremony L. C. bore herself quietly and gently, even timidly. But at the very moment when I slipped the two wedding-rings over her fingers she let out a vigorous ‘Thunder and F——’, followed by other oaths equally violent. Her features had hardened and she stamped her foot in rage. She was no longer a young bride but the soldier-god, Ogu. Quickly her shoes and jewels were removed, as always happens when someone is on the point of going into a trance. In haste the drums beat an aux champs, the roll of drums to salute an important person or a god, as a sign of homage to the loa, and the flag-bearers rushed up to provide an escort for him. Indifferent to these marks of respect, the possessed danced a joyous mahi, during which, proud and smiling, she lost no opportunity of showing off her rings. The god within her, a real tippler deep in his cups, demanded a bottle of rum of which he proceeded to drink a brimming cup while the choir sang ‘He drinks, he is never drunk. Ogu drinks, he is never drunk.’ The bride was soon deserted by her husband who vanished as quickly as he had come; she continued to dance, but was soon ‘seized’ by Ti-Jean-Dantor, whose incarnation was rather brief. Scarcely had he, in his turn, vanished when the face of L. C. which had in turn mirrored the rough and ferocious features of the soldier-god and the rather depraved jollity of Ti-Jean-Dantor, became positively hideous. She lay doubled up on the ground with head twisted so that her face was pressed against one shoulder, eyes turned up till the whites showed, an inordinately long purplish tongue stuck out of grimacing mouth, and arms thrown back with hands tensed like claws. This living gargoyle was laid out on a mat and the crowd came pressing round it. Each spectator in turn stepped over the possessed and hooked a little finger in hers. There was a large crowd so the procession lasted a good hour. L. C. remained fixed throughout in the same grimacing, uncomfortable position. When Vélékété—for such was the name of the visiting divinity—had disappeared, L. C. got to her feet in one leap and resumed her normal expression as though she had torn off a mask. Mingling with her companions she did some more dances until for the fourth time she fell into a trance. The god who ‘rode’ her now was undoubtedly her husband, for occasionally she let out an oath or an obscenity and demanded rum. This she shared generously with the other dancers who had no sooner taken a mouthful than they too were possessed by Ogu.

  A few days later, meeting the bride in town, I made a discreet reference to her transformations. She had no recollection of them and listened to my account with amusement and scepticism. Such a reaction was normal since it is generally understood that a ‘horse’ knows nothing of what he does or says while ridden by a supernatural being.

  If the consort is rich enough the mystic marriage ceremony is just as brilliant as a bourgeois wedding. An example of this was the union celebrated by M. Baskia, one of the Voodoo priests of Port-au-Prince, a man who had enough money to do things on a certain scale. He had invited almost every hungan and mambo of the region and they had all spent a lot on their appearance. Many of the women were in long silk or satin dresses and the men wore coloured shirts and newly pressed trousers. Some of the Voodoo clergy were escorted by junior officials attached to their humfo. As they arrived the guests were placed round the peristyle in order of importance. Mme Baskia, a large and robust negress, wore an embroidered white dress and sandals of the same colour. She bustled about like a good hostess receiving important people, always ready to put them at their ease, and keeping a weather eye open for the smallest hitch. Her husband, in khaki shirt and trousers, was as zealous and genial as she. For two hours priests and priestesses exchanged greetings according to Voodoo etiquette.

  The wedding took place in one of the little chapels adjoining the peristyle. The groom wore a white starched suit and a pink and blue tie in honour of his divine bride, and polished shoes. The proxy for the bride was a dumpy, ugly little mambo; in her the goddess of love became flesh. Mme Baskia, who was to be the sponsor of the wedding, went and changed into a pale blue dress. During the ceremony four young women sang some beautiful songs which were taken up and repeated outside by a women’s choir. After the blessing the doors of the chapel were closed with the couple left alone, inside. When they came out the woman, possessed by Ezili, was entirely dressed in pink and her husband, still in white, was carrying a bouquet of white flowers and a bottle of scent.

  The standard-bearers of the sanctuary stationed themselves behind the newly-wed and crossed the shafts of their red flags above their heads: the hunsi fell in behind and the procession went dancing round the poteau-mitan. Ezili, true to her nature, had to flirt with the young men and pay them indecent attentions. The couple then went up to a table, under a canopy, spread with the most sumptuous meal: decorated dishes, cakes, biscuits, bottles of champagne and rum and a great variety of liqueurs. The goddess herself cut the wedding cake and slices were served round with champagne to the important guests. The small fry had to be content with beer and biscuits. While the couple ate in a seated position, the flags were waved over their heads. Ezili and her husband received the congratulations and good wishes of all the guests. The goddess rose to embrace the women present and in her customary manner hooked her little finger into theirs. She then danced with her husband upon whom she lavished marks of affection, then she sprinkled scent on the other dancers. The couple sponged each other’s faces with a silk cloth and the husband fanned his wife to cool her: an attention for which the gods have a weakness. When they had thus paraded their harmonious relationship the couple withdrew, escorted by the standard-bearers and the hunsi. A few minutes later the woman who had personified Ezili came modestly back and took her place among the spectators. Her husband on the other hand, who had already changed into a pink shirt and striped trousers, stayed in the place of honour. The remainder of the cakes were taken up to the altars or distributed among the guests.

  It would be wrong to interpret such marriages as just so much rather ridiculous play-acting. The union of a god and a human being, as carried out in a modern bourgeois setting, can be traced back to an ancient African custom. Among the Ashanti, a spirit who wishes to favour a certain person throws himself upon him and puts him into a state of trance. The victim of such sudden and apparently involuntary possessions is regarded as the object of the spirit’s matrimonial desires.

  XIII.—THE CONJURING UP OF LOA

 
; Loa, having higher knowledge and being very well informed about what is going on both above and below, are in a position to warn their servants of what lies in store for them. But they are capricious and it would be unwise to count entirely on their goodwill. When a situation requires an urgent solution it is better to question them through the intermediary of a hungan or a mambo who ‘calls them into a pitcher’ (rélé loa nâ gòvi). Such consultations are a common occurrence in a humfo; often the priest himself will resort to such a method to learn the success of one of his undertakings or to set the date for a ceremony. He will use the same procedure to consult the loa whenever a sick person comes to him for a cure. It is the spirits who will have to indicate both cause and adequate remedy.

  With Lorgina I was often present at these séances which could almost be described as shamanistic. The mambo, equipped with her rattle, shut herself up in the sanctuary, and by dint of prayers and invocation brought down the spirits and souls she wished to question into the pitcher. The profane who remain outside the closed room can hear noises and voices. Each spirit speaks in a different manner but nearly all affect a cavernous tone. The sceptics attribute such changes of voice to ventriloquism but the simplest explanation, suggested by the very name of the operation, is that the pitcher acts as an amplifier and distorts the voice of the mambo. Dialogues between the spirits, the priestess and the public are both naive and racy. They show up the nature of Voodoo much better than any amount of speculation based on ritual or mythology. That is why it has seemed worthwhile putting down in full notes taken during a consultation which a certain Choisi had requested of Lorgina. Choisi, having heard that her younger sister had been seduced and abandoned, was anxious to get in touch with and consult her mother who had died a few years earlier. Throughout the séance I sat beside Choisi in a room next door to the sanctuary in which Lorgina had shut herself up. Tullius, sitting beside me, whispered in my ear the names of the loa as they appeared and explained allusions which escaped me. Here is the account of that séance.