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Cover photo by Greg Willis courtesy of Flickr/Wikipedia as Voodoo Altar, French Quarter, New Orleans

VOODOO IN HAITI

BY

ALFRED MÉTRAUX

Translated by Hugo Charteris

Introduction by Sidney W. Mintz

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

DEDICATION 6

PLATES 7

ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT 8

FOREWORD 10

1—THE HISTORY OF VOODOO 16

ORIGINS AND HISTORY OF THE VOODOO CULTS 16

2—THE SOCIAL FRAMEWORK OF VOODOO 40

I.—THE SOCIAL FRAMEWORK OF VOODOO 40

II.—VOODOO CLERGY AND CULT-GROUPS 42

III.—THE SANCTUARIES 52

3—THE SUPERNATURAL WORLD 56

I.—GODS AND SPIRITS IN HAITIAN VOODOO 56

II.—THE POWER OF THE LOA 64

III.—THE VOODOO PANTHEON 67

IV.—POSSESSION 85

V.—EPIPHANY OF THE GODS 99

VI.—DREAMS 100

VII.—THE CULT OF TWINS 102

VIII.—ANIMIST BELIEFS 108

4—RITUAL 112

I.—RITUAL 112

II.—THE RITUAL SALUTATIONS 113

III.—THE FLAG PARADE 114

IV.—INVOCATION FORMULAE 115

V.—THE LIBATIONS 115

VI.—ORIENTATION RITES 115

VII.—MATERIAL REPRESENTATIONS OF DIVINITY 116

VIII.—THE SACRIFICE 120

IX.—OFFERINGS 125

X.—MUSIC AND DANCE 126

XI.—INITIATION RITES IN HAITIAN VOODOO 137

XII.—MYSTICAL MARRIAGE IN VOODOO 167

XIII.—THE CONJURING UP OF LOA 172

XIV.—THE FEAST OF YAMS 175

XV.—VOODOO CHRISTMAS IN HAITI 176

XVI.—THE CULT OF THE DEAD 188

5—MAGIC AND SORCERY 204

I.—MAGIC AND SORCERY 204

II.—THE SOCIETIES OF SORCERERS 221

III.—WHITE MAGIC 229

IV.—ORDEALS 239

V.—DIVINATION 240

6—VOODOO AND CHRISTIANITY 242

CONCLUSION 265

VOODOO GLOSSARY 270

BIBLIOGRAPHY 275

REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 287

DEDICATION

To the memory of

LORGINA DELORGE

mambo of La Salines

whose sacred name was ‘Dieu devant’

and to

MADAME ODETTE MENNESSON-RIGAUD

‘certified’ mambo

without whose help

this book could never have been written

PLATES

Map of the Republic of Haiti

I Lorgina Delorge, mambo of Port-au-Prince.

II La-place (master of ceremonies), carrying a matchet and leading a procession of hunsi.

III 1. A death spirit painted on the door of a sanctuary consecrated to loa of the Guédé family. 2. Baron Samedi, spirit of death.

IV Chango, one of the Nago loa, painted on the wall of a sanctuary in Port-au-Prince.

V 1. A small sanctuary consecrated to divinities of the Guédé family whose funereal attributes are depicted on the building’s walls. 2. The pé (altar) of a Voodoo sanctuary.

VI 1. Altar consecrated to divinities of the Guédé family. 2. Stone tombs in the Marbial Valley.

VII The first stages of possession.

VIII A hungan, possessed by a loa, dances round the central post of his peristyle.

IX Ritual salutations.

X A hunsi kissing the ground before the rada drums.

XI A mambo ‘twirling’ the hunsi standard-bearer.

XII 1. The segond or hunto drum of the rada orchestra. 2. Drums of the rada orchestra.

XIII Dancing the yanvalou.

XIV ‘Passport’ issued by a society of sorcerers.

XV Prints of Saint James the Elder and Saint Patrick.

XVI 1. Pilgrims at Saut-d’eau, burning candles before a sacred tree. 2. A crowd of pilgrims following the Virgin of Saut-d’eau.

ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT

Fig.

1 The symbol (vévé) of the snake god, Damballah-wédo, drawn by the hungan Abraham.

2 Two supports for ritual objects.

3 The symbol (vévé) of the loa Simbi-yandezo, drawn by the hungan Abraham.

4 The symbol (vévé) of the goddess Ezili-Freda-Dahomey, drawn by the hungan Abraham.

5 The symbol (vévé) of Twins (marassa).

6 Dish and pitchers consecrated to marassa.

7 The symbols of various loa traced on the ground during a ceremony at Crois-des-Bouquets.

8 Ogan, or iron bell, with its clapper on the outside.

9 Petro drum.

10 Assoto drum, from Cabaret, to the north-west of Port-au-Prince.

11 The symbol (vévé) of the loa Agassu-hayman.

12 A paquett, or talisman, under the sign of the Guédé, spirits of death.

FOREWORD

Certain exotic words are charged with evocative power. Voodoo is one. It usually conjures up visions of mysterious deaths, secret rites—or dark saturnalia celebrated by ‘blood-maddened, sex-maddened, god-maddened’ negroes. The picture of Voodoo which this book will give may seem pale beside such images.

In fact—what is Voodoo? Nothing more than a conglomeration of beliefs and rites of African origin, which, having been closely mixed with Catholic practice, has come to be the religion of the greater part of the peasants and the urban prôletariat of the black republic of Haiti. Its devotees ask of it what men have always asked of religion: remedy for ills, satisfaction for needs and the hope of survival.

Seen from close, Voodoo has not got the morbid and hallucinatory character which books have given it. A talented but rather fanciful American writer, W. H. Seabrook, has given the most complete account of the black legend of Voodoo. But that legend belongs to the past. It belongs to the colonial period when it was the fruit of hatred and fear. Man is never cruel and unjust with impunity: the anxiety which grows in the minds of those who abuse power often takes the form of imaginary terrors and demented obsessions. The master maltreated his slave, but feared his hatred. He treated him like a beast of burden but dreaded the occult powers which he imputed to him. And the greater the subjugation of the Black, the more he inspired fear; that ubiquitous fear which shows in the records of the period and which solidified in that obsession with poison which, throughout the eighteenth century, was the cause of so many atrocities. Perhaps certain slaves did revenge themselves on their tyrants in this way—such a thing is possible and even probable—but the fear which reigned in the plantations had its source in deeper recesses of the soul: it was the witchcraft of remote and mysterious Africa which troubled the sleep of the people in ‘the big house’.

Torture and branding were not merely reserved for ‘poisoners’ but also for anyone suspected of belonging to the dreaded sect called ‘The Voodoos’.

Even so, the few allusions to Voodoo which may be found in documents and books little known to the general public, could not have raised this rural paganism into the legendary terror it became, had not a British Consul, Spencer St. John, written a book, Haiti or the Black Republic (published in 1884), in which he described the most blood-curdling crimes committed by the Voodoo sect. This work was widely read and for long has been regarded as the main authority. The degree of its influence may be judged from the fact that it inspired Gustave Aymard to write his adventure story Les Vaudoux—a book in which the sect is described as a lot of fanatics thirsting for blood and power.

Spencer St. John’s revelations of alleged cannibalism in Haiti provoked, according to his own admission, very strong feeling in Europe and the United States. Although faced with an outcry in Haiti he nevertheless thought good to repeat his allegations in the second edition (1886), and even to add new details. As a result several writers denounced Voodoo as a cannibal religion and from their writings Haiti came to be regarded as a savage country where, every year, children were sacrificed and devoured by the monstrous worshippers of the Serpent.

The occupation of Haiti by American Marines resulted, amongst other things, in a renewal of interest in this African religion which the White world saw in such a dark light. The rhythm of drums which echoed peacefully in the hills to stimulate the effort of workers became, for the occupying forces, the voice of Africa, barbaric and inhuman, asserting itself over a country which had been seized from the Whites and from their civilization.

I intend in this book to discuss Voodoo from the point of view of an anthropologist—that is to say with method and prudence. If I have been chary of the enthusiasm of those who, at first whiff of an exotic religion, are seized with a sort of sacred vertigo and end by sharing the gullibility of its devotees, I have also taken pains to avoid the attitude of those small-time, niggardly Voltairians who never stop talking about pious fraud—with a good wink, of course.

My first encounter with Voodoo was in 1941. I had scarcely disembarked in Port-au-Prince before I heard of the campaign being waged by the Catholic Church ‘against superstition’. Having once read several papers on the suppression of idolatry in the Spanish colonies I took some interest in the methods used by the Haitian clergy in the twentieth century, and soon had to admit, with a certain amount of surprise, that the Dominicans and Augustans who hunted down demons with such zeal in Peru, would not have been ashamed of their French successors. It was at Croix-des-Bouquets, near Port-au-Prince, that I was given a glimpse of the vigour with which African cults had spread in Haiti: an enormous pyramid of drums and superstitious objects towered high in the court of the presbytery, waiting for the date on which there was to be a solemn auto-de-fé. I pleaded for certain pieces, which for scientific or aesthetic reasons, deserved to be spared; but in vain: the curé explained to me that the honour of Haiti was at stake and all must be destroyed.

The scale of this offensive against Voodoo, and the brutality of the measures taken against its devotees, suggested that its days were numbered; and so I conceived the desire to study it before it was too late. The Haitian writer Jacques Roumain, who went with me to La Tortue, was equally convinced of the need to put on record the story of Voodoo which seemed so gravely threatened. To this end, and out of our discussions, was born the idea of a ‘Bureau of Ethnology’ for Haiti.

When I returned to Haiti in 1944 the Bureau of Ethnology, founded meanwhile by Jacques Roumain, had managed to save important collections from the flames and had undertaken various researches into little-known aspects of Voodoo. Thanks to M. Lorimer Denis and other members of the Bureau (Jacques Roumain had now been dead for several months) I was able to get in touch with several Voodoo priests who had become friends and collaborators. It was during this period that I had the rare luck of meeting Mme Odette Mennesson-Rigaud. Few Whites have ever succeeded in getting to know Voodoo as intimately as this French woman who became Haitian by marriage. There is not a single sanctuary where she is not received as a friend—more—as an initiate. Once in the course of a Voodoo ceremony I heard her ‘valiant’ name mentioned among those of other priestesses of Port-au-Prince. The dedication of this book to her is but a small token of my gratitude.

Mme Odette Mennesson-Rigaud introduced me to Lorgina Delorge whose sanctuary lay in the popular quarter of La Salines, not far from the place called Tête de Bœuf. Maman Lorgina was a well-known priestess who, in spite of money troubles, ‘respected’ her loa (spirits) and conducted her rites according to the tradition learnt from her masters.

Although she was often carried away and looked terrible when in trance, she was an excellent woman, benevolent and hospitable. I frequented her sanctuary in preference to any other and was thus able to take part intimately in the domestic life of a Voodoo temple.

Lorgina’s welcome won me the sympathy and confidence of the whole fraternity. Although remaining very discreet about certain ceremonies and the initiation rites, Lorgina and the people in her house went to great pains to satisfy my indiscreet curiosity and always took care to let me know if a ceremony was due to take place in her sanctuary. My information therefore derives to a great extent from what I learnt from Lorgina during my numerous visits to Haiti. Lorgina died in 1953. I shall not forget that she gave me the title pititt caye—child of the house—and that I called her maman.

My relations with the Voodoo societies were not, however, limited to the Lorgina sanctuary. I knew several hungan—in particular Abraham who was one of the main sources of information for Jacques Roumain when he wrote his celebrated monograph The Sacrifice of the Assoto Drum. I was also present at many Port-au-Prince ceremonies, at Croix-des-Bouquets; and in 1947 I was able to spend Christmas in a family sanctuary in the neighbourhood of Léogane.

Some of the stories in the chapter on magic I got from M. Thoby-Marcelin; but it would be impossible to list here the names of all who generously provided me with accounts of magic, metamorphosis and encounters with evil spirits. I regret the dimensions of this work have limited me to the use of only a few.

As head of a sociological survey of the Marbial valley I stayed in Haiti from 1948 to 1950. Unfortunately the region where I had to work was the least fruitful for research into Voodoo. The anti-superstition campaign had there enjoyed an almost complete success. Those who in their heart of hearts remained faithful to the ancestral spirits did not dare mention it aloud, still less celebrate public ceremonies. However, the talks I had with voodooists sub rosa taught me a lot about the attitude of peasants towards Voodoo and about the colourful history of that religion. A recent trip gave me the opportunity of checking my information and of working in the archives of the Library of Les Frères de l’Institution St. Louis de Gonzague where there are real documentary treasures. Let me here extend to Frère Lucien my warmest thanks for his help.

Nor should I forget the young Haitians—Remy Bastien, Lamartinière Honorat, Michelson Hyppolite, R. Mortel, Jeanne G. Sylvain—who went with me to Marbial and took part in research. Some of their observations, and some stories which they picked up at my request, have been included in the text. I do not forget their efforts or goodwill.

The presentation of the material, collected in the course of different periods of residence in Haiti, has not been easy. It was impossible to describe, short of making this work quite unreadable, even a small fraction of the ceremonies I attended. The need to prune so many details will result, I fear, in the surprised indignation of many Haitian specialists who will search in vain through these pages for points of ritual which they perhaps consider vital. Again, certain descriptions will seem to differ from what they themselves have witnessed. May I remind them that Voodoo is a religion which is practised by autonomous cult groups of which each often has its own peculiar custom and tradition. Whatever anyone may say to the contrary, there is no Voodoo liturgy and doctrine to which priests and priestesses are obliged to conform. Such an idea is a widespread illusion which we must avoid.

Just as the Creole language in the north of the republic differs in many particulars from the language used in the south and centre, so Voodoo practised at the Cap Haitian and at Port-de-Paix is not exactly the same as that which I studied at Port-au-Prince and at Jacmel. It is therefore Voodoo of the capital and the surrounding area which forms the material of this book.

There is no literature on Haitian Voodoo to compare, in scope and quality, with that which deals with the African cults of Brazil and Cuba. Nevertheless, books and articles on Voodoo keep coming out and it seemed to me worth taking stock. This work is merely an attempted synthesis in which I have tried to include at least some part of all the documents to which I have had access. Naturally, I gave preference to my own observations and I never had recourse to the work of my predecessors except when it contained information which for one reason or another I was not able to collect for myself.

The great pathfinder in Voodoo research is Moreau de Saint-Méry who, in a celebrated passage, written at the end of the eighteenth century, gave a summary but valuable description. Among the authors of former times who have written seriously of the religion let us mention d’Aubin whose work on Haiti, published at the beginning of the century, is too often forgotten.

To Dr. Jean Price-Mars, today Haitian Ambassador in France, belongs the credit for making Voodoo respectable and even endearing to Haitian public opinion; he has exorcized the bogy with which the cult had become identified. Ainsi parla l’Oncle will therefore remain a great Haitian classic, less perhaps for its rather too timid pages on Voodoo than for the influence it had on a whole generation. It would be unjust not to mention the name of Dr. Dorsainvil who, a few years earlier, tried to interpret Voodoo scientifically and explain away mystical possession as neurosis.

The work of Jean Price-Mars provoked a series of articles in local newspapers and reviews. The Bulletin of the Bureau of Ethnology offered a platform for the intellectuals of Haiti—men like François Duvalier (now President of Haiti), Lorimer Denis, Emmanuel Paul, Lamartinière Honorat and Michel Aubourg who devoted themselves to the study of Voodoo and certain aspects of folklore.

Major Louis Maximilien’s work Le Voudou Haïtien may be consulted with profit even if one is not always in agreement with the speculations of the author. Although Milo Rigaud’s book La Tradition vaudoo et le vaudoo haïtien is dominated by occultist preoccupations and thus remains outside the anthropologist’s scope, it nevertheless contains excellent descriptions of ceremonies and copious, very exact information not to be found elsewhere.

Certainly Voodoo is still waiting for its Homer, or more modestly a good folklorist who will take the trouble to record the rich oral tradition of its pantheon. But an effort has been made in this direction by M. Milo Marcelin who has devoted two books to some of the outstanding Voodoo gods.

Among the foreign anthropologists who have concerned them-selves with Voodoo, Melville T. Herskovits appears in his rightful place as a pioneer. His book Life in an Haïtian Valley, written in 1936, is still the best source of information on Voodoo, and if subsequent works—notably those of Mme Odette Mennesson-Rigaud—have completed it on several points, they have nevertheless revealed no mistaken observation or false interpretation.

The American musicologist, Harold Courlander, starting from study of Voodoo songs and rhythms, went on to draw up a list of gods and dances. The sociologist E. Simpson, also American, undertook the study of the Plaisance region. He is the author of many articles on Voodoo rites as they were celebrated in the north. In this very brief catalogue of our principal sources a very particular place must be reserved for a book written by the American film camerawoman, Maya Deren, who in Divine Horsemen proved herself to be an excellent observer, though her book is burdened with pseudo-scientific considerations which reduce its value.

Voodoo today is less frightening than it was. The Haitians look upon it more and more as ‘folklore’—which seems to dispel the harm those practices do to the reputation of their country. Has not every country its ‘folklore’? It is therefore normal and desirable that Haiti should also have its own. People in other countries who say to their friends ‘Don’t go to Haiti: Voodoo is something diabolic, it is the worship of snakes and black magic’ are becoming rare. Distrust and disgust are giving way to curiosity which itself is gradually turning into indulgent sympathy. But prejudice is tenacious. Only anthropology, in explaining the true nature of Voodoo and in throwing cold light on the facts, can make this religion emerge from its cloaking shadows and free it of the nightmares which it still inspires in many honest but misinformed people.

Certain Haitians will no doubt be saddened that a foreigner whom they welcomed so warmly has, like so many before him, felt the need to write a book on Voodoo which they look upon as one of the most embarrassing aspects of their national culture. Let them understand that I have not given way to a wish to exploit a subject of which the mere mention is sufficient to stimulate the curiosity of the public; nor have I wished to obtain personal notoriety at the expense of their country. Throughout the vast domain of anthropology I have always been interested by religious phenomena and in the formation of syncretic cults. Voodoo in this respect proved a particularly fertile field. I am not its apologist and I know that sooner or later it must disappear. My purpose has been to describe Voodoo as it appeared to me. It remains for other anthropologists to decide if I was mistaken or not. I shall feel satisfied if, in approaching the study of Voodoo seriously and with patience, I have helped to make known the ordinary people of the Haitian towns and countryside, whom I learnt to love and respect.

LANGUAGE

The language of Voodoo is Creole which in Haiti is spoken by everyone except the haute bourgeoisie. It is not a coarse patois, as has often been said, but a comparatively recent language derived from French, just as French is derived from Latin. It has preserved phonetic habits and grammatical structures which, in origin, are clearly African. Most writers who have concerned themselves with Voodoo transcribe Creole according to French spelling. In so doing they make it easier to understand terms which are not too remote from the original, or which, intrinsically, have even maintained their French form. The disadvantage of this system is that it conveys the sound of Creole only very imperfectly and it tyrannizes over the language wherever it has in fact evolved to a state of independence from the parent stem. It might, therefore, have been logical to use some kind of simpler and more exact phonetic spelling for Creole. If I have followed in the track of those who have gone before me it is because this work is meant for non-specialists. It was important not to put readers off with renderings which would keep them from recognizing a French word. Who would suspect that ‘pwè’ is merely a way of writing ‘point’ and ‘balâsé’ of ‘balancer’? In giving Creole words an exotic appearance I would have been reproached with pedantry.

It is a different matter with the Creole texts which are quoted out of regard for scientific accuracy. For these the use of a phonetic spelling was essential. I have employed the one which was introduced to Haiti by the Protestant missionaries and which has been recommended by linguists. It follows the principles of all phonetic transcription. For every sound there is a single symbol. The rule has only one exception: the sound corresponding to the French ch (sh in English) has been rendered by two letters simply to avoid a diacritical sign on s. Nasalization is conveyed by a circumflex accent on the vowel (â: French an, en) (ê: French ein, ain, in). The accent grave (‘) indicates an open vowel; the accent aigu (ʹ) a closed vowel. The vowel u is pronounced like the French ou. We have thus simplified the so called Laubach orthography which maintains the ou and the gn for the palatalized n which in this work is represented as in Spanish (ñ). Fragments of African languages, which have survived in Voodoo liturgy under the name of langage, have been transcribed according to this same system.

1—THE HISTORY OF VOODOO

ORIGINS AND HISTORY OF THE VOODOO CULTS

The history of Voodoo{1} begins with the arrival of the first batches of slaves at Saint-Domingue in the second half of the seventeenth century.

Writers such as Moreau de Saint-Méry, who described the social and economic conditions of Saint-Domingue at the end of the colonial age, took pleasure in listing the numerous African tribes represented on the plantations: Senegalese, Wolofs, Foulbe, Bambara, Quiambas, Aradas, Minas, Caplaus, Fons, Mahi, Nago, Mayombe, Mondongues, Angolese etc.{2} Looking at these lists one might believe that the whole of Africa had contributed to the population of Haiti, but, in company with Herskovits,{3} I very much doubt if the tribes of the interior had much share in this forced migration. And Voodoo is not, in fact, a hotch-potch of mystic displays and ritual practice borrowed from all parts of Africa.

The available censuses of slave population do not give much indication of the relative proportions of the various black nations represented in the colony. It would be possible to make precise estimates only by a meticulous breakdown of slavers’ bills-of-lading, of deeds of sale and of notices in the local press. Such research would demand a lot of patient effort, but it would result in more than the mere satisfaction of a scholarly curiosity. In fact until it has been done, it will remain impossible to reconstruct the history of Voodoo without wasting attention on regions and cultures which have never contributed to the formation of the people and civilization of Haiti.

But, until such an inquiry has been undertaken, we may deduce from the historical evidence available and from the many surviving African characteristics to be found in Haiti, that most of the slaves came from the region of the Gulf of Benin, known till quite recently as the ‘Slave Coast’. Certainly Congo and Angola were forced to contribute by the French slavers of Saint-Domingue, and so too were Senegal and Guinea but the annual intake from the African coast consisted mainly of Blacks from Dahomey and Nigeria. The whole of the Gulf of Benin area had advantages of which slavers were well aware. The native population was very dense, as it still is today, and it seemed to offer an inexhaustible supply of men. Transactions were mainly with princelings who had long-standing trade-relations with the Whites and who were thirsting for European products—arms, glass beads, cotton materials, metal implements and brandy. To take the best known example, in the kingdom of Dahomey the slave trade had become a national industry. The economy of the whole country was based on annual expeditions against neighbouring peoples. The king kept a monopoly of the many thousand prisoners and sold them to the Whites, keeping back only those due to be sacrificed to the ancestors or those who as agricultural labourers had to fill the gaps in the Dahomean population caused by annual war. In 1727 the king of Dahomey ‘smashed’ the little kingdom of Whydah (the ‘Juda’ of the old travel accounts) and turned its capital into a huge slave emporium which was frequented by slavers right up to the second half of the last century. It has been reckoned that 10,000 slaves were sold annually at Whydah. To cross the few miles of dune and marsh which divides this town from the coast, is to fall prey to a vision of those long caravans of men, women and children who here took their last steps on the continent of their birth. The beach of Whydah is today deserted; there is nothing to recall the brutal scenes which took place whenever a slaver embarked its pitiful cargo to the sound of whips and screams. But surely the sadness which emanates from this desolate landscape has something to do with the memory of so much anonymous suffering.

The Mahi and Nago (Western Yoruba) were the traditional opponents of the Dahomeans. The raids of which they were the victims are today the reason why in Haiti the rada (Dahomean) rite is never celebrated without the performance of Mahi dances and without honouring and invocation of Nago gods.

The Dahomeans of today have not forgotten their cousins, taken away, over the seas. When they offer up sacrifices on behalf of their royal ancestors, they do not forget those who once were sold to the Whites. Melville T. Herskovits{4} writes that as soon as the blood of the sacrificial victim flows, a voice from behind a curtain may be heard singing: ‘Oh, ancestors, do all in your power that princes and nobles who today rule never be sent away from here as slaves to Ame’ika, to Togbomé, to Gbulu, to Kankanu, to Gbuluvia, to Garira. We pray you to do all in your power to punish the people who bought our kinsmen, whom we shall never see again. Send their vessels to Whydah harbour. When they come, drown their crews, and make all the wealth of their ships come back to Dahomey.’

As this was said, an old man called out, ‘And is that not a just payment for what they have taken?’ To this the reply, in which all joined, was: ‘Yes, yes, yes! And it is not enough. The English must bring guns. The Portuguese must bring powder. The Spaniards must bring the small stones which give fire to our firesticks. The Americans must bring the cloths and the rum made by our kinsmen who are there, for these will permit us to smell their presence. Long live Dahomey! You have not succumbed to slavery here, act so that those three...who died for the cause of our country in Brazil be kept in the memory of all Dahomeans, and give us news of them by White strangers to come to Abomey.’

Philology helps to confirm the data of history and tradition. The very word ‘Voodoo’ puts us on the track. Some people, in their anxiety to whitewash the Voodoo cults, saw it as a corruption of ‘Vaudois’ (the name of a sect founded in the twelfth century by Father Valdesius), but which had finally become a term applied vaguely to heretics and sorcerers. However, in Dahomey and Togo, among tribes belonging to the Fon language-group, a ‘Voodoo’ is a ‘god’, a ‘spirit’, a ‘sacred object’, in short, all those things which the European understands by the word ‘fetish’. The servants of the divinity are ‘hunsi s’ (from the Fon hu—a divinity, and si—a spouse); the priest is the hungan, that is to say the ‘master of the god’. Objects used in ritual are still known by their Dahomean names: govi—pitchers, zin—a pot, asson—sacred rattle, azein—holy emblems, hunto—drum, etc.{5}

If, turning for a moment from liturgy, we look at the list of Voodoo divinities, we find that the most important of them belong to the Fon and the Yoruba. Legba, Damballah-wèdo, the Aida-wèdo his wife, Hevieso, Agassu, Ezili, Agwé-taroyo, Zaka, Ogu, Shango, and many others, still have their shrines in the towns and villages of Togo, Dahomey, and Nigeria.

It is true that in the catalogue of Haitian loa one may also find the names of deities from the Congo and other parts of Africa, but most of these rank far lower in popular piety than the great loa of ‘African Guinea’ (L’Afrique Guinin).

Moreover, as we shall see when we study the Voodoo pantheon, the main divinities are still classified according to the tribe or region from which they originate. Thus we have Nago gods, Siniga (Senegalese), Anmine (Minas), Ibo, Congo and Wangol (Angolese) gods. Some gods even carry as an epithet the name of their African place of origin: for instance Ogu-Badagri (Badagri is a town in Nigeria) and Ezili-Freda-Dahomey (Ezili of Whydah-Dahomey).

Haitians and Dahomeans look very alike which is the more remarkable that for one hundred and fifty years their lot has been very different and no contact has been maintained between them; the Haitian peasant thinks of Guinea and Dahomey as mythical countries and virtually looks upon himself as an original inhabitant of Haiti. Yet the culture of Dahomey survives not only in the domains of religion and aesthetics, and in certain aspects of economic life, but also in such subtle forms of behaviour as gestures or facial expressions. And although the vocabulary of Haitian Creole, with the exception of a few African and Spanish words, is entirely French, the phonetics and grammar have much in common with those of the Dahomean and Nigerian languages.

But what has become of the other African tribal groups in Haiti? Documents and oral tradition witness the one-time presence of Congolese, Senegalese, Minas; but these must have been merged in the main mass of Fon and Yoruba, enriching the Voodoo pantheon with a few gods and adding to the liturgy their own peculiar dances and rhythms. Such additions have not appreciably altered the nature of Voodoo which in structure and spirit has remained essentially Dahomean. Moreau de Saint-Méry{6}, speaking of Voodoo in the last years of the eighteenth century, records that ‘it is the Aradas Negroes (that is to say the Blacks from Dahomey) who are the real devotees of Voodoo, keeping up its spirit and rules.’

The various ethnic groups of the Gulf of Guinea have basically a common culture in spite of linguistic differences and deep antagonisms. Resemblances were increased by reciprocal influence and frequent contact. All the slaves who came from that culture area had no difficulty in combining their respective traditions to build up a new syncretic religion.

The religious systems of West Africa, of which Voodoo is often merely an impoverished example, could hardly be described as primitive. They have kept alive beliefs and rituals inherited from the ancient religions of the classical East and of the Aegean world. Witness the part played by the labrys—the Cretan double-axe—in the worship of the god Shango.

Dahomean religion is full of subtleties. The Geomancy of Fa (divination by palm nuts) is so complex and so refined in its symbolism that it could only have been evolved by a learned priesthood with leisure for theological speculations. If we try to analyse, generally speaking, the idea Dahomeans formed of the supernatural world, then we find a supreme god, of uncertain sex, Mawu, and other gods related to him, grouped in pantheons and sometimes in hierarchies. A special place in this mythology is held by Fa, the personification of Fate. In addition to the major gods of nature there is also a multitude of divine beings: ancestors of clans, gods of vassal tribes, monsters and aborted royal foeti. Music and dance are so closely woven into the cults that one could almost speak of ‘danced religions’. Dance is itself linked with divine possession—the normal mechanism by which a divinity communicates with the faithful. Gods are represented by ‘fetishes’—stones, plants, vases, bits of iron and other symbols. In Dahomey the representation of the divinity by an anthropomorphic image is much less common than in Nigeria and this it is which surely explains the rarity of idols in Haiti, though in Brazil, where the Yoruba are numerous, anthropomorphic representations of gods are quite common. The cult of which the vodû are the object is celebrated by priests, many of whom profess to be the descendants of the divinity itself, or of a line of priests who have been in its service since the beginning of time. Each divinity is also ‘served’ by its vodû-si (consorts of the Voodoo) that is to say by people, generally women, who have been consecrated to that divinity and initiated in a ‘convent’. They dance for the vodû, are possessed by him, wear his colours and look after his sanctuary.

As far as can be deduced from ancient documents, the Dahomean religion of today is not substantially different from that of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries except of course in the matter of human sacrifice which was then practised on a large scale.

The transplanting of the cult of the vodû, from Dahomey to Haiti, raises many problems which have usually been disposed of in summary fashion. For a long time the apologists of the slave trade tried to establish a theory that slave cargoes were made up merely of the dregs of Africa which was then all the healthier for being rid of them. In fact most slaves were prisoners of war, or people guilty of some ‘crime’—a word which covered lèse-majesté and sorcery, as well as common wrong-doing. Consequently the holds of the slavers contained representatives of all classes of Dahomean society. The formation of Voodoo in Haiti can only be explained by the presence, in the labour gangs, of priests or ‘servants of the gods’, who knew the rites. Otherwise the religious systems of Dahomey and Nigeria would have deteriorated into incoherent practices or simple rites of black and white magic. Instead, what do we find in Haiti? Temples, organized clergy, a rather complicated ritual, sophisticated dances and rhythms. In spite of brutal uprooting from their own social milieu, the slaves contrived to resurrect, in exile, the religious framework in which they had been brought up. Bokono (magicians) and vodû-no (priests), trained in Africa, taught the following generations, born in slavery, the names and characteristics of the gods and the sacrifices required.

One of the peculiarities of West African religions is their domestic quality. Each sib has its own hereditary gods, which it honours to gain favours and avoid wrath. It is a striking fact that of the vodû still invoked in the temples of Haiti, quite a number belong to the royal family of Abomey: for instance in Haiti today people still worship the god Agassu who, when he possesses a devotee, obliges him to crook and stiffen his hands like claws. In Dahomey, Agassu, the result of the union of a panther and a woman, is the founder of the royal line of Abomey. In Haiti, he is associated with water deities and sometimes takes the form of a crab, one of the mythical creatures who once gave assistance to the Ancestor (and thus became taboo). Another god worshipped in Haiti is Three-horned-Bosu: Justin Aho, chef de canton in Dahomey and grandson of King Gléglé, to whom I mentioned this god, told me that Bosu was a toxosu, that is to say a sacred monster of the royal family, a deformed child or an aborted foetus, shaped like a tortoise with three protuberances sticking up from his shell. All these survivals suggest that members of the royal family, reduced to slavery, carried their own gods with them to Haiti, since no one else would have been qualified to establish their worship. The hazards of war and the exportation of slaves on a huge scale thus succeeded in planting in America gods whose cult in Africa has either vanished or lost importance.

Although some Moslem Negroes must have been imported to Haiti from the markets of Senegal, Mohammedan influence on Voodoo is imperceptible. It should be noted, however, that when a Siniga (Senegalese) spirit possesses one of his adherents he obliges him to go through a strange salutation—to move his right hand first to his forehead then to his left shoulder, then to the right shoulder, then to his chest and finally to put his thumb to his mouth, saying ‘ânâdiz sâdrivo—hibi wadhau—minâ âlahim—kalabudu’, or ‘Salama Salay gêmbo’, or ‘Salam, salam malekum, salay salam ma salay’, which seem to be corruptions of Moslem salutations.

In West African society religion is so closely bound up with every detail of daily life that we can hardly be surprised at its survival in the New World—even in the face of all those factors which ought logically to have destroyed it.

For the slave the cult of spirits and gods, and of magic too, amounted to an escape; more, it was an aspect of the resistance which he sustained against his oppressive lot. The degree of his attachment to his gods may be measured by the amount of energy he spent in honouring them—and this at risk of the terrible punishment meted out to those who took part in pagan ceremonies in which the colonists saw nothing but sorcery. Slavery could have demoralized them completely and sunk them into that gloomy apathy which goes with servitude. Mere physical exhaustion should have prevented them from dancing and singing as Voodoo ritual requires. Apart from the cruelties of which they were the helpless victims, slaves were made to work, even by good owners, to the limit of human capacity. ‘For the Negroes work starts before dawn’—wrote Girod-Chantrans{7} in 1782. ‘At eight o’clock they get their dinner; they go back to work till midday. At two o’clock they start again and carry on till nightfall; sometimes right up to ten or eleven p.m.’ The two hours allowed in the middle of the day, and all holidays, were given over to the cultivation of their own foodstuffs. This account is confirmed by many other travellers of the same period. The over-exertion was so crushing that the life of a Negro sold to a plantation in Saint-Domingue was reckoned at never more than ten years. We can but admire the devotion of those slaves who sacrificed their rest and their sleep to resurrect the religions of their tribes—this under the very eyes of the Whites, and in the most precarious conditions. Think what energy,