"Tros Loas" by Prosper Pierre-Louis, 1995

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Monday, August 9, 2010

The Divinity of Trees

A Vodou ceremony under a Mapou tree.

It's a classic scenario: a person lives at the edge of a forest, a person needs go into the forest to do something, he or she faces adversity in the forest, and hopefully, he or she will get out safe and sound.

The same is more or less true for the story of Ti-Jean with one huge exception: in Haiti, no forest is just a forest, and no tree is just a tree. First and foremost, a tree symbolizes the vertical line. The concept of the crossroads is of critical import in Vodou; they represent the intersection of the physical (horizontal) world and the spiritual (vertical) world, guarded by Legba, the loa of the crossroads, who can open the gate between the worlds. Hence, trees are natural manifestations of the spiritual world in the physical world. Where the two worlds meet at the base of the tree, represents this intersection and is key to the Vodou ceremony. The poteau-mitan (center post) of the peristyle (ritual enclosure) is indicative of this crossroads and is used when sacred trees are unavailable -- as such, all offerings and prayers are directed toward the intersection of the post and the ground.

Vodouisants in the peristyle during a ceremony. The poteau-mitan is seen on the right, surrounded by drums.

But while trees in general are receptors of spirituality, certain trees stand out in this respect, like the Mapou tree. Mapou trees (also known as kapok and matipo trees) are believed to be nexuses of spiritual energy and hosts to nefarious spirits. The tree is physically intimidating, ranging in height from 45-100 feet tall, with large buttressed above-ground roots. The trees are found all over the Caribbean, Central and South America, and are considered sacred by myriad cultures, including the Maya and the now-extinct Taino people of pre-Columbian Hispaniola.

I came across this travel blog for an American pair of Christian missionaries canvassing Haiti after the January 12 earthquake. They related the following story (keep in mind they're probably on the same page as Pat Robertson in the video below):

"There is a Mapou tree north of here and in 2004, the 200th anniversary of the curse, some pastors felt impressed to go to that tree and pray God's deliverance on it and from the curse. They prayed and heard spirits screaming as they left the tree. When the voodoo priests went to do their thing at the tree, it no longer worked (whatever 'it' was) and they complained to the officials. Political people are voodoo followers or at least partial to it so they arrested the pastors. The pastors were told to put the spirits back in the tree. God gave them wisdom and they told the officials that because they were their authorities and scripture says to obey our authorities, they would do as they said. However, they had one problem, they told them. 'Our scriptures only give direction on how to remove spirits; not how to put them back in.' And so, they were released. That tree fell over and died."

A Mapou tree.


Mapou were heavily attacked because of the rejete, the systematic and highly successful attempt by the Catholic Church to suppress the Vodou religion in Haiti (largely spurred on by the American occupation of the country from 1915-1934). However, the trees are still respected, revered and worshiped throughout the country. Lots of folklore has sprung up about the trees, and how they can be homes to all sorts of supernatural forces, from loup garou to bacalou, little man-eating sorcerers who party and grind the bones of their prey at night (which is why any Haitian will tell you, don't go near a Mapou tree after dark!) In a lot of the tales, the trunk of the tree opens up and is hollow inside.


Mapou, however, are not the only sacred trees; the Banana trees have a special significance as they are identified with the Fig tree in the Bible (another intersection of Vodou and Judeo-Christianity). For the Haitian, it is the Banana tree that represents the tree of knowledge and the banana that is the forbidden fruit. Milo Rigaud explains the parallels between the loa and the banana tree in his book Secrets of Voodoo.

"As the centerpost [Poteau-mitan] is the Voodoo sun, and inasmuch as the solar life renews itself by its daily rising and setting, the banana tree never ceases to renew itself by its shoots. Its perpetual outgrowings symbolize eternal life. The banana tree is, moreover, like the gods, hermaphroditic as to its flowers" (Rigaud 98-100).

In our sheltered, secular Western society, trees can be easily overlooked as functional plants that are good for the environment and heighten aesthetics. If we look deeper into the mythology, folklore, and religious practice behind them, a completely different world can be revealed.


A banana tree.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Speak of the Devil

"Chez les Mackandas" by Jonny - from an online gallery by Goucher College

One of the most pressing questions we have in this production, if not the most pressing question of this production is, "Who is the devil in Haiti?"

It's been a question that's certainly stymied me through the majority of my research so far. What's so tricky about this question is shedding the preconceived Protestant-informed notions of good and evil so relentlessly hammered into the contemporary American mindset to see things from a Haitian point of view. Pat Robertson provides a great example of this:

(What Robertson is talking about is the Vodou ceremony led by Houngan Dutty Boukman, which is widely regarded to have sparked the Haitian Revolution)

Massive cultural generalizations and oversights aside, I began my search for the devil in Haiti in Vodou, looking for anything that resonated with the Devil in the context of Walcott's text.

Maya Deren's Divine Horsemen: The Living Gods of Haiti has proven to be an invaluable resource in this regard. In it, Deren illuminates the loa (spirit/Gods) of Vodou and reveals their attributes, likes and dislikes. The loa that jumped out at me was Ghede, the loa of Death and Lust.
"Life for Ghede [aka Baron Samedi, aka Brav Ghede] is not the exalted creation of primal ardor; it is a destiny -- the inevitable and eternal erotic in men. He is lord of that eroticism . . . therefore beyond good and evil and is beyond the elations and despairs of love. . . if anything he is amused by the eternal persistence of the erotic and by man's eternally persistent pretense that it is something else. . . He may invent variations on the theme of provocation, ranging from suggestive mischief to lascivious aggression. His greatest delight is to discover some one who pretends to piously heroic or refined immunity. He will confront such a one and expose him savagely, imposing upon him the most lascivious gestures and the most extreme obscenities. Thus he introduces men to their own devil, for whoever would consider sex as a sin creates and confronts, in Ghede, his own guilt" (Deren 102-3.)
Whoa! Sounds just like the Devil in Ti-Jean! But what is important to remember is that while Ghede/Baron Samedi represents what some may see as the worst in people, it still represents something about people. He's a loa to be feared and respected, but not one who is inherently evil.

"Baron Samedi" by Andre Pierre.

I've since shifted my focus from Ghede and the loa and rooted my search for the Devil in Haitian folklore. Two stories that stick out in particular to me are the variations on My Beauty/Juliana/Adelina compiled in Suzanne Comhaire-Syvain's Creole Tales from Haiti. In this tale reminiscent to Europeans of Cinderella, a mother agrees to give a "Thing" her hated step-daughter in exchange for help doing laundry, carrying plates, etc. Time after time, the little girl is able to outsmart the Thing until she has exhausted her resources and calls on her faraway brothers for help.

The other tale, The Valley Where the Sun Never Shines, involves a family's struggles against a loup garou, an evil sorcerer who can change their physical form. In this story, a couple has four boys, but after each one is born, the loup garou masquerading in their home as an old woman to help around the house drugs the mother and stashes each child away in the Mapou tree (more on those to come) to fatten them up. By the time the mother gives birth to the fourth child, she is already thrown out of her house by her husband for her negligence - for the loup garou takes on various disguises to tell the husband that the wife traded the baby for XYZ thing. Eventually the matter is solved and a happy ending put in place.

"Loup Garou au Table" - Keven Si

Needless to say, there's a lot there, but I keep feeling like I'm missing the heart of the matter. These are all spirits and creatures that are like the Devil, but who are just shy of achieving true Diablitude. Is there just no Devil in Haiti? Or is he too dark to keep in books?



Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Island Time

Island Time

This radio special has proved an indispensable resource on the cultural and humanitarian situation in Haiti both before and after the earthquake.

The Artists of Haiti's Grand Rue, After the Earthquake

Erzulie NEW RECORDING by Zili Misik

Erzulie NEW RECORDING by Zili Misik

Some music from Zili Misik, our music director Kera M. Washington's band.

AMNH Website

A great Vodoun overview from the American Museum of Natural History as a companion to an exhibit there ten years ago, with information about art, the loa, and vodoun rituals.

http://www.amnh.org/exhibitions/vodou/spirits8.html#spirit

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Debris

An op-ed from the New York Times today about one of the prevailing issues in Haiti's reconstruction process:

See y'all next week!

PB