Samedi: Ghost Stories

There's a chill in the air and the smell of smoke. Night comes earlier and creatures great and small are preparing for the bleak months ahead. Hallowe'en is in the offing; that can only mean one thing: it's time for Saturday ghost stories. Gather round and let me tell you of the things that go bump in the night. And so we shall honor those whose day it is, the King and Queen of the Dead, Baron Samedi and Maman Brigitte.

This story originated somewhere in the southeastern United States. Often claimed by the Gullah coast of Georgia, that claim is just as often contested by the bayous south of New Orleans. It plays on the ancient belief that dogs can see supernatural beings in general and ghosts in particular. I tell it in my own voice, imagining myself back on the old homestead down Rigolets way when I was a teenager. The place was my father's Aunt Bette's house, rickety and creaky and full of it's own spirits no doubt. It's gone now, but I remember the two short summers I spent there every time I tell these stories.

My Aunt once told me, when I was just fourteen, that dogs can see ghosts. I didn't think much of it at first, but she would often point to her big mutt when he jumped or barked or howled for no apparent reason and say: "There; Gator sees a spirit." It did get me wondering about it when I went back home to California.

Two summers later, I was back at Aunt Bette's and I asked her to tell me more about dogs seeing ghosts.

"Oh, people can too," she told me. "How," I asked. "All you do is run your finger over a dog's eyelashes and then run that wet finger over your eye," she made the motion as she spoke, smearing her thick eyeliner a bit. "Y'all will see all the spirits round this bayou. But be warned." My Aunt paused here, and looked at me with a serious stare. "Some of 'em ain't that pretty."

A few nights later, after supper, I was on the porch with Gator. He was snapping at a fly that got through the screens and then all of a sudden he stopped, looked straight out into the dark and howled. The sound was high pitched, like a hurricane wind through broken glass. The hair on my neck stood up; the hair on Gator's did too. I don't know what came over me but before I could think I wiped my finger over Gator's one good eye and then swiped it over both of mine.

I turned my eyes back to the dark. "Any spooks out there," I called. "Cause my dog and I can see you all."

I didn't see a thing except dark beyond the porch light. The only noise was the song of frogs.

Standing up, and still quite without thinking, I opened the porch screen and stepped down to the ground. Gator came with me, his one good eye still peering out toward the water and his tail between his legs.

"You spirits out there?" My bravado was more for myself now. The dark was thick and I could spy a mist rising from the dead cypress trees in the water. "I can see you. Show yourselves."

As we watched, Gator and I, that mist took form. Rising up before us, like a reanimated corpse coming straight out of its tomb, was the white incarnation of a dead woman. She wore old fashioned clothes that were dripping with water and moss. Her face was like a skull and as we watched her right arm raised up from her side and her bony finger pointed straight to us. Her jaw dropped and a scream, so piercing I thought my eardrums exploded, emanated from her open mouth.

Where a moment before we had been glued to the ground, Gator and I sprang into action at the same time. We jumped back up onto the porch, ran into the house and dove under the afghan that always hung over the back of it. There we huddled together, shivering even though it was 90 degrees outside.

My Dad and my Aunt, who had been in the kitchen having a little after supper something, heard the screen door slam and came into the front room. When Aunt Bette saw Gator and me quivering under her blue and white afghan, she must have known what was going on. "Just leave 'em, Jack," she said when my Dad starts asking what we're up to. "I think I scared your girl with my ghost stories."

Dad went back in the kitchen but Aunt Bette turned back the afghan and whispered: "You better wash your face well tonight. Especially those green eyes. Gator and I can tell you, there's a lot more gruesome specters in the corners of this old place."

Aunt Bette went back to the kitchen and I ran upstairs, my eyes closed until I reached the bathroom. I scrubbed my eyes with soap, and that's no lie. They were red for a week, but it was better than ever, ever seeing a ghost again.

Header: Danse Macabre via Gutenberg online

Samedi: The Ghede Revisited

Haiti is rich with dark myths and voodoo legends, including many frightening tales of the evil Ghede.  This lord of the dead is a tall man who wears a long black coat, black top hat, and dark glasses.  He is considered a powerful devil who constantly seeks the ruin of souls.

Ghede stands at the eternal crossroads through which all souls must pass upon death.  He has the power to resurrect the dead and to animate zombies.  One of his most frightening attributes is his ability enternally to torment the souls of corpses stolen by sorcerers.  Haitians believe that only prayer and holy ritual can save them from the clutches of Ghede.  ~ from Encyclopedia of Hell by Miriam Van Scott

First of all: say what!?

Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, let’s break this down a little bit.  In Haitian Voudon and New Orleans voodoo the Ghede (they are generally imagined as a group, not as a single entity) are nothing more frightening than the spirits of the dead.  They are led by a smaller group – usually of three but sometimes as many as seven – of gentlemen known as the Barons.  Baron Samedi is the most familiar and the most often addressed.  His wife is one of the few female Ghede, the powerful Maman Brigitte.  In New Orleans, Baron Samedi is considered the patron lwa of the city and its surrounding bayous.  For an extended but by no means complete list of the well known Haitian Ghede, click here.

There is nothing of the devil or demon in Ghede lore.  In fact the Ghede – though they usually go uninvited – are some of the most welcome guests when spirit possession occurs at the oumphor.  Their hard drinking, sense of humor and honesty are a welcome diversion from the sometimes more difficult lessons brought from Ginen by the lwa.  In fact, the only participant who will have nothing to do with the Ghede is usually a spirit and not a human; the beautiful Erzulie Freda Dahomey cannot abide the Ghede, as they remind her of aging and corruption.  She will complain that they are “chameau”: stinky.

The idea of torment and torture of a soul after death is alien to Haitian Voudon.  In this world view, souls retreat to the underwater haven of Ginen where, if offerings are made to them and they are strong enough to help the living, they might even become lwa themselves.  I won’t even cross the line into corpse thieving or zombies as I have no direct experience with either.  Such things do occur, but it is not the Ghede who are called upon for help with those matters.

In the end, Van Scott’s two paragraphs seem at the very least a misunderstanding of Voudon and voodoo.  At its worst, the entry is a another blatant attempt to demonize the gods/spirits of a religion that does not conform to the Judeo-Christian-Muslim world view.  When I was studying anthropology in school – back in the ‘80s children – we were stringently and frequently reminded that ethnocentrism was the bane of any serious study of man and man’s beliefs.  Van Scott’s book bares a 1998 copyright.  Evidently not everyone got the message.

Header:  Baron Samedi via Deities & Demons (see the sidebar)

Samedi: Voudon Chants

One of the largest parts of any Voudon ritual is music.  Drums are a staple at the oumphor; in fact each one usually has its own name and resting place for when it is not in use.  The rhythmic stomping of feet and clapping of hands is also part of the tune and the clear voices of the worshippers raised in song completes the sound. 

The songs, or chants, are slightly different in each oumphor, but their meanings and their use in worship are the same.  Some are sung in Haitian Creole and some are sung in French; in New Orleans voodoo, the chants may also be sung in English.  None of this changes the importance of the songs, which can address a specific lwa or a lwa nachon.  Either way they are sung to entreat the spirits to help in a specific working being undertaken by the mambo or houngan.  They are similar to the raising of power done by groups of Wiccans or the prayers repeated by an entire congregation of Catholics.

Milo Rigaud, a native of Haiti born in the early 20^th century, recorded many of the old chants in his book Secrets of Voodoo.  Published in 1953 and still in print today, the book is a careful study of Haitian Voudon that, despite its somewhat titillating title, should be on the shelf of any serious student of the religion.  Rigaud documented many of the chants, in Creole or French and English, so the words used when he was writing are still available to us today.  To my knowledge, not much about them has changed.

As an example, here is the Yanvalou (part of the service-lwa or ritual of worship) to the Queen of the Ghede Maman Brigitte as sung in Port-au-Prince according to Rigaud:

Maman Brigitte!  Maman moin!

O! Ououe ca?

A l’entour caille-la

Gangnin dif e la-dans ni

Nous cache bois

Pou Nous semble dif e;

Nous cache d’l’eau pou nous

Touye dif e.

La plus par tome

Ou pas our?

Terre-la glisse.

Mother Brigitte!  My mother!

Oh! See that?

Around the house,

There’s a fire in it.

We gather wood

To build a fire;

We gather water to

Extinguish the fire.

The rain does not fall.

Don’t you see?

The ground is slick.

Maman Brigitte is thus called up to protect not only the oumphor but the worshipers within it as well.  An appropriate chant, I think, on this her holy day.  Bon Samedi ~

Header: Maman Brigitte painting via Vudu Mexico

Samedi: Voudon Calendar

Like most religions, Voudon has its own special festivals designed to bring worshipers into touch with the divine spirits.  Depending on where a voudonist is from, the main festivals, or fetes as they are called, will number between twelve and twenty per year.  I spent time in the Les Cayes region and keep the fetes that were taught to me there.  Though local festivals can raise the number to as many as thirty, this general list of fetes is an all around if not all inclusive example of the celebrations in Voudon.

Many of the fetes are synergized with Catholic Holy Days.  This, it goes with out saying, gave the original slave population of old Sante Domingue the opportunity to celebrate the lwa without drawing attention to their practices.  To masters and overseers, the slaves were celebrating Our Lady of Mount Carmel on July 16^th, for instance, when in fact they were raising a fete for Erzulie Freda.

For the purposes of this list, I will give the date, Voudon fete, Catholic Holy Day and significance as I understand it.

January 6,  Voudon Fete Les Rois, Catholic Epiphany: This celebration honors the ancestral kings of Africa and is similar to celebrations of the 9 African Powers in Santeria

February 25, Manje Tet Dlo, no corresponding Holy Day: Offerings are made to feed rivers and springs so that they will continue to provide sweet water

Movable fete usually in March or April, Fete Souvenance, Good Friday: A weeklong festival held in Souvenance which only houngans and mambos may participate in

March 20, Legba Zaou, no Holy Day: Homage is paid to Papa Legba through the sacrifice of a black goat

April 30, Manje mo, no Holy Day: Offerings of food are made to family ancestors

May 12, Manje lwa, no Holy Day: Offerings of food are made to the lwa sacred to the local ounfo

July 16, Fete Saut d’Eau, Our Lady of Mount Carmel: People make a pilgrimage to bathe in the waterfall at Saut d’Eau recognizing Erzulie Freda

July 25, Fete Ougo, St. James: People make a pilgrimage to Plaine du Nord in recognition of Ougo Ferraille

August 15, Fete Soukri Kongo, Feast of the Assumption:  Weeklong honoring of the Kongo lwa at Nan Soukri

November 2, Fete de mo, All Souls’ Day: Weeklong remembrance of dead family members and Ghede lwa like Maman Brigitte and Baron Samedi including ritual meals which are prepared without salt

November 25, Manje yanm, no Holy Day: Celebration of the harvest

December 25, Fete des Membres, Christmas: Every attempt is made to return to one’s home where ritual baths and feasting are part of the celebrations

December 28, Manje Marasa, Feast of the Holy Innocents: The divine twin lwa known as the Marasa are celebrated

My personal favorite is Fete de mo, because I especially appreciate that this is a celebration that was recognized by my Celtic ancestors as well.  Finding connections to all the things that we are and can be may be the best thing that any religion, “organized” or not, can do for us.  At least that’s what I hope for.  Bon Samedi mes amis ~

Header: Soukri Kongo celebration in modern Haiti via HaitiXchange.com

Samedi: The Family Erzulie

In Haitian Voudon, a group of female lwa stands out as a particularly dysfunctional sisterhood.  These are the Erzulies or Ezilis as they are known in Creole. 

There is Erzulie Freda Dahomey, the gorgeous and luxurious.  She is the queen of all things beautiful, sensuous and graceful.  Erzulie Freda is envisioned as a light skinned woman with light eyes; she speaks only French and is the dream of every mortal man.  She is herself a sensual animal who takes lovers from among the lwa and her human worshipers.  Maryaj lwa with Erzulie, though not necessarily common, is one of the most likely such entanglements with the lwa for a man to find himself in.  Erzulie Freda is said to be the “consort” of three male lwa: Danbala, Ogou and Agwe.  All of these gentlemen are married to others.

Erzulie Freda’s sister, or perhaps her other half, is La Siren.  She is the blond haired, white skinned mermaid who is lwa of the deep blue sea.    Mermaids are extremely common in Afro-Caribbean and African American stories.  The tales generally tell of a beautiful, fish-tailed woman who lures an adult or sometimes a child down to her watery domain where they live for what seems like a year, but is in fact decades or even centuries.  La Siren follows this pattern as well.  Though generally benevolent, she can turn violent just as the sea does in a storm.  In this guise she is known as La Balien – the whale – and she can be deadly.  She is married to the sea lwa and admiral, Agwe.

The third sister is Erzulie Danto, the mother lwa of the Petwo nachon whose tongue was cut out by Haitian revolutionaries so that she would not tell their secrets.  She is a fierce mother and warrior, dark skinned and ample in form who has a scar on her cheek.  This wound was inflicted when she fought with Erzulie Freda, and the two have detested each other ever since.  Their enmity is only increased by the fact that Erzulie Danto is married to the warrior lwa Ogou.  Erzulie Danto can wreak havoc against human women in fits of rage and jealousy, but she is also known to take women in maryaj lwa and is thought to be the patron of lesbians.

The three sisters’ grandmother also goes by their name.  She is known as Grande Erzulie (or Grann Ezili) and in some sociétés she is the patron of prostitutes (in others, this task falls to Maman Brigitte).   She is also the lwa of regret, weeping over lost love, beauty and opportunity.  Grande Erzulie is envisioned as impossibly ancient and crippled by rheumatoid arthritis.  For this reason, she is the patron of people of any age who suffer from this crippling autoimmune disease.  My daughter, who has the juvenile form of arthritis, is beginning to cultivate a relationship with Grande Erzulie.

All four of the Erzulies can be of great benefit to their devoted worshipers.  But as always, know your lwa and respect them fully.  The opposite of benefit is not always simple hindrance.  Bonne chance ~

Header: Mater Dolorosa de Monte Cavario, the Catholic aspect of Erzulie Freda

Samedi: The Ghede at the Palace

Though the vast majority of Americans – or at least the ones I’ve chatted with on the subject – believe that all Haitians are steeped to their necks in Voudon, a few souls in that country might disagree.  The story goes that the Duvalier dictators used their people’s devotion to the lwa against their enemies, making their guards and police a virtual secret society.  This is true to some degree.  This behavior on the part of their leaders did not stop upper class Haitians from looking down on Voudon as something akin to ignorant superstition.  In fact before the Duvalier regime, most Haitian leaders very much distanced themselves from the spiritual beliefs of the populace.

The curious thing is that these people, who look down their noses as Voudon, are usually practicing it themselves.  They will have discreet niches in their homes, ostensibly in devotion to Catholic saints, which are actually altars to the lwa.  How similar this behavior is to that of slaves before the revolution probably doesn’t even bare mentioning.  The hypocrisy of it, however, is lost on no one and has led to an oft told tale of a virtual uprising of the Ghede.

It is said that a certain President of Haiti was particularly vocal about his rejection of Voudon and he encouraged his people to follow his lead.  Along with this, his regime was corrupt in the extreme and people only blocks from his palatial palace were literally starving.  One evening, under a blood red sky, a mass possession fell upon the populace of Port-au-Prince with hundreds of people mounted by Ghede lwa.  The Ghede marched through the streets to the Presidential palace with Baron Samedi, Baron Cemetere and Maman Brigitte in the lead.  Those not possessed stood in awe, and followed the procession to see what would happen.

The Ghede mounted the steps of the palace, waving the President’s guards aside as if they had no fear of their weapons.  And of course, they did not; weren’t they dead already?  The mob pounded on the palace door and demanded that the President come out and meet them. 

In abject terror, the President appeared on the balcony above.  “Who are you?” he cried.  “What do you want?”

“We are the Ghede,” Baron Samedi replied.  “We want the people fed and we want your devotion.  Give us money and call me your Lord.”

The President protested against these demands but the Baron promised that his Ghede would break down the doors and wreak havoc in the palace.  At last the President, terrified beyond reason, rained money down upon the people and vowed to honor Voudon and most of all the Ghede from that day forward.

The Ghede, pleased and pacified, left the palace and their horses to return to their home in the cemeteries.

It is probably safe to say that the story is apocryphal but it is instructive nonetheless.  When Voudon is threatened, it is the lwa of the Dead who champion it and they can champion the sincerely devoted individual, too.

Header: Ghede lwa from Mambo Sallie Ann Glassman’s “Wall of Voodoo” in New Orleans

Samedi: Lwa Nachons

In Haiti, the lwa run in packs. It may sound a little irreverent to put it that way but I’m betting Baron Samedi and Maman Brigitte at least are having a good laugh about it right now. Lwa families, or nations known in Haitian Creole as nachons, are worshipped together at fetes. They have different family characteristics and they are approached according to same. At one point there were numerous nations but over the years some have been absorbed into the more recognizable groups that we know today. In this post, I want to give a little background information on each of the five major nations with whom I am personally familiar.

Rada: The Rada nation contains the lwa considered the most benevolent and easiest to work with. They are probably also the most familiar to people who know only a little about Voudon. The lwa in the Rada nation originated among the Fon people of Dahomey and includes Damballah, Papa Legba, Erzulie Freda and Agwe. These lwa are thought to be distant, ancient and forgiving but they are said to work very slowly so they are rarely consulted in a situation of dire, immediate need.

Petwo: The fiery Petwo nation originated in Haiti. They do not claim African origin but were kindled by voudonists on their native soil, particularly during the era of rebellion and revolution in the early 19th century. This nation includes Bossou, Simbi, Erzulie Danto and Kalfou. Because this nation is much less predictable and more quick to anger than the Rada, they are sometimes referred to as ze rouge meaning “with red eyes”. They are more demanding of their devotees but they can hurry along workings for healing, prosperity and even revenge.

Kongo: This nation originated in the Congo area of Africa and many of their individual lwa have been assimilated into the Petwo nation. They too are considered fiery and quick to anger. The Kongo lwa are often referred to collectively as lwa-gad or guardian spirits. They are associated with magick and with protecting the voudonists who serve them.

Ibo: The Ibo nation came to Haiti with the Igbo people. These are ancestral lwa who are particularly concerned with protecting the downtrodden and the enslaved. This association may come from the fact that the Igbo people tended to be enslaved by their neighbors in Africa before European slavers appeared on their soil.

Ghede: This is, of course, the nation of the dead. Ruled by Baron Samedi they are the closest to living humans. They do not have their only rituals per ce but will happily barge in while other nations are being called, heedless of whether or not they were invited. They are frequently called upon for help in matters of health, money, love and particularly fertility. Talking to the Ghede is a daily occurrence for many voudonists who very much feel them to be part of everyday life.

Other nations exist as well, including the Nago of Yoruba and the Bambara from the Sudan but, as noted earlier, many of these have been absorbed into other nations. There are also lwa who are the almost exclusive domain of secret societies like the Zebop which no one with my limited knowledge has any business talking about. In the end, the lwa are like a large clan with each family having its own area of expertise and with certain members openly loving or despising one another on an ongoing basis. But that’s another story for another time. Ashe ~

Header: RaRa band in Haitian metal art via haiticheri.com

Samedi: Petitions on Paper

Writing down words that symbolize what we want from the Universe is an ancient practice that points to the power of literacy. There was a time when people who could write were looked upon as literal magicians, and that is still the case in some parts of the world. Given that the original practitioners of Haitian Voudon were slaves who were purposefully kept from learning how to read and write, it is not surprising that the tradition of oraisons, or written requests to the lwa, is still in common practice today.

Generally, an oraison takes the form of a Catholic prayer to an individual Saint. The prayers are either traditional to Voudon or transferred by hand from a prayer card to a piece of paper. Any paper is fine but pieces of brown bag are the favorite medium in New Orleans voodoo and hoodoo. The completed papers are then sewn into clothing or bedding for fulfillment of wishes. Generally a houngan or mambo will prepare the oraison to the specifications of a client in exchange for money. In Haiti, particularly at the famous (and recently restored) Iron Market in Port-au-Prince, ready-made oraisons can be purchased every day. Oraisons can also be made by voudonists themselves. This is a fairly common practice among root workers but in Haiti it is thought that, for the best result, a priestess or priest must create the petition and money should be exchanged.

Certain Saints are favored for oraisons, with their prayers having specific areas of expertise. Saint Expedite, of course, is called upon to hasten good fortune or quickly end trial. Saint Bartholomew is petitioned to heal illnesses, especially unseen disorders like nervous maladies and witchcraft, Saint Michael is called upon to keep people safe at sea, Saint Clare watches over the poor and Saint Radegund, a personal favorite of mine, protects from harm by others, either intentional or errant. Other Saints’ prayers are used as well, but these five are the most common in my experience.

As an example, here is one way I use a homemade oraison for a very modern purpose: keeping myself and my family safe while travelling in our vehicles. I tear a piece of brown bag into a relative square and then write a prayer to St. Radegund in black ink. Radegund was a Frankish princess that renounced her possessions and dedicated her life to serving God and the poor. She eventually became an anchorite, walled up in a small cell where she experienced Divine visions particularly of Purgatory. Here is the prayer:

Radegund, Baron Samedi, guardian of the cemetery,
You who have the power of going into purgatory,
Give my enemies something to do
So they may leave me alone.

Writing with intention – and sincere faith in Radegund and the Baron – is important. When you’re finished, fold the paper in half and the hide it somewhere in your car, boat, motorcycle, RV, airplane, etc. to protect you from accidents and mechanical failure. This particular prayer is unusual for calling on a specific lwa, Baron Samedi, as well as the Saint. This may indicate that Radegund is syncratized to some degree with the Baron’s wife Maman Brigitte. This is especially interesting to me as Maman Brigitte is not generally paired with any specific Saint in Haiti but I have seen her prayed to as Saint Brigit and even Saint Jeanne d’Arc in NOLA and elsewhere.

Something to think about while you consider the beautifully simple tradition of the oraison. Bon Samedi ~

Header: Medieval statue of Saint Radegund from Poitiers, France

Samedi: The Favorite Gift

In Voudon it is understood that the lwa need to be fed. The lwa were once people, just like us, and their need for sustenance – though it has changed – has not left them. They all have a special morsel that they are particularly fond of and those who have a devotion to any given lwa will often be instructed, usually in dreams, to offer certain foods or drinks. Because of this, long lists of what foods suit what lwa can be instructive but only if the individual lwa’s needs are not overlooked in their favor. The spirits will speak up and anyone who works with them had best pay attention.

For the Ghede in general and the Barons and Maman Brigitte in particular, one specific offering is universally understood as welcome: Barbancourt rum.

Sometimes referred to as rhum agricole (although, technically, only rum from Martinique can be so designated), Barbancourt is made exclusively from sugarcane grown on Plaine du Cul-de-Sac in Haiti. The House of Barbancourt was founded in 1862 and the process for making this rum has not changed since that time. The cane is crushed and processed immediately after harvesting. The juice is stocked in vats, yeast is added and then the mixture is allowed to ferment. The result is a kind of sugarcane wine that is then distilled and aged in French oak casks. This is unique as most rums are aged in the same type of barrels as American bourbon.

The result is a dry, oaky taste similar to a full bodied Chardonnay or champagne. The Barbancourt bottle is usually adorned with stars, their number being a key to the years the rum has been aging in those divine oak barrels: three stars mean it has been aged four years, five stars mean eight years. The Reserve Domaine has been aged fifteen years and is very much the rum equivalent of Dom Perrignon champagne.

Other lwa who are particularly fond of rum in general and Barbancourt in particular are Papa Legba, the Lord of the Gate, Ogou, the warrior and Erzulie Danto, his warrior spouse.

Because it is delightful, and prohibitively expensive in a place where many families survive on a dollar or two a day, Barbancourt is a seductively generous gift to the lwa. Though difficult to get in more out of the way parts of the U.S. (like up here in Alaska) nothing is truly out of reach in our Internet age. Consider giving it a try yourself, and find out why the spirits are so fond of this hand crafted indulgence.

Header: Rhum Barbancourt modern label

Samedi: La Tribu de Ghede

Though Baron Samedi is King of the Ghede and Lord of the Cemetery, he has a number of associate and cousin Ghede who rule over other aspects of Death and Sexuality. Here, for your perusal, is a by no means all inclusive list of the Barons and the Ghede as they were taught to me during my time in Les Cayes, Haiti:

Linto ~ an unusual Ghede child who represents the lost children among the dead, those aborted, miscarried, still born, or neglected or abused until they died. Frequently represented as a skeletal child dressed in rags.

Maman Brigitte ~ first among the Ghede lwa as wife of Baron Samedi, she is the just judge and wise cracking mother of the Dead.

Ghede Loraye ~ frequently described as a little woman who appears near shore before a storm, she is the keeper of the Dead at sea and a particular concern of sailors. I find it interesting that her name is similar to Lorelei, a legendary European mermaid and former storm goddess.

Ghede Masaka ~ another female Ghede, she is usually given a wide berth by all but the darkest sorcerers. She is considered an angry spirit that represents women who died in childbirth. She carried a gris-gris bag with poisons and the umbilical cord of her lost offspring in it. Rarely, she is pictured holding the hand of Linto.

Baron Samedi ~ as noted previously, the Lord of the Ghede.

Baron Cimetière ~ the Lord of the Cemetery who decides who is welcome among the Dead and who must remain alive.

Baron Le Croix ~ represented by the main cross in any cemetery, he is the keeper of the community of the Dead.

Ghede Brav ~ the Lord of the Penis, he is usually represented by a phallus or as a skeleton with an obvious aura of excitement in his genital area.

Ghede Double ~ the giver of divinatory talent, those who read fortunes will call on him.

Ghede Fouye ~ upon the order of Baron Cimetière, he digs the grave of the newly dead.

Ghede Lorage ~ I was told that this Ghede is relatively new to the pantheon and that he specifically deals with those who die by gunshot. He may be an upshot of the violent times surrounding the Dictatorships of the Duvalier family, but that is speculation on my part. Ghede Lorage is mentioned in the brilliant documentary Cite de Soleil about the large slum in Port-au-Prince by the same name, which I highly recommend.

Ghede Nivo ~ who tends the tomb.

Ghede Souffrant ~ the Ghede who suffers, a patron of those who die after protracted illness, torture or other long suffering.

The Ghede, like death itself, are innumerable, but this list gives you an idea of the care to detail that has been taken by Voudon in the land of the dead. In a place where suffering and death have always stalked the people, it is little wonder that the Ghede are everywhere.

Header: Ghede Barons by Voodoomama

Samedi: Of Children and the Dead

For the most part it is understood, in “orthodox” Haitian Voudon, New Orleans Voodoo and Hoodoo that the Barons and the Ghede are the keepers of the cemetery. There is a saying that if the Ghede in general and Baron Samedi’s aspect of Baron Cemetere specifically will not dig the grave then a person cannot die. Though it seems contradictory in modern cultures that keep death at arm’s length, it is a perfectly natural thing for a voudoisant to go to a cemetery and ask the Baron for the life of a sick or injured loved one.

Even more odd to certain minds is the connection between the Ghede and children. Women who have trouble conceiving will frequently make offerings to the Baron and sometimes to his wife, Maman Brigitte. There is a fine line here, however, as Maman Brigitte is at times called the protectress of sex workers who come to her for the blessing of avoiding conception. Either way, Maman Brigitte tends to be thought of as a frank and even filthy talking lady who keeps up with her brother Ghede as far as her openness about sexuality.

The Barons are relied upon as lwa who will listen to and aid the childless. For the most part this is due to their place in the undeniable circle of all things: birth leads to adults who will procreate and procreation leads to death. The Ghede will be left forgotten and alone without the birth of new little humans who will one day join them in the cemetery.

By the same token, many who practice voodoo in all it’s permutations make offerings to the Ghede for the recovery of their sick children. Though the Ghede may seem like the hungry dead to unstudied eyes, they are far from it. These souls would far prefer to see a child grow, succeed, marry and have a family of their own than take them young. The cycle continues and life, in the end, goes on. Bon Samedi ~

Header: Baron LaCroix by Andre Pierre via Haitian Art