Vendredi: Chthonian Histories

The realms of the underworld and sexuality intertwine and weave a tangled web that continues to burrow into our psyche like the persistent and arrogant roots of the weeping willow will do into the foundation of a home. It's a slow process that moves in mere fractions of an inch but, if left unchecked, it just may drive one mad.

And speaking of madness, let us take the next few weeks to discuss some strange, and very chthonian, bedfellows of old: the incubus, the succubus, and their cousin and today's topic, the dream lover.

One of the best illustrations of the dream lover - who is by no means a dream and is often a shape shifter or revenant in the literature - comes from that old '80s favorite, the movie Excalibur. Early on Queen Igraine, that Dark Ages sex kitten who flairs the passions of Uther Pendragon, believes she has been visited by her husband one night while he is supposed to be away fighting Uther's hordes. To Igraine's horror, she discovers that her husband was in fact killed in battle the very night he crawled into their bed. Who then made love to her? As we all know, Uther wearing a magickal skin placed over him by the wizard Merlin.

Such protestations of women - that their far away husband appeared to them in the flesh and impregnated them - pepper the history of the witch craze. Most of these unfortunates were accused of adultery or, worse still, welcoming a demon into their beds. But once in a while the tribunals were kind and the dream lover was awarded his do: the paternity of the woman's child.

This latter is the case in a curious story written in 1698 by Professor Johann Klein of the University of Rostock. The story centers around a gentlewoman named Lucile or Lucienne de Montleon. Madame de Montleon lived in the French speaking province of Switzerland and her husband, Seigneur Jerome Auguste de Montleon had been away at war for some four years when Madame suddenly turned up pregnant.

As Madame fretted over this situation, word came to her chateau that her husband was dead. Fainting away, Lucile spent the rest of her confinement in bed. She did manage to bring forth a strapping son within the year and, pulling herself up by her corsets straps, presented him to the city council as her husband's son and heir. Her claim as far as the unusual timing of the birth was simple: her husband had made her pregnant in a dream. When she received push-back on her claim - there were doubtless others who would have liked nothing better than to take over the Seigneur's land and income - Madame asked that the matter be heard in court.

The initial findings of the local judges did not go as Madame had hoped. Most called her an adulteress and two labeled her mad. Apparently unshakeable in her resolve, Madame de Montleon appealed her case to the Parlement of Grenoble. There not only two midwives but a doctor from the local University testified in Lucile's favor. They unanimously told the court that impregnations via dream were as common as flowers in spring among the peasant classes. Just because they were rarely heard of among the gentry, didn't mean that they weren't possible among the gentry.

The Parlement, taking all testimony into consideration, found in favor of Lucile de Montleon. Her son, whose name the good doctor does not share with us, was named so heir to the Seigneur.

What Johann Klein does share is a rather blue denouement to this already colorful story. According to Klein the case became something of an international sensation, to the point that the faculty of law at the Sorbonne in Paris looked over all the evidence and testimony reviewed by their colleagues in Grenoble. They concluded, as men often will, that the Parlement was simply helping a lady out of a difficult situation. After all, what educated man, or right thinking woman, could every believe in a dream lover...

Header: The Lunatic of Etretat by Hugues Merle c 1874 via Old Paint

Samedi: Lady Screech Owl

One of the rarely spoken of lwa, Marinette is most probably a mystery even to those who know a thing or two about Voudon.  In her native Haiti she is not mentioned without the whisperer of her name crossing themselves, at least if they know what’s good for them.  Even devout Haitian Protestants, who claim no affinity for Voudon, will not speak of her.

Marinette is a lwa of the Petwo nachon, born and bred in Haiti with no ties to Africa or Europe.  She is a sorceress, sworn to “work with the left hand” until time ends or she herself is destroyed.  She is called up by the bokor (pronounce baw-kaw) who are priests and priestesses but who work only “black magick”.  They are the person a voudonist would consult to have an enemy killed, raise the dead for the purposes of necromancy, or bind someone in blind love.  Almost without fail, these kinds of workings involve summoning the gleefully malevolent Marinette.

Sometimes known as Marinette-Bwa-Chech, “of the dry arms”, she is imagined as a skeleton who is accompanied by her symbol, the screech owl.  She is thought to reside in wild places like swamps and forests where she will appear only at night.  Her devotees do not keep altars to her but go to such places to bury her offerings.  She in turn will come and dig them up, consuming them under cover of darkness so that she is not forced to share her bounty with any other lwa.  She is worshipped in these wild places where gasoline, salt and dust are thrown onto a bonfire in exchange for the skeletal lady’s help with malicious magicks.

Marinette is the particular protector of lougarou, a secret society of people who believe themselves to be shape shifting werewolves or, in the case of some women, vampires who suck the blood of children.   Special precautions are taken against people of this socyete including charms tucked into children’s bedding and the sprinkling of hoholi, sesame seeds, in coffins to prevent the dead body being dug up and misused for evil.

Like most lwa, Marinette is partnered with one who is thought to be similar to her, if a bit less cruel.  This is the much mythologized leader of the Haitian Revolution called Don Pedro.  He is known as the hougan who called up the original Petwo lwa to help the slaves fight for their freedom.  After his death, he himself became the lwa Ti Jean Petwo (Little John Petwo) and married Marinette.  He is the lwa of violent struggle against subjugation and is pictured as a dark skinned dwarf missing a foot.  Like his wife, Ti Jean will assist the bokor who serve him.

Though Ti Jean has been known to possess voudonists in ceremonies, Marinette rarely manifests in this way.  She is considered a lwa who is far too dangerous for the average worshipper.  The Lady of the Screech Owl is best known and then bypassed all together.  Voila un avertissement ~

Header: Riding the Dead by Jean Michel Basquiat

Samedi: The Djab

There are leading men and character actors; there are rock stars and club favorites.  Sometimes the most talented artists labor in relative obscurity, their skills known only to a handful of aficionados.  The spirit world is no different.

Thus does Kenaz Filan in his enlightening The Haitian Vodou Handbook begin his discussion of the spirits known as Djabs.  The Creole word djab comes from the French diable which is frequently translated to mean “devil” (lower case).  This is a loose translation, however, as it is used in the conversation to mean a sort of bête noir.  In any case, the djabs are a gray area in Voudon and in root work as well.  Just like the more familiar “rock star” lwa, some djab are consistently well-meaning while others will happily work “on the left hand”.

In basic terms, a djab is a personal spirit.  It is not something that most voudonists will readily talk about, but we all have one.  I was personally informed of my djab over twenty years ago and it came as a bit of a shock to me.  This spirit, once a living, breathing seaman who was born in Haiti no less, apparently attached himself specifically to my branch of my family after his death for a kindness done to him when he was old, ill and alone by our ancestor.  He picked me out of the modern generation, I was told by a mambo, because he knew that I would understand him and one day bring him back to the attention of the country he loved. 

Having never heard the name of this man before the mambo told it to me, I was anxious (she claimed she could see “the little brown man” standing next to me all the time) and at first I resisted the idea.  Time, research and age have brought me insight, however, and my djab and I are now dear friends.  He helps me on the spirit plane when I need help and I, in turn, honor him like an ancestor – which, for those of you who know me and are speculating, he is not.  He is swift to act, as well.  To use Filan’s analogy, this club favorite appreciates his biggest fan where the rock stars just see me as one of the crowd.  He looks after my home and my family with a pleasant joy; having him near is now my privilege, not my anxiety.

A djab is generally a family spirit, passed down from one generation to the next and treated like one of the clan.  As I noted, most people do not speak of their djab even in Haiti proper where there is an undercurrent of suspicion about such spirits.  Some djab are troublesome and malicious, and those who work with them take careful precautions to keep them on track or, as they say, chennis: chained.  These are the “left hand” spirits that are sent to bring misery to enemies and are best left to the experts who can control them.

Contacting a personal djab is something anyone on an honest spiritual path can do, but it is not the first thing one should attempt.  Serving spirit in any discipline is not to be taken lightly.  But if you have some experience under your belt you may already be in touch with a personal spirit.  If not, consider adding a listening session to any meditation you may do.  Open yourself to the idea of a personal spirit, make a little altar or niche for them, leave an offering.  You might be surprised what you hear, and how helpful they can be.

That said, be warned.  The darker spirits can be tricky and if you are vulnerable – for instance in an unstable mindset, meditating while “under the influence”, etc – they may play you for a fool.   Just like you would with a new person in your life, don’t hesitate to take the “getting to know each other” phase slowly and block any entity you feel uncomfortable with.  Psychic malevolence is very real; don’t open yourself to it.  Enough said.

The safest way to look into a personal spirit is to first enquire around your family.  “Crazy” Aunt Delilah may not be talking to herself after all.  If that’s not an option – or even if it is – and you are serious in your quest, consider consulting a professional.  Again, though, do your research.  Anyone who starts talking about taking away curses in exchange for money is a charlatan.  Run, don’t walk, away from that bogus BS.   I personally don’t read other’s auras or spirits, but I always know an honest psychic when they walk up to me and say something like: “Has anyone ever mentioned the short, broad shouldered sailor that follows you around?”

Why yes.  Yes they have.

Header: Spons de Libano by Edward Burne Jones c 1891

Samedi: Possessed

Aside from zombies (the actual term in Haitian Creole is zombi), the thing that seems the most off-putting about Voudon is spirit possession. Americans in particular, at least those I’ve conversed on the subject with, can’t wrap their brains around the idea, usually falling back on Hollywood stereotypes (just as they do with “zombies”). Of course this is foolishness on many levels.

Spirit possession is a far more common phenomenon than most people think. Native cultures in Thailand, Ethiopia, Brazil, the Philippines and even here in Alaska – just to name a very few – believe in forms of spirit possession, spirit wandering or both. Why the tenant of spirit possession in Haitian Voudon is so frightening to so many can really only be attributed to ignorance (I’m looking at you and your ilk, Pat Robertson) and the fact that true spirit possession lacks a lot in shock value (your turn, Hollywood).

Spirit possession, or mounting as it is known in Haiti where the individual who is “ridden” by the lwa is called a cheval (horse), is a very real thing to voudonists. In fact, it goes beyond the experiences of the oumphor or temple. It can occur at any time in anyone’s life.

Milo Rigaud, in his book Secrets of Voodoo published in 1953, gives an instructive list on times and situations when an individual lwa might choose to mount a person. Rigaud, who was born in Port-au-Prince in 1903, was a voudonist and life long student of Voudon tradition. He studied ethnology, theology and psychology in France and obtained a law degree in his native Haiti. A brilliant man with much insight into the interweaving of Haitian life and Voudon belief, Rigaud’s book is very much worth your while if you have a serious interest in Voudon, Haiti or both.

Here are the reasons a lwa will possess a person as laid out by Rigaud:

1) To protect him.

2) To confer upon him a power or faculty that he needs for the successful accomplishment of a task, which he does not ordinarily have. [Rigaud gives the example of a man in a shipwreck suddenly being able to swim to shore when he never could swim before.]

3) To permit him to remove himself with supernatural speed.

4) To cure him of illness or to prevent him from suffering.

5) To give him counsel. In this case, those who speak to the possessed person repeat to him the advice that the loa gave during the “loa-crisis”.

6) To give some other person a treatment or simply to prescribe or to compose a remedy.

7) To punish the “horse” for some offense. [This can be a horrible ordeal for the person possessed, including the dislocation of limbs, breaking of bones, utter exhaustion and/or illness and probably comes closest to the Hollywood image of “possession”. It is also exceedingly rare and usually occurs only when the person in question has transgressed beyond anything most people could even imagine.]

8) To point out some forbidden ritual.

9) To give warning of danger threatening an individual or the community.

10) To preside over, or to assist at a ritual ceremony.

11) To come and get a sacrificial offering.

This list gives a clearer picture of spirit possession in the context of Voudon. It might also give one pause; how many of these instances sound like things done by common men throughout history that we have attributed to heroism, bravery, leadership or a deity. Just a thought, after all. Bon Samedi ~

Header: The Voodoo Dance by Granger c 1885