Haiti, Land Of Voodoo

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The zombie fashion went around the world like wildfire. Zombies are the new stars for young people. Some may get the zombie look. Just you remember they are not real zombies. We are.

In Haiti they do not mess with the zombies. In this voodoo country they firmly believe in these gory undead. What is it? Pure and simple witchcraft. The wizard get a corpse shortly after death. By secret rituals he revives the dead body who recover without clear conscience and chiefly without volition. Just created zombi becomes the slave to the magician who operates without rest or respite – the dead do not need it. In the 70s in Haiti we took a young guide to visit the island on pretty bad roads rutted by rain.

 Our guide was afraid neither of deadly snakes tarantulas nor of Tontons Macoutes – the worst of the three: former private militia of Duvallier’s family the Macoutes are lawless bandits. The guide did not care anyway. Now the jeep skirted a field where the harvesters were working hard, when our guide ducked. His teeth chattered and rolled his eyes terrified. “Zombies!” he whispered, pointing a shaky finger to the peasants. One of them turned around to face us. Shock!  His eyes were gray – without iris – pupil-free – uniformly gray. This lifeless, soulless look aroused great sadness.

The jeep took a leap forward, no one said a word. The track launched an assault on the mountain. That day we believed in zombies – and no one would have try the slightest joke about.

 

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We were heading for a town with the poetic name of Saut d’Eau-VilleBonheurWater Jump – Happiness City to attend a grand ceremony the pilgrimage of this Saut d’Eau the main ceremony to the Haitian voodoo. In the bush we would live rare moments.

The bumpy jeep passed daubed trucks pitching and climbing the laces, while the passengers standing in the dumpster, were singing hymns to deceive the fear: “Jesus take the wheel!” On the mountain, rows of huts and shacks were flanking a path where the soil, beaten by countless feet, was so soft to tread that we took off our sandals. Anyway we were the only white people, attempting a ceremony in a religion we didn’t know, with unknow rules and taboos, and every one was barefoot.

The streets were climbing a steep hill teeming of faithful into ecstasy, mostly children and women. Cock-fighting in the courts, drunks staggering and spraying rum on passers, goats slaughtered here or there, naked girls walking on a bed of coals, rolling on shards of glass without a scratch, flashy fawn and odors, colors, music… And after the procession, a human anthill was staggering under the waterfall, which gave its name to the place: Saut-d’eau.

Wild and wonderful, we could hear the distant echo of forgotten our divinity. Receive a waterfall right on the fontanel is still the greatest effect. If this is sacred water, the effect probably is tenfold. We took off our clothes, we went under the shower lasts a baptism voodoo. There were 10,000 people and not a tourist. We were the only whites. But the jump of water does not care about the color of the skin. Here, there’s something for everyone. Forty years later, Haiti is overshadowed by an earthquake.

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Night of the Living Dead

To those who have nothing, they take even the little they have. Now, what is a zombie? Neither a vampire that feeds on blood, nor an undead coming out of a grave to eat people. Please leave this crap to Hollywood. Zombie is a dead man or dead woman being harnessed by a sorcerer. And it is no kidding. By the use of magic, a real person, after death, becomes a kind of robot, driven by an appearance of life, able of physical acts, use tools, walk, but unable to run or talk. Haitians do have tricks to recognize zombies.

It’s useless anyway. Once you have seen one, you recognize all. The zombie has jerky movements, mechanical. And those eyes! A dull look, opaque and devoid of expression. Thus when we saw one, you never forget, even if you live 130 years. 

Some authors claim that these beings are simply poor drug addicts, being body and soul subjected to the wizard who keep them hard-working without respite or mercy. It is quite possible, the opportunity to make the dead work does not seem so extraordinary in the context of the bewildering oldest black republic in the world. Well, I mean the oldest if we consider modern times only, of course.

In distant antiquity, African blacks have developed a thriving civilization that have known the republic …. although since then, black people wisely chose the way of nature. What the whites have loosely opportunity to enslave them …. and they still abuse shamelessly plundering the mineral resources of the African continent.

 

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If zombies raise the terror of Haitians, sorcerers who have enslaved inspire even more frightful terror.

“According to the voodoo cult, the Grand Master is God above all and created the spirits, the Loa, which are at the service of man. After the Catholic baptism, the believer is under the protection of his loa root, a kind of guardian spirit of the family.

 Then, during an initiation, a new personality merges. Therefore, he will serve the headmaster loa, who assumes the direction of his life.The taking of possession by the master which is a ceremony where animals, mostly chickens, are sacrificed. The officers are the uga, voodoo priest, or mambo case of a woman, the Boko is the magician who can do good or evil, and the werewolf, the witch.” (source) We recognize the ancient worship of the Yoruba people as practiced today in much of West Africa.

No surprise indeed, since this West African land is the country of voodoo, which subsequently reached the Caribbean and Brazil, imported by slaves. Seeing this African cult here in Haiti, I marvel at its relevance: isn’t it born thousands of years ago, near here, on the engulfed island that Plato had named Atlantis? History is an old stutterer who plays yoyo. If it went through this it will go through this again. And the voodoo cult, at least in its zombies, has conquered the world youth.

 

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What is deserved. Because before becoming a Hollywood fashion, zombies are the real life of the Yoruba, Brazilians, Haitians and others. No offense to the thinkers, the world is infinitely more complex than the image they have. A strong mind hides often a sick head. The excess of logic and reason has gnawed his neurons. He thinks, therefore he is not. Blessed are those who have eyes to see, ears to hear, a heart to love! How many thinkers who have heart but for heart attacks!

It works the quack and the butchers of human flesh. They just belong to vampire movies, I’m afraid. They are those who feed on your flesh and blood, and who live better than you! That make them poisonous to the body stuffed in every orifice, as if what treats could come from outside. The Source in us alone can heal in a fraction of an instant.

 

amerindien-souriant-stefKervor-200poNative Americans call it the Great Spirit, the Dancer, or Inner Healer … GI of another kind, it is lurking in you, he is biding his time. When you are sick, he laments waiting for a sign from you. Never could he act erratically, he respects you too much, he loves you more than anything. For him, you are God. And for you, who are you? Why do you believe more nonsense that broadcast TV, religion or science? To see the stark naked truth more beautiful than the day you do not need anyone. What can we miss when we are all? I mean, the whole thing is in you. But the truth is, the world gave us another image of ourselves.

 

A dull image, becoming almost transparent while we betray our secret aspirations. We are birds of Paradise but dwarves have cut our wings. We wander distraught in a gilded cage that cannot overshadow our Dreams. Let us go to the movies to see the Zombies, these men who are no longer men, deprived of real life, deprived of noblehood, empty of hope, even more empty by their wounds from which flows the precious lifeblood, Vril energy. We love them because they resemble us, they banned that express well our inconsolable despair:

the dwarfs’ army zombified all of us.

 

Humanity is mentally controlled and it is little more conscious that an average zombie. (David Icke)

 

Hurry up, picnic on the grass, as one day the grass will picnic on you.
Jacques Prévert