Spirits are as cantankerous as us, did you know that?
I spent a lot of time in prayer yesterday. My French prayers are
getting a serious work out. I sat before the Baron's altar. Yes, I
already have a Baron altar. It is a rather imposing black cross with
lots of purple and beads. Kind of like a funeral director's dressing
area but for a funeral drag show. I sat quietly, thinking about Boston.
And the two suspects. I thought about how someone as young as 19 can
become so disillusioned they resort to this kind of tactic. How extreme.
My mind went to a very morbid place – I've walked that area in Boston.
That could have been me. Or Don. Don is traveling a lot these days. He
goes in and out of Toronto Airport twice a week. The lump in my throat
starting getting bigger. Some how this challenge seemed very small
compared to the events the world was experiencing.
The Baron sat staring back at me. I don't need a huge evocation to
bring up His energy. He's always there. Like I said, I walk with him. In
every Afro-Caribbean practice, the diviner usually freaks out, because
Death shows up in the odu or the shells or the cards. Every
time. I try to reassure the person that I know this, that I was born in
November, I am a Scorpio whose sign is the Death card; that I share my
birthday with Fet Ghede, the Day of the Ancestors in Haiti. That I know
Death walks with me, I've seen Him since I was a little girl. Never
works. They freak anyway – wash the shells, tell me to do all sorts of
weird ebos. I just sigh and move on.
I stared back the Baron. You're pretty busy right now, huh? He nodded
slowly. Then he turned and glanced at the Petro altar. I followed his
gaze. My eyes landed on my bottle for Bossou. Ah, the bull. The other
one that has been dogging me all my life. At 16 I went to Paris, City of
Lights, land of romance, perfume, art. I went shopping. What did I
bring home? A bull. A small, stuff bull I bought at the Gallerie
Lafayette, the most upscale store on the Grand Rue. It is silk ( it was
Paris – no crappy stuff there). But of all the things I could have
bought, I bought a small, stuffed silk bull. Because He wanted to come
home with me. He said so very clearly.
I looked back at the Baron. Bossou? The Baron nodded and then looked at
his watch. I realized I was keeping him. I thanked him, and he faded
off to some other pressing task. I turned back to the Petro altar.
Picked up a fresh candle and lit it in front of the Bossou bottle that
once was Marilyn Houlberg's. "I need something" I said quietly. I need
to do this, so we can connect fully. I know you are there, but in a
peripheral kind of way. He simply looked back at me. I swear, his tail
was twitching. I will work with you and you alone (oh for pete's sake Legba, of course you are involved…) For
the next thirty days. I will make art. I will try to make an art object
a day for you and the Baron. A thirty day invocation of clay and stone,
glass and paint. And when I am finished, I will mount it somewhere, so
you can feel special.
Legba is giggling. I can do this, I say. Legba nods vigorously, and
then prances away – another door to open/close, another pretense to
diminish. "Hey" I call after him, "You'll help right?" He turns now,
serious. "Always" he replies as he departs. Ok, then, well -- I have to go procure some
things. Baron and Bossou, you will know me because you will see me rise.