2015 KOSANBA -- Amazing time with Amazing folks

I attended the 2015 KOSANBA conference in Montreal. It was an amazing communion in the crossroads of art, literature, practice and scholarship. Along with Manbo Ke Kontann, we presented our papers among some pretty stellar luminaries -- Lois Wilken, Liza McAlister and Claudine Michel to name just a few.

The conference was focused on Azaka Mede, Klermizine and Gran Bwa.  Poor Klermizine was lost a bit in the shuffle, as most of us focused on Gran Bwa and his forests or should I say his disappearing forests. The over-arching theme was how trees take us to God. We heard talks on the matrilineal rite of burying baby umbilical cords beneath a tree in the family lakou; how there are no more trees to make the large drums outside of Goniaves; and our own Manbo presented on Medsin Feys and their healing leaves. I used a metaphysical tree in my own talk on the sosyete and how we've evolved over the years as an American Vodou house. We were quite the hit, and the following day many of the manbos presenting focused solely on Manbo Ke Kotann and myself during their talks.

The first day presented a wealth of information: 6 panels of four presenters covering all kinds of topics. Session 1 was on Memory, History and Resistance in Vodou and Haitian Literature.  Marie Cerat presented a dialog about veves as signs of power and resistance among the Africans. Although given in French by the chair Florence Bellande-Robertson, I could follow along well enough to get the gist of the talk.  The author's thesis was that veves were a way of conveying information in secret. That the whorls and diagrams not only spoke to a connected heritage of Taino resistance, but that they were also methods of communication among the enslaved plantation populations. I was wishing my French language skills were better by the end.

Bamidele Demerson presented a lovely talk on the artist Ulrick Jean-Pierre.  Jean Pierre paints scenes from Haiti's history in full figure size - the paintings are enormous, and Demerson spoke at length on the Makandal painting. I haven't heard such great discussion since I was in art school.  An in depth look at the historical figure of Makandal, along with some serious art critique on the technique of the painting made it very informative for me.

Ann Mazzocca, a dance professor from Virgina spoke on the embodiment of Vodou in dance and movement. She had visited Souvenance in '07 and '08, and was taken by the movement of ritual as a method of encoding the liturgy and faith of Vdou. We spoke later about dance, Haiti and Souvenance, only to discover an amazing synchronicity - I had taken print making in 1975 at the University of Connecticut with her father. Talk about 6 degrees of separation!

Finally, the masterful Dr. Kay Zauditu-Selassie spoke about the representation of trees in African Diasporic Literature. A stunning work, she was mezmerizing and I could have listened for hours. Later, she came up to me to say she was curious about our sosyete and to ask what I knew of twins. Another sychonistic hit, as I am currently working on an installation of elemental twins - Marasa Anba Dlo (water), Marasa Bwa (wood), Marasa Twa (fire) and Marasa VanVan (air or wind). Ayibobo!

(I will write a little more each day on all the panels - they were very worthy topics, that need their own space.- Manbo)

Manbo K and I sat up high in the auditorium, animatedly cheering, laughing, and giggling at all the right (and of course) wrong moments.  This earned us the nick named "Ab-Fab Manbos" from the younger presenters. We jumped in with both feet, delighting both the kids presenting and others who found our silliness captivating (if not annoying!).

That night, there was a memorial service to the late Dr. Karen McCarthy Brown and Ayti Max Beauvoir, honor to them both.  McCarthy-Brown was remembered by all as someone who gave freely of her time and talents, as well as being a path blazer for female anthropologists.  Ayti Max had three of his favorite manbos present, and they led a quiet action de gras for him, which we finished with a rousing yanvalou dance in his honor. As the music began and the 30 or so people present began the call and answer, I joined in. I was totally unconscious of my doing so, until I realized this was what I had spent so much time looking for. Community. A chance to belong to something greater than myself.

Fifteen years ago, I was in an Atlanta suburb, attending a Yoruban bembe for my friend's birth as an iyalorisha.  The drummers were from West Africa and were pounding out a huge beat. At one point, an American priestess jumped up, gave a hoot and began to sing with the drummer.  Another person, a visitor from Cuba came forward and asked if he could sit in with the drummers. And the wife of the Baba who hailed from Martinique, stood up and offered a dance to the spirit the music was for. There it was - the mystical crossroads I had been looking for - a West African drum beat, picked up by a Cuban national, sung to by an American and danced by a Martinique priestess.  And it happened that night in Montreal as well. As we listened to beat of the drums, Americans, Haitians, Africans and European people all came together; to sing, to dance and to remember Ayti Max. I found myself in sync with everyone, singing without thinking, moving without hesitation and just being in the moment naturally. A gift of spirit, one I will not soon forget.

The next day there were more stellar presentations. When the event concluded, I took the first leg of my return trip home with one of the young scholars. As we flew to JFK airport, we talked about our work, our hopes and the future of Haiti. I said that as an independent scholar, my work was not as important as hers was.  She gently scolded me, and reminded me that my work was very important. That everyone there was working with their minds, but that I was working with my body and soul. Later she shared that her best friend had passed away, and that this friend never felt that she belonged anywhere. "You are making a place for someone like her. I wish she had known someone like you," the young lady wrote. My young friend moved me to tears.

And so I will keep writing, thinking and dreaming. And I will also keep serving, singing and dancing.  I do know that the crossroads I have always sought are within myself. The only difference is that now I can manifest them outside of myself.  And I am discovering that I need to be the signpost in that place, so that others who are looking, can find their way home as well. Ayibobo.

End of Summer, Mandrakes and Hydrosols

Well its here -- fall I mean. For real.  It's a whopping 56 degrees and I have given up my flip-flops for the season.  Today is a legging and Ugg boots kinda day. I even had to coax the dogs out of the bed; they were curled up in tight balls, the blanket wound around them like a nest. Bodhi had pulled the quilt off and circled around until he was surrounded by the material.  But the offer of "outside" is too irresistible, so they bounded down the stairs and out into the brisk morning.

Since I was up and out with the boys, I decided to check the herb beds. In May, I had planted a lot of material, then left it to go wild. I am not a "neat" gardener. I am enough of a witch still, that I love the look of a slightly untended bed.  I put in lots of good smelling herbs, so I would have lots of material to brew.  There was rosemary, southern-wood, wormwood, calea zacatechichi, lovage, tons of mint (cat-mint, peppermint, spearmint, oregano) and a few oddities like myrtle and rue.  Then -- the bugs came and since I don't spray or use chemicals, I sadly watched them munch through my lovely little collection and wondered what would survive the onslaught. Amazingly, they ate the least smelly of the bunch (the myrtle and rue), but left most of it intact. However, the swarm was pretty intense, so I did not harvest much until late - like August kind of late.

 I seem to remember a bit of lore about cutting all your material before the morning of Samhain, least the spirits take it all back.  Although I no longer practice as a witch, I still adhere to some of the old ways, so I checked to see if there was anything left to glean.  Amazingly the lovage has come back with a fervor and will probably grant me a second round of brewing. Its green scent and amazing essential oil are boundless. Next year, I will try to remember to do it earlier in the season, so I can take advantage of its generous nature.

The mints are done - the peppermint is dried up husk of what it was this summer, and the spearmint is nearly done.  I am praying she leaves me a few leaves for Fet Ghede next month -- Danbala will need some for his basin regardless of the weather and I'd rather it be from our land than the grocery store.  I gleaned just enough spearmint to distill a gram of essential oil and a couple pints of hydrosol. Love that stuff - the whole house smelled wonderful for a day.

My "wild" bed is still going strong. The mugwort has flowered, so no more distilling there. I have found that when I do distill flowered material, it lends a bitterness to the hydrosols. You can clearly tell the difference between the early distillations and the ones I did later in the season. The first crop yields a clean, green scent while the last one has a deeper earthy vibe. Not unpleasant, but not what I was going for.

I decided to let the honeybees do in my anise bed this year. I had four huge plants, and I let them all go to blossom.  The honeybees took to them like fish to water; it was exciting to see so many of them.  And the bees were not at all disturbed by the carpenters and workers who stepped over them to get to the screen porch. The local beekeeper here in Norristown will let me know when she collects from her hives.  Curious to see if my donation offers any kind of flavor. Those little ladies were certainly busy up until this past Monday when I finally cut that bed back.

 The Dutchman's Pipe thrived out front - all that sunshine did it a world of good. When I put it out in April, it was really a dried husk - there were maybe two vines that hadn't wilted over the winter. You'd never know it today - its climbing the front of the house and flowering like mad. I am not sure if I'll take it in - I seem to remember reading somewhere that with enough sunshine, it can winter outdoors. This year, I found some starting in the bed on the opposite side of the house - the plant had really flowered heavily last summer, and perhaps some self-seeded. I'd love to have two of them - they make interesting accents in the front of the house, as well as provide lots of material to work with.  I'll have to do my research. If I do bring it in, I'll trim back the vines and dry all the leaves for sale in Mambo's Mojo. The blossoms are short lived, but are wildly interesting, making for great conversation with my local neighbor gardeners (they are big enough to be seen from the road.) I can't count how many times people have stopped when they see me out front, to ask that the plant is. Fortunately its readily available in the local shops here. I got my from the amazing Otts Gardens in Betchelsville, PA.

In total opposition, my mandrakes did not fair well this summer. Not sure why - I followed all the notes I had from other growers. I used sterile soil that had the right ph.  I fed them fish and kelp nutrients. Warm temps, not too much shade, kept them in dappled sunlight.  A total dud.

The small Fennish mandrakes (the smaller long leaf ones in the picture) were eaten by the squirrels and the large black mandrake was leafing out well, until something started eating it. I've moved that one back indoors, and will take in the white mandrake and the large Fennish mother plant today (the large long leaf one in the picture.)

I was cleaning out my garden cabinets, and I did find some seeds from the Mandrake Garden in England I had forgotten about. My buddy Harold Roth (he runs the amazing Alchemy Works site)  said he's planted old seeds and achieved germination. If ever there was an Azaka of the garden, its Harold.  He grows an amazing array of things in Elmira, NY for pete's sake. Talk about a short growing season!  For me, finding those seeds is an sign that I should throw caution to the wind, and plant them up. Harold actually tried to grow 100 mandrake plants one year -- nearly did, too.  Therefore (as far as I am concerned) he is the god of Mandrakes and I take what ever he says about these amazing plants as truth. I love trying to grow mandrakes - they are so unbelievably difficult that if you do get one to grow, it feels like a major accomplishment.

I did get my indoor rack cleaned up and ready for plants. The mapous are turning a beautiful gold - they will be dropping their leaves shortly as they rest for the winter. I need to make room for them in the foyer. The remainder of things are slowing down. Even if you are not aware of the season, your plants let you know what's happening. I am grateful we have space to bring them in, and to have them around for the cold months. Makes me feel like spring is around the corner. As I prep for Fet Ghede, I am reminder that this is the last fet at the house here. It's been an amazing seven years, but all things come to pass, and that means this place has done its work. I look forward to the next chapter of our lives.

And a bigger herb bed -- where I can plant mandrakes outdoors. Ayibobo!

October is LaSiren

October has arrived with wind, cold temps and tons of rain. What better way to welcome the Siren of the pantheon than with enough water to float a flottila of boats?

LaSiren flowed into this month, on a Mercury retrograde no less, and is already busy sinking ships, diverting our attention with her wily ploys and inundating the world with enough water to make us all remember the movie Waterworld, and shiver with the recognition that it could be very real indeed. But what Siren really brings in this month is high emotional moments, ancestral reverence and deep dreaming of truths and feelings. Let's examine these traits one at a time.

LaSiren is the watery part of ourselves that dreams of better things and often is disappointed. This feeling of devastation and overwhelming emotion is shared with her sisters Freda and Klermizine, two other spirits who all hail from the Aziri River Basin in West Africa.  While Freda is given to dramatic displays of pouting and tears, and little sister Klermizine  loves to play the coquette, Siren is the actively dangerous energy of the trio.  Those who consider her a dainty and dreamy girl will be shocked to learn she will kill as easily as kiss those who come to call her forth from the water.

LaSiren is a sorceress who rules the waters of the world with impunity. With long, eerie blasts on her horn, Siren can call forth legions of dead to do her dirty work. The countless Africans who died in the Middle Passage; the seafarers of sunken ships; sailors and mariners who died at sea - these are her subjects, journeymen and lovers. They answer to the call of her golden horn, and do whatever is demanded of them by their watery mistress. Beautiful, dreamy and dangerous, Siren rules the oceans of the world and everything (and everyone) contained within them. This gives her a particular place in Ancestral worship. It is LaSiren's job to help navigate the dead across the waters to Ginen. Although we'd expect the Gede to have their hands in this, it is the duty of Siren to guide all those souls in the water back home again. Remember this come Fet Ghede, Samhain or how ever you choose to remember your dead throughout the year. Be sure to set a glass of water with sea elements on your altar: Siren is leading the way back.


LaSiren is also the ruler of high emotions. Water is the symbol of emotion, and Siren's very image -- a human top over an animal bottom -- is the embodiment of mind over matter.  Although she is often thought of as overly feminine and sweet, she is nothing of the kind.  Sharp, focused, vicious when threatened and dangerous when challenged, Siren gives us the ability to contain our emotions and act according to the situation. It is the physical temptation of her beauty that belies the focused energy she contains. She can become angry and yet, will lash out with a clarity that is breath taking. Many years ago, I asked Siren to help me with a problem. Not only did she help, but she took out the individual responsible for the trouble and laid waste to the entire enterprise. I am very careful when asking for things from her - she is devastating to a fault.

In this month, she can lend that particular focus to your projects. Lay out a space for her in your home. Place salted water -- very important for this Lwa -- and sea objects (shells, pearls, coral) on this space, so she feels welcomed. She doesn't take anything of the dry world as an offering (despite the lists proliferating on the Internet.) But she does like champagne and perfume, as well as horns and mirrors. I keep a brass Christmas horn on the altar for her, and lots of perfume. Ask LaSiren to help you focus on your current work; to help you have clarity on a challenge; to lend you energy to complete something difficult. It will happen and quickly, too.

LaSiren also rules dreams and the manner in which dreams are interpreted. It is easy to visualized a a ship listlessly idling on a dead calm sea, and the crew staring off into space.  The sounds of the water lapping against the ship, the heat of the sun and the monotony of the day brings on a lugubrious feeling that gives rise to all kinds of thoughts. It is Siren pouring her energy over those crews, engaging with their souls and feeding back their own thoughts, their emotions. Ever been on a monotonous trip, inside your own head? It can be dangerous as well as tedious.  But for those who can fend off the feelings of gloom, Siren can bring clarity of vision to thoughts. It is often in the most mundane places that inspiration and genius take place. Got a problem you can't figure out? Make an offering to Siren and then -- go rake the leaves. Fold clothes. Iron. Dull and tedious monotony will bring clarity and focus.  Water is also a good conduit for meditation. If you have quiet access to a pool , go float for a while. Head to the ocean and mediate on the waves.  Or, fill your bath tub with warm water, a handful of salt and take a long soak. (A shower doesn't work - the action of the shower head is too invigorating.) Still, steady water is the trick to working this ritual of revelation.

Light blue or white candles this month to LaSiren and sit still for an hour. She will speak loudly to you, if you give her the opportunity.

The Shadow for this month is the Hanged Man - suspended between places, neither bound nor free. I used the image of a possession to visualize the energy of the card. I also find it interesting that this card shadows Siren.  Most of the time, Siren stays focused, but when there is doubt or distraction, she can waffle with the best of them. Be aware that you will have the tendency to be distracted from your purpose this month. Don't look for excuses to put things off. Do what you need to do and then move on to the next project. Otherwise, your personal ship will stall and you won't get anywhere this month!

9/11 called me to Priesthood

(This is a reprint of a note I wrote on Facebook four years ago. I feel it is still pertinent to this day - Mambo)

I watched filmmakers Jules and Gedeon Naudet haunting film "9/11" last night. I was mesmerized by the images -- especially since I was supposed to be there that weekend.

I was still living a bi-polar existence at that time. I was a well respect media producer/technical director by day, leading some very important teams through their paces for a variety of Fortune 100 companies.  And by night, I was a priestess and acolyte of Dolores Ashcroft-Nowicki.  I helped plan her teaching schedule here in the US and was also doing my SOL lessons, having been elevated to priest by her in 1998. A double agent, as it were.

In 2000, I spent two weeks atop the North Tower of the World Trade Center, a mile above Manhattan, producing a Goldman-Sachs annual meeting. I rode the ear popping elevators up and down, shopped below ground in the stores and parked myself in one of the huge windows with other techs, as we ate lunch and stared out at the world from above. I remember doing the Ferris Bueler move -- standing on tip-toe in the window with my forehead against the glass, the vertigo-inducing visual making me giddy and delightfully dizzy.

In 2001, bedazzled by my brilliant talents -- or just looking for an extra body to run a computer -- Goldman called me up to ask if I would be in attendance at the their meeting, once again atop the World Trade Center. I could hardly resist, it was such a great experience the year before. But before I could pack my suits, I got another call, cutting me from the team due to the budget. Oh well, next year I thought.

Then Dolores called, and we made plans for an Egyptian Master Class here. I got whirled away with her tour, classes, airplane tickets and all the stuff that was required to make her trip a success. We did the class and she returned with us to our home in PA, to rest up before leaving for California.

The next morning, Michael (her husband called) and said he was sorry for what was happening in NY. I thought what's happening, turned on the TV and saw the second plane fly into the North Tower. I couldn't believe what I saw.

Fast forward ten years, and last night, I still couldn't believe what I saw. The brothers have edited and added to their original film. They also showed the new memorial -- a very beautiful park surrounding the original footprints of the towers. I am glad they stayed with a sacred monument, instead of a crass commercial offering. The ground there is consecrated not just by death, but by the valiant efforts of the NYFD, NYPD, and hundreds of volunteers who stayed, searched and gave their own lives over to seeking for the deceased. I thought the water fall monument with engraved names a very beautiful and emotional symbol. A water road to Ginen for all those souls who left so unexpectedly.

Many of my friends did much work to help that day. Manbo Shakmah and the SEED priestesses did their work to help the souls cross. I prayed and lit candles for weeks -- I lost friends in the Towers that day. And Don gives thanks that I was cut from the team. Because otherwise... I don't know. I guess Legba closed that door and opened another.

What I do know is that day marks the moment when I made the decision to go to Haiti and become a mambo. I saw in that instant how life could end in a moment. How things can be changed irrevocably and pointlessly. That if you do not seize hold of your life and make it what you will, you will lose the chance to do so. Some one or some thing will snatch it away and then -- nothing.

I spent 23 years waiting for a phone to ring, with some one on the other end asking me to go some where or do some thing for them. Not for me, for them. I went for the money or the glory or whatever. But I seldom went for myself. After 9/11, I decided I would go for myself from now on. I will choose my destiny, not some one else.

I changed everything after that day. I sold everything I had to, in order to raise money for an initiation that I felt compelled to receive.  I packed up my husband and we went to Haiti. And initiated. Came home and started a church. I left Dolores to another who does an even better job of planning her trips than I did. I left friends behind who did not understand my choice to become a mambo. I left a job behind that filled my wallet but not my soul. And I never looked back.

I also brought things with me that were worth having. I brought my Donald because i cannot live my life without him. I brought my brother and sister along, because I cannot live without them in my life, either. I brought along my friends who did understand my choices and decided they wanted to try this new path with me. And I continue to find others who feel as I did that day.

That I would not lay down because of the terrorists. That I would not stop being who I am (defiantly and proudly American). And that I would seek a way to find communion with all people, regardless of color, creed or nationality. Because if 21 diverse nations of Africans could find a way to rise above their station, praise God above and seek Ginen, then so would I. And if that meant leaving behind some things for the betterment of myself and others, then so be it.

One of my favorite films is Gattica, about a man named Vincent who wants to be an astronaut and can't due to his physical size. He goes through hell to change in order to realize his goal. When telling his brother why he did this, he relates a story from their childhood. How they used to try to swim out to an island, but never made it. Until one day, Vincent does make it. When his brother asks him how, his answer was "You want to know how I did it? This is how I did it, Anton: I never saved anything for the swim back." Meaning it was the island or drown.

After 9/11, I never saved anything for the swim back either. And I do not regret it. It would sully the memory of my friends who died on 9/11. And so, for Bobby, Bill and Wilson, I swam like hell for the distant shore and I made it. I will see you all on the other side one day. Ayibobo.

Disasters, Dogs and Ogoun - oh my.

I make a lot of religious artwork on commission. Its typical of Vodou sosyetes to have specific spirits they work with, and to have their own sets of colors and so forth. I set lights, invoke Legba to open the door for me, and to give me the best possible inspiration for what I do. The great Gatekeeper does, but sometimes, He likes the work so much, its derailed before I can even get it completed. Does He do this on purpose? Am I just not paying attention? I am not sure -- artwork is still a messy business at best. Paint is wet, glue to sticks to everything and everywhere except the place you want it to, and the dogs don't help with their snuffly noses and dirty paws. I start with good intentions, but after a week like this one, I begin to understand how that road to hell is actually paved.  Witness the following disasters, large and small:

I have a new client who was recently initiated into a Makaya house. He has been requesting some very specific work from me and as we've been on a Makaya high lately, this work seemed fitting. I am very happy to oblige him. I set the table of art (or tableau de arte, take your pick) with a prayer, a candle for Makaya and began sketching.  I make several drawings when I work, to help get the kinks out and to focus my ideas.  Paint and glue are unforgiving, so its better to approach with a plan than to wing it and regret it later. Having gathered my ideas and formulated a plan, I took the time to find materials suited to the task and purchased a couple very cool bottles, some new embellishments (flat back sequins and such) and reviewed the incoming requests.


The first commission was a boutey for Ogoun Flambeau.  This particular Ogou is served in my client's lineage with black and small gold highlights. It's a take off on the above chromolith of Saint George fighting the dragon. Saint George is wearing black armor with golden highlights. The correlation made sense to me -  in Haiti the saint chromos are not aligned because of the particular saint themselves, but more for the colors and decoration in the pictures. St. George wears black armor, so a black boutey was the right offering vessel for this fiery avatar of the Ogoun clan.

I had a fabulous bottle I'd purchased and it seemed perfect for this project. It was square shaped, with raised detail that made it seem like armor. I worked very hard on getting all the details just right, with flat back embellishments, tiny gold sequins and just enough bling to echo the look of the armor in chromo. Upon completion, I invoked Flambeau into the piece. Although we were serving the Marine Lwa that weekend, I slipped the boutey downstairs in the tmple and placed it on the Petro altar for the evening. Sure enough, several of the hounsi found it and wanted to know all about the Lwa, who it was for and when would they get one. They'll just have to wait for a bit on that. I also strung a lovely kolye with black onyx, gold highlighted beads on hand knotted silk cord. A fitting kolye for a warrior.

The client was ecstatic with his artwork and commissioned a second one from me. This time, it was for Ogoun Ge Wouj. The fiery hot spirit is served in his house with red and gold highlights. No problem, I had a perfect companion bottle for the first.

I took my time painting it outside. Several light coats of red paint work better than a heavy one. However, I underestimated the pull of Ogoun for the dogs. Bodhi, my canine doppelganger and bonded familiar was very interested in what I was doing. Way too interested. He investigated the bottle thoroughly,  knocking it off the fence post twice while it was wet. Le sigh.  I cleaned his nose, the bottle and got the paint job to look proper.

Once back at my table of art, I started the embellishment. But the glue ate through the paint. I did not figure this out until the gold metal ribbon I was using slid off to one side, taking the paint with it. Add to this the fun of a large, slobber covered ball rolling across the table while I try to work. Deeper sigh.

I locked the dog out of the studio and came back to find all the sequins and crystals had also abandoned their places - the glue was removing the paint on the bottle and the finish was now ruined beyond repair. Argh.

Ok, back to square one. A trip to several of my thrift stores turned up a perfect candidate. Having learned my lesson, I left Bodhi in the house while I painted. He was occupied by the workers outside yesterday and today, so I was able to properly paint the base, setting it up for embellishments. I also made a trip to Home Depot for the right adhesive, and came back to embellish without the help of a snuffly wet nose checking my work. I am very happy with the finished product and have sent pics off to the client to see if he likes it.

As I cleaned up, I went to toss the ruined bottle when I turned it over in my had and saw the sun burst. In my morning meditations of late, I have been receiving very clear information regarding Legba's status as a solar Lwa. He has made several requests that I intend to follow up on, and now in hind sight I realize He wanted this boutey for Himself. Well, jeez, ya coulda told me sooner.

So now I will be in the basement, cleaning off the bottle and getting it ready for my Solar patron. My client will be getting his amazing Ge Wouj bottle and Bodhi will be assigned to study my artwork before I get it all done, so if there is a change, I can make it sooner rather than later.

Ogou Zé Wouj, O! Konsa yo ye!

Ogou Zé Wouj, O! Konsa yo ye!

Bouch manjé tout manjé, Le pa palé tout pawol,

Ogou Zé Wouj, O! Konsa yo ye!

I take commissions on artwork -- shrines, boutey, statuary and amulet jewelry. Please contact me on the sosyetedumarche.com page for details.

The Reading of September is Bossou Twa Kon

 Bossou Twa Kon is the manifestation of power and enlightenment.  His name comes from one of the kings of an Old Dahomey fiefdom called Whyda.  King Agadja Dosou (the child following a twin birth) had a son he named Bossou Achade.  As a ruler in Africa, Bossou Achade became Kadya Bossou, and in Haiti, he is simply called Bossou.

Kadja Bossou and Djobolo Bossou are both old Dahomean spirits. They come from a line of kings who ruled a place variously called Whida (sometimes written Whyda) .  These kings all went by the title "Agasou". The eldest and strongest (in terms of conquering the neighboring peoples) was a king named Akaba. When he died, his twin ruled, and then her power was usurped by her younger brother named Agadja. He was a dosou, the child born after twins. Thus his name was Agadja Dosou. 

Because of his status as a ruler, he is often called Kadya Dossou. His son was named Bossou Achade, and as a ruler, he too became Kadya Bossou. In Haiti, he is simply called Bossou or Kadja Bossou, meaning the "King Bossou". His name is also a reference to having been born with the umbilical cord around his neck.  And to add further mystery to his arrival on earth, Bossou is called a tohosou, a human being thought to be touched by God. When a child was born deformed in some way -- extra digits, hump backed, dwarfed -- or if the birth was unusual -- breach, umbilical cord wrapped around neck, caul on face -- then that child was thought to be very special. Having been touched by God's fire, their flesh visibly melted and molded by His touch, they are revered as something more than human. They become tohosou.  Bossou is recorded as being hunch back, the very image of a bull in his deformed shoulders.

When the Lwa Bossou comes around, it means that you are stuck in your place and cannot find egress to get out or get going. He is literally the bull in the china shop, ready to plow through whatever needs to be destroyed to bring about movement and forward momentum. When he arrives, I know that something big is about to happen for that person.  But he needs a focus or just like a bull that wanders aimlessly in a china shop, he can easily destroy what you do not want to be destroyed!

Bossou is also a liberator – which is another way of saying he can free you from whatever is restraining you.  Just as Kadja Bossou “freed” his kingdom from the slavers, the spirit Bossou does the same thing when he arrives for a servitor.

His colors are red, black and white. I usually serve him with a red scarf, a white candle with a black ribbon. I have actually made a scarf of red, black and white that I use to serve him.  Some folks use red penis candles, available from hoodoo shops. The idea behind the penis is the fecundity and fertility of the bull as symbolized by the phallus.  Use one of the images of the following images as his avatar: the triple ray El Christos, for the three rays emerging from Christ's head.  They represent the three horns that Bossou has.  St. Vincent de Paul is used for all the children he is holding (Bossou's ability to carry with ease, any burden given him is legendary).

The brave and industrial bull of the pantheon, Bossou shoulders the burdens of the world.  Arriving in September, he will lend both the sosyete and you individually with the strength to carry through with your plans.  And just like a bull market, he is aggressive in doing so. If you need the push to get something done, then September is the month to do it – the bull will lend you his considerable strength to get your project off the ground or even finished.

September’s Shadow is the Wheel of Fortune:  This is the card of destiny and possibilities, a reminder that all things shall pass so long as we do not forget the lessons learned. The mambo declares her right to serve the Lwa with her raised hand, the same position taken in Freemasonry as the Due Guard of a Fellow Craft.  It is the primary salute offered in a Vodou house to the Spirits, a gesture that shows both inclusiveness and welcome.  She stands in front of a sugar millwheel, the symbol of oppression, fortune and power.  But this wheel is done.  It hangs as a reminder that the past is gone but not forgotten. And that we must move forward, remembering the past so as not to repeat past mistakes.  In conjunction with Bossou, the bull provides a power to move across difficulties and the shadow says to remember what you did so you don’t do it again.

Financially it means a break in your expenses and the possibility of movement toward a better position or better compensation.  But the Wheel of Fortune needs you to comply as well.  You have a big say in how your life evolves, and the wheel keeps moving, ever forward, bringing around new ideas and new possibilities.

How are you serving?

I am planning menus, making travel arrangements for a variety of people, and trying to fit a couple mattresses in the guest bedroom so people have some place to sleep. Tomorrow morning I will shop for meals like it's Thanksgiving, buy enough toilet tissue to serve a small army platoon, and hope my sewer lines don't back up on Saturday. I will lay in ice, soda and tea for both hot and cold beverages; make sure we have a couple pounds of Haitian coffee and a couple quarts of cold cream; tally up the candles, cakes, perfume and clean head scarfs. I will wash two sets of dishes (one for us and one for spirit) and lay out bed linens, white clothing, and table cloths. Nope, it's a not a holiday -- its the Lwa's service day and it's a big one. We perform our annual Lave Tet or head washing on the point (or "pwen') of the Marine Lwa (that's Agwe, LaSiren and LaBalen to the non-members.) It's a huge party to plan and execute and I try to make sure I've got all my t's crossed and i's dotted. But all this shopping, baking, cooking and planning has got me to thinking.


When one becomes an Asogwe priest, be it mambo or houngan, there is an inherent and unspoken command that comes along with the rank that says 'you will be of service.' What exactly, does that mean? "Of service..." Over the years, I have seen the term "of service" become interpreted as making fets, hosting Lwa parties and running Kanzos. That's all fine and dandy, but surely there is more to being a priest than knowing how to house and feed fifty people every month?

I am especially focused on that term -- of service -- as I am speaking at the KOSANBA conference in October about this very thing. I was chosen to speak because my husband and I run a large, international sosyete here in the USA.  It's particularly interesting to the Haitian constituency that will attend this conference as to how we are managing to be priests of Vodou when we aren't Haitian, don't have Haitian ancestors and don't live in Haiti. As I approach my 15th year of serving the Lwa, the foremost question I am asked by Haitians isn't why I am serving the Lwa, but how.  This line of questioning points out just how entwined the religion of Vodou is to the country of Haiti.  And these days, it is the same question I've begun asking myself.  How are you serving the Lwa?

I spend my days in ritual poise. That means I pray, I visit the sick, I offer a sympathetic ear, I make meals and I work on charity projects. Occasionally, I get art commissions which helps pay the bills. I also offer monthly fets to the Lwa. Big, elaborate, multi-day events that entail lots of planning, cooking, housing and singing for the 20 - 40 folks who come to the service. It also follows that I spend a portion of the following week cleaning, putting away and resetting my house back to normal, until the next month when I do it all over again. We have been doing this religiously (pun intended) for over 30 years; the first 15 years as ceremonial magicians, the last 15 as Vodouisants. It's fun, energizing and especially fulfilling to me personally. This past weekend we baptized two babies into the faith. It's a rewarding time indeed. But now as I approach my 15th year of priesthood, I want to do more.

I believe it is the job of every Asogwe of my age at least, to begin to prepare those who follow to take over the work. In Ceremonial language, we called it the Great Work. This is a reference to the idea of keeping the gods (God) appeased through ritual and propitiation. There is a long held belief that the world of men and the realm of the gods should not become intertwined. When these two places do intersect, trouble follows. And there is also an unspoken understanding that if you don't make offerings, propitiation or service, then the gods (God) will come looking for it, once again violating the Kalunga and intermixing the world. Calamity almost always follows. So the role of the priest is to help keep the balance as it were. I make an offering to Legba, and Legba agrees not to come looking for his stuff. Likewise, we make service for the Lwa, and they arrive safely and sanely through the act of possession into this realm. If not, imbalance reigns again.

I am taking the time to prepare my godchildren to be this kind of priest. To know the prayers, the langaj of the spirits. To make the right offerings on the right days, to the correct Lwa. To be able to set up a proper space to work in, and to help those who come to them for succor. And as I do this, I find my own role changing in subtle ways. We still offer service, but others now lead. I take the time to breathe on fet days, allowing them to step up and do their thing. My "service to the Lwa' is now formed by stepping back and giving others a chance to shine.

We have a whole new group of people who are learning to be servitors and they are all under 12 years of age. My "service to the Lwa" is now formed by creating a learning program for them - in clear and simple language so that they can become servitors. There is new life in the form of babies, baptized this weekend and beginning their own journey to the faith. I found it delightfully amazing that these tiny beings not only heard me singing while they were in their mommie's bellies but that they remembered. They both squealed in delight as I sang the opening stanzas to the Priye Ginen, and danced with utter abandon to the rhythms of the drum.

But the real moment came late in the night as Gran Ibo made her appearance. She was particularly focused on one of the babies, and danced before him, swirling and touching his face. He sat perfectly still, mesmerized by her movements.  His huge grin and wide-eye amazement stunned everyone present.  Not in the least bit afraid, he coo'd with delight as she stroked his face, telling him he was hers. Ayibobo - if the Lwa are pleased, then I am too.

My "service to the Lwa" is becoming more of an outreach practice. It is writing books about Vodou, speaking at conferences on my experiences as a Mambo leading a house here in the USA.  It's writing this blog so that others may find their way to the Spirits.  And it is in my artwork, my daily singing and my gardens to the Lwa. My "service to the Lwa" has expanded, moving beyond my abilities to plan parties and into the world as a real life practice. As it should be.

When I speak at the conference in October, this is what I will tell the audience. I came to Vodou because of a small black man who has always accompanied me in life. I stayed in Vodou because it gives me joy to sing to the Spirits. And I will remain in Vodou because the next generation is looking at me to learn how to be an Asogwe. I think that's what Asogwe really means - an example to follow. Its a big commitment, but then I've never been one to shirk away from big commitments.

For example, right now, I gotta go hang out those eight sets of bed linens, put away the place settings for 15 people and reset a temple back for regular use. An asogwe's job is never done. Ayibobo.