A personal letter to Alice George describing my experience at a rare voodoo ceremony

Dear Pie (Alice Rose George, Photo Editor at Time magazine)

Here are some sketchy notes on the religious service—

The ceremony was fascinating but not really photographic. It was almost impossible to do photography because everything took place under a pitch black sky with only four Coleman lamps to illuminate the action. Using the flash was difficult & horribly imposing on the participants.

The voodoo ceremony or service de Boeuf (cow) took place at Fond des Nègres, a three hour drive from Port au Prince. The taxi dropped me off on the road where a donkey and man were waiting to bring me to the site of the ceremony. It was pitch black and we had to walk through a river and up and down steep ravines.

Ira Lowenthal, the anthropologist, was there to meet me with his Haitian wife and 6 month old child. There was also an American anthropologist, Karen Kramer.

…

We were greeted by a great crowd of young girls, who touched my hair and skin and let me feel the texture of their fluffy locks. I felt blessed to be welcomed by these people and I knew I could have never experienced it if not for Ira. This is the real thing that few white people have experienced, especially because it’s only been 6 years since the road along here has been built into the interior.

The ceremony began with one young woman falling into trance — in a strong, commanding voice she called the people to begin. At first her trance seemed very theatrical, but then I realized how effective it was in drawing the villagers into the ritual.

As the nite progressed, the intensity increased. All around me I hear screams as if of great agony and protest. I turn and see a woman violently swinging back and forth, her eyes wide with terror, the pupils dilated, the scream starting from her very belly, Two others are trying to still her violence but she breaks away and ricochets with violence to the other of the circle which has formed to give her room. At times she spins on one leg as if it were rooted to the earth, then she frees the leg and shuffles backwards, rapidly …

I feel that being possessed and falling into trance states is a kin to therapy much better than going to a shrink! What an incredible outlet to express emotions - to be with your relatives in a situation you can transcend yourself, release repressions, in absolute purity. Screaming and rolling on the ground and exhorting demons that are in us all. The individual under pressure or disturbed can release all their anger in a healthy & enjoyable way.

Thursday night: we are going to stay at the site of the service. It takes a long time to begin and people are sleeping in groups around the trees. Karen & I sleep on a straw mat on the dirt floor of the house that contains the ceremonial offerings. Chickens, hens, and rats are sleeping with us as well as four other adults & assorted children in a 6’ x 8’ room. It’s impossible to sleep but somehow I find myself falling into an exhausted reverie. I have had about 4 hrs in 3 days but am not tired & feeling very alive. My disappointment & frustration is the difficulty I have in taking photos—the impossibility in capturing the essence of the service. I cannot use a flash , I desire to photograph the dances but how to isolate the movements. Maybe the gods will be with me and I will get something magical. Pray.

The service de Couchon (pig). The offering are arranged next to a sacred tree—the pig screaming aware of its impending death.The pig is dragged around the tree, it’s head is lowered in grief. Libations are poured over its body. The pig is becoming a god - a sacred vessel of sacrifice. Flour is sprinkled over the pig’s back. A girl gravels on the ground & crawls under the animal—Couchon is laid on it’s back out the machete is caressing its neck— its legs are spread apart the girls. The priest goes back & forth a few times before actually cutting into the flesh— The pig screams briefly but the knife is very sharp and he quickly dies—then the head is hacked off, 4 gulps in frantic dance around it, a very heavy scene. The severed head is lifted up and then down again, placed near the body as if it could be sewn on again. I think this is the end of the sacrifice but then i feel the intensity increasing again as a little girl plunges both hands machete into the pig’s corpse and starts licking the blood. The two girls folloe her and soon there is a whirling circle of blood and guts oozing from the body. Finally with blood soaked hands she shakes hands with her people including me. The most amazing, incredible thing that rite ago when I first arrived & thought these girls were too whirly to be into that stuff. Boy, was I wrong. Then the priest cuts off the balls & penis & promptly pops it into the boiling stew. The sun is coming up and beginning to burn through the trees. A few minutes later, the young woman who was just in trance whose hands were plunged into the carcass appeared calm and happy.

The most fascinating thing is the mixture of singing, dancing, and ritual offerings. It is like an opera. The dancing & singing are not separate forms of expression. They dance as if they were marionettes tied to drums by invisible strings of sound. Their movements are around sound made visible and their voices are in turn the transfiguration of their movements back into human sounds.

Tonight I am going to photograph a Voodoo Ceremony in town. Maybe something interesting will happen with that and we can juxtapose the two events. The voodoo ceremony is canceled because of A blackout & lightning. Besides this one is more of a tourist trip.

Pie. Bon Dieu Bon!

Call me if you can squeeze a story out—Thank you.

I’ll call you as soon as I get back—

Love,

Mellon