A Voodoo Healing

The sneaky photo

And so the hunt for Voodoo continued.

First stop the next day were the Saturday markets, I’m not sure what I expected to find, maybe jugs of animal blood, maybe pythons or dolls made of human hair with pins in them. I didn’t know. And I never got to find out.

Just blocks away from the market place a muscly man in a yellow basketball singlet approached me speaking no English at all. He motioned for me to follow him. I kept telling him no but he was very persistent and I ended up thinking ‘well, a few good things have happened on this trip as a result of people leading me into the unknown, maybe this is one of those moments’.

He took me to a tin shed full of scrap building materials guarded by three older men all of whom spoke a little English. We did the polite introductions and rehearsed the usual questions and answers:

‘Where are you from? What work do you do? Are you travelling alone? Where is your husband?’

The guy in the yellow singlet seemed to get bored and wandered off. Shortly after I excused myself and told them I needed to find some breakfast. They tried to get me to stay, they told me to sit, that they will send someone to get me food. I insisted I wanted to get my own breakfast and I left.

Less then a block away the guy in yellow was back walking beside me.

“I’m getting food” I tell him in a series of motions and gestures.

He replies by gesturing that he will join me.

“No” I tell him. “I will go alone, au revoir”

“No au revoir” he says firmly

“Yes au revoir” I turn and walk away.

He followed me.

I swung around “you” pointing at him “stay” pointing at the ground.

“No” he says.

I hold my hand up, palm facing him “Stop. Stay. Goodbye” I say as sternly as possible.

I kept walking and he kept following. Exasperated I stop again. I poke my finger at his chest and yell “you go!” I point off in the opposite direction “au revoir!”

“No au revoir” he replies again.

I wave down a zemi, he clearly isn’t leaving so I decide I should. As I am about to jump on the bike he says something to the driver and the driver nods obediently.

“What are you saying?” I ask and they both ignore me. The driver takes off, not even asking where I am going or what direction I want to go in.

“Where are you taking me?” I demand to know, I get no response. I look behind me but the man in yellow has disappeared.

“Pull over” no response. I don’t know where he is taking me, I start to panic “pull over!” I say and tug at his arm.

Clearly annoyed the driver pulls over, I get off and before I can say anything else he turns around and rides off in the direction we came from.

I run up the street turn a corner, then another and another trying to stay off main roads. I get to a little food place where I can sufficiently hide in the shadows at the back. I was sure the driver had made some deal with the man in yellow and I pictured them both riding around looking for me. I ordered rice and a boiled egg and took my time eating it until I could hope the coast was clear. I didn’t think it a smart move to go back to the market area so from there I went back to the beach where Assane was meant to be waiting for me.

From a distance I saw his wide toothy grin flash as soon as I arrived – clearly happy to see me. He left his collection of jewellery under the watchful eye of the man selling paintings beside him and called his friend who he’d arranged to take us to the Voodoo doctor.

Assane and I got on the back of his mate’s motorbike and rode 15km along the sandy path that ran along the coast. It was lined with coconut trees, the beach was practically empty and the ocean was bluer than it had been the day before. We before pulled into a cluster of a half dozen huts made entirely of palm branches and the trunks of coconut trees, they looked sturdy, but I wondered how waterproof they could be.

We were invited in by a very sweaty woman wearing nothing but a white sheet accompanied by a little naked girl. She told us to sit on the wooden bench under the shade of a palm roof and then went to fetch some water.

Three generations of men emerged carrying chairs and sat themselves in front of us and the water was passed around. In Achianse I knew that formal conversations could not begin until water was sipped by all, but this water was local water and I still had a tummy bug reminding me not to drink it, so I faked it. The men talked to our driver in their native language, he translated it into French for Assane who translated into English for me.

They asked me what I wanted, why I had come to see them and what I wanted from the Juju. I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t tell them I was there just to ease my curious mind for even if this was acceptable I wanted as close to the real thing as I could get.

I told them I heard that Voodoo can heal as well as predict the future and that is why I had come. They said I was welcome and that they could help me. Before I went any further though I asked how much money they wanted and was told 3’000CFA ($6 AUD)

All three of us were given sheets of white sheer material and told to get undressed and wrap it around us. We were led inside one of the little huts and told to sit on the bench against the wall.

Near the entrance to the hut was a big, solid, block-shaped wooden sculpture wearing a red and white hula skirt and a matching red and white head piece. With it were three smaller versions of the same carving but without the hula skirt, one on either side of it and the third sat on the large carvings head.

In another corner of the hut was another wooden sculpture, it was hard to tell if it was two figures joined side by side or one figure with two heads. In the back corner of the hut hung three pieces of black and red material blocking that corner of the room from sight.

The zemi driver, Assane and I all sat side by side on the bench, our naked sweaty skin sticking to each other. The smell of all of our sweat was so strong it was burning my nose.

The middle aged man, the Voodoo doctor, sat beside the main carving and his father and son sat on the floor propped up against the wall. He struck a match and lit a cigarette, from that cigarette he lit another and another and lit eight in total. He then put a cigarette in the little open mouths of all of the wooden sculptures, gave one to his father and kept one for himself. This must have encouraged Assane cause he took his packet out and pretty soon everyone but me was smoking – it was a lot of smoke for one little hut.

The man in charge picked up a bell and rang it while he chanted. He was facing the large sculpture and would occasionally tap its head as he chanted, ringing the bell and smoking his cigarette. The rest of us stayed quiet. I forgot to breathe. Up until now I hadn’t really thought about what it was I was going to see or do. I hadn’t done any research or met anyone who had ever been to a Voodoo doctor. I was so obsessed with ‘finding voodoo’ that I didn’t even know what Voodoo was.

The man put down the bells and picked up a bottle of clear liquid and poured some into a shot glass. He poured the little cup full over the head of the large sculpture and splashed it over its skirt. He poured some more and did the same to the three little sculptures with it. He poured some more and splashed it on the two-headed figure and poured some more again, taking it behind the black curtain only to re-emerge with an empty shot glass. As he did it he continued to chant.

He poured a glass and downed it in one gulp, poured another for his father, one for his son, one for the zemi driver and finally one for me (Assane said no, he is Muslim and doesn’t drink). The palm wine was strong and burned my mouth and throat.

The man picked up his stool and took it behind the black curtain. He called me over and I joined him in the dark corner hidden from the others. In front of me stood yet another wooden carving, only about 40cm tall but perched on a table at waist height, it was dressed in a white cloth and somehow I could tell that this one was meant to be female, and this was the Juju. I was instructed to place 2’000 CFA at the foot of this figure. I did and was told to return to the bench. And then the sculpture spoke to me.

Have you ever heard the sound those little plastic toys make that kids talk into and it warps their voice into a high-pitched sound, like sucking on helium or attempting the voice of a chipmunk? That was the sound of the voice speaking to me from the corner of the hut behind the black curtains. I had to suppress my laughter. ‘What a joke!’ I thought. I was picturing the man hiding behind the curtain, talking into a cheap plastic toy pretending to be the wise words of a Voodoo sculpture/God-like thing.

The squawking words of the Juju was translated by the man, I assume he took the toy out of his mouth to do so… only he knew what it was saying of course. The zemi driver translated to Assane who translated to me. The sculpture had told me I was welcome. She then told me that soon I would find a very good job, I will earn lots of money and I will be very happy.

It then told me that all of this good fortune would happen within the next few months, and as she squawked this out the man behind the curtain spoke at the same time and my cynicism was cut off. I couldn’t figure out how the man behind the curtain could talk normally and into the squeaky toy simultaneously and I sheepishly admit I was a little wide-eyed.

The Juju sculpture kept squawking and rattled off a list of things I needed to buy. It told me I needed a white cloth, a pineapple, banana’s, fresh lavender and biscuits. I was to take all of these things to the edge of the ocean and lay it out on the sand. The Gods will then come out of the sea and take them away and only then will I get that wonderful job and all the money promised to me.

The Juju asked what else I wanted to know about my future. Put on the spot all I could think of was asking if I would have children. To this question Assane put his hand on my thigh and grinned as though I were asking about the children I would have with him.

Just two, the Juju told me, but I will only have children if I sacrifice the blood of one goat and two chickens. I wondered how this fits into my vegetarian ethos. I also wondered if a piece of goat meat and two chicken drumsticks from the local chop bar would suffice. Hell, either way these animals were easier to get than fresh lavender.

Assane started to stroke my hair, I pushed his hand away and he placed his hand on my bare back. I cringed and wriggled as far from him as possible which only pressed me into the zemi driver more. All morning I had noticed his affection but tried to ignore it. It started as long lingering looks, closely leaning into me to speak, and the occasional stroke of his finger under my chin. Although I didn’t like it, it wasn’t hard to ignore, but now that he’d started tucking my hair behind my ears and stroking my back whilst I had nothing but a sheet on, I was ready to leave.

But the juju had given me a final instruction so I couldn’t leave just yet, though it also said that I had to be alone to do it, which meant Assane was to wait for me outside – thank you Juju Voodoo God!

On a piece of paper I was to write down all of the things I want in life, it had to be what my heart truly desires. Then I had to write my full name, address and phone number in Australia.

As they all left the little hut the zemi driver stayed back a minute to have a few sneaky sips of the palm-wine that had been offered to the sculptures and then I was left alone. I had been hiding my camera beneath my sheet and now was my only chance to snap a sly picture. I only got one and I didn’t even get time to check what I’d taken but I was determined to get just something.

I then scribbled out six things on the piece of paper I wanted, I didn’t even put much thought into it assuming it would get thrown out or even kept by these men who couldn’t read it anyway.  The list included children, my parent’s good health as they age, my sisters’, girlfriend and best friends’ happiness and I think it may have mentioned a house in the Australian bush.

I handed it over and went to get dressed so I could leave but they told me to sit again. I had to read the list out loud so that it could be written into their native language. They told me that after the sacrifice of the animals was made the men would pray for these things every morning, the Voodoo Gods would read my address from the paper, fly to Australia to find me and that within a week all these things would start to come true.

As I read out the list of wishes to be translated, Assane nestled his head into my neck and I pushed him away. The old man saw this and burst into laughter.

When the translation was finished the men did some serious calculations and decided that the cost of the praying, in addition to the cost of the goat and chickens would cost me 80’000 CFA ($150 AUD – a LOT of money in a developing country) I told them I didn’t have that money on me, which is true (not that it made a difference either way), and they told me to go back to the capital Cotonou to get it. They said that when I bring the money back they will start praying, but if I don’t bring the money back none of my wishes will come true. They also added that once I pay and go back home to Australia, if my wishes aren’t granted within a few months I could fly back to Benin and get a full refund. A warranty from a Voodoo doctor, how modern!

On the ride back I tried to enjoy the palm-fringed beach again but I couldn’t, not just because Assane kept trying to put his hand on my thigh but because I wondered how many people paid these men for their dreams to come true. I wondered how many people lose their money like that. I wondered if I was cursed now because I had no intention of returning and thank god I put fake contacts on that paper. Assane kept saying that although he is Muslim he believes in voodoo, that it really works and I should bring back the 80’000 CFA so my dreams will come true, if I want kids, he told me, I had to bring the money back. I think at that stage I would have swapped the kids for him shutting up.

We dropped Assane at his jewellery stall, he wanted me to spend the night at his house, I lied telling him I will come back and visit him the next day. I felt bad, he was a sweet guy who had given me what I had asked for. I bought a necklace from him – in my head it was a kind of thank you gift but really I guess it was a feeble attempt to relieve some of my guilt. He then gave me a pair of silver earrings holding them up to my face he said they would really suit me: odd considering that my ears are stretched 12mm and I can’t wear normal earrings.

I left hoping I didn’t break his heart.