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| 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.
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