Haiti Gives New Recognition to Vodou

Haiti Gives New Recognition to Vodou

It has no written scripture, is an amalgam of African, native, and colonial influences--and defines Haitian faith and culture
Kathie Klarreich,
Christian Science Monitor

PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti (April 6)--A young man, forlorn about his love life, stands in his shorts in front of the cross of Bawon Samdi, who in Vodou tradition heads the family of spirits of the cemetery. A Vodou priest, using herbal mixtures and chicken feathers, performs a ritual to cleanse the man's body and spirit. When the service is complete, the young man changes clothes, pays the priest, and heads home.

For many in the West and in upper Haitian society, Vodou--also spelled Voodoo, Vodoun, and Voudou--evokes a Hollywood stereotype of black magic and dolls stuck with pins.

But for Vodou supporters, what was once an underground practice dating back to slave days is finally being acknowledged as a bona fide religion and recognized for its role in defining Haitian culture. Vodou, which has no written scriptural text, is an amalgam of beliefs taken from African, native, and the colonial cultures that shaped modern Haiti.

The Roman Catholic and Protestant churches in Haiti have a long history of trying to discourage Vodou, seeing aspects of the faith as incompatible with their basic tenets. These include the worship of many spiritual beings, or lwa; a belief in possession; the use spells and incantations for good and, in some cases, for evil; and the use of animal sacrifices for some ceremonies.

Culture minister Jean Robert Vaval is among those working to improve Vodou's image. He recently helped arrange an exhibit of sequined Vodou banners and mock altars at the Musee d'Art Haitien in the capital, Port-au-Prince.

"We have maintained our heritage through Vodou," Mr. Vaval said. "We were brought over here from Africa, from tribes that no longer exist. We got all mixed up into one people. From that point on we created, and a great source of our inspiration has been Vodou."

The Culture Ministry's float for this year's Carnival paid homage to a 1794 Vodou ceremony that led to the country's independence from France 10 years later in a rebellion led by a former slave.

For practitioners, or Vodouisans, Vodou rituals are part of a philosophy that ties individuals to society, their community, and the environment.

Although there are no official statistics, the conventional wisdom is that the country is 80 percent Roman Catholic, 15 percent Protestant--and 100 percent Vodou.

"Vodou provides, like all world religions, a profound spirituality," says Leslie Desmangles, professor of religion at Trinity College in Hartford, Conn. "It is a very strong, cohesive social force within the community, and the community extends beyond the visual community to include the spiritual world."

In a country overwhelmed by poverty, political instability, and poor health care, oungans and mambos--Vodou priests and priestesses--are consulted on everything from fertility to serious illness to property disputes and even politics.

"There has never been a Haitian president who hasn't used Vodou to promote his program on the Haitian people," says Desmangles. "Every president has used it to maintain power through theological language."

Former dictator Francois "Papa Doc" Duvalier, president from 1957 until his death in 1971, was notorious for his use of Vodou. Loyal clergy reputedly performed rituals to protect his personal paramilitary force, the Tonton Macoutes, from retribution as they terrorized the Haitian populace.

In contrast, former President Jean Bertrand Aristide was the first Haitian president to formally invite Vodou oungans and mambos to the National Palace during his 1991-95 administration, recognizing the role they play in shaping Haitian society.

"Vodou is a manifestation of our lives," says musician Wilfrid "Tido" Lavaud. "It is part of our culture and influences everything--from the way we talk, to how we eat, to the colors we use in our paintings and the rhythms we include in our songs."

Vodou is so entwined in Haiti's culture that it is practically impossible to separate the two, say supporters. Traditional Haitian dancers in bright costumes often are accompanied by drummers who pound out African-style rhythms to honor ancestors and specific spirits. Walking down the street, one sees veves--traditional designs meant to invoke a Vodou spirit--in buildings and windows.

In Haitian painting, green is often a tribute to Simbi, patron spirit of rain and drinking water, while pink is a reference to Erzulie, the patron of love.

"We are a people with a tremendous amount of imagination," says Pradel Henriquez, the Culture Ministry's director of artistic and literary creation. "Haitians are not profoundly happy, but they want to live their lives to the fullest."

Related Features

Background on Vodou
Vodoun Culture
U.S. State Department Report on Religion in Haiti
Voodoo: From Medicine to Zombies

Zombie Nation

The drums echoed, deafeningly with a strange chant for background noise. I had woken up soaked in sweat. My body sought for oxygen - the air in the room was so stale it felt sticky. The overhead fan helped the mosquitoes suck my blood. I jumped out of bed. Induced by a dry, strong drum-beat, I had been called. All of the Cap-Haitien streets were still dark. I slid down alleys and gutters. The old Spanish and French houses put me in the midst of an old Corto Maltese comic book. After walking for minutes that felt like hours, I got to the door of a hounfour (a voodoo temple). The place was a shack divided into many rooms, known as peristiles. From the main one (poteau-mitam), where entities - that is, loas, or orishas, spirits that are the manifold manifestations of God - would appear, a thick smoke wafted out. People clad in red and black sang a song that gave me the creeps. It had the same melody as an old lullaby my mother would sing to me a s a child. When I came to my senses, all attendants looked towards the entrance. Guess what. They were looking at me, the only white man in the ceremony. On the walls hung images of saints, side by side with cabalistic symbols known as "vévé". The strong smell of rum prevailed over the session. All of a sudden, I realize the Houngan (priest) was about to commence a sacrifice. Two terrified goats shivered in their place. I heard a dry thump: a machete had severed the poor animals' heads. The following day, I woke up in fright. What happened to me? Perky as can be, Christian asked me where I had been. He said that in the dark of the morning he had gone to the bathroom and realized my bed was empty. As I washed my face, another surprise. Two black and red ribbons circled my neck. Had I gone partying with Romário? What a night. What a nightmare. What really terrified me was my late-afternoon encounter with a bokor (witch). The freakish figure asked, with a devilish look, what I'd really learned from the previous night's ceremony. I shook to the core: what could that man with a chicken in his hands know about me?

ARTHUR, HEEDLESS OF THE DANGER BREATHING DOWN HIS NECK, GETS UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL WITH HOUGAN TÉTE

THE WORLD'S EIGHTH WORST ECONOMY At the Miami airport lounge, I gladly meet Christian Cravo, my partner in other adventures, already with a stein of beer in his hand. It was just the beginning of an extraordinary journey. In all my roamings across the planet, never had I felt my spirit rise in such a manner. My pseudo-knowledge, courtesy of the movie industry, added to a few institutional texts of voodoo, made me increasingly confused. The whole thing seemed like a massive con. Voodoo was always more than zombies and impaled wax figurines. So I went into a restless research of Haitian history, trying to decipher this enigmatic country. Heat and filth welcomed us to Port au Prince, Haiti's capital city. Our goal was to two of this people's religious parties and pilgrimages. Haiti, the West's first independent black republic, is a synthesis of Africa. During the unfortunate times of the slave trade (mid-18th century) over 600 thousand people from several tribes were brought to this island. It was, then, the most prosperous nation in the Americas. Now, the UNO rates Haiti as the world's 7th or 8th worst economy. Upon leaving the beaten-up taxi, we caught a glimpse of the daily theft we would be subjected to. The smelly driver wanted 30 U.S. dollars for the trip to the hotel. At the reception desk, they didn't even glance at our passports: they wanted us to pay in advance for our stay. The room was tragic: the fan seemed bent on flying away from its spot on the ceiling and the towels sported a cesspool-brown color. We were in a fucked up little nation - and, worse, with prices worthy of any rich country on Earth. A small-sized beer cost from 2 to 3 dollars: daily fare at the hotel with grimy towels went for 120. Christian had gotten into touch with the president of the Magnum photography agency, who had attended the religious festivals we were about to cover in the previous year and he named a guide for out first goal, the Saut D'Eau falls, hidden in the country's central mountains. The road was nonexistent: it was more like traversing a lunar landscape and ending up in the pits of hell. At the village, we rented a house for a week. We slept on the beaten dirt floor, in a lean-to filled with bloodsucking bugs. There was no bottled water - we quenched out thirst with coconuts. Every morning we'd climb the four miles of the pilgrimage route. Thousands of Haitians daily put the pressure on the poor Brazilians: "blanc, d'argent"[the money, whitey!]. I tried to ignore the local racism, under which we were reduced to walking dollar signs. On the way to the falls, the crowd drank rum and clairin, the evil local firewater that the more insane natives spike with gasoline and, in special cases of unadulterated dementia, with herbs and dead batteries. At the waterfall, thousands of thirsty voodoo brethren purified themselves in mad, frantic celebration. People left their underwear at the banks and entered the waterfall to dedicate their offerings of flowers, corn, candles and roots. A massive carnival. In Haiti, the devout are attracted to mountains, beaches and natural locations, for there do spirits dwell. Much like Catholics go to churches and Buddhists go to their temples, the faithful of voodoo believe that certain sites are bridges for the loas. The pantheon of voodoo is a mix of ancestral African religions and deities with Catholic saints. At the third and most important day of the festival, scores of groups playing archaic musical instruments led the people going up and down the track to a state of grace. Every single individual was drunk. At the waters, every one of them wanted to drink the divine power contained in the liquid, to heal themselves with it, to keep some of it in bottles. Many pilgrims were characterizes as their protector saints with clothes and ancestral movements and gestures. People in blue clothes and colored bags were humbly representing the spirit of agriculture, Papa Zaka; others limped, incorporating Papa Legba, one of the most important loas, responsible for the link between the worlds of spirit and matter - and none other than the Eshu of Brazilian Candomble. Elegant, willing women impersonated the divine Erzulie Freda (Oshun). I tried to understand the collective trance. To no effect: there was no rational explanation, every single attendant was living for the moment.

ZOMBIFIED AND A LITTLE DISCONNECTED, THE NATIVE OLIVIER RECEIVES THE SPIRITUAL SUPPORT OF UNCLE ARTHUR SANTAMARENSE KEROUAC OF OGUM, RELAXED AFTER A SESSION OF FURIOUS O-FURO

PORK FOR LUNCH AND DINNER At night, the reveling increased. The center of the village felt like the Serra Pelada holocaust: Haitians celebrated, fought, drank and fucked in sheer joy amidst the filth. I had lost over ten pounds. Christian looked like a turkey on terminal stages of TB. The shadows under our eyes could be seen miles off. We were on a diet of coconut, rice, beans and manioc. In the absence of everything else, what Haitian like the most is pork. They eat swine at lunch, dinner and breakfast. Arghhhhh. Driven to the limit of our strength, we returned to Port au Prince and decided to head North for the second festival at Plain du Nord - the mudfest. In an airplane made in Serbia, we ran into Fernando, a Brazilian who works for the UNO's Worldwide Food Program and who told us the harsh reality of Haiti - the terrible lack of food, sanitation, hygiene and the rampant dissemination of Aids (according to governmental data, around 300 thousand Haitians died of Aids in 1998 - between 100 and 150 people per day, in a population of 7 million souls). As we arrived at Cap-Haitien, Fernando suggested we go to the Cumier beach to relax. He'd finally have clean beds and decent meals to recover our health and self-esteem. After two days basking in the Caribbean sun, refreshed by Barceló rum and Prestige beer, we returned to the Haitian urban hell. For several days we were out of touch with the rest of the world. The only calls we could get through were Morse code and heavily laced with noise. Blancs and people moved by curiosity started arriving for the Plain du Nord festival - people like fantastic Spanish photographer Cristina Rodero, who has been working on the theme of Haitian rituals for several years, and the maddened photographers Sato, from Japan, and Luís Alcalá del Olmo, from Puerto Rico, who told us that the Plain du Nord festival, sacred to the loas Ogum Ferré and Saint Jacques, took place in a square of mud.

A POSSESSED LADY LETS RIP WITH A TINY BOTTLE

ZOMBIE TALES One of the managers at the hotel described to me in details the amazing phenomenon of zombification. Its foundation lies in poisons and magic potions that gradually lead subjects to simultaneous fits of hypothermia, lung edema, nausea, low blood pressure and vomiting. When someone is turned into a zombie, they become mute and turn into a being with no personal will. Most of the time, their fate is slavery. Thus, they live in the fine line between malediction and death. The bokor's work and conjuring to turn a person into a zombie is decided in a court held in secret societies known generally as bizango. In Haiti there is a power that operates beside the government. Secret societies are the political branch of the voodoo community and are responsible for protecting the people. Voodoo was used for political ends during the terror empire of François Duvalier, more commonly known as Pap Doc, who, during his 14 year rule (1957-71) over the country ordered the assassination, mutilation and zombification of thousands - using the black magic of these secret societies, many which he employed as personal guards (the fearsome Tonton Macoute). There are several groups across the country (many of which have been infiltrated by the Macoutes) whose names change from region to region (Couchon Gris - "Gray Pigs" - Primosa Canibais, Vinbrindigue, Sect Rouge, Zobop, Mandigue, etc.). To become a member of one such society, one must be invited and undergo initiation. Zombie dust is the societies' prerogative - those who violate their codes are punished with a spell and turned into an undead. Most of the time, the condemned are removed from their tombs and their bodies are manipulated for the remainder of the quasi-lives. The poison includes dried and fresh leaves of six plants: aloe, guaiaco, pink cedar, bois ca-ca, amyris maritima and cadavre gaté. The vegetable solution is blended with clairin, human bones, ass shins and dog skulls. Additives are the bufo marinus frog and the fou fou fish (diodon hystrix), not to mention the pestilent sea frog - more commonly known as blowfish. These fish carry in their skin and liver a neurotoxin 500 times more potent than cyanide. Voodoo dust is popularly known as coup poudre. Other poisons include datura as an ingredient. Only after an intense learning session with the hotel manager did I learn, from other sources, that he was a member of a secret society in Cap-Haitien.

A LOCAL MERMAID

BLOOD, RUM, SHIT AND GUTS We went to see the festival. Upon arrival, we continued to the sacred site, pushed by the mob maddened by moonshine and rum. The so-called mud was an open cesspool. A group of young devils, led by someone called Bolo, is in charge of letting people in and out of the goo. The savagery is a slap in the face of human decency. Animals were meanly clubbed to death. The ebb and flow of pilgrims and the insanity of the musical groups sent many headfirst into the pit. Animal heads, blood, rum bottles, shit, food and guts of pigs and bulls were thrown as offerings into the filthy sanctuary. India felt like Vancouver next to that. I saw impressive scenes of people drinking the water and mindlessly eating the raw livers and remains of dead animals. A priest explained to me that in this square of mud lies the root of the Haitian people. From atop a tree, I watched insanity and religion at their utmost. In their colorful clothes and white dresses, people made sexual movements inside the pit. I was almost lynched when I caught on video a woman who had bitten off a chicken's head. The damned drunks yelled at me and seemed to want to get my gear. I was at the limit of survival - and sick and tired of watching such cruelty. At the behest of Luís Alcalá, who realized what things were headed, we left the pits of hell. At Port au Prince, we went to visit Haiti's top three hounfours. Houngan Tété showed us all of the temple's rooms, with brilliant explanation of the loas' functions and their relationship with Catholic saints. The images in the temple were true works of art. With my friend Luís Alcalá, I was invited to a Petros ritual session -hardcore black magic. I was to witness voodoo in its purest form. At the end, Tété said that he knew many Brazilian women - most of them socialite and high-end call-girls - who went to Haiti to be initiated with the pomba-gira, that is, to be capable of subjugating any man. But twenty days' immersion into the gory Afro-Caribbean religion had been too much. Christian and I had nothing left to give. After this trip, all I hope is that my spirit remains in this body. Voodoo is not for sissies, fellas.

HAUTE CUISINE - THE HAITIAN WAY

A LITTLE VOODOO LEXICON AGWÉ - voodoo loa; the spirit of the sea BAGI - temple sanctuary, a secret room that houses the spirits' altar BARON SAMEDI - voodoo loa; the lord and guardian of graveyards, represented by a large cross planted on the tomb of the first man buried there; an important bizango spirit. BIZANGO - how secret societies are called; also implies the rite carried by the shampwel; its name derives from a Guinea Bissau tribe CARREFOUR - crossroads; also a voodoo loa associated with both the bizango and the petro rites. CHEVAL - horse; in voodoo jargon, the person who receives a spirit CIANOSE - blue skin tone caused by oxygen deprivation DJAB - Devil, evil force, baka GRANS BWA - voodoo loa; the spirit of the forest GUEDE - voodoo loa; the spirit of the dead LEGBA - voodoo loa; the spirit of communication and of crossroads LOUP GAROU - werewolf; the bizango roaming queen is supposed to be a loup garou. MACOUTE - Haitian peasants' wicker backpack MAMBO - voodoo priestess MANGÉ MOUN - "to eat people", and euphemism for killing someone OGUM - voodoo loa; the spirit of fire, war and iron PAQUETS CONGO - a small sacred package that holds magic ingredients that protect against disease and evil; the closest thing there is to the notorious - and often misconstrued - voodoo doll PETRO - a group of voodoo loas that derives from Congolese rites PWIN - the magic force invoked to carry out the wishes of a witch or of the bizango society REINE VOLTIGE - the roaming queen, known to be a werewolf; the four reines voltiges carry the sacred coffin during bizango processions. SHANPWEL - a term used in reference to secret societies; misused as a synonym for bizango, but more properly applied to the bizango's members. SOBO - voodoo loa; the spirit of thunder TETRADOXIN - a neurotoxin found in blowfish and other animals, whose effect is to block nerve signals by stopping the transportation of sodium ions at cells TONTON MACOUTE - literally, "uncle backpack"; the name given to the members of Papa Doc's personal guard VÉVÉ - symbols drawn in flour or cinders, whose purpose is to invoke the loas; each spirit has its own vévé VOODOO - theological principles and practices of traditional Haitian society WANGA - an amulet used against selfish or evil purposes ZOMBI ASTRAL - an aspect of the soul that can be transmogrified at the discretion of its possessor ZOMBI CADAVRE - a flesh zombie, which can be made to work ZOMBI SAVANE - a former zombie, someone who has gone to ground, became a zombie and later returned to life. Source: A Serpente e o Arco-Íris, by Wade Davis (editora Jorge Zahar, 1980)

Passage of Darkness

PASSAGE OF DARKNESS: THE ETHNOBIOLOGY OF THE HAITIAN ZOMBIE

By Wade Davis. Chapel Hill, The University of North Carolina Press. 1988

Review by Bob Corbett March, 1990

In June, 1989 I attended a seminar in Port-au-Prince on zombification. During the discussion I raised the question to the 40 or so people in attendance, had any one of them every seen a zombie "bab pou bab," the Haitian equivalent of face to face. Everyone had. So I randomly questioned one person about her experience. It turned out it wasn't she herself who had seen the zombie, but her first cousin. The next person hadn't actually met a zombie, but his aunt had. Someone else's father, another's best friend and so on around the room. In the end not one single person was able to tell a tale of having actually, personally been face to face with a zombie.

Are there really zombies in Haiti? Wade Davis devotes two long sections to this question. He first looks at the popular views and then explores cases where there have been some attempts to carefully and more scientifically determine the status of suspected cases. His key candidate for zombiehood is Clairvius Narcisse. In spring, 1962 Narcisse "died" at the Albert Schweitzer Hospital in Deschapelles, Haiti. His death was verified by the hospital staff. 18 years later Narcisse turned up alive and well, and claimed to be an escaped zombie.

Having thus satisfied himself that it is likely there are zombies in Haiti, PASSAGE OF DARKNESS is Davis' fascinating and provocative attempt to explain how zombies are made.

The extraordinary thesis he puts forward is, as the subtitle tells us, an ethnobiological story. That is, on Davis' account, what makes zombies is the interplay between certain features of the culture of Haiti and the use of drugs. However, neither the cultural phenomena alone, nor the poisons alone can account for zombies. There are even larger historical issues at stake:

"Evidence suggests that zombification is a form of social sanction imposed by recognized corporate bodies--the poorly known and clandestine secret Bizango societies--as one means of maintaining order and control in local communities." (p. 3.)

The essence of Davis' claim is this:

• there are zombies
• however, there are actually very very few of them
• they are created in part by a poisoned powder
• however, they are created in part by the effects of the culture
• zombies are created when a person first falls into a death-like trance which is both drug and culturally induced
• then is revived and kept under the control of the houngan by the use of other drugs
• zombies are created by Voodoo priests who are members of the Bizango secret societies
• Bizango societies constitute a totally secret and hidden other government beneath the surface of Haitian society
• zombification is not random nor for profit or personal vendetta
• zombification is the ultimate punishment to someone who has seriously violated the law of the Bizango society

These ten propositions are the essence of his conclusions. They constitute a story which has not been widely discussed before Davis (though Davis himself cites the important ground work done by the Haitian anthropologist Michel Laguerre on the secret societies).

Some are clearer than others, so I'll elucidate a few of the less clear:

Davis claims there is a poisoned powder which causes the target person to fall into a death-like trance. It was to seek this drug that originally got Davis the assignment to track down the zombie poison. His sponsors reasoned that such a drug must exist, and if they could find it might have valuable pharmacological possibilities as an alternative to currently popular but unsafe anesthetics.

The great controversy which Davis' book has caused is mainly connected to his claim that the chemical tetrodotoxin, gotten from the puffer fish, is the primary active ingredient in this "zombie powder."

However, what seems to be universally missed by Davis' critics, or simply ignored, is his claim that the powder alone cannot adequately account for nor make a zombie. Davis describes the "set and setting" which is required for the powder to work. "...set, in these terms, is the individual's expectation of what the drug will do to him or her; setting is the environment--both physical and, in this case, social--in which the drug is taken." (p. 181.)

Thus the poison in the powder, which is a psycho-active drug (one whose effect is related to specific personal psychological factors), will have different effects depending on who one is, what one's socialization and expectations are. In the case of Haitian members of the Bizango sect, they have been socialized to recognize the possibility and process of zombification and are psychologically attuned to the appropriate effects of the drug, i.e. zombification.

Davis' book presents a strong hypothesis concerning the why of zombification. In a country so drastically poor as Haiti, with labor costs for farm hands only being about $1.00 a day, one cannot account for zombification on the grounds of seeking cheap labor. One might imagine zombification as a way to get at enemies, but the violence of Haiti's history suggests much simpler ways of solving that problem. Davis' hypothesis is perhaps attractive simply because it is so grand! He tells the story of a long history of secret societies stretching back into the earliest days of slavery. Escaped slaves, the maroons, living deep in the mountains, created an alternative society, more African than Western. These societies brought with them the remembered lore of Africa, including knowledge of the use of local poisons. The poisons were used as tools of social control within the maroon communities. After independence and the radical split between the life in the rural areas and the cities, these maroon social organizations became the secret Bizango societies, and zombification is, effectively, their death sentence for serious violations of the code of conduct required in Bizango.

Davis' thesis in PASSAGE OF DARKNESS is provocatively and persuasively argued. Unlike his more popular account, THE SERPENT AND THE RAINBOW, which I reviewed a few issues ago, Davis' argument is careful and measured. Gone is the Indiana Jones bravado of the earlier work; gone is the "I've done it all alone" arrogance. Davis' use of sources and his excellent bibliography are themselves alone worth the price of the book!

But the critics don't think too much of Davis' work. Nearly all reviewers of his two books have been quite cool towards them. More seriously, important figures in the scholarly circles of pharmacological literature have taken Davis to task. In an article in Science magazine, April 15, 1988 called: "Voodoo Science," William Booth reports on the widespread criticism which has been heaped on Davis.

Critics argue that Davis grossly exaggerated what he had found in the powder and that he had exaggerated, if not lied, about the chemically active properties of the powders he brought back.

Certainly Davis was indiscreet in celebrating his victory of discover before adequate scientific evidence was published to support his findings. However, two things must be said in Davis' defense.

First, he was very careful in PASSAGE OF DARKNESS to respond to Kao and Yasumoto's criticisms of him. In a footnote on p. 194 he answers their primary objection. Their objection was two fold. First, that Davis reported as evidence a "personal communication" from researcher Rivier, which Rivier now claims was never intended as an official opinion. Secondly, they charge that the sample didn't have enough tetrodotoxin to do anything to humans.

Davis certainly should not have reported the preliminary oral confirmation (which later turned out to be false), as scientific fact. This was an error without doubt. But, Davis argues in the text that to study the powder alone, to study the amounts of tetrodotoxin alone is a mistake. This for several reasons:

1. These powders are made as magical portions by the houngans (Voodoo priests). They are not made according to any exact formula. Any given portion may not work. They do them by trial and error. Some are too strong and kill the victim outright. Others are too weak and have no effect. A few work. Davis is quite explicit about this: "All that the formula of the powder suggests is a means by which an individual might, under rare circumstances, be made to appear dead." (p. 181.)
2. Davis devotes a huge portion of the book to argue the psychobiological hypothesis that the power/poison is only one ingredient, albeit a necessary part of zombification. Davis' critics completely ignore this whole thesis and pounce on the tetrodotoxin samples as the only issue to be considered.
3. In response to the criticism of Yasumoto and Kao that in the infamous "sample D," the only one of his eight powders which contained tetrodotoxin, that the amount was insignificant, Davis replies:

   "Critically, absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. Of greater interest is the empirical observation that the bokor {houngans who are doing the zombification} recognize the toxicity of these fish {puffer fish} and include them in the powders, and that at certain times of the year these fish contain a toxin known to have induced apparent death."

My argument is not that Davis has indeed found the zombie poison. I don't know that one way or the other. But, the vehemence with which he has been attacked seems to belie something deeper going on. There are several hypotheses which suggest other explanations for the heat he has taken.

• Davis puts forward a psychobiological hypothesis. The subtitle of the book is quite up front about this (The ethnobiology of the Haitian zombie). His critics are mainly biologists and pharmacologists. Ethnobiology is a suspicious field to them. The whole perspective of ethnobiology, as the name indicates, is that cultural factors, not merely biological ones, account for many responses to psychoactive drugs (drugs whose effects are tied to the psychological state of the subject). Thus it would seem that some of the critics' vehemence is related to their distrust of the entire field of science which Davis represents.
• There is no question that Davis' popular book THE SERPENT AND THE RAINBOW is an arrogant and aggravating book. Davis postures as the great explorer invading Haiti's secret societies in just a very few visits to Haiti. The whole story, as told in that book, stretches the credulity of most readers. What is especially suspicious as both books detail, but which the much more carefully documented PASSAGE OF DARKNESS makes so clear, is that virtually all that Davis claims can be learned from his impressive use of existing sources. Davis is, indeed, a masterful researcher. But, is he the intrepid explorer he presents himself to be? That is the question, and the source of aggravation to the more academic critics.
• Davis greased the way toward the powders he received by paying informants and houngans alike. This raises two sorts of objections and hackles: first that such payments are unethical behavior, secondly, that he may well have been bilked, especially given the low levels of tetrodotoxin found in his samples.

Davis addresses these objections head on, even in somewhat angry terms.

"To be sure, it cost money, and there is an odd and unwarranted sense among some ethnographic fieldworkers that data obtained by financial remuneration is somehow tainted. This is, in general, an arrogant proposition, as it assumes that the informant has nothing better to do than provide free information to a foreign investigator. In Haiti, such an attitude is not only unjust but counterproductive, for within the Vodoun society to do something for nothing is generally seen as 'less a manifestation of generosity than as a sign of gullibility, is less a virtue than a weakness' (Murray). The Haitians themselves pay the bokor for his knowledge and powders, and so should the ethnobiologist." (p. 5.)

• Lastly, any critic, perhaps especially myself, will find it hard to forgive Davis for allowing his text THE SERPENT AND THE RAINBOW to be used for the horrible movie of the same name. Davis, himself, decries the nonsensical and negative image of Haiti that previous zombie movies have given. The jacket cover of PASSAGE OF DARKNESS claims that "Davis demystifies one of the most exploited of folk beliefs, and one that has been used to denigrate an entire people and their religion." I've seen a few of these "denigrations," and, indeed, they are terrible. But it's hard to imagine that any of them hold a candle to the film version of THE SERPENT AND THE RAINBOW. Davis can argue that he didn't make the film, but only sold his book to Hollywood. But, if one is a lover of Haiti and wants to genuinely "demystify" her to the American public, then selling the film rights without any concern for the outcome of the film, doesn't seem like a very sincere way to do the job!

But none of these sources of aggravation have anything to do with the primary thesis of Davis' book. He presents an utterly fascinating hypothesis, clothed in brilliant research and challenges the reader to critical participation. At least one of his books should be read by all people seriously interested in Haiti. I think PASSAGE OF DARKNESS is far and away a better book that THE SERPENT AND THE RAINBOW Gone is the giant ego of the first person narrative, and the measured and careful development of the thesis is much clearer. His impressive use of sources and the gigantic and useful bibliography are thrown in for good measure. Read one of the Davis books and join the fray!

~THE SANPWEL~

~THE SANPWEL~

---

The secret societies of the Sanpwel are...
secret, but their existance and function is public
knowledge in Haiti, particularly in rural areas.

Sanpwel is not a Vodou religious phenomenon,
it is a secular organization affiliated with
Vodou, much as the Knights of Colombus
are affiliated with the Roman Catholic Church.
The confusion between Sanpwel and
Vodou is compounded by the fact that
high-ranking Houngans and Mambos
are often high-ranking Sanpwel members.

The Sanpwel functions as a law-enforcement
agency, and takes sanctions against people
who violate one or more of the "Seven
Conditions". These violations include disrespect
of parents or siblings, slander which deprives
someone of their livelihood, "stealing" a woman
(?), speaking ill of the Sanpwel, and other
offenses.

Sanctions range from a kou le (French -
coup l'aire) which induces a mild illness,
to zombification. Parents often frighten
misbehaving children with stories about the
Sanpwel, but actually no sanctions are
ever undertaken without a meeting of the
higher-ranking society members and usually
members of the offender's family. It is not
an arbitrary and unfair exercise of authority.
Now, having said that, I should note that the
Sanpwel societies, like some Houngans and
Mambos, were in some measure corrupted
during the Duvalierist regimes.

It is difficult for me to say more, because as
a member of the Sanpwel I am sworn to
secrecy on certain topics, but I have said
some of what I am free to say, and I hope
it will shed some light.

Mambo Racine Sans Bout

Wade Davis in the Himalayas of Nepal

uddhism asks the fundamental question: What is life and what is the point of existence? Wade Davis goes on an anthropological and spiritual journey into the Himalayas of Nepal to learn the deepest lesson of Buddhist practice. Parts of this documentary feature H.H.Trulshik Rinpoche and Matthieu Ricard. A journey to the ancient Inca’s sacred Andean peaks, wayfinders in Polynesia, a spiritual odyssey in the Himalayas of Nepal and vanishing ice’s impact on Inuit life in the Arctic are all explored by Canada’s only National Geographic Explorer-in-Residence Wade Davis in the four-part documentary series “Light at The Edge of The World” airing weekly, beginning February 7, 2007 on the National Geographic Channel.

Profile Wade Davis.

“You know, the year that I was born, there were six thousand languages spoken on earth,” says anthropologist and ethnobotanist Wade Davis, at the beginning of the 90th Parallel’s four part series Light at the Edge of the World.

“And of the six thousand languages spoken on earth, fully half aren’t being taught to children, which means, that effectively, unless something changes, they’re dead.”
“Half of humanity’s repertoire will be lost in a generation or two…an unprecedented pace of change.
I don’t think this has to happen.”- Wade Davis

Of immovable objects I am the Himalayas….