THE VOODOO CURSE is the worst of blights. Hex and all the other varieties of evil magic common throughout the United States do not compare with it. Hex and witchcraft and "ha'nts" can be controlled. They are usually of Anglo-Saxon origin, and, though they can be annoying, they are understood and familiar. Voodoo is of another race, dark and strange and complex even to those who practice it.
Orleanians have been finding gris-gris on their doorsteps for more than a century and a half. Long before the days of Marie Laveau crosses of death, tiny coffins, powders of peculiar coloring and composition have been found at dawn on stoops and galleries and in the front yards of the residents of the city. Sometimes there is a doll, jabbed with pins, sometimes a burning black candle, sometimes a wreath of crepe.
Fear of being "hoodooed" is the very core of Voodooism. Thousands of people fear a Voodoo curse as they do nothing else in the world. Negroes of the more ignorant strata live in daily dread of such a curse. Many whites of a similar element hold the same feeling toward it.
No law operates against the practice of Voodoo in Louisiana. There is an ordinance against fortune-telling in New Orleans, and in certain instances this can be invoked against
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practitioners. But though black magic and prophesying may sometimes be mingled, there is no real relationship between them. So, when a charge is brought against a Voodooienne--and this is seldom--it must be for malicious mischief or for disturbing the peace.
If the "fixer" is apprehended while placing some of the dreaded gris-gris on a neighbor's front porch and brought into court, the authorities cannot depend upon the victim to make any charge. He will practically always be too frightened, will sit silently, and will refuse even to admit knowledge of any such thing as Voodoo. He is afraid. He knows if the "fixer" is found guilty of whatever minor charge can be made, his punishment will be only the payment of a small fine or a few days in jail. Then the one who brought the charges will face an even more horrible curse.
Orleanians seek protection from evil gris-gris in many ways. The most common, of course, is the scrubbing of the front stoop with brick dust. Horseshoes nailed above doors are also popular. Roman Catholics tack "holy pictures" above their doors. But the most secure methods involve regular purchases from certain Voodooiennes of counter gris-gris, charms and amulets to be worn upon the person and kept within the home, involving the payment of small sums to these sinister merchants.
In most Negro neighborhoods there is a "hoodoo woman" or "conjure man," who enjoys to the utmost his superior position and the fear he inspires. Lala, though she says she does no "bad work," is an excellent example of this. Julia Jackson is another. Their neighbors fear them, but should gris-gris appear on any doorstep in the vicinity of either woman they will receive a visit from the victim, who will immediately purchase "protection" from them. And when a Voodooienne needs money all she has to do is to leave a small coffin or a black candle on a neighbor's stoop one night.
Sometimes the gris-gris is not left in plain view, but is carefully concealed; obviously in these cases the "fixer" is serious in his intention to bring bad luck to the victim. Believers in
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Voodoo search their premises periodically to make sure nothing is hidden beneath the steps or the flowerpots or in the small gardens in the front yards which most New Orleans residences have. However, most of the time it is left where it will be easily seen and will most quickly inspire fear.
Some of the believers do not have to find actual gris-gris to be terrorized. They are suspicious of any curious arrangement of the grass in the yard, of pebbles on the banquette, or of sticks lying in what they imagine is a peculiar arrangement. As often as not, anything of this sort will send them hurrying to the nearest Voodooienne or witch doctor, who will assure them that they have been crossed, and, for a certain fee, will agree to uncross them.
Despite all this, there is another and stranger attitude toward it all taken by some Negroes. Sometimes a fixed person will find masochistic pleasure in his condition. He will take to his bed, moaning and groaning that he has been "hoodooed." Soon he will be the center of attraction in his neighborhood. People will call, suggesting various cures and favorite practitioners. Finally some old woman will be summoned and she, after an elaborate procedure, will remove the curse. For weeks afterward the victim will still be the cynosure of all eyes whenever he appears. However, if his fear is too great, he may die. Then his family will enjoy a certain distinction for a long time to come. Gazelle received such notoriety from the strange death of Feltie Butler.
One summer morning in 1943 Dora Alberts, colored, found a conjure ball in her front yard. The ball lay in the grass, surrounded by matches shoved, heads downward,, into the earth. Dora screamed and her husband, Thomas, came running out of the house. Neighbors assembled and held a conference, while Dora wept noisily. The matches represented tombstones--everyone agreed to that--and since a conjure ball was an omen of death, someone in the house was going to die. One brave woman, who claimed less faith in Voodoo than the others, picked up the ball, split the black wax open
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and displayed the human hair and the piece of flesh--undoubtedly human flesh--concealed within it. This was the worst sort of conjure ball; it was a dreadful gris-gris. As the realization of what it meant became more intense all the women started weeping, and Dora fainted into Thomas's arms. Even the non-believer rushed home to wash her hands in a mixture of kerosene, whiskey and black pepper.
Dora remained in bed for days. At first she wept every time a visitor called. Then she stopped crying and lay in a deep silence, refusing to speak, at last also refusing to eat At the end of two weeks everyone was positive that Dora Alberts was going to die.
Her husband called in doctors and each of them said the same thing. It was entirely a mental condition, a type of self-hypnosis. If Dora could be convinced that the conjure ball couldn't have done her any harm she would get well. But Thomas didn't even know what they were talking about, and, finally, though he had never taken much interest in Voodoo, he became convinced that the only way Dora could be saved was by the proper use of the same methods that had bewitched her. He began to question friends familiar with such things, and aid was not long in arriving. One morning a neighbor brought in a woman dressed in a long lavender robe and veil, and introduced her as "Mother Bertha."
Mother Bertha went to work at once. She drew a circle on the floor around Dora's bed with white chalk. Outside this circle she placed candles of various colors and lighted them. In between the candles she sprinkled certain powders. Now no more evil could reach Dora. Then she stripped Dora of her nightgown and bathed her with a mixture of jack honeysuckle, verbena essence and sweet oil. But that was not enough.
There had to be a cause, a reason why Dora had been cursed. Mother Bertha said that she would consult with Black Hawk and when this was found she could complete the cure. Three days later she returned to Dora's bedside and told her. Dora related the rest of the story herself.
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"She say it was a girl across the street, who wanted my husband," said Dora. "Right away I could talk and for the first time in nearly three weeks I opened my mouth and spoke words. 'Mother Bertha,' I said, 'I don't know whether it's your treatment or not, but I want to get out of this bed. You go on home. I can handle this hoodoo myself.
"But I was too weak yet. Mother Bertha say I gotta eat and get my strength. Man, did I eat after that! I put down everything Thomas brought me and hollered for more. Mother Bertha come every day and talk to me. She told me Black Hawk had said it wasn't no fault of Thomas's that this gal liked him. He didn't know nothin' about it. So I didn't say a word to him. I just ate and got stronger and stronger.
"About a week after I had been uncrossed this gal come in to see me. You see, she had been comin' all the time--just like she was my friend. She come in this day and asked me how I felt. When she asked me that I yelled, 'I feel fine, you dirty husband stealer, you!' and I jumped her. I'm tellin' you I jumped out that bed like a tiger and I was on her. We broke up everything in the room. I was like I was crazy, 'cause there ain't no woman gonna take a man away from me!
"Next day I was up tendin' to my work and that gal was in bed across the street from the beatin' I give her. Then I got to thinkin'. I had to get rid of that wench for good. I knowed I could lick her again if I ever had to, but I didn't want to keep doin' that. That kind of a mess makes trouble, and sooner or later somebody lands in jail.
"I went to see Mother Bertha. I still owed her money anyway, 'cause she charged me plenty. She tell me to write that woman's; name on a piece of paper and put it in a horse's mouth, and when the horse went away the woman would go away. Honey, I done just that. I got out early the next mornin' and catched the garbage man when he was passin' wit' his horse and wagon. When he stop to empty a can I went right up to his horse and shoved a piece of paper wit' that woman's name written on it in that horse's mouth. Then I run. You know inside of four days that wench packed up
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her stuff and moved? It sure did work. Mother Bertha called that St. George's work. You see, St. George always rode on a horse."
Letitia Brown told the story of Old Man Henry, a witch doctor who specialized in removing the curses placed upon houses by gris-gris concealed about the premises.
"Old Man Henry was one of the best for that sort of work," said Letitia. "He's still livin' and doin' his work, but he ain't got his snake no more so he ain't as good as he used to be. It was the snake that had the most power. The snake was named Henry, too. Ain't that funny?
"When people was hoodooed they went to see Old Man Henry and told him what had happened. He always called in the snake and made them tell it the story, too. That snake had plenty of sense, and he understood every word you said to him. Old Man Henry used to always say Henry wasn't a bitin' snake. Lots of peoples was scared of him, but he wouldn't bite. He was just like a human being. Well, after they told Old Man Henry and Henry their story, Old Man Henry would go to their house and put Henry under their front steps. Most of the time, you see, they wasn't sure they was bein' hoodooed--it was just that they felt kind of funny or somethin' like that. Henry would always smell around under the steps and all underneath the house, and if there was any gris-gris anywhere he would sure find it.
"After he found it he would go straight for the person who put it there, and Old Man Henry would follow him. When they found the fixer Old Man Henry would put a stronger curse on him than was on the other person, and everything would be all right.
"It was sure good work, and Old Man Henry did a big business. He never in his life has done any bad work either, except to get back at wicked hoodoo people. But now he's done lost Henry. One day a white lady was in her front yard and she seen Henry come down the banquette with Old Man Henry behind. She began hollerin' and yellin', and
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Old Man Henry told her Henry wouldn't hurt her and to stop yellin' 'cause Henry was scared of noise. But she keep on and she make so much noise Henry got sick. Old Man Henry nursed him and petted him all night long, gut that poor snake never did stop tremblin' and shakin'. When the sun come up in the mornin' Henry was dead. Old Man Henry sure did grieve. He tried other snakes, but there wasn't none of 'em had the sense in his head Henry had."
Voodooists still mix their beliefs with some perverted form of Christianity. In New Orleans it is still often blended with Catholicism, probably because the city has always had a large Roman Catholic population. They adopt many Catholic saints as their own and invoke them to aid in Voodoo work. Besides this they have special saints of their own, these changing from time to time, old ones fading and new ones coming into popularity.
Black Hawk, stolen from the spiritualists, is, of course, the newest, but he had many predecessors. One of the earliest was St. Marron (or Maron). In slavery days he was the patron saint of runaway slaves, as well as of the Voodoos, and such slaves were known as "marons." Now he seems to have been completely forgotten. Another is Onzancaire, mentioned by Lala and known to many of the older Voodooiennes. However, he, too, seems to be on his way out.
Perhaps the most popular saint in the Voodoo world is St. Expédite, who, incidentally, is a peculiar example of the bridge between New Orleans Voodooism and Catholicism. Though his authenticity is more than doubtful, statues of St. Expédite are in at least two Catholic churches in the city, one of them Our Lady of Guadalupe, which is situated on North Rampart Street, almost adjacent to St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 and just around the comer from where the Laveaus lived. The church is a very old one and was originally the Catholic chapel from which all burial services were held. Both Maries must have known it well.
Priests, questioned about St. Expédite, remain noncommittal. {p. 210} Some will tell you they are certain he did exist. Others disagree entirely. There are no records. Some years ago Archbishop Shaw of New Orleans made a public and angry demand that these statues be removed from Catholic churches in New Orleans. But nothing was ever done, and the statues remain. Since then two Negro "Mothers" have opened St. Expédite temples.
But, whatever the truth is about his history, many Orleanians know that St. Expédite is the most dependable saint in Heaven when it comes to getting things done in a hurry. You have only to say, "St. Expédite, do this now." It will be done. Then you go to his statue at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church and pay off--sometimes by burning a candle before him and saying a prayer, but other times, if you're a genuine Voodoo, by leaving a slice of poundcake, a new penny or a sprig of green fern at his feet. Such articles are constantly being found before the image.
Octavia Williams believed that going to see St. Expedite was the best thing you could do if you found gris-gris on your doorsteps.
"He's the one can do the fast work," she said. "There is lots of ways you can keep from being hoodooed. You ought to always make a hole in a silver dime and paste a saint's picture on it and put it up on the transom of your front door when you move into a new house. But once you is gris-grised always call on St. Expédite for help.
"I done found salt on my steps one mornin', and right away I snapped my fingers and St. Expédite heard me. A woman across the street let out a scream and I found out later she had fallen off a ladder and broke her arm. She was the one what had tried to put a curse on me. You see how fast St. Expédite work?
"One time I was in my front yard and a man walk through the gate and just stand there lookin' at me. I said, 'What you want? Don't stare at me that way.' But he kept lookin' at me, and soon I felt I was getting' under his spell. 'Go get me a drink of water,' he say. Now, I ain't never refused a drink
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of water to man or beast, so I went and got it. But when I come back he take the glass from my hand and don't say a word. He just hoodoo me some more wit' his eyes. I felt so funny I knowed I was gonna do anything he ask me. 'Go inside and get your money and give it to me,' he say. And I went on in and come back wit' all the money I had in the world--about seventy dollars. I just couldn't help myself. I gave it to him, and he asked me if that was all I had. I shook my head 'cause I couldn't hardly talk.
"Then somethin' happen. That man turned around and started to walk off, and you know the minute he had turned his head something broke the spell. All of a sudden I got my sense. I yell, 'St. Expédite!, help me now!' You won't believe this, but all of a sudden a two-by-four come flying through the air and that hunk of wood hit that thief on the head and knocked him cold. I grabbed my money out of his hand and start callin' my neighbors. They got the police, and that man is still in jail.
"Another time I done found a candle and a box of snuff on my doorstep and I knowed what that meant. I went inside the house and opened the pillow I slept on and inside I found a hoodoo thing-a lot of feathers tied wit' string and a piece of red wax in the middle. I had to dump the insides of every pillow I owned in the river. I called on St. Expédite the whole time I was doin' this, and then I went and burned a candle to him at Our Lady of Guadalupe Church. Wit' all that nothin' ever done happen to me. That proves how good that saint is, don't it?"
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