Prince of Vodou

CHAPTER ONE Conversation: satan - "Do you see my kingdom in Haiti? I am the prince of power. I have invested hundreds of years into this country with plans to bring one into this world that will be a powerful intercessor for me." Jesus - "Lucifer, you have come only to steal, kill and destroy. I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

________________________ Darkness closed in around the couple hurrying up the treacherous narrow paththe young woman struggling to keep up with her partner’s long stride. The air was heavy and ominous, propelling them forward with excited urgency. The witch doctor was waiting. It had been years of heartbreak for Vesta Valentin. She and Thierilien Zamor had been together for many years, looking forward to having a strong, healthy child. In spite of many pregnancies, each baby died in her womb. Everyone knew you had to have a son to take care of you when you were old, but that had not happened. It was time to take action and solve this problem; it was time to visit the houngan and buy a baby. Tonight the ceremony would be performed to guarantee a boy-child. And when a son was conceived then born, it was required he be dedicated back to satan, to serve as the witch doctor’s apprentice. The cost was high, but there were no other options. There were benefits to this arrangement. It would put them in an enviable position in their impoverished village, plus as a future witch doctor, their son would keep them financially stable. There would always be food to eat and gifts from grateful villagers. Yes, after tonight, life was going to be good again. But they must hurry. Arriving at the small dark hutte made of sticks and dried mud, they stepped around symbolic items strewn along the patha stuffed toy, bones from an animal sacrifice and some brightly painted pottery vessels. Each one represented a source of power from past mystical ceremonies, and each one would have required a little of someone’s soul in return. Silently, they entered the close, musty living space. Their eyes adjusted immediately to the inky blackness. They were used to living without any light other than the sun and saw quite well in darkness. The room was small with talisman scattered around the hard, packed dirt floor. The skull of a goat hung on the wall along side ceremonial mirrors suspended by ornately carved frames. Human skulls, animal parts in jars and vials of concoctions needed for various rituals and casting of spells, lined the floor. A single glass, half filled with water, sat alone on the wooden tablean invitation for the spirits. Foul odors of sweat and decay permeated the air and singed their noses. Vesta's stomach clenched but there was no turning back now… and she didn't want to. This was her last chance and it had to work. The two stood mutely before the small wizened man. The old houngan reached for his ceremonial headband. He tied the colorful 'moushwa' around his grey head and gestured for Vesta to lie down on a soiled mat. Folding himself into a squat beside her, he opened the small sac of items Therilien had brought with them. Besides the required sum of money, there were bird feathers, the foot of a goat, a ceremonial boogi candle, and a handful of fresh herbs. He seemed pleased, and a fleeting, toothless grin lit his weathered face. The vodou priest closed his eyes and his now rigid body began to sway. After a few minutes, a low primal groan emanated, seeming to come from the core of his being. The groaning stopped and unfolding himself, the old man stood and moved to crouch at a small fire smoldering outside. Pitching the herbs into it, he waved his hand over the pungent smoke that billowed into the hutte, making Vesta heady. She silently prayed to the spirits for their favor upon them, giving them the child so desperately wanted. Returning to his place beside her, the houngan began chanting a prayer. His face became a dark mask and his eyes rolled into his head. The couple waited. Usually there were drumbeats to accompany vodou ceremonies…tonight it was different, specific and personal. Private. Suddenly his chanting stopped and he opened his eyes. Stretching to his full height, his black eyes pierced them. Moving briskly in the darkness, he crossed to a corner of the room and picked up a vial of lotion and a small piece of paper. He focused for a moment on the couple staring at him as if making a final decision. Striding toward them, the old man held out the paper. Vesta scrambled from the mat. "Put this card under your pillow every night with this side up.” He pointed to the paper. “These words will protect the unborn child that will soon be conceived." As he spoke, Vesta glanced at the card but looked perplexed at the unfamiliar markings. The letters and symbols held no meaning for her. "When the baby is born, turn this card over and leave the other side up.” The old man’s voice dropped and he pointed a crooked finger at them. “You must keep this card under your pillow as protection against any vodou curse that could be put on you or the baby.” Peering pointedly at them, he whispered, “This is most important." Turning to Theillien and extended the vial containing his creamy concoction. He continued. "Anoint Vesta every morning and night with this. Do this again the next day…and the next. When you find a child grows within her, keep anointing the growing womb. When the baby boy is safely born, begin anointing him with the lotion every morning and every night, covering his whole body. Come to me when it is gone and I will give you more, as this must continue every day of his life.” The old man was quiet for a few moments, then spoke in a raspy whisper not his own. “This boy will be special. He will be very intelligent, full of wisdom and understandinga leader among his people and loved by many. He will be successful in business and make a great deal of money. You will all be very, very rich and never want for anything again. This child is anointed by Father Lucifer, and he is going to be a powerful prince of vodou.” The witch doctor paused. The fierceness in his eyes softened and his voice returned to normal. "You will call him 'Joasaint' for he is a chosen one." Vesta and Therilien were overcome with excitement at this unexpected proclamation. They respectfully took the vial of cream and the card with the strange markings. “We will do as you have instructed us father,” Therilein’s emphatic response pleased the old man and he waved them on their way. Hurrying back over the mountain path to their small hutte, hope for the future lightened their steps. They would soon be holding their own baby boy. And not just any boytheir son would be the anointed one, a powerful prince of vodou.