VOODOO CHILE
The boy was no more than seven years old. The crowds pressed in against him as three initiates rushed him through the Palace forecourt. The dead goat was slung around his neck, crimson blood dripping everywhere. The priest encouraged the boy to drink the blood, the crowd urging him on. Not a great start to another Monday morning and far, far away from the realities of a daily commute into town. Two days earlier we had seen a woman bite the head of a chicken and then run screaming through a crowd spraying blood and then drinking from the severed neck – the weird
(and sometimes wonderful) world of voodoo.I found myself increasingly drawn towards these dark and secret rituals as we travelled down through Benin but the sight of the young boy really threw me – in my romantic notions – colourful spirits and ghosts engaged in the struggle of good against evil, I had chosen to gloss over the more dubious and abusive practices. We encountered much discussion and debate about the place of voodoo in modern development and indeed Benin is the only country in the world to officially recognise voodoo as a state religion. They claim that the complex set of beliefs and obligations help to ensure social order. But the initiation of such young children into the voodoo covens has to be not right (or am I being ethnocentric imposing my woolly liberal views on another cultural heritage?) and there is evidence that poor families sell their children to the priests. Here in Volta Region voodoo is very much hidden from the eye but young girls are still “given” to the fetish priests. This debate can run and run but surely there is no defence of such practices just because they have always been there in the same way that female circumcision is wrong – end of story.
Voodoo runs t
hrough every thread and fibre of everyday life in the villages. As an outsider passing through it is possible to get only an inkling of the elaborate rituals and fetishes which guide people but it does mean that it feels that something strange or magical (or disgusting and distressing) is going to happen at every turn of the way. Legba is found all over – the all seeing messenger between the human world and the world of gods and spirits. He is usually represented by a giant erect penis and it is crucial to keep him happy otherwise he will not pass on your messages to the gods. We encountered the Zangbetos on more than one occasion - spirits of the dead that take the form of cone like stacks of coloured raffia, that often come out at night to keep the peace. They spin and twirl at high speed, have high pitched voices and are chaperoned by initiates who prevent them from causing too much mayhem. The atmosphere is electric and villagers dance ecstatically to the beat – and then – here’s the thing – suddenly the Zangbeta are upturned – they are empty inside! Another trick of theirs is to turn stones into sweets or even terrapins – the stones are passed under the Zangbeta and lo and behold suddenly there are sweets – wow – loved this and the whole spectacle but am still trying to understand what is going on here.
hrough every thread and fibre of everyday life in the villages. As an outsider passing through it is possible to get only an inkling of the elaborate rituals and fetishes which guide people but it does mean that it feels that something strange or magical (or disgusting and distressing) is going to happen at every turn of the way. Legba is found all over – the all seeing messenger between the human world and the world of gods and spirits. He is usually represented by a giant erect penis and it is crucial to keep him happy otherwise he will not pass on your messages to the gods. We encountered the Zangbetos on more than one occasion - spirits of the dead that take the form of cone like stacks of coloured raffia, that often come out at night to keep the peace. They spin and twirl at high speed, have high pitched voices and are chaperoned by initiates who prevent them from causing too much mayhem. The atmosphere is electric and villagers dance ecstatically to the beat – and then – here’s the thing – suddenly the Zangbeta are upturned – they are empty inside! Another trick of theirs is to turn stones into sweets or even terrapins – the stones are passed under the Zangbeta and lo and behold suddenly there are sweets – wow – loved this and the whole spectacle but am still trying to understand what is going on here.In Passotome we stumbled upon the Egunguns – ghosts who have returned from the realm of the dead. They come for a short time to pass on advice to the living. They take on the bodies of members of the Egungun secret societies – the person falls into a trance and the spirit enters his body. They are dressed in elaborate, bright costumes with masks made from sea shells. Their word is a direct communication from god and final – they are used to mediate disputes and give instructions – if you fail to take heed you are punished severely. They are considered to be very dangerous and have minders – if you touch their robes you die or at least you will need to perform many sacrifices and rituals to come through (so they say). As the night progressed Kodjo our guide was getting increasingly agitated about our, and possibly his, safety – so we were soon on our way. 
The kokou are the real hard core - this is the cult of the warrior god – followers fall into deep trance – dance feverishly to pulsating beats and mutilate their bodies with knives and shards of glass. At one point some started to set themselves on fire as the endless incessant rhythms drove them on. Acolytes wear grass skirts and smear their bodies with yellow paste. Powerful and disturbing – you begin to realise that you really are out of your depth here.
Most towns seem to have a head honcho voodoo priest and in Porto Novo we managed to get an audience. Having negotiated our way through several gateways, dead chickens hanging from the doors and various fetishes (paying along the way of course – the practitioners also use their religion as an income generation scheme – much in the same way that the Christian pastors here in Ghana do –
you pays your money and take your choice). The priest or as in this case the Minister of Voudon culture was a portly urbane man who welcomed my questions. He was identified at birth as the successor in the voudon line and spent three months being initiated in secret coven. He tells me that my questions are clever, laughing, diverting me away from the more esoteric and secret tricks of his trade. This man is responsible for all the voodoo priests and rituals in the region. In Ouidah we saw a film made by a German, Bettina, about the High Priest there and the secret initiations and practices. It was shown at the Quintessence Film festival and we were also lucky enough to later meet her as well as seeing the Priest at the voodoo festival.
you pays your money and take your choice). The priest or as in this case the Minister of Voudon culture was a portly urbane man who welcomed my questions. He was identified at birth as the successor in the voudon line and spent three months being initiated in secret coven. He tells me that my questions are clever, laughing, diverting me away from the more esoteric and secret tricks of his trade. This man is responsible for all the voodoo priests and rituals in the region. In Ouidah we saw a film made by a German, Bettina, about the High Priest there and the secret initiations and practices. It was shown at the Quintessence Film festival and we were also lucky enough to later meet her as well as seeing the Priest at the voodoo festival.So what to make of it all? The fetish stalls in the markets selling all kinds of grossness – body parts of local wildlife, snakes, owls, stinking heaps of goodness knows what and of course voodoo dolls – do it yourself spell kits - the magicians, the healers, the sorcerers, the witches and fa diviners. Weird and wonderful at times – downright scary at others and clearly way out of line in some of its practices.
