22572: Racine: A funny true story, with a good moral, from Mambo Racine (fwd)

[Bob Corbett <corbetre@webster.edu>]

From: Racine125@aol.com


You all know that I am a Mambo, right?  A Mambo asogwe - I am like a bishop, I am the one you go to if you want to become a Houngan, Mambo or hounsi yourself.  So that means that I conduct, twice a year, initiation ceremonies in Haitian Vodou, right here in the Aviation neighborhood of Jacmel.

I have an initiation ceremony which is going to take place over the next few weeks, in fact.  And of course I want to get to know my initiates as well as possible, because sometimes they come into the house not long before a kanzo (initiation) and I might not be so familiar with them.

I have one particular candidate, a forty-odd year old Haitian man who I will call Ciceron. Naturally I asked all my initiates what they knew of Ciceron, and I asked about him in the neighborhood.  "He works", was the general response, "and he doesn't steal, but he fights."

Ciceron actually has very menial employment and a terribly low standard of living, he's got to be absolutely the poorest member of my house.  (That will change once he's initiated, Guinea is rich!)

Last night I did a card reading for him - in Haitian Vodou, each person has a lwa met tet, a lwa who is the ruler of their head.  I, as Mambo, must determine this lwa in order to give the person correct ceremonies.  But before I did the reading I grilled the poor guy because I, as Mambo, must also determine if the person is a nutcase or a thief or anything else that would be bad for the house.

"Ciceron!  I hear that you work hard, and that you don't steal."

"Thank you, Mambo."

"Ciceron!  I hear that you like to fight!"

"Ohhhh...." groaned Ciceron, "who told you that?"

I laughed.

"Mambo, please believe me.  I don't like to fight, Mambo.  But if I do a little job for someone and then they refuse to pay me, what can I do?  I have to eat.  So I pick them up and BAM!  I throw them on the ground."  (Let me note that Ciceron is a quite tall and rather muscular fellow, and has spent his life in doing physical labor, so the idea of him picking up an person and throwing them on the ground is not impossible.)

"Hmmmm... you throw them on the ground, eh?"

"Not any more, Mambo!  I've passed my forty years, I have white hairs coming in my beard now, I don't do that any more... unless a person refuses to pay me!"

"Okay.  Now, Ciceron, do you fight with other men only, or do you sometimes fight with women?"

Who knew that the question would yield such a riotously funny narrative?

Here is what Ciceron said to me:

* * * * * * * * * *

I don't fight with women.  Well, I did once, but my mother was a good mother and she always told me that no matter what other people said, I must not hit women.

One day, I was in the market, about to buy a mango to eat.  That was all I could afford, just one mango.  So I wanted a nice one!  There were two women selling mangos, and one was done selling.  And as I was bending down to get my chosen mango, that woman spit right next to the mango I wanted."

I said, "Hey, you shouldn't spit there, don't you see I am getting a mango!"

She said, "Oh, what do I care?  Are you angry?"

I said, "Well, of course the reason why I am talking to you right now is because I am angry!"

She said, "So whaddaya gonna do about it!" and waved her hand in my face like she was going to hit me.  I didn't know what to do!  And everyone started screaming, and I knew if I did nothing to her, my head would be on a picket (meaning, everyone would mock him throughout his neighborhood).

So what could I do?  I waved my hand back at her.  But I remembered that I didn't want to hit her, you know?  I didn't know which way to turn.  She got more excited, and really wanted to fight.  I hated the sight of that woman, I was frantic.  I felt like I would have done anything to get her out of my eyesight - so that is what I did!  God came and inspired me.  Right next to her there was a woman selling cloth.  Lots and lots of cloth!  So I just pushed that rude woman down on the ground, and then I pulled over a pile of cloth on her, I heaped up lots and lots and LOTS of cloth on her.  That way, I wouldn't have to see her, and she couldn't get back up.

And she was just about flat under the cloth, people came and helped uncover her, and everyone was laughing.  But anyway the police happened to be there, so they took the both of us to the police station.  I talked, she talked.  The police said to both of us, go home and come back tomorrow.  I obeyed them, I came back, but she did not, so everyone just forgot about it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I and the initiates present were all but rolling on the ground laughing, the whole Rada badji was just rocking with laughter.  Finally we collected ourselves, and recited the Priye Ginen (Priere Guinea, Prayer of Guinea), and did the reading for Ciceron, who turned out not surprisingly to be a son of Ogoun.  But then his own lwa came!  And in short order he rendered me Ogoun, Erzulie Dantor, Legba, Marinette, and a few fearsome personal djabs!   The guy has a regular United Nations of Guinea in his head.  No wonder he is capable of a creative response to an unwelcome situation!

Peace and love,

Bon Mambo Racine Sans Bout Sa Te La Daginen

"Se bon ki ra" - Good is rare
     Haitian Proverb

The VODOU Page - http://members.aol.com/racine125/index.html

(Posting from Jacmel, Haiti)