Book Review: Voodoo in Haiti by Alfred Metraux

Voodoo in Haiti

by Alfred Metraux

      Most people know about Voodoo because of movies and television. It’s all Black people chanting in the dark with drums, candles and skulls. Fewer people know that Voodoo is a religion. Those pop culture portrayals probably look like little more than children dressing up for Halloween to the people who follow the Voodoo tradition. The Swiss anthropologist and human rights activist Alfred Metraux sets the record straight in his monumental study Voodoo in Haiti.

Voodoo, sometimes spelled “Voudou” or “Vodun” in French and Haitian Creole, is an African-Diaspora religion brought to the Caribbean by slaves in the 18^th century. Originating in West Africa, it derives from the cultural traditions of the Yoruba, Dahomey, and Kongo people from regions that are now primarily in Nigeria, Angola, and the countries around them. Voodoo is most commonly associated with Haiti even though practitioners of similar and overlapping traditions exist in Cuba, Jamaica, Brazil, and the USA.

After developing a fascination for the cultures of South America and the West Indies, Metraux embedded himself in Haiti to study the religion of Voodoo, mostly in the south and west of Haiti in the proximity of Port au Prince. His methodology is strictly ethnographic, meaning he described everything he encountered with the assistance of informers from the culture he studied. These informers were primarily houngans and mambos, or priests and priestesses respectively, and secondarily other practitioners and associates of the Voodoo religion. There is very little theory in Metraux’s writing as his task was to record as much as possible and let others draw conclusions based on his gathered data.

After a brief history of Haiti and the Trans-Atlantic slave trade that brought the African people there by French colonialists, Metraux outlines the beliefs and practices of Voodoo. A key belief is that of the loa, a word that does not translate easily into English. You might be tempted to translate it as meaning gods, spirits, ancestors, or saints, but the loa are actually all those things and a little more. The loa are fit into two categories: the rara and the petro; the former are weaker and softer with the latter being stronger and more dangerous. Thinking of rara loa as good and petro loa as evil is slightly erroneous as some loa can fit into both categories and rara loa can sometimes be responsible for bad things happening just as petro loa can be responsible for good. The fuzzy logic of the loa may be difficult for followers of Abrahamic religions, with their black and white thinking, to comprehend. But Voodoo is an admittedly Pagan religion and operates under a more refined and complex set of parameters. Voodoo ceremonies mostly involve the worship of and possession by the loa. The idiom “riding a horse” means a loa is possessing someone. Some individuals marry one particular loa and dedicate their lives to placating them with ceremonies in private. There are literally thousands of loa, but Metraux describes some of the most common ones like Erzulie, Papa Legba, Ogun, Damballah-ouedo, Shango, and Baron Samedi.

Acting as mediums between the loa and the congregations are the houngans and mambos. Like shamans all across the world, they tend to be socially awkward misfits, intellectually inclined, and often gay or lesbian. Since most Haitians were illiterate at the time of writing, the houngans and mambos had to memorize a vast network of complex associations involving objects, lyrics, and colors for ritual use. They also oversee the Voodoo temple, called a “hounfort” and stage manage the ceremonies. They entice the loa with drums, singing, dancing, candles, offerings of food and drink, and animal sacrifices. Central to this summoning is the veve, a design drawn on the ground with flour, cornmeal, coffee, or even gunpowder. People possessed by the loa speak in tongues and go into convulsions. Metraux goes into fine detail about all the paraphernalia in the hounfort and everything that happens in a ritual.

Another topic covered is the darker side of Voodoo. This section deals more with folklore and belief than it does with first hand observation. Practitioners of Voodoo believe in evil things like zombi, loups garou (werewolves), and secret societies of black magicians who eat and sacrifice babies. A lot of protection rituals are performed to prevent attacks from these supernatural creatures, but they actually function by providing explanations for bad happenings that otherwise can not be explained. Modern medical knowledge is almost non-existent in rural Haiti so when a child dies unexpectedly, belief in a zombi or loup garou fills in the information gap.

One other chapter goes into the relationship between Voodoo and the Catholic and Protestant churches. Voodooists are often members of the Catholic church and make associations between the saints and the loa. Voodooists also believe baptisms have magic power and priests have trouble preventing them from being baptized multiple times. The Catholic church grudgingly tolerates but doesn’t condone Voodoo. Protestants shun Voodoo outright and refuse to have anything to do with it. There might be an element of class discrimination in that because Protestants in Haiti tend to be upper class elitists who look down on the impoverished majority,

Voodoo in Haiti reads a lot like passages from Frazer’s The Golden Bough. That means the subject matter is fascinating, but Metraux is a tedious and anal retentive author so it sometimes feels like a chore to read. If you’re interested enough though, this can be overlooked. A strong point is that Metraux respects and admires the Haitian people he writes about. Even though he might not share their beliefs and practices, he writes about them with the interest and respect they deserve.

Voodoo in Haiti may be the most comprehensive book about Voodoo that has been written so far. Such a rich and complex tradition deserves more attention than it has received. The rites of Voodoo are far more exciting than anything Christians have come up with in 2000 years. Real Voodoo is far more interesting than the fake Voodoo you see on television too. So read this book because it is worthwhile learning about it.

 

Book Review: Voice Of the Leopard: African Secret Societies and Cuba by Ivor L. Miller

Voice Of the Leopard:

African Secret Societies and Cuba

by Ivor L. Miller

     The general public is familiar with African diaspora religions in the Caribbean and South America via popular culture. Most of what people think of in association with Voudou (voodoo) or Lukumi (Santeria) involves skulls, drums, zombies, and black magic. It isn’t hard to see how film makers, artists, writers, and musicians have appropriated elements from these religions since mystical and sometimes dark imagery can easily capture the imagination. But not so many people realize that African diaspora religions are complex social systems that exist within broader historical, socio-political, and economic systems and thereby have function and meaning as groups within those larger systems. One of the lesser acknowledged African diaspora religions is Abakua, a secret society that began in Cuba in the 19^th century and continues to thrive today. Voice Of the Leopard, by the American anthropologist Ivor L. Miller, gives a broad overview of this group and the role they played in Cuban history.

When West African people were brought to Cuba as slaves, their religious practices accompanied them. While these religions were mostly forbidden in the United States, slave owners in places like Brazil, Haiti, Puerto Rico, and Cuba allowed them to flourish, mostly because they relieved some psychological pressure that built up under the living conditions of slavery. This may have worked to some degree, but the number of slaves who escaped to live in isolated communities in the Sierra Maestra mountains, called “cimmanrones” or “maroons”, proves their situation was not one to envy. Nonetheless, Cuba was unique in that the colonialists allowed slaves to earn and save money which they could use to buy their way to freedom. That is one reason for Cuba having a small population of free African criollos who survived by working as craftsmen. According to members of Abakua societies, there was even a smaller number of West African immigrants who voluntarily came to Cuba to give slaves guidance on how to safeguard their religion in the new land. The accuracy of that belief is of no importance in this book because that is what the Abakua believe and it influences how they see the world.

Using linguistics and cross-cultural comparisons along with historical records, Miller has traced the origins of Abakua back to the Cross Rivers region along the border of Nigeria and Cameroon. In that part of Africa, fraternal societies called Ekpe have existed since times long before colonialism. The language, rituals, and mythologies of Abakua and Ekpe bear too many similarities to be coincidental. This is especially true because Abakua initiates have their own language that is only spoken with Abakua members and, although time and distance have caused morphological changes, it is essentially the same language spoken by Ekpe initiates. A similar linguistic analysis has been used to trace the origins of Roma (Gypsy) people to Rajastan in northern India, a significant discovery since that ethnic group existed for centuries without knowing precisely where they originated. The mapping of the human genome has recently justified these ancestral histories.

Miller gives some brief explanations about what Abakua members do. He starts by analyzing what kind of a group they are. He prefers the term “initiate society” over “secret society” since membership in the group is not kept secret, only their beliefs and practices are. Readers hoping for a detailed explanation of those beliefs and practices will inevitably be disappointed since such information is only transmitted to initiates who have risen through s series of degrees and offices to widen their scope of Abakua. Some basic information is shared with the public though, for example various motifs from the Ekpe/Abakua mythology, their transmission of historical narratives through call and response chanting done to the accompaniment of drumming and dancing, and the presence of the fundamento in every juego (lodge). The fundamento is the ceremonial centerpiece, or omphalos, of each juego. The original is said to have been brought over from Africa by the aforementioned voluntary immigrants from the Cross Rivers region who taught the slaves how to practice Abakua in Cuba. The Abakua juegos are open to men only. There is no discussion as to whether Abakua is actually a religion or not. From my limited knowledge of the society, I prefer to think it doesn’t fit easily into any category, containing elements of religion, magic, political secret societies, social clubs, and mutual aid fraternities.

Abakua juegos serve various functions. One is that of a mutual aid society. Dues collected by each juego can be used as health or life insurance for each member. Money is also collected for charity or educational funding. During the 19^th century, illiterate slaves who joined Abakua could receive some education they wouldn’t get elsewhere. At a local level, lodges provided a means for upward social mobility in a colony where such mobility was limited for free Afro-Cubans and usually unobtainable for slaves. Membership in a lodge required the mastery of knowledge, commitment, and responsibility. Money could also be raised in an Abakua society to help a slave buy their own freedom. Plus, the hierarchical nature of the juegos gave motivated individuals a means for moving up a social ladder thereby growing and maturing as people.

Abakua was also important for historical reasons. Since juego activities were secret and only accessible to initiates, they served as near-perfect places for clandestine political activity. Afro-Cubans who sought for an end to slavery were deeply committed to the two Cuban Wars of Independence and used their gathering places for planning military and political strategies. The Independence leader and national hero Antonio Maceo was a member of Abakua for this reason. Freemasonry also had a strong presence in 19^th century Cuba and pro-Independence Masons collaborated with Abakua to fight against the Spanish crown. The Wars of Independence also led to the establishment of Abakua juegos for both white and Chinese members who were dedicated to the Cuban nationhood cause.

Other topics covered by Miller include the reasons why Abakua has not spread further geographically than it already has and the influence Abakua has had on Cuban music and art. In the latter case, Abakua drum rhythms have a strong presence in the syncretistic styles of mambo and son. The chapter covering music is not highly detailed so deeper insights into the subject should be looked for elsewhere. In the former topic, the explanation is that strict and complicated protocols for establishing new lodges has made it nearly impossible for Abakua to spread much farther than the regions surrounding Havana and and the nearby city of Matanzas. If you want to join, your only option would be to move to Cuba. Miller also writes about recent contact and collaboration between Ekpe initiates in Nigeria and Abakua members in Cuba who have traveled to Nigeria recently with assistance from the author who is an Ekpe initiate himself aside from being an anthropologist.

Since the practice of Abakua is kept secret and only accessible to members, this book is mostly historical in nature. However, some of their ceremonies, including dances, drumming, and call and response chanting, are publicly accessible since some ceremonies are done in the yards of juegos were neighbors can observe them or hear them from a distance. I speculate that this is done as a means of proselytizing and arousing the curiosity of potential recruits. Despite not providing much information about the inner workings of this society, its influence on Cuban history is a fascinating story to learn about, especially because mainstream historians have given so little space to Abakua’s role in achieving independence and building national identity. Unfortunately, there is nothing said about Abakua in their relation to the Cuban Revolution of 1958 and Fidel Castro’s subsequent dictatorship. Abakua survived throughout all of that so there must be something to be said about them during those times.

Voice Of the Leopard gives a good overview of Abakua and its history. It serves the purpose of demonstrating how such a secret society can maintain social stability and mental health in the midst of a chaotic and ever-changing world. By giving members a sense of participation in history and having roots in an antiquarian culture, a direct line between past and present is maintained which contributes stability to the community. In this way, Abakua has acted as a positive force in Cuban society. Up until recent times, America had societies based around common interests in much the same way that the Cubans have Abakua. In 2025, fraternal orders like the Masons or the Elks, hobbyist groups, bowling leagues, labor unions, social clubs, and other societies in which people create social bonds and a sense of belonging are mostly on life support if they still exist at all. As a result of the internet, people spend more time looking at screens on laptops and cell phones then they do in the presence of others. As a result, the rates of loneliness, depression, mental illness, and suicide have spiked, especially among young people. It would be interesting to research what the rate of these ailments are in African diaspora religions. My educated guess is that they would be far less frequent than in American society. Maybe a few more groups like the Abakua could save us from ourselves.