Voodoo Viewing

From the Armand Diaries:

August 31, 1947, Hotel Champ de Mars, Port au Prince, Haiti.
...Last eve, we all went  to see a voodoo dance in town - vaguely exciting with latent possibilities but no real good dancing, in filthy "Hooverville" section. One guy danced around asking for money, waving a rusty machete like knife uncomfortably close to our noses!

This a.m. I went out with Miss Miller, who wanted to have a native tell her future (disavowing belief in it but half believing). Went to three tiny Africa like native villages, with mud and thatch huts, animals (including puppies, thin as rails and starving to death), voodoo drums and altars and a cross with queer symbols.

This aft. we returned to one of the villages - M. and I and Miss Miller and Cuban, to see a sort of initiation dance, partly gotten up to cure a soldier who had gone nuts. We saw him there. Drummers had a wonderful sense of rhythm and leader and women who danced and chanted were gradually getting into swing and spirit off the thing.

Drums and yelling last night and now beating in the distance and still going on (midnight [12:15]) frenetically. They are supposed to finally get the spirit in them and roll and writhe on ground (and sex, doubtless) - all right out of Africa and quite worth while- wish I could see it now when really "hot"!

...We're next door to U.S. Embassy. I'm supposed -with M.- to call on ambassador Tuesday at 10 to pay our respects before he leaves for U.S. Heard from his secretary that in our hotel, last month, a pretender to position as Congressman here fell while drunk or was pushed from second story front window. The madam told us absolutely he fell. Drank, they say, 66 cocktails...that night and that his wife said every time he got drunk, he always fell out of windows!

Found next a.m. dead as hell and police couldn't "solve" the case. Made a cause celebre here for a while. We've a penchant for such places - in Havana it was the revolutionary minded San Luis.

Photo: EM Arts