Our backyard is perpetually a bit overgrown, and we have no high-falutin’ edging device, so even when we mow the lawn there are tufts of taller grass poking up cock-eyed all around the perimeter. It probably needs weeding and pruning and fertilizing and feeding.
But…it is green and lush and leafy, and we have flowers blooming beneath the tall trees. We moved in during the winter months, so now the emerging flora is surprising and wonderful. It delights us.
Last night we fired up the grill and ate dinner on the patio for the first time. We had grilled chicken, spicy black beans, tortillas, avocado, cilantro & corn salad with lime dressing, and a glass of my favorite Framboise. It was quiet, and lovely.
We dined under the watchful eye of Norman, my garden gnome. Next time, maybe you can join us?
I have heard a few variations on a common saying regarding Haiti: The country is 80% Catholic, 20% Protestant, and 100% Voodoo. The first time I heard this sentiment, I chalked it up to hyperbole — but on our recent trip to Haiti, we started to understand how the deep-rooted fear and superstition that accompanies the voodoo world view is very present in Haiti today.
For a portion of the long drive up-country from the Port au Prince airport, Jonathan & I were passengers in a truck being driven by Pastor Pierre, a Haitian respected community leader and clergyman who has built a school and clinic which serves his entire surrounding area. Pastor Pierre stands about five feet tall and has a small pot belly, an easy laugh, and a firm faith.
En route, we spent a few hours bumping up the dusty, rutted road, dodging potholes and asking Pierre about his story. He told of how during his childhood, his mother gathered the souls of their household up with some pieces of string, put them in a jar and hid them somewhere in the house, to protect the family from death. Not too many years later, Pierre and his brother were orphaned.
Later, as a young adult, Pierre was sick and his adoptive mother sent him to the witch doctor, who instructed him to eat seven safety pins. Pierre’s sister was a nurse, and when he told her about the prescribed remedy, she urged him not to do it. “He’s trying to kill you!” she said, and Pierre heeded her warning.
Shortly thereafter, he decided he wanted to trust Jesus with his life and his future, but he was heartbroken by the fact that he didn’t have a soul. After all, his soul was back there in a jar somewhere — he didn’t have it with him. When he confessed his soullessness to his pastor, the man laughed gently and assured Pierre that he did indeed have a soul — for the root of the word soul comes from the concept of life. “You are alive,” he said, “and therefore you have a soul.” And so Pierre began on his journey of life in the way of Jesus.
He regaled us with stories of his interactions with witch doctors and voodoo magic — the times people have wanted to kill him. “I am not afraid,” he says, “because God will protect me. They can’t kill me because I trust Jesus.”
And this, in a nutshell, is what we learned about the relationship between Christianity and voodoo religion in Haiti — many of those who follow Jesus were initially drawn to the faith because they were desperate for protection from the dark forces that surrounded them.
