(Verlande Cadet/Global Press Journal) Summary: In a country in the midst of crisis, young people are flocking to a long-demonized religion with revolutionary roots.
Reporter Byline: Verlande Cadet, GPJ Haiti
Photo Caption: Eunode Eustache Cénatus, a Vodou priestess, shows a yellow scarf at Maison Dahomey, a Vodou society in Cap-Haitien, Haiti. Many members of the society are young people who abandoned Christianity for Vodou, Cénatus explains.
Photo Credit: Verlande Cadet, GPJ Haiti
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“This article was originally published by Global Press Journal »
CAP-HAÏTIEN, HAITI — In 2010, Eunode’s boyfriend Eustache Cénatus invited her to a vodou ceremony. Although born into a Christian family, she accepted the invitation and continued to attend similar ceremonies every Sunday. The two were students at the University of Port-au-Prince at the time and would later marry.
About a year after he began attending the ceremonies, Cénatus, 37, said he began to sense the presence of the loas. The loas (or lwa in Haitian Creole) are spirits venerated by voodooists or people who practice voodoo (or voodoo). The loa reminded her that she was one of the chosen, and that she was born to be a Mambo, or Vodou priestess.
“I didn’t know it before, but you are born Mambo, you don’t become one,” said Cénatus.
In 2012, Cénatus founded Maison Dahomey, a society of people practicing Vodou, and became Mambo. She runs the company with her husband, who is also the Hougan (Voudou priest). In society, Cénatus teaches the religious and cultural practices of Vodou.
“When I’m enchanted, it’s as if I’m possessed by spirits who tell me what to say or do. Sometimes I am aware of it but other times I lose all awareness and memory of what I do or say until I am no longer addicted. »
Cénatus believes that running the Maison Dahomey company is his life’s mission. In 2021, she turned down a lucrative government position that would have required her to move to Port-au-Prince, the capital of Haiti, because her loas did not agree and because she could not manage the company during his absence.
Although historically marginalized, Voudou (or Voodoo), a Haitian religion believed to have originated in West Africa, is increasingly widespread in Cap-Haïtien, Haiti’s second largest city, on the North Coast. Young people, even from Christian religions, now openly assert their Vodou beliefs and join societies such as Maison Dahomey, which has more than 500 members. About 300 of them are under 30 years old.
“When I’m enchanted, it’s as if I’m possessed by spirits who tell me what to say or do. »
EUNODE EUSTACHE CENATUS
According to Paul Michelin Jules, chairman of the board of directors of the Legphibao vodou society, even if vodou societies have always existed in Cap-Haïtien, recent years have seen an increase in the number of practitioners, particularly among the youth generation. For example, 55% of the 800 members of the Legphibao Vodou society are under 30 years old.
According to sources interviewed by the Global Press Journal, the city now has nearly a dozen vodou societies.
Since Vodou arose from a society where slaves were not taught to read or write, much of its history is unwritten. Some researchers, however, trace its roots to the transatlantic slave trade in the early 1500s, when Spanish and French colonists brought African slaves to Haiti to work on sugar plantations.
Many slaves spoke different languages and had different religions. Vodou emerged as a syncretic system of beliefs that adopted elements of these different religious practices. Slaves practiced it mostly in secret, away from the watchful eyes of plantation owners and administrators, according to a study published in 2001 in the journal Comparative Studies in Society and History.
During the Haitian Revolution of 1791 to 1804, when Haitians revolted against French colonial rule, this adapted religion played an important role, according to anthropologist and sociologist Jocelin Bertil. Voodoo offered slaves a space for meeting and political and cultural reflection. It was also a platform for supporters of independence to share their ideas. This fueled the Haitian Revolution, which was the world’s first successful slave revolt.
“For these black people from different countries and tribes, Vodou was not only a means of communication, but also a means of resisting slavery and oppression. It was largely thanks to Vodou that they were able, a few years later, to obtain freedom and independence,” explains Bertil, referring to the Vodou ceremony in Bois Caïman in August 1791, which, according to the researchers, launched the Haitian revolution.
Despite this historically, culturally and politically important role, Bertil says Vodou has historically been misunderstood, marginalized and denigrated, largely due to anti-superstitious campaigns, Bertil explains. These campaigns, which took place in the 1940s, were launched by the Catholic Church to discredit Vodou. Local priests burned voodoo ritual objects and converted Haitians to Catholicism.
But even before these anti-superstitious campaigns, Vodou was already facing a long history of denigration. For example, after the success of Haiti’s war for independence in 1804, colonists attributed the start of the revolution in part to Vodou, according to a report from the Institute on Religion and Public Policy.
After independence, some governments banned it in favor of Catholicism. Jean-Pierre Boyer, a revolutionary leader who became president, banned the religion in 1835. Although Faustin Soulouque, who ruled Haiti between 1847 and 1859, authorized the practice of Vodou in public, Fabre Geffrard, who reigned between 1859 and 1867, further suppressed the practice. practicing Vodou by destroying Vodou objects and signing the Concordat of 1860, which declared Catholicism as the official religion of Haiti. In fact, it was only after the signing of the Concordat that the Vatican finally recognized the Haitian government.
This denigration of voodoo has continued over the years, with films and other stories always describing voodoo as evil, explains Frédérick Julemus, voodoo artist since 2020. He gives the example of “The miracle of faith”, a Haitian film that promotes Christianity and depicts Vodou as evil.
Although it received some support from François Duvalier, president between 1957 and 1971, who recruited Vodou Hougans and Mambos into his service, it was not until 2003 that Vodou was recognized as a religion. official in Haiti.
Despite the denigration, Haitians, particularly young people, have shown growing interest in voodoo in recent years, explains Cénatus, who, in addition to running the company Maison Dahomey, teaches at several universities in Cap-Haïtien to supplement his income. .
While some practice voodoo individually, others join societies which, according to Cénatus, provide security and community.
Maison Dahomey is located in the same apartment where Cénatus lives with her husband and their son. The society occupies two rooms: one where training and rituals take place and a sacred room called badji, filled with symbols of the loas, where Cenatus receives members for consultations.
To be admitted to Maison Dahomey — which takes its name from an ancient kingdom in West Africa — you must be invited by a member, then present your identity documents and two passport photos. There are also principles that we must agree to respect. For example, members are not allowed to wear tattoos, jewelry, or dreadlocked hair. Cénatus states that these elements can hinder communication with loas.
Society has three main classes: proselytes, cadets and initiates. New members join the proselyte class, where they discover Vodou, participate in rituals, study, then take theoretical and practical exams before moving on to the next grade.
But the last step is the most important, believes Cénatus. “When one is initiated, one is part of the spiritual elite of House Dahomey. It is the loas themselves who have chosen those who are to receive initiation. »
Many members of Maison Dahomey are young people who abandoned Christianity for Vodou, explains Cénatus.
Gregory Daguisan, a computer engineer in his thirties, joined the company in 2018. Before becoming a Vodouist, Daguisan was an Adventist Christian. He says he stopped going to church in 2017 because he felt a little lost. It wasn’t easy for Daguisan, who had been a very active member of his church. It took him some time to think and make the change after a friend invited him to Maison Dahomey in 2018. He continued to go and was initiated in 2020. At first, his family didn’t did not support this choice. He claims that members of his former religious community also discriminated against him.
“It was one of the hardest times of my life,” he said. “I had to cut ties with many people who were dear to me. »
But it’s a decision he says he’s never regretted.
Daguisan says one of the factors that has sparked interest in Vodou is the development of study programs in Haitian universities, particularly in the humanities and social sciences. He believes these disciplines have helped dispel religious prejudices and give Haitians a deeper understanding of the importance of Vodou.
“It was one of the hardest times of my life. »
GREGORY DAGUISAN
Eddy Toussaint lived in the United States since 1971 before returning to Haiti to form a Vodou society with his wife. He says young Haitians are starting to see things differently.
“While societies [vodou] are spreading more and more in Haiti, young people realize that they have been lied to about the [voudou] ».
He says forming a Vodou society was one of the main reasons he returned to the country in 2004 after the death of his brother, who also had a society. “I did not choose to return to live in Haiti, it was the loas who chose me to come and continue the work that my brother was doing, just as they chose my brother who was a hougan (vodou priest) from age 7 years old. »
Today, Toussaint’s wife, Rachelle Zéphyrin, is the president, while Toussaint is Hougan of the company Lakou Sekrè, which they founded in 2015 in the Haut-du-Cap district.
Anyone can become a member of Lakou Sekrè, says Zéphyrin, but minors must have the authorization of their parents or guardians.
“Lakou Sekrè opens its doors to all those who wish to integrate,” says Zéphyrin.
This company is housed in a large reforested courtyard, with s sacred spaces for the loas and a large sacred room for rituals. This company is made up of a board of directors made up of 11 members of which Zephyrin is president, and approximately 30 active members.
Aspirants must pass a period of 2 months of probation, followed by an assessment test before the day of initiation.
Julemus has been Vodouing since 2020. This 28-year-old man, who practices individually, without society or the supervision of a hougan or mambo, affirms that the spirits have often guided him in his artistic practice.
Julemus was a Christian. In 2014, he even joined a seminary to become a Catholic priest, but he was expelled two years later for non-compliance with established rules.
“Lakou Sekrè opens its doors to all those who wish to integrate. »
RACHELLE ZEPHYRIN
He admits to having felt a constant presence reminding him that he was out of place during his two years at the seminary. After his expulsion in 2016, Julemus spent nearly six months working as a Badjikan, assistant to a hougan (priest) or mambo (priestess), with his uncle in Port-au-Prince.
At first he did it just to make money. “I never paid attention to the fate that was in store for me,” he said.
It was only in 2019, two years after entering the Faculty of Fine Arts on the Henri Christophe de Limonade campus, that Julemus joined a vodou society called Yanvalou, which has since closed due to lack of economic means. He still practices Vodou and believes that it is not necessary to belong to a society to do so.
“I think all religious assemblies, whether Vodou or Christian churches, all have unique good characteristics. You just have to know how to take advantage of it,” he says. “Sometimes I go to Catholic churches because I feel the need for a ritual that is only practiced in the Catholic church. »
He believes that the influence of new models has made young people more comfortable with Vodou. It is fortunate that the perception of this religion is changing in Haiti and that more and more people are adopting it. “However, I don’t think all Haitians are obligated to practice Vodou,” he says. “Everyone is free to make their own choices based on their own beliefs and convictions. »
For him, there is no religion that is superior or inferior to another. “I am Vodouist, however until now, I go to church sometimes because there are also very interesting spiritual rituals in the churches. »
At the same time, Bertil believes that the revival of Vodou could help Haiti emerge from its socio-economic and political crisis. “Voudou helped the Haitian people overcome slavery and colonization. This can still help us break out of this alarming impasse,” he said, referring to the challenges that have hit Haiti in recent years, such as the collapse of institutions, frequent natural disasters and gangs exercising control over more than half the country.
Bertil is convinced that all Haitians are linked to Vodou, and he encourages young people who choose this path to stay there, but he also believes that everyone is free to practice the religion of their choice.
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