Backstage

My postmate, Dave, and I walked up to the man guarding the curtain. We had heard a voodoo spirit would be coming out tonight in his village, so we had followed the drums and dancing to where the village was awaiting his appearance.

Currently, the voodoo spirit (fetish) was in preparation behind this curtain. And Dave, who is much less concerned about following traditional rules, talked his way back behind it.  A group of village elders were sitting in a group doing what village elders spend a lot of time doing: talking and drinking liquor. After a series of rapid conversations in Ife about whether or not we were allowed to be there, we were given spots on the blanket and shots of sodabi.

Next to us was the fetish. He looked like a regular villager; in fact, we had run into him earlier that day at the market. He was eating pate while someone tied a rope of palm fronds and seeds onto his calves so it sounded like a maraca when he walked.

This was the first time I was seeing a voodoo spirit before he became a voodoo spirit. (Although, I always had a suspicion that there was a person underneath that paint, beads and hay.) This is their Santa Claus, Easter bunny and Tooth Fairy; except that we got to see it was actually the parents slipping 50 cents under their child’s pillow this whole time.

Was something going to happen that would suddenly make this man who works in the fields with Dave an ambassador from the world of voodoo? Was this just an elaborate game of dress up? An excuse to drink and dance until 4 in the morning? Do the people generally believe that this person is a voodoo spirit?

That’s the question, belief. But does knowing the truth mean that you can no longer believe? Do we still believe in the kindness of others during the holiday season just because we know that a fat man in a red suit does not come down our chimneys? Do we still believe in a day to celebrate with our families just because we know that a giant rabbit did not bring those chocolate eggs that appeared in our basket this morning? Do we still believe in the innocence of childhood when we know that a fairy did not sneak into the house last night and put two quarters under a child’s pillow?