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Flying into the island I was seduced by this rich, undulating view of
Her unspoiled body. Unlike the other islands, human settlement remains
an almost undetectable element in the interior.
How do the people who live here respond to such an overwhelming presence
of nature in it's raw and sacred state? There is still that Edenic
innocence of being able to take a walk and feed oneself by throwing
stones up into the towering mango trees to capture a ripe fruit, or
picking a guava, soursup, sugar apple or breadfruit. It is not necessary
for anyone here to go really hungry when fish and fruit are there for
the taking. Nearly everyone, young and old, knows about bush medicine
and will rush off to return with leaves and herbs to treat their various
ailments.
But spiritual wisdom and consciousness, the sort that comes directly
from interaction with the sacred seems lost or buried beneath the
overpowering Catholic and Evangelical ethos. Religion Caribbean -style
means hymns sung to the best reggae rhythms being played non-stop in
certain houses or shops. That's the overlay. What lies beneath that, but
hovering close to the surface is Obea - the local name for Voodoo. One
idea of Obea is of a creature half -animal half- spirit, with a cry
like a wolf and habits like a vampire. A lot of what I've been told is
very garbled and I suspect it might take me a long time to get to the
bottom of it. Everyone seems pretty familiar with Jombies, who seem to
be spirits of the dead who are called upon to aid the petitioner, and
they seem capable of being both benevolent and malevolent. They say they
call them up from the graveyards, using special books and incantations.
They can be summoned to protect the family, or, it appears more
commonly, to bring forth material gain for the querent. A pact must be
made with the jombie, however, and a debt is eternally incurred. Some
see this as a debt of blood, hence the vampire image, and others of life
force which the jombie must have, of course, to maintain it's existence.
I have had several people pointed out to me as jombies, and have been
told that the spirit in some cases appears to take over the physical
form of the person who relates to it.
All I can add is that when we moved
into this house we found a clove of garlic stuck with a pair of rusty
scissors concealed above the door lintel. I wasn't to sure about what to
do with it, so I smudge it regularly with sage and hope for the best!
So what is left of true connectedness? Perhaps, before, as the people
smoked their ganja, they were able more easily to harmonize themselves
with Nature, to hear Her voice in their hearts. But now a new and deadly
drug pervades this island paradise - as it does so many towns and
villages throughout the world. Big business, Government business has
ensured that those who might seek to know and understand have been
diverted from the truth by the insidious Crack cocaine. It appears to be
a menacing trap of consciousness, a sort of Black Hole leading to
bondage of the spirit. It is palpable late at night here in Portsmouth
at the north end of the island.
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