Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1902-05-24
A VO0DO0 CURSE
The Wealth of a Priestess
That None Would Touch.
CALAMITY FOLLOWS
FIRST CROPS FAILED, THEN CAME
A HURRICANE.
The Wonderful Twin Craters of La
Soufriere in a Land of
Beauty.
CALAMITY FOLLOWS

Written for The Evening Star.
Il allus toP em they be sure nuf goner
if they tech that vooioo money" The old
negro sat slowly spelling out of the even
ing paper the latest meager news Of the
disaster on ST. Vincent Island, his old
home. Scarce a negro in the West Indies
but is saying the same thing today.
Waxing ever fatter, uglier and richer, for
many years there lived just outside of
kingstown, on st. Vincent, the high
priestess of the voodoo worshipers.
Thither by stealth came negroes from all
over the West Indies-came, also. they tell
you. white planters seeking charms and
lucky spells. There were still others who
landed quietly by night and bore away lit
tie phials of slow-working poison, or, per
haps, merely innocent-looking splinters,
whose slightest scratch meant death; then.
presently, the papers would record the
sudden end of some harsh overseer from
fever" The hand OF the law never fell
upon her-it is not pleasant to execute JUS
tice when you know that tomorrow morn
ing's coffee will be filled with powdered
glass-and in good time she died, her spirit
carried up Soufriere by Zombi, so they say,
and there dumped in.
Cursed Voodoo Wealth.
Much wealth she left. for her magic
was always of the most expensive kind.
Many a poor devil ruined himself to meet
her extortions. But, strange to say, no
heirs appeared to claim it. 1t was voodoo,
and lot an African on earth would touch
1t
So finally the government of St Vincent
stepped in where others feared TO tread
and c6nfscated it. Now, voodoo or no
voodoo. it certainly is true that from that
day the already tottering fortunes of ST.
Vincent FASTENED swiftly to their fall. The
negroes emigrated to Barbados, to the
states, TO anywhere away from that island:
Sugar fell in price slowly but surely, and
sugar was st. Eincents mainstay. Arrow
root, the next crop OF Importance, fell also.
Desperate measures were taken to remedy
matters; whole estates We're condemned and
cut up into little parcels to be divided
amongst the negroes. The only result was
to anger those whose estates had been con-
demned.
Ruin on Ruin.
Then came the awful hurricane of 1898;
400 lives were lost in the island and every
crop was totally ruined. Those who lin
gered after that did merely because
they had to. Such was the state of things
when the writer landed at Kingstown
few weeks ago. Most pleasant were his
recollections of st. incent, a dim remem-
brance of visit many years past. Only
fifteen miles long by eleven broad, the little
green islet was saved from lnsignlhcance
by the rugged grandeur of Soufriere, the
evil-named, evll-reputatloned old volcano
at the northern end. Although but 5000
feet hight lost 1000 feet or in alti-
tude in its outbreak of 111S-yet its ragged
cone lowered with certain mighty maj
esty, beauty ia diabole," against the
clear tropic sky.
From Soufriere to Mount St. Andrews. near
the southern end, jagged chain or lesser
peaks divides the western from the eastern
side. So riven by chasms, so steep arc
their sides, that long road round the
shore was the only practical connection be-
tween the pretty little village of Belaid
half way down the western side and the
larger village of Georgetown just across
Al the southwestern end lay-so the writer
remembered 1.-THE fiouriShing town Of
Kingstown, bearing no little resemblance to
St, Pierre in its surroundings of green
robed hills of cane; its houses gayly fres-
coed. in bright blues and reds, with here
and there dash of yellow, reminding you
of Norway villages. The heayy-laden sugar
casks gruntling over the cobbled roads. the
quick clicking OF tiny donkeys' hoofs draw
ing enormous loads'of green cane, the hum
and clatter of the market place; all these
he remembered we'll The hills were but
naked skeletons of those he remembered;
gaunt gray ribs of rock protruding through
bare red soil; lying naked and ashamed in
the glare of the sunshine, stripped utterly
Of their emerald robes, not so much as
palm growing since the day of the big
wind
Farther back the higher hills still lay
green and beautiful, but for miles around
the town the voodoo curse indeed Law
The pitiIess tropic rain had washed the
gay-hued houses to a dingy gray-here and
there a patch of color clinging like rouge
upon corpse.
Gloomy Kingstown.
shutterless and empty many a house
stared with the sightless eyes of the
dead out on the deserted bay, green fungus,
like grave mold. spreading over them
The long pier tottered on its rotting piles
seeming scarce able to support the weight
of the handful of listless negroes that
flocked out to the mail boat anchor
now grown to be an event not to be missed
Ashore the ruin was more apparent Only
the police station, which, next to the Jail.
was always the finest building, maintained
a certain smartness, covering its crumbling
walls with whitewash, the proud old SOL
der carefully inks his ragged buttonholes
In the streets. rutted and quilted by many
q rainy season, the green grass grew almost
unchecked. Down Middle street, as the main
thoroughfare is called. the dust of years
had gathered on the narrow little shop win
dows-making their dim interiors gloomy
beyond description.
The unusual sound of footsteps brought
each merchant eagerly to the door. only to
gaze gloomily at our retreating backs. A
crowd of eager darky boys fiocked around
us, begging shrilly for penny. But saddest
sight Of all was the old market place, the
heart and center of every West Indian town,
where, be it only to talk gloomily of ruin.
gathers what life the place possesses. Blu.
in st. Vincent only few withered crones
sat mumbling to themselves for lack of
company-a handful of charcoal, few
vans, shrveled bite of sickly fruit such
were the contents of their baskets. OF Gus
| toners, at leas. while we were there, no
sign! Saddened beyond expression by these
signs of ruin that filled the little town of
pleasant memories, we set out for the jour-
ney up Soufriere. Starting up the road