The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-11-09

the drum will do the guiding, for It can be
heard for an incredible distance
Standing close to this drum, It does not
seem 20 be sounding fnordinately loud. but
its note steals for miles across country.
The sound at great distances is much like
that OF the piston or a steam pump. Close
up its mutterings are akin to that Of low
thunder.
The drum is Of bamboo, with a depth of
two feet. A piece Of goat skin, with some
OF the hair still attached to il, is stretched
over the top, and is beaten with the
Led by the drumming, which was plain
to hear all over the town, the writer wit
messed typical voodoo ceremony not far
from Jeremie. 1t was attended by at least
three hundred blacks Of both sexes. The
drummer was a white-haired woman hold
Ing white rooster in one hand while beat
ing the drum with the other. The blacks
with the drumming and chanting monot-
onous song Of three or four notes, which
never varied In intensity pitch or
rhythm from beginning to end
The Mamaloi. tall, fine-looking woman,
was dressed in a loose gown of white, with
red concentrations on her shoulders and
with white and red cloth tied turbanwise
around her head. She began a slow, sway
ing dance, and with such few steps that
she hardly lifted her feet from the floor.
The Papaloi, a thin, whiskered black,
crouched at her feet.
Suddenly the Mamaloi screamed twice.
and froth appeared on her mouth. She
swayed a little faster and turned up her
eyes till nothing but the whites showed.
Then she stopped, seized the rooster, and
held 1t futtering over the heads of the wor-
shippers for an instant In the next she had
swung it so sharply and savagely that the
beheaded body or the fowl went flying
across the room. She thrust the severed
neck into her mouth, and fell, writing
horribly, among the spectators. Then the
Papaloi brought out all kinds of uncouth
images and smeared them with blood.
After a while the Mamaloi recovered and
repeated the operation with a second fowl.
The blood from this one gathered in a
vessel, and she danced into the open air
with 1t and painted the door posts. Then
in blood on the forehead of each votary.
This was the signal for shouts and songs
and dancing. Women began to fall here
and there. Men frothed at the lips. The
excitement rose steadily, and eliminated in
an orgy the details of which are too dis
gusting to describe.
ANY one in Haiti will hear tales of bush
negroes in the hidden interior who are can
nibals, not merely in connection with VOC
doc rites, but because they have terrible
craving for human flesh. That there are
cases of this kind is certain. But it is to
be doubted If they are numerous as
some of the tales would lead one to infer.
The government does not try to repress
anything of this sort. 1t is only when the
ceremonies that the perpetrators appear TO
be protected by power that makes itself
felt without being seen.
In many respects Haiti is one of the
strangest of the worlds strange countries.
A thin strip along the coast Is all that
white men ever see. There are no roads to
lead into the dark interior. Once there
were highways here and there, but the stu
pendous tropic vegetation has eaten them
up. Haiti for the Haitians'' is the motto
of the country, and that means Haiti for a
proportion of pure-blooded black men,
many of whom pride themselves on tracing
their lineage back to the Congo. This pow
erful class hates and fears the white man,
loathes the mulatto. mistrusts the mixed
breeds of all kinds, and aims to keep Haiti
in the condition of a negro kingdom.