Maman Brigette

Port-au-Prince, 16th May 1785

In the morning I attended the Slave Market with Captain Dugarry who met with the auctioneer, Monsieur Richelieu and some plantation owners. The slaves had now taken to rolling on the floor, their eyes were rolling up into their heads so all you could see were scary white balls. Monsieur Richelieu was adamant. He would not keep them in the slave market for any longer than a week. The plantation owners were quite clear; they would not buy any slaves in that condition. Basically, Dugarry had been told the whole cargo was worthless unless he could do something to restore calm.

"They are possessed Capitaine," Monsieur Richelieu told Dugarry. "There's no point denying it. You may not believe it, but on St Domingue we see this many times. But, I must say I've never seen a mass possession like this before. You may laugh at me Capitaine, but you have to get help from one of the Guede." My ears pricked up. I had heard of these from my travels. Monsieur Richelieu explained the nature of Guede; that they were intermediaries between the living and the dead. Only one of them would have the power to cross over into the spirit world and release the slaves from their possession. Dugarry scoffed, he still didn't believe these superstitious tales, but he really had no choice. As Monsieur Richelieu told him, in this state his whole cargo was useless and he might as well throw the whole lot of slaves off the harbour at Port-au-Prince and let them drown.

Reluctantly, Captain Dugarry had been persuaded. He was still sceptical but had no choice but to listen to Richelieu's advice. "So, tell me Monsieur, where do I find one of these Guede." The slave market auctioneer explained. But, first of all he issued a warning. Seeking the aid of the Guede was dangerous; they were powerful and capricious and would not offer their assistance lightly. They would expect handsome reward for their services. The Captain replied that was not a problem, he could offer plenty of gold sovereigns from the sale of the slaves as the survival rate on this crossing had been good. God, I thought, I hate to think how many dead slaves would be thrown overboard on a bad crossing.

Monsieur Richelieu continued. "There is one powerful Guede who can be sought in the mountains inland from Port-au-Prince; that is Maman Brigette. It is perhaps a day's journey there and back on horse back. The Captain asked how she could be found. Monsieur Richelieu looked into his eyes and said, "you do not find her, she will find you if she wants to parley with you. Go into the mountains and trust to fate." Dugarry was exasperated. "Fuck, monsieur, you expect me to go up into these god-forsaken mountains on a whim that some mad witch-woman might speak to me." Richelieu rolled his eyes and shrugged as if to say, you asked my advice, that's what you have to do. "Merde," exclaimed Captain Dugarry. "Monsieur Gerard, let's get some horses, we'll set off tomorrow."

What further journey into the heart of darkness will my travels take me? One last voyage, one last simple expedition was all I asked and what did I get? - a cruel Captain who had drawn me into his sadistic games, a ship load of possessed slaves whose persistent wails and moans would drive a man mad and now this trip into the mountains for an encounter with a woman who could cross over into the spirit world. I was uneasy. I had heard of the power of the Guede from other sailors though whether their tales of witchcraft and madness were true or exaggerated nonsense I could not say.

When we got back to the ship old Pierre definitely had a view. "Capitaine, you are going to see Maman Brigitte. You will parley with the Goddess of Death. You are a crazy man. She will suck all of the life out of your soul and leave you an empty shell. You are taking a terrible risk. Monsieur, if I were you I would rather throw the bastard slaves into the sea and cut my losses than meet with one of the Guede." Dugarry ordered him to fuck off and stop repeating old wife's tales and stormed off.

Montagnes Noir, 17th May 1785

Captain Dugarry and myself with two other crew members set off at dawn on horse-back to take the path that led up into the Montagnes Noir, south-east out of Port-au-Prince. The Captain was in a foul mood and we barely exchanged a word all morning as we wound our way up the mountain paths in the direction Monsieur Richelieu had directed us. He was furious and frustrated at this turn of events. He just wanted to make his sale, get his money, collect a cargo of sugar from one of the plantation owners, re-stock 'Le Saphir' and head back to France. All this talk of soul sucking demons and Goddesses still sounded ridiculous to him. Over lunch as we sat in the Caribbean sun eating fruit and drinking masala wine he loosened up a bit and admitted to me that he still couldn't believe he had been persuaded to make this trip. "We don't even have a fucking clue where we are going," he complained.

We carried on into the afternoon, climbing higher into the lush vegetation of the mountains, the bright sunlight bearing down on us. Suddenly the horses became very agitated and reared up apparently for no obvious reason. But, then the mist descended. Captain Dugarry looked across at me. We both knew what each of us was thinking, we were both reminded of the eerie fog that enveloped 'LeSaphir' and the way that it was connected with the slaves' possession. The same feelings of fear spread over me, but this time the sense of dread was even stronger. The two crew members refused to go any further with us so the Captain sent them back to Port-au-Prince. We calmed the horses and continued on the path. This must have been what Monsieur Richelieu meant about Maman Brigitte finding us. We pressed on into the impenetrable mist.

In the distance we could see a hazy light given off by candles and we approached it cautiously. The canopy of trees opened up into what we thought was a clearing but as our eyes adjusted to a glowing red light given out by candle-lit lanterns hanging from the trees we realised that we had stumbled into a cemetery. Beneath us were roughly dug mounds topped by crudely cut wooden crosses, many of them with skulls hanging on the top of them. I trembled with a sense of foreboding. I could see that even Captain Dugarry, despite all his scepticism and bravado, was affected. We dismounted and left our horses and proceeded on foot.

We silently weaved our way between the mounds of earth. Perhaps mad old Pierre was right; maybe we were passing through into the spirit world. At the far end of the cemetery we could see a ramshackle mud hut with dim light glowing in its window. Had Maman Brigette drawn us into her domain? We jumped in fright as a red crested black cockerel swooped down and settled on top of a skull and eyed us warily. What the fuck was I doing here? Give me a cutlass and a pistol and an honest open fight with an English red-coat rather than this mad scary place.

We approached the hut with trepidation. Captain Dugarry gently pushed the door open. His hand was trembling. He entered first; I took a deep breath and followed him. The first thing that struck me was the smell; sweet and pungent with an intoxicating aroma that overwhelmed me. The air was thick with the clouds of a powerful incense that made my head spin.

I peered through the swirling haze to take in my surroundings. The room was a ramshackle hovel; I could make out rows of shelves with ceramic pots and glass vials, a floor scattered randomly with old animal bones and teeth. Finally my eyes fixed on Maman Brigette sat imperiously in an ornate chair the ends of its arms carved into the shape of skull and its side etched with elaborate symbols. A black raven was sat in her lap.

My first impressions were of a wild an unkempt figure but at the same time exuding power and danger. For some reason I was expecting an old crone but Maman Brigette was actually a young and attractive woman. Her long curly red hard combined with her dark skin gave her a striking and unusual presence. Balanced precariously on her head was a top hat decorated extravagantly with exotic feathers. She wore a fine dark crimson ball gown, which now looked worn and dishevelled. It was as if she was dressed for a ball but the wild and haphazard way that she bore herself suggested that she was mocking the finery and vanity of rich clothes. Finally, in her hand she held a staff mounted on the top with a goat's skull. Her eyes were closed tight as if she were asleep or had drifted into another world. Suddenly her emerald green eyes snapped open as if she had just come out of a trance and glared at us menacingly.

Finally, she spoke in a strange accent that combined elements of Creole, French and even Irish. "What business do you have that you would dare disturb the peace of Maman Brigette. Come, before you state your business share a drink with me and then you may say what you want with me and what you desire from the spirit world."

In front of her was a table with a phial of liquid and three glasses. It was as if she was expecting us. She poured out a dark red liquid in each of the glasses and drank hers down in one gulp. The captain and I held the glasses pensively to our lips. I took a sip. It was like fire water, a sensation as if my mouth had been set alight. The Captain spat his out, which I did not think wise. If he wanted help he would do well to accept the witch woman's hospitality, such as it was.

Maman Brigette laughed, "You fucking soft whities." She pointed the goat's skull cane at us like an accusation. "You cannot share a little drink with Maman Brigette. Come now, you must accept my offerings if you want to parley with me. Don't you trust me?. Do you think it's bewitched? It's only rum and chillies – hot chillies." I took another sip and felt the liquid burning the inside of my mouth. I decided the best approach was just to take it down in one gulp, which I then did. It felt like my insides were on fire as the hot liquid went down my throat and settled in my stomach. I grimaced but kept the fluid down. The Captain followed my lead and did the same.

I had never seen the Captain, usually confident and commanding, look so hesitant and pensive. He slowly explained who he was, his predicament and how he had been recommended to seek Maman Brigette's aid to release the slaves from their possession. The Guede sat patiently listening to his tale with an appraising ear, neither interrupting nor commenting on the story.

After Duggarry had finished she responded. "Tell me white man, trader in the bodies and souls of men, why should I help you? Do you know anything of my past, of how I came to be, of why the only debt I owe to slave traders is one of bitterness?" We both nodded our heads to indicate that we did not.

She continued her account, "Very well, I will tell you. My spirit is descended from many centuries ago from the Irish pagan Goddess Brigid. My spirit came on English ships over a hundred and fifty years ago when the Irish were sent out here as slaves. My blood is mixed with the natives and the black slaves to make me the spirit that I am today. So, tell me why you think I should grant any favours to a slave trader, when I am a descendent of slaves myself?"

This was not going well. There really was no reason why this spirit-woman should do the Captain of a French slave ship any favours. Dugarry replied in the only way that he could in the circumstances and offered the one thing he had, which was money or at least the promise of riches. He spoke to Maman Brigette of gold sovereigns and wealth that she could only dream of. After Dugarry's speech she remained inscrutable and just nodded.

Finally, she spoke again, "I may deign to help you. But, you realise that for the spirit world to come to your aid there has to be an exchange, some kind of sacrifice, an offering to appease them." Shit, I thought, where is this going? The Captain is not going to like this. He feigned indifference, saying that if she could not help them he would take the possessed slaves back out to sea on the 'Saphir' and dump them in the Caribbean.

She laughed a high pitched cackle and shook her red mane of hair as if she was actually taking pleasure in the fact that somebody was daring to haggle with her. "You could," she said, "but then you would lose your money and then you might have to face the spirits of the sea and your own conscience, such as it is. Tell me; are you afraid to take up my challenge?" I looked across at Captain Dugarry. His face was strained with indecision. He was weighing up his scepticism over the potency of such spirits against the undoubted physical presence before him, his greed against his conscience, his self preservation against his manhood at turning down a challenge.

He asked Maman Brigette what form the offering would take, but she refused to tell him or give him any guarantees, saying that the risk and the choice was all his. He said that he would accept her challenge. Maman Brigette told him to return again tomorrow with two of the possessed slaves as breaking the spell for these would also release all of the slaves.

My heart leaped when I heard the Captain's decision. What kind of test had he committed us to? After we had left Maman Brigette's hovel and were riding back down the mountain path I expressed my concerns and fear over the pact he had entered into. By then some of his old arrogance had returned and he was dismissive, "Monsieur Gerard, you are an educated and worldly man, do you still believe in these spirits?" I detected some hesitancy in his reply; did he really believe that or was he exhibiting this bravado to hide his own doubts? I guess I would never know for sure.

Port-au-Prince, 18th May 1785

In the middle of the night I awoke with terrible nightmares. Visions of swirling skulls in my head combined with an incessant drum beat and the eerie call of the slaves had disturbed me. It was only one o'clock in the morning and the visions continued unabated in my waking mind so that I could not get back to sleep. I sat up all night fixated with fear at the unknown ordeal that I faced later that day.

Montagnes Noir, 18th May 1785

We had awoken early and collected two of the luckless slaves from the slave fortress on the harbour. The slaves were in a terrible and agitated state and, according to their guards, had been all night. It was as if they knew that a wild power had been unleashed and that they were awaiting some final reckoning. Before we set off up the mountain path we were confronted by old Pierre with more omens of doom, "You have made a pact with the Guede, you must be mad. You cannot trust these spirits. They will suck your brains out." I could do without mad Pierre's warnings at that time. Dugarry just told him to shut up and fuck off.

We rode up the mountain side with the two slaves in shackles. The eerie mist descended from nowhere on us at exactly the same point. We left the horses tied to trees at the edge of the graveyard and proceeded on foot. The atmosphere in the cemetery was shrouded in the opaque mist and lit by lanterns in the trees. Today there were also candles on each of the mounds of earth below the crosses, illuminating the skulls that hung from them with a ghostly light.

Maman Brigette stood outside her hovel awaiting our arrival. Stood before us with her skull mounted staff in her hand, her top hat perched precariously on her head, billows of crimson material around her and locks of bright red hair on her shoulders framing her dark skinned features she looked even more wild and dishevelled than yesterday. She pointed her goat's skull staff and beckoned us forward. The slaves were wide eyed and fearful. Dugarry was in full dress Captain's uniform for the occasion.

"You have come to make sacrifice to Maman Brigette, to make a pact with the spirit world." She offered us more of the fire drink that she offered us yesterday. She ordered the Captain to release the two slaves from their shackles for the ceremony. "Embrace my spirit and you will endure, resist and you fall." We all partook of the fire drink, shooting it down in one gulp. The mixture was stronger and more potent than yesterday's and this time I felt sure that the elixir had been drugged. The effect on me was instantaneous, my head started swirling; the nightmare visions of swirling skulls and beating drums overpowered me as I felt myself tottering and collapsing onto the dusty floor of the cemetery.

When I came to, I found that I was staked out naked on the ground, spread-eagled and tied with twine from the jungle onto wooden stakes amongst the cemetery mounds. I glanced across at Captain Dugarry who was tied with twine in an upright position onto a crude wooden cross. The two slaves were standing outside Maman Brigette's hut dressed in skins and furs with collars of animal teeth around their necks. My body was numb and my head nauseous and reeling. How had it come to this? How had I let myself get drawn into this strange voodoo world of spirits?

Maman Brigette was wandering around the graveyard with a bowl sprinkling us all with some liquid anointing us for a ceremony like a deranged priest. After completing this task she spread her arms wide pointed her skull headed staff into the sky and made some kind of invocation to the spirits of the dead. "In this ceremony the spirits will test the cleanliness of your soul," Maman Brigette proclaimed. I glanced across at Captain Dugarry. He was naked and dishevelled on one of the crosses, his eyes glazed over all attempt at resistance gone. I could tell that he had already been subjected to some kind of torture. We had been tricked and trapped. The Captain had made a one-sided pact with the Guede and now were both consumed in their world surrendered into the hands of Maman Brigette.

She approached me, her staff in one hand and a candle in her other. She knelt over me, resting the staff on the ground; she held the candle close to my face. Her face was luminous in the gentle glow of the candle light and her emerald eyes fixed on me as if she was looking into me. With deft movements she pulled the candle back and tipped a pool of molten wax onto my nipples. My body jerked in shock and pain and I let out a gasp. "Your friend has already suffered for me, now it is your turn. Will you let the power of the spirit world into you? Does your soul need cleansing? Tell Maman Brigette what darkness is in there and let her in." My head was reeling with the heat of the fire water in my stomach, the pain of the hot wax, the sickening aroma of the incense that pervaded the whole cemetery and Maman Brigette's dark skin illuminated by the candle light.

I knew that I was at a crossroads. I knew enough from sailor's tales and legends of the power of the Guede; that they were intermediaries between the real world and the spirit world. I believed that now. Old mad Pierre was right. But what would I choose? - To stay in this world or pass with Maman Brigette into the spirit world. I nodded my head in denial. I was not ready to pass. Mamam Brigette passed the candle over my naked body dripping droplets of hot wax on my flesh until she held it over my cock and balls and poured another pool over hot wax over me. The pain was excruciating, like nothing that I had ever felt before, needle sharp but sensuous all at the same time.

I saw her pull out a red fruit from the folds of her dress. She held it in front of me, watching as my eyes widened in trepidation. "Red chillies," she explained, "the hottest and fiercest that I can find, ripened in the hot Caribbean sun." She held one over me and split it, licking her fingers erotically afterwards as she knelt over me. She took one half and rubbed it gently up the shaft of my cock. I felt the burning sensation. She ran it over the tip at its most sensitive point. I screamed out in pain, "No, please no." She laughed at me. She took one end and inserted into the end of my cock as deeply as she could without forcing it. My body jerked with pain. She took the other half and reached under me to touch my back-side. I felt her fingers searching for the right spot and then the chilli was gently pushed into my arse. My head was spinning with the pain.