Chez Nousen Louisiane

A publication of the Department of Mass Communication at Nicholls State UniversityFall 2011

Chez Nous 2011 • 1

Alligator Hunting .......................................................2

Little Cajun girl, big Cajun sound .............................4

Crawfish 101 ...............................................................6

Life during plantation times ......................................8

Voodoo......................................................................10

Chez Nous Contents

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Troy Landry turns the corner of the Spillway and slows the boat. A tree branch shakes in the dis-tance, sending a sign to Troy, his

son, Jacob, and his hired gun Clint Landry. They have an alligator on a trap they set the day before.

“Look, look. You see where he’s at?” Troy asks as he steers the boat toward the shak-ing tree branch. “Easy, easy,” Troy says as Jacob starts to manually pull up the line to get a look at the hooked alligator.

Troy, Jacob and Clint lean over the boat, anxious for a better look at the first catch of the season. A roar is heard and the 11-foot alligator shoots up from beneath the water and begins to roll. Troy, Jacob and Clint jump back as Troy yells, “Watch it, watch it.”

The violent movements of the alligator causes water to splash onto the people on

Kaityln Thibodeaux

the boat. “Whooo, we have a big one,” Troy shouts in excitement.

“He’s doing that roll. He’s trying to get himself off of that hook. Choot ‘em Clint,” Troy says in his rich Cajun accent. Clint aims at his endlessly moving target. The longer Clint waits, the more likely the al-ligator may escape. Clint repositions the gun on his shoulder and aims at the kill spot on the back of the alligator’s head. The alligator hisses and puts his head on the side of the boat as if he were trying to bite the people who hooked him. Clint aims and shoots. The alligator falls lifelessly from a perfect shot. “That’s a chooter. That’s a chooter,” Troy says of Clint and his perfect shot.

“Oh yea, that’s a good one,” Troy says as Troy and Clint lean over the boat and begin to pull the alligator up. After getting

the alligator halfway in the boat, the rest of its body falls in. “Whoa, that’s a big one.” Troy is glad he is off to a good start for the season.

Troy Landry of Pierre Part, La., a weath-ered Cajun with a ready smile. Also, he is known as one of the best alligator hunters on earth and one of the main characters on the History Channel series called “Swamp People.” The camera crew captured this moment and many others to show to the world.

This series shows viewers how Cajuns live off the land in southern Louisiana. The people photographed in the series are real people who let cameras come into their everyday life, focusing on the 30-day alligator-hunting season that begins on the first Wednesday in September and lasts 30 days. Approximately 1.5 million alligators

live in Louisiana swamps and waterways, another 500,000 on alligator farms. Troy’s job, alongside other hunters, is to make the environment safe while making a living. As much as the show is about alligators, its core revolves around Cajuns, their heritage and environment.

Personnel from the History Chan-nel visited the Department of Louisiana Wildlife and Fisheries looking for informa-tion on alligator hunting and anyone who would allow them to go on their boat to shoot video for a documentary on alligator hunting. A friend of Troy gave the History Channel representatives Troy’s information. “He called me right after they left his office and said, ‘man, T-buddy, I hope you not mad at me, but I gave some people your name and phone number,’ “ Landry said. “I wanted to help out my buddy, so I figured I would do this favor for him.”

Both Troy and his wife Bernita thought this would be a one-time deal leading to a one-hour documentary. However, the His-tory Channel decided to add more Louisi-ana gator hunters to the cast and make the show a series. “The more I talked to them, the more I realized that they wanted to make a show out of this and pay me for it,” Landry said. “I said, well, I had to catch the alligators anyhow, so why not let them help me to pay for it?”

Landry never thought his show would become a hit. He figured only the little kids would like to watch it for the alligators but was pleasantly surprised to learn that even older people liked the show. “The kids, the momma, the daddy, the maw maw and the paw paw all like the show. Everyone I talk to loves it.”

“I used to be able to go to the grocery store and back in five minutes,” Landry says. “Now it takes me an hour and a half. Everybody I meet wants to talk about the show and how much they like it. I really enjoy it, though.”

However, Bernita laughs about that because she can no longer go to the store with her husband because fans often mob Troy, many often wearing the “Choot ‘em” tee shirts.

Despite the fame that came from the se-ries, Troy still does what he loves: hunting alligators. “The swamp is my home,” Troy says. “It is a part of me and a part of my life. It is what my heart is set on and I plan on doing it for the rest of my life.”

He also likes the fact that he is able to teach his son how he makes his living and share what he loves. “I grew up in the swamps and learned how to fish when I was little bitty,” Troy said. “I want my kids to learn the same thing, love the swamp and know where they come from. It is im-portant to teach them when they are little. If you wait till they’re about 15, they are not going to want to learn.”

Troy also shares some of his experiences of hunting alligators with his immediate and extended family. One of the on-line extras showed Troy taking some of his nephews and family members to experi-ence his love of the sport.

“We have gone a few times to watch. It was awesome,” Bernita says. “Ev-eryone needs to go at least one time to be able to experience something like that.”

With or without family and camera crews with him, Troy tries to be as safe as possible when it comes to dealing with alligators. “You got to be careful,” Troy said.

“I try not to think about the things that could happen,” Bernita says.”

About seven years ago, Troy almost lost his arm to an alligator when it launched out of the water and snapped at him. Troy jumped to the back of the boat and the alligator missed his arm by inches and the alligator bit the side of the boat. The alligator tried to do the death roll but ended up breaking teeth on the metal. That

attack has been Troy’s scariest.Alligators can grow up to 14 feet and

weigh about 1,000 pounds. Left alone, the population would quickly spiral out of con-trol and humans would be in danger. The only way to ensure this does not happen is a 30-day alligator-hunting season. “If we wouldn’t be hunting alligators, you would hear a lot more instances of people being eaten by the alligators,” Jacob says.

Troy’s dedication and hard work paid off in 2009 when he caught the legendary “Big Head,” a huge alligator that Troy was deter-mined to catch after many failed attempts. This alligator often ate the tails off other al-ligators and posed a real threat to humans. He had proven he was smart, always eating Troy’s bait but never getting caught.

For two years, Troy had been trying to catch “big head.” But there he was at the end of Troy’s line. “Choo ‘em, choo ‘em rang out across the swamp, as did a rifle shot. The hunt finally was over. Problem was, now that they caught him, they faced an unexpected problem: How to get “Big Head” into the boat. They grabbed the head, fought with the gator for a time and pulled it halfway into the boat. Then the boat began to tip. The hunters finally pulled up “Big Head” and carefully rolled carefully into the boat.

Not only is Troy with the big catch, but he is also happy “Big Head” will never harm any child. Troy points to an area about 100 feet away. “That’s the spot people bring their kids to swim.”

Later that day Troy drives to the market to bring in his catch. The workers lift up “Big Head” as a crowd draws near, most exclaiming this to be the biggest alligator they have ever seen. “Big Head” measures in at a record of 12 feet 11 inches.

Troy will tell you life on the bayou has its risks. But he is sure it is fun to see what will happen next. Stay tuned. “Swamp People” is all over a television near you.

Alligator HuntingAlligAtor Hunting

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The electric guitar player, pick in hand, strums the strings of his green instrument. He sways back and forth, feeling the music flow

through him. On-lookers clap along as a red-headed girl, 20 years old, sways and dances to the music on stage. The drummer taps ever so lightly on the drum set to back up the guitar. The girl sings. She has a deep voice with a Cajun twang. She picks up her fiddle, and its sweet sound fills the air.

Amanda Shaw is a short, pretty young Cajun girl with big dreams and big talent. But as she will tell anyone who listens, the dream changed but not the instrument. Then one day she saw an orchestra playing on television. The show had a close-up of the violin players and it was “love at first

sight.” She knew that the violin would be a part of the rest of her life.

Since she was four years old, she has played the fiddle. She is classically trained but growing up in Louisiana around “great music and musicians” caused her to switch from classical to Cajun. “There were so many great musicians,” Shaw says. “I was able to be welcomed and learned so much from these talented people; growing up, I was able to learn Cajun music.”

The tone of Cajun music, harsh with an infectious beat and a lots of forward drive, surprisingly depends on two melodic instruments, the accordion and fiddle. The harmonies of Cajun music are simple and the range is just one octave. But it is the ef-fect it has on people is what Shaw likes. “It

is a fun type of music and a type of dance music,” Shaw says. “The Cajun people are all about working hard through the week. Come Saturday night, they go to the fais do-do. They dance all night.”

Shaw has traveled around the world, but Louisiana has been her favorite place to play. “There’s no place like home,” Shaw says. “When you’re at home, the people are ready to have fun. The appreciation the people have here for culture – the music, food and lifestyle – is amazing, and there’s nothing like it in the rest of the world. I love that and I’m so proud to be able to be from here and share a piece of what we have. What else do you need besides good times with good friends, good food and good music? It’s what we do the best here.”

Not only was Shaw drawn to Cajun music by its upbeat tunes and musicians, but by their culture. “When you look at the culture and history of the people, it’s deep to their core,” Shaw says.” These are people who were unwanted in other countries, and they finally made their settlement here in Louisiana. They speak French but it’s more of a slang French.”

In the 1700s, the Acadians, now known as Cajuns, moved from Nova Scotia to the swamps of south Louisiana. “They only had themselves so it was just their community,” Shaw says. “When they wrote songs, it was simple music. They had fiddles, spoons and washboards. They were poor and made in-struments. Even the fiddles were made out of cigar boxes. All they had was the music and each other. They made the most of it and were happy to work hard and do well in this country.”

The original Cajun music influences came from these early settlers. Shaw says she is inspired by those Cajuns and their original folk music, as well as by the musi-cians of today. Both local and national musicians have influenced her, but it is the Louisiana sounds that she gravitates to. She has worked with musicians like Irvin Mayfield, Anders Osborne, Jim McCor-mick and Shannon McNally.

And while most of these musicians play on their own, Shaw has been fortunate enough to have the support of her band, “Amanda Shaw and the Cute Guys,” which has been together for about 12 years and has built quite a reputation. “There are a lot of people in New Orleans who don’t have a set of musicians to play with all of the time. I’m lucky because I’m one of the few people that had the same set of guys. Not only do we play well together, we get along. They’re like my best friends and my dad.”

Today, Shaw sets up for another show. She carries her fiddle while making sure everything is set up correctly. then, the electric guitar player strums the strings of his green guitar. He sways back and forth, feeling the music. On-lookers clap along to the beat as a pretty red-headed girl dances to the music on stage. The drummer taps ever so lightly on the drum set to back up the guitar. The girl sings. She has a deep voice with a Cajun twang. Then she picks up her fiddle and plays as sweet sounds fills the air and the fun begins.

Kaitlyn Thibodeaux

Little Cajun girl, Big Cajun sound

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“Okay, so how do you do this?” asks “Duck,” a confused out-of-towner, his eyes surveying

the stretched out, freshly boiled crawfish pinched between his fingers.

“Watch this,” says Dominic from across the table. Reaching for one of the steaming crustaceans on his plate, he demonstrates.

Dominic: “Get your thumb under the tail, right here, and twist the tail off…like that.”

Duck: “Oh, okay…now what?”Dominic: “Rip off that top ring of shell,

and pull out the white fishy part…you eat that.”

Duck: “Got it.”Dominic: “Now suck the head.”Duck: “What?”Dominic: “Bite down on the shell of the

head and suck out all the juices. It’s the good stuff.”

Duck: “All right…done.”Dominic: “Now, if they’re big enough,

you can get some out of the claws…but if not just throw it in your bucket.”

Duck: “I got it. I am slow, but I got it.”

Thirty minutes later, Duck has ripped and chewed his way through four pounds of crawfish. He looks down to see his white singlet top covered in blotches of yellow crawfish juice.

“I think I left about three pounds on my shirt,” he tells Dominic with a smile.

He wipes his stained-yellow fingers on a crumpled up tissue lying on the table, before announcing he is going to wash his hands properly. He stands up, careful not to wipe his hands on his already dirtied shirt and heads for the bathroom.

Returning to his seat a short time later, Duck takes a swig of beer. “Best thing about Louisiana,” he says, grabbing one more crawfish. “But where do they come from?”

Come spring, South Louisiana is littered with ponds, waterways and swamp that are home to the millions of the state’s craw-fish. And thousands fish these crustaceans during a season that runs from March through June. Professionals who make their livelihood use traps and usually fish in the swamps and large ponds, many on pri-vate property. Amateurs fish with smaller triangle nets in the slow moving bayous and slews.

One fisherman who falls somewhere in-between is Taylor Griffin of Pecan Island, a small town in the marshland off Highway 82.

Less than 20 miles from the Gulf of Mexico, Pecan Island is one of many South-west Louisiana towns that took the brunt of Hurricane Rita in 2005. Most of the homes on Pecan Island were destroyed by the surge, and the local high school has not been in operation since. And, of course, the town’s fisheries were destroyed.

“They had to rebuild the ponds after the storm,” Griffin explains. “The whole area was like five feet under (water). . . . It is commercial property… people that own property like this have often inherited the land, and they use it to fill orders from markets and restaurants. It is their way of living.”

Griffin, who began crawfishing with his parents more than a decade ago, is more of a recreational fisherman. But he knows his stuff.

“You have to get out there at about six in the morning,” Griffin explains. “You should be on site right as the sun is coming up; you want to rule out all chances of the pond being disturbed…you want it calm.”

Griffin says he is by no means an early riser, but for the sake of a good day fishing, he will get up before sunrise.

The pond that Griffin fishes on Pecan Island is about the size of two basketball courts side by side. It is lined by rows of cages, spaced six feet apart, which are attached to metal poles planted in the ground.

“It looks like a big checker board,” he ex-plains, his hands indicating how there are

Michael Czopil

significant spaces in between each cage.To navigate the outskirts of the pond,

Griffin uses a four-wheeler, which he rides to the pond’s edge, where he has a boat waiting. He uses the boat to move across the pond from cage to cage. The boat, he explains, is a flatboat that has a paddle wheel on the back for “steering, climbing and pushing through mud.” After describ-ing the boat, Griffin explains the other necessity of crawfishing.

“They are about…this big,” his hands squaring off a space about two feet by two feet to indicate the size of a trap.

“And coming from the top of the cage is a skinny neck, which sticks out of the water, and is how we dump the crawfish out of the cage. The cages are designed so that once the crawfish are inside the cage, they cannot leave,…although they try very hard to get out.”

Once he gets to the pond’s edge, Grif-fin takes his boat from cage to cage, lacing each with an assortment of baits.

“We drop in dead fish, liver, old meats – or we get an artificial bait of feed from the store.”

Griffin says this pond has between 40 and 50 cages, which he says takes him about 45 minutes to load with bait. “Once I am done baiting the cages I can go work on another nearby pond, or if I just want to work the one pond, I just sit back and relax for an hour.”

After his hour of relaxation, Griffin

makes his way back to the first cage he loaded with bait.

“I pull the boat up next to the cage, reach over and pull the cage out of the water,” he illustrates with his hands. “In one motion, I pull the cage off the metal pole it is at-tached to, flip the cage and pour them (the crawfish) out of the neck of the cage...I just pour them in whatever bucket I have on board with me.”

Griffin weaves his way across the pond, checking each cage, hoping that the craw-fish have taken to the bait.

“A good hunting hole can get me as many as a 100 pounds,” he explains, smiling at the thought of reeling in that many crawfish. “But sometimes I only get 15 to 20, which is a slow day.”

When he visits Pecan Island, Griffin aims to take home a couple sacks of crawfish, about 40 pounds each. However, as he ex-plains, for commercial farmers, sometimes their days aren’t that short.

“They may have to work all day – eight hours on the water,” he says. “They have to work until all of their orders are filled (for restaurants and markets), and if it is a slow day, it can be a long day.”

But for Griffin, it is all pleasure, and a couple sacks of crawfish for a weekend boil is good enough for him. Although he admits that cooking them is not his forte.

“That is all my dad,” he says, drawing a rye smile. “If you want his recipe, I can get it for you, but I haven’t worked all that out yet.

Crawfish 101

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No running water. No electric-ity. No vehicles or technology. No modern conveniences whatsoever. People often don’t

have anywhere to go, and when they do, they aren’t in a hurry to get there. That is a healthy attitude since they are likely travel-ing on foot.

Welcome to life in the early 1800s.Life in the Louisiana may have been

simpler then, but it was not easy. The land had to be taken care of. Food needed to be put on the table, and harvesting crops was backbreaking work. Most of the work was done by hand or with the aid of a mule and simple machinery.

“Everything depended on the weather,” Paul Leslie, professor of history at Nich-olls State University, says. “The better the weather, the more the work. Whether it

was hoeing, cutting ditches, planting cane or other crops or harvesting … they went to work at 7 a.m. and finished when the work was done.” Most farmers worked six to seven days a week, rain or shine.

Sugarcane and was a growing industry in south Louisiana, especially along the banks of the Mississippi River. Cutting and grind-ing season was the most critical time before the first frost could damage the crops. Farmers would work before sunrise, all day, and after sunset.

Wages for Louisiana farmers during this time varied from plantation to plantation but ranged from 80 cents to $1.50 per day. Sometimes children would work in the fields for 50 cents a day.

In modern Vacherie, people still can glimpse what everyday plantation life in Louisiana was like by visiting Oak Al-

ley Plantation. Arguably the best-known plantation in the South, the Greek-revival style antebellum home was built in the late 1830s when two rows of oak trees, running from the river to the house, were planted. Now large and stately, these oaks not only provided the plantation a name, but an ambiance envied by plantation owners up and down the muddy river.

Like the trees, the large, ornate windows and doorways of the home were more than architectural design elements, they were a necessity. Homes did not have central cool-ing in the summer, nor heating during the winter. The windows and doorways were built directly across from each other; when all opened, it would create a cool cross ventilation throughout the home, and the trees help cool the entire area. The living quarters in large homes like Oak Alley were

normally built on the second and third floors in case of flooding, as well as to catch a better breeze. In addition, every room also had a fireplace to keep warm during the cooler months.

Kitchens were often built separate from the larger homes. “The kitchen was never attached to the home in case of an accident or fire,” Whitley, an Oak Alley Plantation tour guide, said. “Food was cooked over an open flame at this time. They also kept the kitchen separate to keep the excess heat away from the home.” Having the kitchen separate from the home also caused difficulties—especially during the rainy seasons. Food was expected to be transported, kept warm and insect free from the kitchen to the main house, no matter what the weather conditions.

Keeping things cold was another difficulty in itself. “Ice boxes” were literally wood boxes with a large block of ice inside. Since ice was not made in the South during this time period, ice was packed in straw and sawdust and shipped from the North, down the Mississippi River.

Most food eaten by farmers and their families was grown or hunted by the farmers. Vegetables were home grown and picked daily. Cows were milked daily for fresh milk and most farmers raised farm animals like cows, chickens and pigs. Sometimes the lard from the pigs was used to fry meat and preserve it; smoking meat was another form of preservation. But for the most part, the most common way to preserve food during this time period was to can it.

The climate was the main concern in most aspects of southern homes. In Oak Alley Plantation’s dining room, hanging over the din-ing table is a large, wooden structure attached to a cord and pulley system. The structure, draped with luxurious deep red velvet fabric and gold fringe, may look like a design element, but is actually an early version of a ceiling fan called a “shoo fly fan.”

“A young slave boy would be sitting in the corner of the dining room out of the way, keeping it moving from the time the first guest entered to the time when the last guest left,” Whitley said. “It was also used to keep insects away, as well as keep guests cool during their meal. On a really warm night they would place a block of ice under-neath the fan; this would create a cooler breeze.”

With all of the windows and doors opened to help cool the home, mosquitoes and other insects became a concern. “Fly catchers” were placed in the home to help eliminate some of the problem. Glass jars would contain sugar water or molasses and a drop of poison. Insects would enter the jars and become trapped. Sometimes a handker-chief would be placed over the jars so guests wouldn’t have to see the insects’ struggle. In the bedrooms, mosquito nets were hung over the beds to help shield people from insects and other small pests.

Without running water, homes functioned much differently than they do today. Cisterns collected rainwater and often put in iron tanks for use during droughts. Some homes got water from deep wells. The water was drawn out with a crank and a bucket and was used to drink, wash clothes, bathe and cook.

Like kitchens, bathrooms were separate from the home since cen-tral plumbing was unavailable until the early 1900s; instead, people used outhouses built behind and away from the home.

For fun, friends and family gathered to tell stories, jokes and spend down time together. They played music, cards, jacks or marbles. Some farmers also enjoyed spending their free time hunting or fishing.

Life during the 1800s was never just living the good ole’ simple life, which was really never that simple.

Life during plantation timesDelia-Marie Richardson

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Close your eyes and imagine: a time without modern conve-niences; a time when slaves were the No. 1 import; a time when

cotton was king; a time when unexplained occurrences weren’t coincidence, but “gris-gris;” a time when superstitions weren’t tales, but a way of life.

1817. It’s a beautiful Sunday in down-town New Orleans. Across from Rampart Street, just north of the French Quarter, Congo Square is packed with hundreds of people. The jingling of bells, booming of drums, strumming of banjos and sounding of horns can be heard from a distance.

Everyone is celebrating, laughing and enjoying the rhythmic festivities. A group of Creole men dance to the African-influenced beats and chant exotic songs as they enjoy their day of rest from plantation labor.

Amid the festivities, a strange sight: Not far from the gathering, a live rooster is tied

to a tree. The rooster’s feathers have been plucked and nine silver needles pierce its chest. Beside the tree, in a shady area on the grass, is a plate of food—black-eyed peas and rice cooked with sugar. Encircling the plate is a ring of silver coins.

Many believed the Sunday gatherings at Congo Square, now known as Beauregard Square in Armstrong Park, were innocent, simple weekly celebrations. But others believed the gatherings were much more than just song and dance, but a place for people to gather and perform voodoo rites and rituals.

Voodoo traces back centuries, originat-ing in West Africa. Although voodoo is known to be practiced in all areas of the world today, in the United States no place is more widely recognized for the practice of voodoo other than New Orleans.

Voodoo came to New Orleans when African slaves were being imported in the early 1700s. Once in the United States,

slaves were unable to freely practice their own religions. Some historians believe Christianity was forced upon them, while others argue slaves and free persons of col-or became Christians as a ruse to continue their voodoo practices. Eventually Chris-tian, particularly Roman Catholic, features were brought into their voodoo practices.

Voodoo is a practice based on God, as well as smaller gods, spirits and ancestors. Most people who practice voodoo believe there is one Supreme Being. However, since many voodoo practitioners believe God is not accessible and not present in day-to-day life, many call upon spirits and the deceased to help them with their daily needs and wants.

Some people do not practice voodoo solely for religious purposes, but rather as an additional set of beliefs to parallel their Christian beliefs. Many people who prac-tice voodoo are also practicing Christians.

Whether voodoo is a religion or a cult

is debatable but it is “a religion in the same way Judaism or Christianity is,” Bob Corbett, retired professor of philosophy at Webster University in St. Louis, Missouri, said in a recent article. “Voodoo doesn’t have a sacred text, a church, or a hierar-chical structure of leaders, but it is very similar [to religion] culturally.”

Voodoo practitioners believe spiritual forces control nature and they must be honored and acknowledged through sacri-fices and offerings. Voodoo ceremonies are usually held to contact spirits, as well as to gain their favor.

Local New Orleanian voodoo practitio-ner Sowado Atto: “When I have a need, I express it to the gods and the gods will help me, especially when I have a big problem. I call on the gods, and they answer my prayers . . . the rituals and my beliefs save me from evil spirits and protect me, and if I am to live a long time it will be because of my voodoo god.”

In some voodoo ceremonies, such as blood rites, people offer themselves as a sacrifice instead of an animal. In 2004, a blood rite took place in the small village of Zooti in southern Africa. The ceremony be-gan like most – with a prayer, singing and dancing. People became entranced and the sacrifices began. “Then, as if heeding some unspoken cue, the warriors begin raking their weapons across their arms,” Peter Standring, a National Geographic reporter, said. “Blood pours from their wounds. It is unbelievable, but I learn that it is designed to show the strength of their faith and the mightiness of their god. “

1875. Lake Ponchartrain, New Orleans. As the sun starts to go down, people begin to migrate to an open area of land near the lake. It’s time for a voodoo rite. All of the instruments are at hand, including torches and candles. The men dress in white pants and purple shirts, and they carry white candles. The women dress in elaborate, deep purple dresses. The Voodoo queen dresses in a purple floor-length gown with a cord around her waist.

Just off the shore, the voodoos—as LeB-reton refers to them in Voodoo in New Or-leans—dance on barges encircled by small flames. The music starts off slowly, as does the dancing. As the drumbeats become livelier, the women shake a little faster, gy-rating and shimmying to keep up with the

beats. “You never seen such dancin’ in your life,” LeBreton says. “They all danced first slow, then faster. They would go ‘way down to the ground and come up shakin’.”

On the barges are altars and statues of saints, plenty of food, wine and beer. Ritu-als normally last for several hours, and it is not uncommon for people to become drunk and dance nude. Ceremonies and rites, such as the ones in Congo Square and Lake Pontchartrain, were more common in the “golden era” of voodoo during the early and mid-1800s. Although these rituals are still practiced in some areas today, they are not as common.

Besides sacred ceremonies and rites, voodoo practitioners have certain rituals they commonly practice. One of the oldest most common rituals is the gris-gris. Gris-gris refers to both an incantation, as well as a physical object such as potions, gris-gris bags or Voodoo dolls.

Basically, two types of gris-gris are prac-ticed: sympathetic and homeopathic magic. Sympathetic magic is when the object is made to look like the target subject, such as a Voodoo doll. Homeopathic magic is when the object is attached directly to something linked to the subject, such as a lock of the target’s hair or a piece of cloth-ing.

Marie Laveau, considered to have been the queen of voodoo during the 19th century, made and sold gris-gris. Laveau would have private consultations and then she would personalize the gris-gris to what the person needed. Little black bags would contain different items, depending on what was being done. Sometimes they would contain cemetery dirt, dried frogs, cat’s eyes, and even small human bones.

If a person wanted to wish death or mis-fortune upon another, Laveau would make the gris-gris with the special recipe and then drop the bag off at the target’s door-step. Once the person opened the door and saw the gris-gris, he would often run back to Laveau for a spell reversal or another form of gris-gris.

Sometimes, however, gris-gris is, and was, used for good fortune. “ A red-flannel bad holding a lodestone of magnet was a gambler’s favorite gris-gris,” historian Alan G. Hefner writes.

The use of voodoo dolls is another com-mon form of gris-gris. The doll is usually

labeled to represent the person to whom the incantation is targeted, either by pinning a picture of him or her or writing the person’s name on the doll. Some-times the doll’s face will be left blank so that the practitioner can draw the face of the person it represents. Then something intimate is attached to the doll, such as a piece of the person’s clothing, a nail clip-ping or a lock of hair.

Practitioners say voodoo dolls do not work if the person who has them does not believe in voodoo and the power it can have. People use the dolls for several reasons—to bring luck, heal disease and even for love spells. The spirits must work through the object in order for the voodoo doll to have any power. The doll alone is worthless.

The gris-gris is normally individualized and inspired by the spirits that the voodoo practitioner is working through—there is no right or wrong way to perform a gris-gris. People perform gris-gris for various reasons, thus, gris-gris must be specific.

Some people perform voodoo to fulfill needs and desires, others for healing. In voodoo, diseases are considered to be spiri-tual afflictions and not merely physical. The spirits may become angry at a person and cause him or her to become ill. Only the voodoo healer can tell why the person has become afflicted.

Today, many people think of voodoo as nothing more than superstition. How-ever, as Barbara Christensen wrote in The Magic and Meaning of Voodoo, “Belief and fear—these are the real powers of voodoo. The human mind is the most powerful and fearful force in voodoo.”

So, if you are ever strolling through the French Quarter in New Orleans and see a plate of food surrounded by change, think twice before picking up those coins. It just may be more than money you’re picking up.

VoodooDelia-Marie Richardson

12 • Chez Nous 2011