By: Lyndsey Vise
Confort inattendu
Sachant que mon nom de famille vient
De tant de connexions,
Comme couture, raccommodage, reliure,
Tout ceci le travail d’une femme, et celle-là sans nom.
Pourtant, même sans son nom,
Son sang coule,
Les ressemblances continuent.
Duhé, Loupe, Fonseca,
Cousu sans couture
Dans la couverte piquée de qui je suis.
-Lignée by Beverly Matherne (Mayers 23)
One of humanity’s most distinguishing features, separating it from all other creatures on Earth, is the desire toward understanding its origin, in order to understand its locus as a collective unit. Humans have long been tracing common threads – their ligneés – evidenced by famous genealogical accounts, such as that of Jesus Christ thousands of years ago. However, origin is not only relevant in the case of familial lineage, but also in understanding one’s cultural situation, as well. This offers communities a sense of belonging within a larger context; in other words, it offers them a sense of identity. One of the most powerful methods of identity confirmation, and thus cultural transmission, is evaluating the common cultural stories told through oral tales, music, and literature. In short, a culture’s identity can be understood through an evaluation of their folklore.
Across generational and cultural lines, there has been abundant evidence supporting the notion that literature, specifically folklore, shapes identity development and maintenance. One genre with a particularly persuasive influence over identity is spiritual folklore. According to folklorist Richard Dorson (110), the very purpose of folklore is to meet the basic spiritual needs of a population by outlining man’s relationship to man, and his relationship to God. Sigmund Freud himself supported this idea in arguing that religious literature was used as a tool of cultural transmission, and subsequently, societal control (Freud 6; 21). However, social control is only informed by religion; it is maintained by folklore. Whereas religion preserves one’s spiritual interpretation of the world, folklore preserves the social practices and values that transmit the belief. Religion is also much more consistent across time, whereas practices have greater freedom to adapt (even though they rarely do). Although they are distinct entities, this does not mean that they do not influence each other. In fact, religious practices with little basis in belief have very commonly been conflated with religion or spirituality without assigning it to a more accurate definition of folklore. Because folklore, especially that which preserves spiritual meaning, is so integral to the foundations of a culture, it is important to analyze its role in the production and conservation of distinct cultural identities. It can be suggested, then, that folk similarities may be a stronger indicator of cultural likeness than other factors. One particular example is the comparable cultures of Louisiana and Haiti, which relate to each other through the adherence to common Afro-Creole spiritual beliefs, like that of voodoo and Christianity. Such beliefs persist only through the presence of folklore.
Folklore, as literature, is one of the oldest genres in the world, which is simultaneously “the most durable form of entertainment [but also] the most delicate” (Lindhal). Its multimodal expression – through songs, poems, proverbs, language, and narratives – is largely responsible for its successful transmission and preservation across time. However, its integrity is reduced if only appreciated as a historical artifact, disregarding its function as a key to understanding the modern world. In fact, it is argued that folklore’s power, whether good or bad, is derived from its distant origin, highly regarded as “wisdom” and thus, applied to very different modern contexts (Thompson and Jordan-Smith 126). It is in this way that culture persists, and with it, identity.
This is evident in American culture at large, in which conclusions about spiritual identity can be drawn from the major folk themes, such as that of the New England witch hunts. The New England witch hunt was a predominately oral tale, which was only later documented into American literature like that of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. Although from a distance it may seem difficult to derive traditional meaning from these tragic accounts, there are significant cultural implications in its spiritual evidence. One such suggestion is that spirituality is largely confined to religious doctrine and governed by human authority to maintain societal order (Hall 256). Witchcraft was perceived to be a source of threat to Christianity, but more specifically to the Puritans who represented the Protestant Church. Because religion offered such a foundational identity for the New World and its colonies, deviances from its strictures were deemed unholy, or even demonic. Unorthodox spiritual expression, whether from isolated or diffuse populations, was demonized into the cause of the world’s misfortune, and was thus in need of remedy, and in some cases, eradication (Schoeneman 537). This emphasis on spiritual suppression reflects cultural and historical values of piety and compliance, as well as critical views of women and uncertainty, each of which have been fairly consistent to the American Protestant identity over the past few centuries. Although the cultural significance of these witch hunts may have changed for Americans over time, it has consistently projected an emphasis on religion as adherence to social order and a suspicion of spirituality outside of such norms, perpetuating a much stronger religious identity than spiritual association.
However, American folklore from one region is not synonymous with that of another. Folklore is considered a “function of shared identity” (Bauman 32) and intended to bridge gaps between social and demographic differences through unifying themes. This does not mean, though, that the American spiritual identity is entirely unified or represented through the tales of its aggregate; some tales were meant to represent the spiritual autonomy of one specific culture within its larger American counterpart. In fact, the very basis of American folklore was the observance and appreciation of such cultural diversity under one broad label (Bronner 2). One such example of autonomy represented through folklore is that of Louisiana.
Louisiana folklore offers a perspective starkly different from that of its American neighbors. In fact, its tales are so deviant that it has even been argued that it is entirely unique to North America, with little to no correspondence in American folklore (Dorson 124). If this is true, then other similarities should be considered in terms of cultural context, not geographic location. One such culture that has a strong, but rarely acknowledged, relationship with Louisiana is their Caribbean doppelganger, Haiti.
At face value, Louisiana is typically considered under a modern “American southern” label above all others, but it is undeniable that its characteristics are deeply influenced by its original fusion of African, European, and Native American cultures. At its most basic level, Louisiana relates to Haiti in their geographic environment. However, this similarity was not due to fate or coincidence. Both locations were established under the rule of French colonists whose goal was profit, particularly through agriculture (Fiehrer 422-423). Thus, the resulting regions are warm, tropical climates, suitable for agricultural pursuits (and of course, natural disasters). In order to maintain their land, the French orchestrated slave trades into their colonies. Nearly 6,000 African slaves were brought to Louisiana under one company alone, John Law’s Company of the Indies (Powell, 53). Thus, their subsequent histories and demographics prove similar, as well. The French, African, and often Native American cultures combined into a unique Creole culture that has persisted, in some capacity, to the present day.
The relationship between these Creole cultures can be noted in and accredited to the relationship among their folktales. There are numerous examples, such as that of the Haitian water spirit la Siréne and the sirens of New Orleans, the characters of Compair Lapin and Compair Bouki, as well as the story of Jean Sotte. In the latter, Jean Sotte is considered to be a foolish character, so much so that he is constantly weaseling himself in and out of trouble. In some Haitian accounts, Jean Sotte is regarded as the twin brother of John the Smart (Comhaire-Sylvain 207), distinguishing foolishness and intelligence into two separate entities. However, there is some semblance of relationship in their differences, as the King remarks that Wisdom and Foolishness resemble twins because they “look so much alike” (Comhaire-Sylvain 281). In one Louisiana account, though, Jean Sotte is a tale of identity convergence, in which he demonstrates both foolishness and wisdom when using his disadvantage as an unsuspecting strength, rendering him a new title: Jean l’Esprit, or John the Smart (American Folklore Society 69). Not only is his identity dimensional in its composition, but it is also considerably complex in terms of his lineage. This is evidenced by the King inquiring of his ancestry (63):
“‘Tell me, Jean Sotte, they say Compair Lapin is your father?’
‘Yes, he is.’
‘No, no,’ said someone else. ‘I think it is Compair Bouki.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Jean Sotte; ‘it is he also.’
‘No, no,’ said an old woman who was passing; ” it is Renard who is your father.’
‘Yes,’ said Jean Sotte, ‘all of them; they are all my fathers. Every time one of them passes by me he says, ‘Good-morning, my child.’ I must believe, then, that they are all my fathers.’” (American Folklore Society 63)
Here, Compair Lapin is a clever rabbit, Bouki is a deceitful hyena, and Renard is a tricky fox, all representing the various, integral aspects of the human experience. So, when considering Jean Sotte’s character and identity, the results are incomplete without addressing how diverse, and often conflicting, that lineage was. This parallel between cultural mixing was particularly significant for the Creole identity in the origins of Louisiana and Haiti, especially as paired with Jean’s use of perceived intellectual and meaningful “inferiority” which was “used as a strategy for success” in times of need (Green 54). The Haitian phrase “Bouki is Bouki”, meaning “a fool is always a fool” (Comhaire-Sylvain 281), does not appear to be as holistic of an approach to identity as the Louisiana account of Jean, and rather supports that a single value is concentrated and embodied within one entity. However, in both the Louisiana and Haitian retellings, there is an undeniable interaction between wisdom, folly, and deceit, even as they struggle to coexist together. This complex relationship between contradiction and interaction across Louisiana and Haitian cultures is evident not only through human values and identity, but also spiritual expression.
One of the most notable preservations of Louisianan and Haitian Creole cultures is its spiritual syncretism, particularly the blend of European Catholicism and African Voodoo. However, some prefer to refer to these religions as merely symbiotic, not syncretic (Kus 296). Despite how one perceives the technicalities of this relationship, it is impossible to deny that they have influenced and reinforced each other over time, from their origins to their modern application. Contrary to popular belief, European Catholicism in Louisiana and Haiti was predominately skewed toward European efforts at maintaining social hierarchy, which was intended to serve an especial purpose for creating clear divisions between free and slave societies (Powell 269). However, this attempt at control was not as successful as projected, as Christianity later served as a tool for slave autonomy and to some degree, power (Powell 268, Fiehrer 421). Because African spirituality was repressed under a European force toward assimilation, slaves had no choice but to adopt Catholicism and reinterpret it into an “Africanized” version of the faith (Gomez 2000). This was especially probable in Louisiana, because the colonies were largely built upon the rejects of French society, and therefore offered “little cultural value” to the African slave; this meant that there was a greater opportunity for them to retain some African beliefs under the adoption of Catholicism. In order to retain some of their culture, slaves utilized the similarities of the Catholic structure that was familiar to voodoo. In this way, their beliefs overlapped in the use of rituals, such as baptism (Powell 266), sacraments, and veneration of the saints (Raboteau 88). Similarly, the beliefs in a “Supreme Being”, an afterlife, and communication with a spiritual realm (Powell 264) were folk archetypes that easily translated between Catholicism and voodoo. Although the two religions draw from similar aspects of spiritual freedom, spiritual beliefs, and folk archetypes, the most important aspect of the Catholic environment was that it was a strategic vehicle for expressing African faith in Louisiana and Haiti, which is hugely responsible for their distinguished identities (Raboteau 88).
Although African voodoo has not retained (and rather, could not retain) its full theological integrity within a colonial setting, many of its traditional beliefs and practices were still maintained in its combination with Christianity. For instance, beliefs in deities under a Supreme Being (le Grand Maître), like that of Shango, persisted within the colonial context. This is evident in the case of Tante Dolores of New Orleans in 1888, who seized an ax to halt an oncoming storm caused by Shango, “the West African god of thunder and lightning” (Raboteau 81). Similar beliefs in Shango are still recounted in Louisiana today through folk expressions, like “Le Bon Dieu is rolling his stones”. Because such customs are often more behavioral than spiritual in nature, they also are referred to under the title of “hoodoo”, which directly links folk origins to its resulting cultural development (Raboteau 80-81). Thus, such voodoo ties persist not merely through its theology, but perhaps more importantly, through the practices that accompany it.
Such practices must be evident, though. One way of evidencing African customs, and Creole culture, is through public expression. For instance, the infamous Marie Laveau, who has since been coined as the queen of voodoo, was known for producing voodoo “shows” for Creole congregations, in which ritualistic music and spiritual possession (also referred to as monter voudou) occurred as regular displays of traditional African spirituality (Raboteau 79). It is not entirely unlikely that these events were efforts to keep aspects of their traditional African legacy alive, even as performed in conjunction with Catholic rituals, like praying to the Virgin Mary or assigning Catholic titles to African deities. For example, the Haitian god, Papa Legba, was known as “Liba” by Marie Laveau and referred to as “Saint Peter” both by Louisianans and Haitians; Papa Legba was even referred to by this title in a popular spiritual song of the time (Raboteau 77):
St. Peter, St. Peter, open the door,
I’m callin’ you, come to me!
In these ways, the African identity was evidently a result of both cultures as they interacted with each other. Thus, the transmission of spiritual customs across space and time can be accredited to the syncretizing of Catholic and African beliefs, as publicly demonstrated in relationship to man’s relationship with the natural and spiritual world.
As mentioned previously, it is nearly a disservice to view such teachings from the lens of an isolated past or present orientation. This folklore has subtly instilled beliefs, values, and language into the very root of Creole culture, but the influence does not stop there; it is very likely that there is some evidence of its original beliefs in current Haitian and Louisianan identities. The identities recounted are mostly spiritual in nature but may impact the collective cultural identity depending on other regional factors. The three big “identities” that result from Creole spiritual literature are 1) an interconnectedness with the world, physically and socially, 2) an importance of individual spirituality as it comprises the collective, and 3) a tension between the internalization of both African and Western traditions, especially as it relates to history. There is some significance in the continuity of these themes and the way that they incorporate the key ideas of both Catholicism and voodoo.
The most consistently observable value that Louisianan and Haitian cultures demonstrate is that of spiritual interconnectedness with the surrounding world. These connections are evidenced in two ways: physical/natural connection and social connection. The first concept addressed will be physical connection. Natural connection can easily be tied to the voodoo belief that spirituality is not limited to humanity, but that everything has a spirit (Raboteau 82). At a “hoodoo” (customary) level, this is evident in the charms used for spiritual purposes, such as the well-known, but often misunderstood, voodoo doll. Such charms are thought to have spirits of their own, operating under their own social code, complete even with taboos. From a more natural perspective, it is also important to note a spiritual connection with the Earth, such as dirt and trees. According to Asselin Charles (396), this idea is demonstrated in a 1954 Haitian work titled “Le Dit d’Anne-aux-longs-cils”, in which natural forces that produce life and season change is represented in the form of a woman. It is in this context that he addresses the voodoo belief of “a soul residing in all things living and inert”. Subsequently, these ideas further support the cultures’ beliefs about death and the strong importance of relationship, which are widely upheld through social norms.
The second notable connection that is evident within these Afro-Creole cultures is the connection between living beings – in other words, social connection. According to Karen McCarthy Brown (in Turner 102), the Haitian spirit of death and fertility, Papa Gede, unifies all people together into one family, which is held together by the most important healing in voodoo: “the healing of relationships”. This concept is further explained by the religious adoption of Catholicism, and its resulting social structures, especially in Louisiana. Even though Catholicism was initially thought to enforce a social hierarchy, it accidentally created a strong Creole community instead. This community is referred to as fictive kinship, and resulted from the Catholic belief that baptism suggested godparenting from Creole neighbors, which naturally extended the concept of family (Powell 268). This offered such communities a sense of social support in an otherwise very isolated experience, a value which still holds importance in many African American communities today (Chatters et al. 1994). Although the links that tie traditional spiritual beliefs to current cultural identity are not perfect, they are suggestive of some relationship between the strong value of connection and the current collective identity – not only with humanity but with the world.
Because there is such an emphasis on strong relationships, there then is a simultaneous responsibility for maintaining some degree of harmony. The Bible teaches that man should “make every effort to do what leads to peace” (The Holy Bible, Romans 14:19), which is accomplished by serving as a vessel for the Holy Spirit, both ideas which support abundant examples of harmony in voodoo. This very similarly is related to the voodoo belief that people serve as vessels for spirits called Loas (Desrosier & St. Flurose 509), like that in the tales of Marie Laveau. In order to receive the honor of possession, though, people are meant to supply candles, libations, and a variety of sacrifices to satisfy, or “placate”, the spirit that is being received (Wilentz 115). Should one fail to follow these customs, it is believed that the spirit may produce negative consequences for the population, such as natural disaster, physical ailments, and/or societal problems (Wilentz, 106). Another similar consequence of disharmony would be a lack of healing for such misfortunes, as the spiritual world is thought to be the predominant healing force within Haitian society. However, these ideas extend beyond the spirit world into the idea of human harmony. Because Loas are often perceived to be African ancestors, there is reason to believe that there is also an obligation to maintain good relationships within the community (Desrosier & St. Flurose 510; Wilentz 116). This idea highlights a direct link between life and death, between visible and invisible realities – both of which are evident in the identity and behavior of these populations.
Although there is evidence to support such broad identifiers of the Afro-Creole cultures in Louisiana and Haiti, it is inaccurate to assume that such an identity was achieved without consideration of its complexity. In fact, according to Bernabé et al. (892), the very Creole identity is rooted in cultural complexities, derived from a need for cohabitation between differing groups, and must therefore be acknowledged as such. Historically, there has been a belief that the Creole identity is split paradoxically between cultural cooperation and “internalized bigotry” (Auguste and Rasmussen), which was demonstrated in the compromise that Creole culture required (Bernabé 894). Creole populations were required to suspend substantial portions of its culture to adapt to its host, often rendering a resulting “uncertain” identity common to colonial slave populations. Although this seemed to produce a fragmented identity, such uncertainty was not confined to a single group, nor was it truly determined by supposed racial purity (as suggested by the “one drop” rule), because no such purity existed in anyone. It is with this understanding that a charge is made for the Creole future. It is believed that the complexities of the Creole memory, history, and identity require that their “literature restore [them] to duration, to the continuum of time and space” (Bernabé et al, 897), from which future generations can draw a uniquely Creole identity. Thus, the power and preservation of their culture largely relies on their interpretation of the past as it relates to the present, and the transmission of that narrative as a foundation for their future.
Although the relationship between Louisianan and Haitian identity is not a perfect comparison, the evidence is strong enough to suggest a link between the two. The alternative would simply be coincidence, which would be an unfair evaluation of each population. Spiritual folklore offers a cultural narrative that is threaded through various religious beliefs that comprise the foundation for cultural and individual identity. The collective, harmonious, but conflicted identity of the Afro-Creole cultures in Louisiana and Haiti are evidence of this. Louisianan and Haitian folklore draws on an intimacy with nature, the idea of the extended family, and a notably blurry line between the physical and spiritual worlds, as in their beliefs about life and death. However, these similarities are not only important in light of their origin, but also in their future intentions. Just as literature shapes culture, so does culture determine literature. In crafting current literature to support the meaning of “Creoleness”, future generations are offered a stronger idea of the Afro-Creole identity that is not dictated by historical divisions of race, nationality, language, or status. The origins of a people are important, but the origin is not the entire story; it is only a place to begin.
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