Ghost

Do you believe in ghosts? Well, I do.

Throughout human history, people have always been curious about stories involving ghosts, spirits and the supernatural. Cultures around the world have their own version of these tales and stories of the unseen that linger between life and death. A ghost is often described as the soul of a person who died but can’t move on for some reason. Sometimes they appear like shadows or figures, other times they are heard through noises, whispers or footsteps.

People rarely see them, or at least that is what we think. We often associate them with fear, mystery and religion. Some say that ghosts are not real and are simply a product of our imagination. Others believe that ghosts are real because of something they were told or saw with their own eyes.

I am one of those people who know ghosts exist not because of what I have been told but because of what I saw.

I was born and raised in Haiti. One of the well-known practices in Haiti is Vodou, or “Voodoo” in English. Vodou was introduced in Haiti when enslaved Africans brought their traditional beliefs to the Caribbean and mixed them with elements of Christianity. It is a constant fight between good and evil, God vs. Satan or Angels vs. Demons. These spirits, known as Lwa, serve as intermediaries between humans and the divine. Voodoo practitioners, known as Oungan (male) and Mambo (female), can communicate with these spirits through rituals. Such rituals include a ceremony called Gede, which is used to communicate with the spirits of the dead, among others. These ceremonies only scratch the surface of what we call “black magic”.

In Haiti we have a saying that goes “magi pa monte avion”, which translates to “magic does not take planes.” It is a way to say that the less you know and believe in black magic, the better off you are. I remember my parents telling me that curiosity is dangerous when it comes to the supernatural. We grew up knowing that certain things are simply not done in our culture. Some of those stories were told to children to scare them into behaving, but other stories were so real that we saw them happen in real life.

My family and I were always Christian. We grew up going to church. I was not exposed to a lot of magic in Haiti, but I definitely saw and heard enough. Every culture has its own version of magi. Some people use it for protection; others use it for their personal gain like money or revenge.

One of the scariest things for me was when someone was about to die and they would say, “they have come for me.” That sentence used to terrify me. Nighttime in Haiti was bittersweet. We had no electricity so I would spend hours looking at the stars and using this giant book, bigger than me, to try to name them. The flip side was when someone sent you to get something either in the house or out back by yourself, with nothing but the moonlight to guide you. Suffice it to say, many of us were terrified. But then again, we would still come back and listen to more scary stories.

Now that I am older and far away from my home, I have learned that most of those stories were not only true but also done by people very close to me. My parents tried their best to teach us not to be disrespectful to others and to mind our business. I now understand why my father practically built our home inside of a prison like a fortress. Four giant walls staring back at me.

Another crucial lesson I learned is that jealousy makes people wicked. Some people can’t stand to see others succeed. Even today, that kind of jealousy can show up as a friend who tries to steal another’s boyfriend or destroy their careers. In Haiti and in many African countries, jealousy mixed with magic can be detrimental.

On days like today, I feel torn. I love my country, but I do not like what is happening to my country. Whether it’s guns or black magic, both are hurting my people. Both are hurting me. On days like today, I am the daughter of another country.