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“The island has its craze among the peasants known as Pocomania, which looks as if it might be translated into ‘a little crazy.’ But Brother Levi says it means ‘something out of nothing.’ It is important to a great number of people in Jamaica, so perhaps we ought to peep in on it a while.”
The first person plural inclusive “we” creates an informal and welcoming tone, encouraging the reader to adopt Hurston’s insider perspective as if they are both undertaking this research together. The presentation of multiple potential translations introduces the key concept of uncertainty and conflicting beliefs in the matter of folklore, while nonetheless following ethnographic standards by ceding authority to the in-group authority, as represented here by Brother Levi.
“Jamaican proverbs are particularly rich in philosophy, irony and humor. The following are a few in common use:
“1. Rockatone at ribber bottom no know sun hot. (The person in easy circumstances cannot appreciate the sufferings of the poor.)”
Hurston lists direct examples of Jamaican proverbs in the Jamaican “patois” dialect alongside translations of their meaning in standard English, providing an anthropologically and linguistically valuable record of authentic vernacular language. She recognizes and affirms the value and richness of these quotes, explicitly celebrating Black culture.
“At the house it came to me what a lot of trouble these country people were taking to create the atmosphere of romance and mystery. Here was a couple who were in late middle life, who had lived together so long that they had grown children and were just getting married. Seemingly it all should have been rather drab and matter of fact. Surely there could be no mystery and glamor left for them to find in each other. But the couple and all the district were making believe that there was. It was like sewing ruffles on fence rails. The will to make life beautiful was strong. It happens this way frequently in Jamaica.”
Hurston uses the simile of “sewing ruffles on a fence rail” to convey her impression of the ceremony through visual imagery. She presents the willingness to create a façade of beauty as indicative of the general Jamaican attitude to life, expanding the wedding from a single event into an example which illustrates the general culture of Jamaica. The willingness of the group to engage in collective “make believe” speaks to the theme of Blurred Lines Between Truth and Fiction.
“The baggage-boy was carrying our food which was not very heavy for the Maroons are splendid human engines. Not a fat person in all Maroon town. That comes, I suppose, from climbing mountains and a simple diet. They are lean, tough and durable. They can march, fight or work for hours on a small amount of food. The food on the hunt was corn pone, Cassada-by-me (Cassava bread), green plantain, salt, pimento and other spices to cure the hog when and if we caught him, and coffee. The baggage boy carried the iron skillet and the coffee pot also. The hunters carried their own guns and blades. I stumbled along with a few little womanish things like comb and tooth brush and a towel.”
Hurston here provides a detailed description of the minutia relating to this trip, including a comprehensive list of foodstuffs, similar to a travelogue and emphasizing Hurston’s presence and involvement in the account. These practical details give insight into the society that Hurston is observing, as do her comments on the habits, traits, and daily lives of community members. These asides also build suspense by delaying the forthcoming action of the hunt.
“But,’ somebody defended the duppies, ‘duppies will never come inside your yard to hurt you unless somebody send him. It is a rude [wicked] person who set duppies on folks.’ […]
“‘But some duppy is rude, man. Some duppy will come even if nobody don’t send call him. If he is not tied down he will come. Some duppy take a big strong chain to hold him down.’”
Hurston reports speech directly in the format of a dialogue between speakers, providing an authentic transcription of common speech. By recounting the contradictory information provided by members of the community, Hurston depicts the variation in superstitions and folklore even within the same social group and conveys the process by which folklore is built collectively by a community.
“The allegedly unvirtuous wife hid around a year or two and died. Perhaps she suffered some but then he was a man and therefore sacred and his honor must be protected even if it takes forty women to do it.”
Hurston conveys her doubt as to the truth of the man’s accusations through use of the word “allegedly,” and makes reference to his callous disregard for the wife through the ironic equivocation “perhaps” regarding her certain suffering. This quote is full of irony, as Hurston conveys the conventional attitudes of Jamaican society—namely, that a man’s honor is worth more than any woman’s rights— while using tone to imply that she herself disagrees. This passage highlights the gender-based Power Inequalities and Discrimination in Caribbean Societies.
“Haiti has meant spilt blood and tears for blacks. So the Haitians got no answer to their prayers. Even when they had fought and driven out the white oppressors, oppression did not cease. They sought peace under kingdoms and other ruling names. They sought it in the high, cold, beautiful mountains of the island and in the sudden small alluvial plains, but it eluded them and vanished from their hands.”
This quote uses generalizations and a literary tone to provide a dramatic overview of the history of Haiti. The expansive, impersonal narration contrasts with the informal tone of Hurston’s usual voice when relaying her personal experiences, marking the shift in topic as she recounts historical events. She here emphasizes the tumultuous social and political history of Haiti.
“Haiti has always been two places. First it was the Haiti of the masters and slaves. Now it is Haiti of the wealthy and educated mulattoes and the Haiti of the blacks […] Under this present administration, the two Haitis are nearer one than at any time in the history of the country.”
Hurston’s dividing of the nation into two halves in this quote highlights the theme of power inequalities and discrimination in Caribbean societies by creating a direct contrast between the powerful or privileged in Haiti, and their downtrodden counterparts. The listing of dichotomies through history creates a sense of historical continuity, which is ruptured by her assertion that present circumstances may break the trend, emphasizing her impression that unprecedented social change is at hand.
“As someone in America said of whiskey, Voodoo has more enemies in public and more friends in private than anything else in Haiti. None of the sons of Voodoo who sit in high places have yet had the courage to defend it publicly, though they know quite well and acknowledge privately that Voodoo is a harmless pagan cult that sacrifices domestic animals at its worst.”
The hypocrisy of Voodoo’s detractors is equated to that of American whiskey-drinkers in the context of the recent prohibition against alcohol in the USA, a law which was only repealed in 1933. Voodoo is used as a scapegoat for social ills much as alcohol was, with Hurston implying that the denial of its place in society may be as futile and harmful as the failed American efforts to cull alcohol consumption.
“But there is pathos too in the story.
“It is the story of a peasant who gained the palace but lost his goat. He sacrificed his best friend to ambition which turned upon him and mocked his happiness to death. In the fog of flattery, he lost sight of the fact that goats and peasants are seldom the helms of empire.
“Of this triumvirate, Celestina, Simon and Simalo who had come up from the south to the capitol of Haiti, perhaps Simalo, by his early death, came off best.”
Hurston here reframes the narrative of President Simon’s downfall from a sympathetic perspective, emphasizing what he lost and the extraordinary circumstances he was operating under. Celestina’s rumored links to Voodoo also reflect the Rituals and Beliefs of Voodoo even within the political sphere.
“This is the story of the death of President Leconte the way the people tell it. The history books all say Cincinnatus Leconte died in the explosion that destroyed the palace, but the people do not tell it that way. Not one person, high or low, ever told me that Leconte was killed by the explosion. It is generally accepted that the destruction of the palace was to cover up the fact that the President was already dead by violence.”
This quote emphasizes the disconnect between the official version of events and the widely-accepted popular narrative, contributing to the theme of blurred lines between truth and fiction. Hurston uses jarring, violent vocabulary such as “killed,” “violence,” “destruction,” etc., in rapid succession, establishing the tone of the forthcoming narrative. The general mistrust of official explanations also speaks to the issues of governmental corruption in Haiti.
“This is what they say in Port-au-Prince about the death of President Leconte, who built the great Casernes.
“Ah Bo Bo!”
Hurston repeatedly closes chapters with the Haitian exclamation “Ah bo bo!,” the meaning of which varies greatly depending on context. Often it is used to convey a sense of resignation, satisfaction, or finality by indicating that a topic of conversation is closed. The formulaic recapitulation of the chapter’s opening, “this is what they say,” mimics the repetitive and circular style of an oral recitation, emphasizing that this is the folk history of events rather than the official written account.
“They see only a pagan religion with an African pantheon. And right here, let it be said that the Haitian gods, mysteries, or loa are not the Catholic calendar of saints done over in black as has been stated by casual observers. This has been said over and over in print because the adepts have been seen buying the lithographs of saints […] But even the most illiterate peasant knows that the picture of the saint is only an approximation of the loa.”
The conflation of appearance with reality shows the inaccuracy and insufficiency of prior accounts of the rituals and beliefs of voodoo, reinforcing Hurston’s own authority by contrast. The use of Catholic imagery hints at the syncretism of African diasporic culture, and the lack of sufficient resources to express Haitian culture outside of the imposition of colonial influence.
“This work does not pretend to give a full account of either Voodoo or Voodoo gods. It would require several volumes to attempt to cover completely the gods and Voodoo practices of one vicinity alone […]
It is unfortunate for the social sciences that an intelligent man like Dr. Dorsainville has not seen fit to do something with Haitian mysticism comparable to Frazer’s The Golden Bough.”
Justin Chrysostome Dorsainville (1890-1942) was a Haitian academic, educator, and author who wrote on the rituals and beliefs of voodoo, among other subjects. The Golden Bough (1890) is a hugely influential study of comparative religion and mythology written by Scottish author James George Frazer (1854-1941). Reference to this in-group expert on Haitian culture and to this celebrated text highlights the lack of any comparably thorough work on the religions and mythologies of the African diaspora. Hurston also conveys the expansive scope needed to provide an exhaustive account of Voodoo, stressing the incomplete nature of her own account.
“Everybody knows that La Gonave is a whale that lingered so long in Haitian waters that he became an island. He bears a sleeping woman on his back. Any late afternoon anyone in Port-au-Prince who looks out to sea can see her lying there on her back with her hands folded across her middle sleeping peacefully.”
Through the assertion that “Everybody knows,” this passage presents a folk tale as though it were widely-accepted fact, which conveys the importance and omnipresence of myths and fables in Caribbean culture. Hurston weaves the fictional story in with the true narrative of her time in Haiti to show the blurred lines between truth and fiction, and to paint Haiti as a place less removed from fantasy and legend than elsewhere.
“The lights of Port-au-Prince had faded when the sky cleared. Then we saw the luminous sea! It glowed like one vast jewel. It glittered like bushels and bushels of gems poured into the casket that God keeps right behind His throne for beauty. The moving fish put on their gilding. It was a privilege to move upon this liquid radiance […]. I had the feeling of being adrift in a boat alone.”
Hurston uses descriptive, poetic language to create an evocative image of the sea at night. She uses short sentences, similes, and punctuation to gradually build up a picture and to create a mood of awe and wonder. This passage reflects the literary approach she often takes to her subject matter, even though it is a work of nonfiction.
“The body of the dead man sat up with its staring eyes, bowed its head and fell back again and then a stone fell at the feet of Dieu Donnez, and it was so unexpected that I could not discover how it was done.”
Hurston combines detailed descriptions of the rituals and beliefs of voodoo with her own first-hand encounters with inexplicable, seemingly supernatural occurrences. Her admission that she cannot account for the dead man’s sitting up creates a sense of uncertainty, and paradoxically adds to her authority as a narrator by making her seem trustworthy and honest. The inclusion of mysterious elements also speaks to the blurred lines between truth and fiction.
“All of the food for the hundred or more people in the compound is prepared at a common point. The work is divided up by Madame Etienne and supervised by her. She works as hard as anybody.
Leaving the professional aspect of the place aside it is one of those patriarchal communities so numerous in Haiti. It is the African compound where the male head of the family rules over all of the ramifications of the family and looks after them. It is a clan.”
Hurston describes the social structure of the community in precise detail and detached academic prose, contributing to one of the work’s primary functions as an ethnographic source and showcasing Hurston’s academic training. Her emphasis that what she describes is a “patriarchal” community with a “male head of the family,” despite Madame Etienne’s clear importance, also reflects the power inequalities and discrimination in Caribbean societies in terms of gender roles.
“What is the whole truth and nothing else but the truth about Zombies? I do not know, but I know that I saw the broken remnant, relic, or refuse of Felicia Felix-Mentor in a hospital yard.
Here in the shadow of the Empire State Building, death and the graveyard are final. It is such a positive end that we use it as a measure of nothingness and eternity. We have the quick and the dead. But in Haiti there is the quick, the dead, and then there are Zombies.”
This quote opens with a rhetorical question to which Hurston confesses her inability to provide an answer, leaving readers to form their own conclusions. Hurston juxtaposes the societies of the USA and Haiti to illustrate the difference between the two cultures and their beliefs regarding the afterlife. The question of zombies also relates to the blurred lines between truth and fiction in the work.
“The Voice: Are you prepared for me?
“The Man: Yes.
“The Voice: Have you done all that I told you?
“The Man: Yes.
“The Voice (to houngan): Go out. (to man) Give me the gold money.
“(The man gives it.)
“The Voice: Now, you belong to me and I can do with you as I wish. If I want you in the cemetery I can put you there.
“The Man: Yes, I know you have all power with me. I put myself in your care because I want prosperity.”
Hurston writes this section in a script format, as opposed to the prose of the work’s main body. This creates a distinction between her own first-hand accounts of Jamaican and Haitian culture, and this unsourced, presumably hypothetical encounter. The dialogue between the voice and the man is curt and matter-of-fact, representing the blurred lines between truth and fiction: The bluntness and clarity of the language contrasts with the fantastical subject matter.
“The people who created Guedé needed a god of derision. They needed a spirit which could burlesque the society that crushed him, so Guedé eats roasted peanuts and parched corn like his devotees. He delights in an old coat and pants and a torn old hat. So dressed and fed, he bites with sarcasm and slashes with ridicule the class that despises him.”
This quote shows the importance of the god Guedé as an equalizing force in Haiti, reflecting the power inequalities and discrimination in Caribbean societies. The description of the god’s characteristics firmly aligns him with the peasant class and shows the importance of religion and culture in providing the means for the disenfranchised to speak truth to power and strike back against their oppressors.
“ANIMAL DERIVATIVES
“1. Horse hair
“2. Dried gallowass (a poisonous lizard).
“3. Dried Mabolier (Haitian lizard).
“4. Spiders, worms and insects.
“5. The gleanings from a curry comb after currying a horse.”
Hurston provides a detailed list of traditional Haitian poisons categorized by source, contributing to the usefulness and authority of the work as a source of anthropological information. The common origins and diversity of the items on the list show the omnipresence and mundanity of poison usage in Haitian society.
“But the most important reason why I never tried to get my information second-hand out of Dr. Reser was because I consider myself amply equipped to go out in the field and get it myself. So my association with him was fifty per cent social and fifty per cent a study of the man himself.”
This quote shows Hurston’s unique perspective and approach to writing Tell My Horse. She is both capable and willing to gather her own ethnographical data, distinguishing herself from prior researchers. This increases the perceived value and reliability of Hurston’s work, enabling her to connect with individuals such as Reser on a deeper level than as mere sources of cultural information.
“Africa was in his tones. He throbbed and glowed. He used English words but he talked to me from another continent. He was dancing before his gods and the fire of Shango played about him. Then I knew how Moses felt when he beheld the burning bush. Moses had seen fires and he had seen bushes, but he had never seen a bush with a fiery ego and I had never seen a man who dwelt in flame, who was coldly afire in the pores.”
Hurston uses dramatic and florid language to describe Reser’s way of speaking and the strength of the impression it made on her, including the paradoxical phrase “coldly afire.” She references biblical imagery with Moses and the burning bush, reenforcing the link between the rituals and beliefs of voodoo and the Christian religion which influenced it. She also emphasizes the African roots of Caribbean culture, and the connection between the past and present.
“And that is what He did. He called Shango, the god of thunder and lightning, and he made a shaft of lightning and the pintards slid down it and landed in Guinea. So that is why music and dancing came from Guinea—God sent it there first.”
Hurston ends Tell My Horse with a Haitian fable explaining the origins of music and dancing in Guinea. Using the traditional closing of a folktale—reiterating its fantastical explanation as fact—shows the importance of folklore and the theme of blurred lines between truth and fiction in Caribbean culture.
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By Zora Neale Hurston