It is February 2019. Les Manifestations are ravaging the country of Haiti, all but shutting down everyday life and work. People have halted their daily routines in political defiance; but on a rural strip of land in northern Haiti just outside of Limonade, the people make an exception. On this particular strip of land the locals congregate to evoke with great solemnity. Concealed by thin clouds across the evening sky, the spirits hover just above.

Sansi Pa Jwe (roughly translated, “the sensitive cannot play) scolled inside the fighting ring demarks the divide that exists among earthly souls. For one to get out of life what one wants, contractual terms are laid out. At the cockfight, the spirits demand one to be not sensitive but ruthless; whereas, at the reflecting pool, the spirits give only through kindness.

Conniving spirits hovering just above demand that the people supplicate them for good luck and wealth by placing two roosters in the fighting ring. The crowd place bets, cheer, and wait for the letting of blood till it runs thin and a victor is declared, of which there is none. With no victor, the owner of one of the roosters stares with simmering rage– death still lingers.

Vodou is the byword for the supplication of the god Lovana that resides in and around the reflecting pool. Gifts, such as wine, are offered, and prayer is made. The kind spirit Lovana is magical: water from the pool is holy and mere closeness to her is a blessing that leads to wealth and prosperity. One’s soul is rendered hopeful, empowered, yet humbled.

As I leave, I notice that the mother and daughter seen at the reflecting pool have moved to another site on the sacred land. At the site, a tree serves as a display of the spirits’ powers; man’s work has been torn, consumed, and re-purposed. A surviving staircase now serves as a symbol of the soul’s ascension. Here, around the divine tree, people take communion. 

My day trip leads to a spiritual awakening. Lovely and fiery truths are on display at that strip of land off a dirt road leading to Limonade. Confusion rumbles within me: one half of me wanders why Haiti has not condemned cockfighting with blood-guilt; whereas the other half finds it appeasing. I am sure many pay tribute to Lovana then wander over with heavy heart to the cockfight.