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UniversiV /Viicfonlms Internationa! 300 N. Zeeb Road Ann Arbor, Ml 48106

830S318

Dobbin, Jay D.

"DO’EN DEE DANCE": DESCRIPTION AND ANALYSIS OF THE JOMBEE DANCE OF MONTSERRAT

The Ohio State University PaD. 1982

University Microfilms International3«N.zeebR(sii.AiiiAiint.Mi«i(H

Copyright 1%3 by Dobbin, Jay D. All Rights Reserved

"EX)‘EN DEE DANCE"

DESCRIPTION AND ANALYSIS OF

THE JOMBEE DANCE OF MONTSERRAT

DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for

the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate

School of The Ohio State University

By

Jay D. Dobbin,

A.B.,M.A., S.Th.L., S.Th.D.

*****

The Ohio State University

1982

Reading Committee: Approved by

Dr. Erika Bourguignon

Dr. Daniel Hughes

Dr. John Messenger ______

Advi sor Department of Anthropology TABLE OF CONTENTS Pages

VITA...... IV

PREFACE...... V

INTRODUCTION: THE SCOPE OF THIS DISSERTATION...... 1

Chapter

I. RELIGION ON MONTSERRAT...... 6

First Impressions ...... 6 The Folk Religion...... 11 The Participants ...... 15 Worldview o f the Montserratian Folk R e lig io n...... 19 Where Expression of th is Worldview is Found ...... 26 The Jombees...... 49 Jombee Dances ...... 54 Concluding Question ...... 69

II. A CASE STUDY OF ONE JOMBEE DANCE...... 71

Introduction ...... 71 Events Leading to This D ance ...... 72 The Third Dance in D etail ...... 76

III. ANALYTICAL MODELS FOR INTERPRETING THE DANCE . . 114

Introduction ...... 114 Turner's Processual Symbolic Analysis. . . . 114 Douglas and Natural Symbols ...... 124 Simpson's Neo-African Religions and Ancestral Cults of the Caribbean...... 126

IV. ANALYSIS OF THE JOMBEE DANCE...... 130

Introduction ...... 130 The Jombee Dance as Social Drama ...... 130 The Jombees: Dominant Symbol of the Social Drama...... 133 The Jombee Dance as Liminal Ritual ...... 136 The Dance as Sharing in Characteristics of both Tribal and Historical Religions. . . 152 The Entranced Dancers as a Social Microcosm. 155 The Jombee Dance as Neo-African Ritual . . . 160

n Pages

V. CONCLUSIONS...... 177

Introduction ...... 177 Results of the TheoreticalAnalysis ...... 177 The Value of This Study ...... 182 Why the Decline of the Dance ...... 188 Concluding Statement ...... 199

APPENDIX: METHODOLOGY...... 201

BIBLIOGRAPHY...... 213

m VITA

21 August 1937...... Born - Glasgow, Montana

1960...... A.B., St. Edward's College Kenmore, Washington

1964...... M.Div., St. Thomas' Seminary Kenmore, Washington

1964-1966 Instructor, Department of Religious Studies, College of Great Falls, Great Falls, Montana

1957...... S.Th.L., Pontifical Insti­ tu te Anselmianum, Rome, Italy

1970 ...... S.Th.D. (Honors), Pontifical University of St. Thomas, Rome, Ita ly .

1970-1972 ...... Assistant Professor, Reli­ gious Studies, College of Great Falls

1974 ...... M.A., Anthropology, The Ohio State University

1975-1980 ...... Associate Professor, Anthropology and Comparative Religion, College of Great Falls

1980- ...... Lecturer, European and Asian Divisions University of Maryland.

iv PREFACE

Data for this study were collected during seven field trips to

Montserrat between 1975 and 1980. Some of the data were checked during a 1982 visit, but most of the materials are from those earlier trips.

After a one week exploratory visit in the Spring of 1975, all subsequent trip s were between one and four months in length. The one month trip during December and January of 1975-1976 was p articu larly valuable because it allowed me to see much of the Christmas season ritual. Sub­ sequently I returned each Summer, with the exception of 1981. I have no evidence that there is an annual cycle of folk ritual; consequently

I am reasonably certain th a t I have not missed ritu al th a t would have taken place only during the months when I have not been on Montserrat.

Some travel to the island was made possible by grants from the

Anthropology Department of The Ohio State University and the College of

Great Falls, which are here gratefully acknowledged.

I also wish to acknowledge the many who provided the data for this study, in this dissertation, I propose that the Montserratian folk religion functions as a receptacle for the traditional culture. But in a more real sense, the Montserratians themselves are the living recepta­ cles of that traditional culture. Without their generosity and willing­ ness to share with me a precious cultural heritage, my study would have been impossible. Yet because of the sensitivity of certain materials. I have promised anonimity to my interviewees. And so I must simply but gratefully acknowledge the unnamed many.

I had the pleasure of conducting my limited archival research during the terms of three governors of the colony, all of whom showed a keen interest in the preservation of Montserratian cultural and histor­ ical materials. I am particularly endebted to His Excellency, D.K.H.

Dale, the present governor, and to the Ministry of Educaton for per­ mitting me to begin a microfilming project of the local archives. The

Montserrat Public Library under Ms. Jane Grell has always served as a friendly clearing house for both published and typescript copies of works about Montserrat. And Father Donal Broderick, pastor of the island's

Roman Catholic parish, has been my constant morale booster when energy failed, equipment malfunctioned, and information was slow in surfacing.

In many ways I have had an ideal coiranittee fo r th is d issertatio n .

Dr. John C. Messenger introduced me to the island and his many friends there. As I note in the methodology appendix, my work builds on his pioneering research. It is a distinct honor to have been invited to probe deeper into areas where he had already worked. Dr. Erika

Bourguignon's correspondence was invaluable in suggesting new questions and developing clearer answers. Dr. Daniel Hughes again and again ques­ tioned and checked the rigor of my methodology. Although I was separated from them by thousands of m iles, they were p articu larly close through their correspondence. I never had to wait long for a reply; I always

knew th at an answer would be in the mail within a day or two of receipt.

vi I thus really never felt isolated: I knew that help was only a letter away. There was great continuity between the courses I took from them on the Columbus campus and the letters Î received on Montserrat or where I was teaching in Montana, Turkey, or Japan.

Both th is committee and some Montserratians have comnented on the unusual spellings I adopt in this dissertation. Let me note, first of all, that there is no accepted spelling for such Caribbean-wide words such as jombee or duppi. Second, Ntontserratian w riters themselves show variations in the spelling of Montserratian English. Third, I heard oronunciations which do not correspond to any of the existing variations, so I devised my own spellings. For example, many spell the Montserratian pronunciation of "the" as "de." But I often heard it pronounced as clearly as the German feminine singular article, die, or as would rhyme with the word bee, as in honey bee. Consequently, I used that spelling

in the title of this dissertation — "Do'en dee dance." I often heard the spirits of the dead called jombee, not simply jjjmbie as that word is

commonly spelled. It has been suggested to me that my spelling reflects a sub-dialectical pronunciation associated with a particular area on the

island. Other spellings I adopt, such as sukra instead of sukna, may

reflect a pronunciation which certain interviewees picked up on Trinidad

or other islands. Allied to the problem of spelling is the problem of

transcribing interviews into Montserratian English. Sometimes I wrote

notes and missed the exact Montserratian phrase. Sometimes interviewees

spoke partially in dialect and partially in Standard English for my

v ii benefit. I have undoubtedly lost in my transcriptions much of the flavor and authenticity of the Montserratian English. There is a poetry and art in the Montserratian English which I do not pretend to have captured. As for the spellings, I have perhaps contributed to the Babel of spelling for the supernatural beings who populate the Caribbean folk universe.

vin INTRODUCTION: THE SCOPE OF THIS DISSERTATION

Its size is tiny and its population small* but its history is rich. Five seasons of field research have impressed me with the rich detail of Montserrat's past and present lifeways. I am thus keenly aware of how small a portion of that folk religion I am able to record in this dissertation. I limit this work, moreover, to a single ritual.

Even with so narrow a focus, I have had to select and elim inate from reams of notes and stacks of video and audio tap es. That so much material is available on this one ritual indicates something of the complexity of Montserratian culture. I hope eventually to publish the collected data which I could not include here.

Although I have lim ited myself to a description and analysis o f the jombee dance r itu a l, I have included material on the folk r e li­ gion in general in order to place that ritual within its proper context.

However, my purpose is not to describe the more general aspects of the folk religion in exhaustive detail.

Of course, the reader may well ask why focus on this one ritual?

Are there not more important aspects of the Montserratian culture which need to be recorded and preserved? I do not propose that the trance dance ritual is the most important aspect of Montserratian culture, but

I do propose that the folk religion is one of the most important recep­ tacles of the culture, and that the most prominent ritual of this religion

1 is the jombee dance. That claim w ill be d iffic u lt to validate. Val­ idation would require placing the dance and the folk religion within the broader context of the total Montserratian culture, and no one has yet written a general ethnography of the island. Perhaps only the

Montserratians themselves and my fellow researchers can verify the im­ portance of the folk religion and the trance dance ritual. I cer­ tainly know of no other single event on the island where so much of the traditional music, dancing, folklore, spirit beliefs, kinship, and friendship ties are evidenced as in the jombee dance.

My research follows on the coattails of that done by many who have observed and written about Montserrat. I think that the casual references from the freed slave, Equiano, are the first published accounts in English dealing with Montserrat (Edwards 1967; an edited version of the 1789 o rig in al). Bryan Edwards' second edition o f The

History, Civil and Comnercial, of the British Colonies in the West Indies

(1794) has a short chapter on Montserrat, mostly history. The second volume also has a long section on obeah (magic) and the ritu al of the

African slaves, but his firsthand knowledge is drawn mostly from Jamaica.

Vere Oliver's Caribbeana (1910-1920) includes the family trees of many

18th century Montserratian planters and officials. Father Aubrey Gwynn's edition of the documents relating to the Irish in the West Indies is one of the few published document collections which includes substantial

amounts of Montserratian m aterials (1932). Other unpublished papers and

diaries, such as the Sturge family papers, await analysis. The only published history is Howard Fergus' History of

Alliouaqana (1975). On file at the Montserrat Public Library is Fred

E. P eter's tiny 25 page mimeographed Montserrat (1929); which I suspect is the oldest written history of the island. T. Savage English summarized o ffic ia l records of the colony in a number of handwritten notebooks (now lost), later typed in a volume dated 1930. Many of those original documents were la te r destroyed in a Court House fir e .

Social science research on Montserrat has fared better than historical work. Margaret Mead accompanied Rhoda ftetraux for her study of normal and deviant behavior on the island (Metraux and Abel 1957).

John C. Messenger has published widely his findings on African and Irish retentions (1967a, 1967b, 1973, 1975), and Stuart Philpott (1973) examined the problems of an out-m igration which stemmed from the economic problems already noted by Carleen O'Laughlin (1959, 1962). Most recently, three Ph.D. dissertations mark the wave of graduate students doing research during the 1970s: Yolanda Moses on female statu s and male dominance (1976);

Lydia Pulsipher on the historical geography of the 17th Century (1977); and David Waters on archaeology (1980). Many o f these graduate students, including myself, have received a welcome cup of tea and valuable infor­ mation about local history and the archives from Mrs. Delores Somerville.

Her painstaking research in the local archives is recorded in five type­ scripts on file at the Montserrat Public Library (1969a, 1969b, 1969c,

1971, 1972, 1975).

All of the above mentioned research suffers from one severe limitation: the pertinent archives on Montserrat in London and in a widespread number of other places have not been adequately analyzed.

Officials on Montserrat have given only limited access to the archives lest the pages break and crumble. The archives need to be microfilmed and catalogued.

A second research limitation exists for anyone doing a parti­ cular study in the social sciences: there is no general and detailed history of the island nor a general and detailed ethnography. My study, like those before mine, is made without benefit of the complete archives and general survey works.

Within the lim ited scope of th is work and the archival m aterials available, I have been plagued by the question o f the value of th is work.

A narrative about the jombee dance might make an interesting human in­ terest story, but what is its value to an understanding of Montserratian culture and the broader problems of Afro-American research and the anthro­ pological study of ritual? In searching for the value of this work for understanding Montserrat, I have focused on the relationship of religion to cultural identity.

In 1977, Ramesh Deosaran of the University of the West Indies invited me to contribute an article on the relationship of religion and cultural identity. I responded with a work titled "Religion and

Cultural Identity: the Montserratian Case," which became part of a

Caribbean Issues special on the theme of co n flict and identity (Dobbin

1978:71). In the preface to that issue, general editor Esmond D. Ramesan commented that "Outside influences have brought about a revival of our concern with the question of identity. Because of our history and the diverse sources of our people, the issue concerns us" {1978: no page number). Such West Indian concern for identity and "roots," as well as my own probings on Montserrat, led me to explore more fully the problem of cultural identity. And it is not surprising that a student of the students of Herskovits should look for this identity fn religious institutions. The relationship of religion to

Montserratian cultural identity is a recurring question in my research.

In this dissertation, however, the question does not explicitly sur­ face again until the last chapter. The question itself is alive throughout the chapters of descriptive data and theoretical analyses, but the answer is given only in the final pages.

Also, the limited number of dance performances led me to investigate the reasons for its decline. I discuss this topic under the general heading of culture change, but limit speculation to the last chapter because lack of historical documentation renders any answer highly tentative. CHAPTER I: RELIGION ON MONTSERRAT

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

To the tourist and causal visitor, Montserrat might seem, at first glance at least, to be a charming little island living in the wake of an Anglo-Irish colonialism which eradicated any trace of African origins. Its inhabitants are predominantly Christian, and the churches are filled on Sunday. The causal observer would scarcely see parallels with Haitian Voudou, Trinidadian Shangoism, or Cuban Santeria. For the tourist, little of the African appears on the surface except for obvious pigmentation and an occasional name. Even during times of celebration, the musicians use European instruments (fife, concertina, and French reel) or recent Caribbean creations (steel drums), and the dancers perform a series of European quadrilles, waltzes, and schottishes. A more scrutinizing observation of the island's culture might also conclude that Monserrat is so

Westernized and Christianized that nothing remains of its African past or of a folk religion.

This initial impression is correct, as far as it goes. What most White expatriates and many educated Blacks do in fact see and hear are cultural elements of European and West Indian provenience.

During the Christman folk festival, both tourists and locals avidly gather at Sturge Park to watch masquerade dancers, costumed as

Grenadier Guards, perform English and French 19th Century quadrilles

6 to the music of a band composed of a fife or concertina, two flat drums, and a triangle. When the local folk singers perform, they appear in a West African and Trinidadian dress imported in the late

1960; they occasionally sing a tune which speaks of jombees or even obeah. But b e lie f in jombees and ritu a ls associated with th is b e lie f appear as relics of a bygone age. In fact, many Montserratians tell me that they have never seen the old ritual known as the jombee dance.

Several Montserratians interested in folklore admit that they first saw the dance when staged for public audience at the University Centre.

Recent statistics and the deep historical roots of the local

Christian Churches might also support the in itia l impression th a t any folk religion has been obliterated. The 1960 census lists only 81 people out of a total population of 12,167 as not having Christian religious affiliation (the remainder, according to West Indies Popu­ lation Census 1962 , are listed as having no religious preference).

Blucher comments that "It is not unrealistic to say that almost every

Montserratian is a church-going Christian" (1963:29). That statistic is not surprising, for Montserrat's Christian roots are old and deep.

Before African slaves were brought to the island, Leonard Calvert v isited a small Catholic community on Montserrat in 1633 (Demets

1980:23). Anglican ministers followed with the influx of English colonists and officials (Fergus 1975:26). The large Methodist churches and congregations date at least from the early 19th Century, and the

20th Century brought the rise of highly active Seven Day Adventists and Jehovah Witness congregations. Since World War II, small con­ gregations of Pentecostal Churches have arisen — especially in the North and in the area around Plymouth. My count in 1977 listed 37 different buildings marked as places of Christian communal worship — and this for a population of approximately 12,000 inhabitants. Little wonder tns% tne causal coserver and even tne trained graduate stuoent

(Blucher) would think that the Island is completely Christian.

Montserrat is, of course, highly Christianized. But as I heard more and more detail about obeah and jombees, I fe lt th a t there was something more tiàan what appeared on the surface and in the s ta ­ tistics. Other researchers and I found remnants of what may once have been a popular or folk religion in such customs as the now secularized dance form called the "drum dance," or in an occasional survival such as the Christmas setting of a special table for the jombees. But the consistent view of middle and high income

Montserratians was that the old folk religion died out, except for the occasional remnant in the drum dance or the jombee dance.

Several reasons could account for their view. First, it is possible that little or nothing really remains of a folk religion.

Second, it is also possible that middle and high income Montserratians have little or no experience with the folk religion either because it is performed secretly or has only a few remaining practitioners, or because its practice is limited to individuals of lower socio-economic sta tu s. This second reason would be more plausible were the day-to- day separation between the classes very large. Third, middle and high

Montserratians may deny or minimize the existence of the folk religion because i t is embarrassing to them as a sign of backwardness, pagan relapse, or superstition. My research confirms my first impressions: much does reinaiM of the folk relion, although this is rapidly disappearing. I am unable, on the other hand, to sort out the reasons why high and middle income Montserratians either have no or little experience of the folk religion or even deny its existence.

Perhaps I too would have written off the existence of a

Montserratian folk religion had I not listened quite by chance to the spontaneously presented story of a devout Anglican telling how he had tried to prevent a friend from practicing obeah and of both being apprehended by the law. I traced the story down in the police records and in the M agistrate's Court R egister, and there i t was:

(Name withheld) Convicted for practicing obeah on 12/6/1961 Sentenced for two months.. .Magistrate....

I moved back from the 1961 records to 1959:

Case #44 Informant/Complainant (sic): Assistant Superintendent of Police (Name and place withheld) On 3/23/59 Convicted, sentenced to two months (ille g ib le scratching follows) Money found on defendant is forfeited and forfeiture of implements of obeah ordered.

As I moved back in time, the number of offenses increased as did the severity of the punishment. From the Magistrate's Court Register for

D istrict One, the month of March, 1913:

(Name withheld) 2/3/13 Did practice obeah at his premises (place withheld) Section 7 of Act 6 of 1904 Leeward Islands Witnesses: (Names withheld) 6 strokes of the cat and 12 (at hard labor) 10

Those first clues from the archives convinced me that the folk religion must still exist beneath the surface of an overwhelmingly Christian influence. Slowly other bits of evidence emerged; rath er, I began to see what had been there all along. I now saw houses with all the window shutters and doors painted with crosses. Neighbors told me th a t was to keep evil jombees out of the house. I heard of obeah materials {magical substances) being sold in local apothecaries and at vendor stands. So, I asked to tuy "compelling powder" and "lavender scent" only to be greeted with embarrassed surprise and bewilderment.

Nurses and matrons from the hospital told me of terminally ill patients being carried out into the bush where dances were performed around them. A man asked me for magical books. People came to the presbytery asking for blessed medals and candles, which they insisted be blessed and for purposes patently magical. Now I was embarrassed to find myself trafficking in magical appurtenances. A man was lost in the h i l l s , and p latters of food were set out for the s p irits o f the jombees in order to persuade them to bring him back. I saw the lavish display o f food and drink set up before the midnight Mass "for the jombees to come and eat."

As the clues began to mount, so did my research problems: were these clues only the fragments of a folk religion which no longer existed as a coherent symbol system? Only at the end of my third field trip was I able to ascertain that this folk religion did, in fact, still exist, but with diminishing influence. As onë Montserratian n put i t , " le c tric ity come, dee jombees die." Thus began my study of the Montserratian folk religion. The following description is the outcome of th at research. I suspect th a t the resu lts w ill be con­ troversial because, as I have said, much of the ritual is performed semi-secretly or infrequently or because its existence is embarrassing.

THE FOLK RELIGION

I have already used the word "folk relig io n ." Continued use of the word requires some justification. First of all, the system of beliefs and practices I label as folk religion is definitely not

Christian. Although these practices do show traces of Christian in­ fluence, I have listened to local m inisters and bishops ra il against obeah practices and jombee b eliefs. Pentecostal preachers fre ­ quently call it the work of satan, and some local church-goers call it "foolishness." Clearly, therefore, these beliefs and practices are not, according to indigenous interpretation, Christian.

Nor can these beliefs and practices be simply and without qualification called African. Messenger is quite correct in saying that there are African retentions and reinterpretations (1973), but the overwhelming majority of elements, as I will show in the descriptive and analytic chapters, do not clearly show an African provenience.

What the Montserratian case does show is a cluster of spirit beliefs, rites of passage, crisis rituals, conjuring practices, magic, and a variety of magical-medicinal charms. The cluster exists in a highly Christianized country, but it is not part of the denominations 12 or the Pentecostal congregations. This religion appears to be what

Robert Redriedl calls the "Little Tradition;" the denominations with the backing of the law provide the "Great Tradition" (1953:228). I do not imply that Redfields' folk-urban construct is here applicable, and I see no need to introduce the Redfield-Lewis debate into the

Montserratian data (See Redfield 1940, 1947, 1953; Lewis 1951; Foster

1953; Kintz 1953, 1954). Suffice it to say, a parallel case exists on Montserrat, where the metropolitan religion exists alongside local variations and creations, as Redfield found in Yucatan. Both

Redfield and George Foster would identify the local variations with the term folk society or folk culture. Consequently, I feel justi­ fied in applying the term folk religion to the cluster of beliefs and practices I describe. It remains to be seen later if these folk beliefs form the coherent system of symbols meant by the word religion.

In any case, folk religion is only a term. The real problem is the relationship between the two trad itio n s — between the folk religion and the Christian denominations. I see three possible

relationships: (1) they blend together in syncretism; (2) they mutually but independently co-exist in parallelism; or (3) one

superficially overlays the more persuasive and deeper tradition in what I term s tr a tif ic a tio n .

Remembering Alfred Metraux's Interpretation of syncretism

in Haitian Vodu, I expected to find the syncretistic relationship

dominant on Montserrat (1972), but instead I found all three of 13 the relationships with no single one dominant. If found syncretism, for example, in the way certain Roman Catholics blend together the jombees with the poor souls in Purgatory. For some Catholics and

Protestants alike, altar candles, rosaries, and saints' medals become as potent obeah charms as the magical compelling powder.

I found parallelism , for example, in the separate and in­ dependent existence of both Christian and folk rituals. I was not infrequently surprised to find chief participants from the jombee dance also attending Sunday mass. An Anglican deacon told me the case of one gentleman who presented himself for confirmation and who was also widely known as an obeahman and practitioner of the magical arts. When the man came for the confirmation ceremony, the deacon laughingly told him that he would have to give up his obeah pot

(container with magical instruments and appliances. When I met the same gentleman, his obeah pot had been modernized in the form of a b rie f case. That he is an obeahman, I have no doubt. I s t i l l have a fixed (magical) ring which he gave me to protect me on a trip to Guadeloupe. I asked another practitioner of obeah if this man is really an obeahman. The respondent replied "Yes, for he go out at night to speak to his spirits" -- adding that he is now a "mess"

(that is, unable to do his work unable to function properly as an obeahman). Still another informant told me that the man is, in fa c t, an obeahman, but the jombees and he can not do much any more.

Of course, this is only one example, but I could cite others. The example does illustrate parallelism, for the man is both a professional 14 p ractitio n er of obeah and "on the church records."

More difficult to discover are examples of stratification, where a deep and more persuasive doctrine lie s beneath a superficial overlay from the denominations. Roman Catholics and Anglicans, for example, hold to a doctrine of "limited sacramentality;" that is, there are only a certain number of sacraments. Accordingly, the bread wafer used in Roman Catholic and Anglican Eucharist services

is kept in the church, even apart from times of the service, because the host or wafer is the Sacred Presence. But other items of ritual, although blessed for pious use, are not sacred in themselves: pictures, statues, medals, and crucifixes. To a lesser extent Methodists,

Baptists and Pentecostals also have a doctrine of limited sacra­ mentality. The word sacrament is rarely used in these traditions, but the Bible, considered as the word of God, is believed to bear the presence and revelation of Jesus to the listener and the reader.

In any case, the Great Tradition of the denominations limits the sacramentality of things. The Montserratian folk religion, on the other hand, extends sacramentality: all things are capable of either having or being charged with power. Folk belief accepts a universal

sacram entality in which everything in the universe can be "tran­

substantiated." i f you w ill. I have found th is view of universal

sacramentality widespread among participants in the folk religion.

Examples will be evident in the description of the jombee dance.

Sacramentality beliefs are a good example of how a deep stratum of

a broader and more general belief remains under the limited 15 sacramentality belief of the Great Tradition in the pattern I call stratification.

THE PARTICIPANTS

The Montserratian folk religion participants are definitely not as numerous as Voudou c u ltis ts in rural Haiti (Simpson 1941;

Herskovits 1937b), nor is th e ir membership as clearly defined as in the case of the St. Vincent's Shakers or the Trinidadian Shangoists

(Henney 1968, 1971, 1974; Simpson 1962, 1965). My research shows that only a few participate in the major, semi-public rituals (no more than three percent of the population). Fewer than 500 interviewees can remember participating in a jombee dance, for example. More Montserratians will admit to private practices of obeah in the secrecy of the home or to beliefs about the jombees.

Yet these same people are not, according to their testimony and my best knowledge, involved in the more public rituals such as the jombee dance. My one attempt at random sample interviewing just did not work with strangers, with whom I had little or no rapport and who were hesitant to speak with this Roman priest (on the limitations of my clerical position, the Appendix on Methodology). In describing the participants, therefore, I must limit myself to a profile only of the participants in the semi-public rituals.

They tend to be older, between 30 and 70. I say “tend to be older," because I often was unable to obtain exact ages and had to estimate. Some people did not know their precise age, and some 16 women did not want to tell their age, or the questioning took too much coaxing. I must add, however, that adolescents and young people were always present at the ritual and took an active part.

Never did I see an Infant or a preadolescent child at a jombee dance.

Leadership, sponsorship, and trance dancing In the jombee dance Include both sexes. Only the muslkers (instrumental musicians) of the jombee dance are exclusively male. Police and Magistrate's

Court records (the limited number available to me) show obeah arrests for both male and female practitioners, but male arrests outnumber female three to one. When Informants speak about the great obeahmen of the past, the names of both a particular man and a woman are often mentioned.

Perhaps with Redfield's folk-urban continuum in mind, I was prepared to find most participants In rural areas. On the contrary, I found many to be town dwellers. Certainly they are not all peasants (a topic to be discussed in the concluding chapter) but also include shopkeepers, government workers, domestics, and gardeners. I must, again, resort to the vague and non-stat1st1cal

"many" because more precise statistics would require creation of artificial boundaries for the sake of obtaining precise figures.

For example, I could not delineate what Is a town or a village: is

Gerald's Village of about 400 Inhabitants a town? What are its boundaries? Can it be separated from Gerald's Bottom? Moreover, any number of participants live In a town or village but work in fields or plots outside of town or in the hills. Nor could I pinpoint 17 centers of greater strength and vigor in the folk religion. The North is noted for having more dances annually, and, as far as I can determine, that is at present true. Nevertheless, I have attended several in the island's largest town, Plymouth.

With notable exceptions, participants are in the lower economic stratum. Few individuals have incomes of over $EC 1,000.00 per year

(Easter Caribbean Dollar in 1980 - approximately 2.50 $US). Some live in good-sized cement brick buildings with running water and inside toiletry, but it is difficult to impossible to determine if the financial outlay for these houses comes from personal industry or from remittances sent by sons and daughters in England, Canada, or the States.

To all appearances, leaders, sponsors, and participants are well-established figures in the villages. They appear to move about with great social ease and with at lease surface acceptance. I do not know the exact social standing of most, but some are well-known and much respected by their fellow Montserratians. They are not the village outcasts. Rather curiously, the outcasts who dabble in

the magical arts do not attend the jombee dances.

Participants are not highly secretive, although their beliefs

and paractices are open only to select eyes and ears when this can be

controlled. Perhaps this caution is because of the law, with arrests

for obeah as recent as 1961. I must confess that I, too, was anxious

about participating in the ritual. Before I left for my first dance,

I jokingly told the parish priest to bail me out if the constabulary 18 interrupted the affair. I could see the first page of next week's

Montserrat Mirror: "Priest-anthropologist Caught in Obeah Ritual."

Folk ritualists are at least occasional church-goers. I saw some in church, and I discreetly asked other clergy if they saw this, that, or the other person at their services recently. I always asked interviewees the last time they had been to church (admittedly, a very delicate question for one in my position). All but ten stated that they had been to church within the calendar year, but the figure is perhaps misleading because of the range of possible motives. I cannot distinguish whether the motive for attendance is worship or the paying of respects at a wedding or funeral.

Lastly, those who join in the ritual dance are not organized into a society or specially constituted group. They are really not organized at all except by the needs and necessity of the occasion

Commonly share beliefs and the need for mutual assistance bring to­ gether people who might have little other contact. The need for ritual specialists (musikers, dancers, and those adept in obeah) brings together people not related by blood or friendship. On the other hand, at the jombee dance ritual a body of kin and close friends always gathers to provide support for the sponsor. Sometimes the ritual specialists come from this kin and friendship group, and some­ times they do not. The curious composition of the group gathered for the dance clouds the clear-cut distinction between magic and religion. Bronislaw Malinowski speaks of magic as private and religion as public (1948:80f). But among those gathered for this dance are ly magical specialists who will perform and interpret in public, and

the entire dance is quasi-public, definitely not just a one-on-one,

professional to client, relationship. The dance occupies a twilight

region between magic and religion, for i t exhibits characteristics of both.

WORLDVIEW OF THE MONTSERRATIAN FOLK RELIGION

The fact that strangers and passing acquaintances as well as

kin and friends can come together for ritual indicates the existence

of certain operational assumptions or preconditions behind the ritual.

Mary Douglas suggests the presence of certain preconditions which

order experience and are made explicit in ritual, ritual being a

wordless channel of communication based on these preconditions (1970:

74). The ritualists I have described above operate on just such

assumptions, assumptions which need not be explicit and manifest to

them but which surface and are expressed in the ritual. But what

are these preconditions, and is precondition the proper name or

classification?

Behind the ritual itself, I do find a common corpus of

assumptions which become symbolically explicit or operative during

ritual enactments. Whether these assumptions are to be called simply

assumptions or a precondition for ritual or a mythology or a worldview

because they are, in this case, a cosmology or picture of the world

as well as a Weltanschauung or interpretation of the world. I do 20

not suggest, however, that this worldview, even considered as a

precondition, has necessary and causal priority over ritual. A

symbolic relationship is possible whereby the worldview is both

causal to and a product of ritual. Clyde Kluckhohn notes in his

general theory of myth and ritual that the only uniformity which

can be predicted is a strong tendency for some sort of interdepend­

ence (1942:45f/. My description of the Montserratian worldview is

a posteriori, that is, drawn from observation of the ritual. But

the Montserratians bring to the ritual beliefs which are a priori,

that is, existing prior to the ritual enactment. But from either

vantage point the assumptions can be seen as a worldview.

I have found eight categories to describe this worldview:

1. Spatially, the worldview speaks and deals with a universe

close-at-hand rather than a more cosmic universe of heavens, creation

myths, and world redeemers. The folk universe is not the Kantian

universe of the starry skies above and the moral law within, but

rather a world as close and confined as the 40 square miles of tiny

Montserrat. The folk universe is not that of the astronomer but

that of nearby human beings, spirits of the recent dead, plants,

trees, ponds, beaches, and mountains. It is the universe of im­

mediate Montserratian experience and pays little attention to the

remote cosmos of clouds, stars, moon, and constellations.

2. Furictionally, every particle of the universe close-at-

hand, so the temporal universe is not futurist, millenial, or

eschatological. Obeah and jombee rituals may look to past events 21 and project future hopes, but they emphasize present redress and action.

4. Demographically, the universe is populated by many spirits, ghosts, and uncategorized superhuman beings. Unlike the

Christian God the Father and Jesus who are often described as distant figures, these folk spirits are close-at-hand. They are seen by the living, and they appear in dreams. They speak with some people and even walk with others.

Most prevalent are the jombees who are also considered close-at-hand, either because they are, as good spirits, the identifiable, recently deceased kin, or because, as spirits causing evil, their effects are only too close. Whether working for good or evil, the jombees are people oriented. Their sphere of activity is the good and evil of individuals; they are not anti-institutional.

I have never heard of jombees fighting any institution (government, church, organizations), for they fight on a one-to-one basis.

Other spirit beings also populate the folk universe. The suckra appears as a skin-shedding vampiress, comparable to "Ole

Hige," a sort of vampire that haunts the hovels and is seen gliding along the roads at night in a fiery glow, according to Joseph

Williams' description of Jamaican folk beliefs (1934:156). The jabless (= diablesse?) is male or female, but, like the suckra, is capable of transforming appearances and is hardly benevolent —

"jabless blow you 'way like the whirlwind." I heard a variety of

views concerning the appearance and behavior of these two beings. 22

Shadows are close to the European concept of soul. I was frequently told that everyone has two shadows: the "dead" one goes into the grave and waits until judgment day, and the live shadow becomes a jombee. "If you see jombee, you see live shadow; other shadow be in grave." Other informants said that the dead shadow becomes the jombee. I also once heard of a "kill-debil," but was chagrined to find out from a local planter, Paul Hollander, that it was only rum distilled from the dregs of the sugar cauldrons.

I found another being, "something like a sp irit," whose identity and behavior are difficult to assess. The Jack-o-Lantern

(or Jack Lantern) is, in the words of one Montserratian:

Like big debil business.. .when develop is a big light me see from Barzie Mill to top of hill...flam e of fire, big, big. Something like a sp irit. When you have to fun from it , crow like a cock to make it disappear. Trails you. If i t blows on you, blows you away and you can't be found. I see but never get near, praise the Lord.

The origin of the Jack-o-Lantern is most probably Irish, the name still being found in the Aran Islands and associated with the fairies (Messenger, personal communication).

But it is the jombees, not the Jack Lantern or other beings, who are important. I heard little about the Jack Lantern, the suckra, and the jabless, the latter two being thought to come from

Dominica and the "Frenchee Islands."

5. Institutionally, organized agencies such as government and the churches play little role in the folk religion, except through 23 active opposition. If the arrest records are any indication, the government has ceased to prosecute under the Obeah Act of the Leeward

Islands ( Cap, 55, Revised Laws of Montserrat 1959: 527-529). I know of no active program of opposition from the denominations such as that conducted in this century against Haitian Voudou by the

Roman Catholic hierarchy.

6. Holistically related universe: the worldview of the

Montserratian folk religion defies the dualistic classifications so popular in the Christian denominations. Heaven and earth are not neatly dichotomized, nor are nature and supernature, human and divine, God and man, animate and inanimate, sacred and profane.

The universe is not monistic, that is, composed of a single under­ lying element or substance, but it is holistic; that is, all of the elements are related and intertwined. This belief is a corrolary to the one I already described, wherein every particle of the cosmos is capable of being transformed for good or evil. Because the

Montserratian sees all things as filled with power which transcends the categories of time and space, animate and inanimate, animal and human, the compartmentalizing or dichotomizing of life elements is thus foreign. Even the separating of various life-aspects — such as humor, worship, medicine, entertainment, and friendship — is not characteristic of the folkview. The description of the jombee dance ritual will show how all of these aspects are accepted parts of this same ritual. 24

7. Optimistically viewed universe: despite a host of economic problems — including destructive hurricanes, drought, low prices for agricultural products, high unemployment, poor health care, and the like — Montserratians view their universe close-at-hand as essentially beneficent. The universe is not merely neutral with the possibility of becoming good through obeah or ritual, but is basically good with elements of manageable evil.

8. Validating this worldview: participants do check aspects of this worldview. They check to see if the jombees help, if obeah does work for them, and if the jombee-possessed dancers do tell an accurate prediction or "surprise." They may question the powers of a particular obeahman or a given obeah cure, bit failures rarely lead to radical questioning of the magical foun­ dations of their worldview. "Secondary elaborations" can rationalize and cover any failure, but, of course, this validating process is hardly scientific. As a typical case in point, a Montserratian lawyer told me of once defending a famous obeahman in the 1960s

(although this took place on a neighboring island). The obeahman

got off on a technicality and, being an invalid, was carried on a

litte r in triumph from the court, giving loud testimony to the power of his obeah. The acquitted obeahman was'.quickly able to pay the

legal fee, thanks to new clientele impressed with his recent show

of magical power. 25

Rare is the ethnographer who can approach a folk worldview without preconceptions. I personally approacheo the problem in a sort of inner-dialogue between the folk-emic and the scientific-etic.

Is the folk worldview I have here described simply a pre-scientific cosmology or mythology, as the religious rationalist might assert?

If the worldview is not subject to the procedures of experiments which recreate and test and to the rules of scientific segregation of couses, then it must be pre-scientific. Or is the worldview, as the romantic might suggest, a transnational expression of valuable folk wisdom about personal support systems and the relationship to nature? I suggest in later chapters that the folk universe is both pre-scientific and valuable wisdom. I will outline there the positive contributions of the ritual for emotional release, advice and counsel, healing, mutual aid, and artistic expression in music, dance, and drama. But such positive contributions do not eliminate the very real pre-scientific elements. The reality behind the symbol contains wisdom and expresses much of the traditional value system, but some of the positive contributions will be countered by negatively dysfunctional elements, such as exploitation, dominance by charlatans, and social disruption. Still and all, beneath the pre-scientific picture of the world (cosmology) is a value-oriented view of the world (Weltanschauung). 26

WHERE EXPRESSION OF THIS WORLDVIEW IS FOUND

1. Obeah practice

A definition of obeah is now in order= The generallyagreed origins of the word are African, but agreement ceases at that point.

Joseph J. William cites the Ashanti term Obayifo, which means a witch, or a hag, or a wizard, as the rootword (1970:120).

Williams' understanding of the word is, unfortunately, marred by his belief that historically neglected distinctions should determine later definitions (1970 passim). He argues that obeah was originally

Ashanti witchcraft which was essentially antagonistic to myalism.

Myalism, in turn, made one of its chief objects the "digging up" of obeah objects (1970:213). Williams thinks that after emancipation, on Jamaica at least, anti-witchcraft myalism disappears and is assumed by the witchcraft-oriented obeahman. Thus, the obeahman assumes the dual role of the benevolent myalist by day and the evil obeahman by night: "the fact remains that actually the forces of Myalism and

Obeah today have generated into a form of witchcraft not infrequently associated with devil worship" (1970:236). Williams concludes that it is a common mistake to classify obeah as the use of protective charms, because they are the product of the obeahman actually working in the capacity of a myalman. Although Williams considers protective amulets a myalism assumed by latter day obeahmen, Captlan J. G. Stedman, writing in 1796 apd describing a captured rebel Surinam slave, observed a "superstitious obi a or amulet tied about his neck, in which he 27 places all his confidences" (1796: Vol. II, 89). Elsewhere Stedman repeats that "amulets are obeahs which the rebels believe make them invulnerable" (1796: Vol. II, 138).

If both the origins of the word and its meaning are confusing,

Renzo Sereno adds to the confusion, saying that the origin is

Gullah and the meanings should be defined according to the Obeah

Act of the Leeward Island Statutes, which Act he proceeds to quote:

any person who pretends or professes to tell fortunes or uses any subtle craft, means or devices,by palmistry or otherwise, or pretends to cure injuries or diseases or to intimidate or effect any purpose by means of any charm, incantation or other pretended supernatural practices ----- (The Federal Act of the Leeward Islands, 1927, Vol. 1, Chapter 64, Obeah Act of August 1904. Amended December 1932, as quoted in Sereno 1948:16).

Martha Beckwith offers an even broader definition: obeah is merely sympathetic magic (1929). Messenger also finds an associate with magic. He traces the word origin to an Ibibibo word meaning

"practitioner of." "The abia ibok is the worker of magic and the abia idionq the diviner among the Ibibio-speaking people" (1962:283).

Looking more to its current use, Joseph G. Moore identifies obeah as a West Indian-African word for "power" (1965:66).

I am not surprised that the experts disagree, for I could find no agreement among those Montserratians who are associatedwith the practice of obeah. On Montserrat, as elsewhere in the West Indies, there are several terms for the practitioner of folk religion: obeahman. doctor (doctorman, bush doctor), fortune teller, and scientist. The titles of obeahman and doctor tend to be used interchangeably. One 28 of the most famous Montserratian obeahmen of the century is alternately referred to as doctorman and obeahman. By and large, those on Montserrat designated as obeahmen or doctormen use things (compelling powder, dragon blood) and mandatory ritual to achieve results. Sometimes the infusions and potions they use may have real medicinal value.

Sugar Apple leaves (Annona squamosa) are used to make a tea against colds, flu, and coughs. Lignum vitae bark is made into a drink for indigestion called mabi; it is also used to treat gout, rheumatism, and venereal disease. Maiden Apple (Momordica charantia) is offered for everything from fever to diabetes, and a combination of its leaves, flowers,and fruits is used to induce abortion. Thus, along with the somewhat dubious potions such as compelling powder (whole sparrow bird, parched, ground fine, and sprinkled with perfume), is a pharmacopia which helps the obeahman to be known as a bush doctor.

Today, however, one finds bush doctors or specialists in herb tea who are not known as obeahmen but who also do offer magical potions for better love and financial fortune. On Montserrat, there is a consistent distinction made between the obeahman/doctorman and the scientist. The scientist relies heavily on the cabalistic literature such as The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses (no date), published by the De laurence Company of Chicago, known locally as the "De Laurence

Company Books." One gentleman who describes himself as a scientist and not as an obeahman says:

I have read a lot of books written by occult scientists; we draw symbols and words from the ancient Egyptians which would cast away or protect from the evil influence. Sixth 29

and Seventh Books of Moses do not help much. Help only a master or adept. The naive medium not able to operate that book. They use Black Herman or Seven Steps to Power and The Seven Keys to Power.

That distinction between the scientist's use of the medieval magic books and the obeahman's use of potions is clear-cut, but then scientists will on occasion make potions and the obeahman will con­ duct a cabalistic seance. A self-claimed scientist mixed a potion for what he called my depression (actually I was recovering from dysentery), while a widely-acclaimed obeahman conducted a cabalistic seance for me to determine my future as a "professorman."

The fortune te lle r category only adds to the confusion.

Some obeahmen do te ll fortunes by cards and omens. Other people specialize in listening to a problem, going home, sleeping/dreaming about the problem, and then bringing back the results. They are called the dreamers, sometimes also known as fortune tellers. But, here again, there is no clear distinction between the obeahman, the scientist, and the fortune teller. I suggest that the inability to distinguish the professionals (that is, those practicing for pay) reflects the lack of a clear definition of obeah. This problem

leads back to Beckwith's broad and general definition of obeah as mostly magic; but, in reality, obeah is more thatn just sympathetic magic. The following story from an informant perhaps better illustrates

the broad range of phenomena embraced by the term obeah than any con­

struct definition. This is an account about the informant's frenzied

sister and their encounter with an obeahman (from notes partially in 30 dialect and partially in Standard English):

Der be famous obeahman, (name withheld). He work for me. Have sister sick once. Jombee on me sister, a man-jombee sp irit. She run away sick. Hospital doctor say nothing, say need Black doctor like (name withheld). Sister wild. Six men not stop she. Six men tied her up and she break out. Obeahman make something in vial to carry to her. Me go with vial and as told me make "X" on my forehead and sprinkle some on her after men catch her. She scream "I Budjo (Cudjoe?). I dead now, I dead now, I dead now. Me Budjoe, me Budjoe." Budjoe was obeahman from Baker Hill. He tell her to follow men, and she follow. He send me to sea for one bottle from river, and then some other weeds. He then take book and four candles and his skull and make circle with chalk,on floor. Make "X" inside and tell her to stand there. She go on "Oh Lord, ah dead, Budjoe, me Budjoe." He tell her to take off clothes and bathe in stuff from vial. She fall on bed and sleep. He give her a guard round waist made of bone, acifetita, powder, thirdpiece, and some of her hair. When she hab" sex wif husband take off but never otherwise. He charged me 16 pound. I be 28 then. He die in Antigua.

That narrative, which is rather typical, illustrates not only the wide range of operations included under obeah but also the nature of the folk worldview. An evil spirit or jombee possesses the girl, and her brother seeks out an obeahman for a cure. The obeahman and the jombees struggle in a one-on-one fight. It is the close- at-hand universe of person to person, herbal-like cures taken from the nearby ponds, river, and the sea. It is an optimistically viewed universe where the failure of modern medicine can be corrected by the obeahman who knows how to manipulate the powerful charges of elements in nearby nature. If the reader concludes that there is little different in Montserratian obeah from that on other west Indian islands, the judgment is accurate. As I read evidence for Jamaica as cited by

Beckwith, Williams, Hogg, and Barrett, or that for Haiti and Trinidad 31 from Herskovits and Simpson, I see obvious parallels.

2. Aphorisms and folk stories

I found very few sayings or aphorisms. Perhaps they are there, but my collecting techniques failed to uncover them. Those

I did find mostly deal with the devil, thus suggesting a Christian origin, and are attributed to well known deceased Montserratians.

For example, on several occasions I heard "Feed dee debil, but wi' a long spoon," attributed to the beloved Methodist lay preacher of

Cabal la Hill, Thomas O'Garra. Several elements in that aphorism exemplify what I have already said concerning the Christian in­ fluence and the folk universe. First, talk of the devil or satan is prominent in the Christian Churches, especially in the Pentecostal

Churches, but the devil is rarely mentioned in other Montserratian folklore or in the lyrics of the dance tunes, nor does he figure in obeah or the jombee dance ritual. Second, the devil, in the saying quoted above and in others, does not appear as the horrendously terrifying figure of, for example. The Epistle of Peter, where he

"prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour"

(I Peter 4:8), The devil in Montserratian sayings has more of the trickster character and is comparable with the folklore character to be described later, Bo-Ananci. The devil is here not like satan

in The Book of Job, who watches the affairs of man from above and at

a distance. The devil here is more like the close-at-hand jombees and Bo-Ananci. This Montserratian devil is close enough to feed.

He is not the Christian source of evil, for he lives within the 32 intimacy of the Montserratian countryside.

Stories about the trickster figure, Bo-Ananci (also pronounced

Bo-Nanci) also illustrate the folk worldview. I knew that the African spider-trickstsr is found on other Caribbean islands: the Anansi stories of Jamaica (Beckwith 1924} and the Compere Ananci of the

Grenadian Tim Tim tales (Steele and St. John, n.d.). But I was surprised to find them on Montserrat, since my initial questioning about them drew only a blank look or the response that "dey die out with older folk." But persistence paid off, and one by one Bo-Ananci stories began to surface, first in fragments and then in story-length versions. In fact, some of the most animated and spirited folklore renditions which I now have on video tape are of informants imitating the various characters of the Bo-Ananci stories. The stories are too long to be included here, and they lose much of their life and drama in typewritten form. Many younger Montserratians are not familiar with this link to their African and Caribbean heritage. When I heard a local radio announcer reading over the air Ananci stories from

Jamaica, I asked him why he did not use Montserratian ones. Though a native Montserratian, he said that he did not know there were any on the island. Interestingly, this is a good example of the re­ vitalization of ancient lore by modern media borrowings.

The details of the Bo-Ananci stories, like the obeah practice and the aphorisms, reflect the Montserratian folk worldview. The creatures and settings are the close-at-hand universe of this island.

The brothers ("Bo") are the little creatures found in houses and in 33 the countryside: Bo-Cricket, Bo-Cockroach, Bo-Rabbit (not found wild, unless confused with the Agouti), Bo-Hawk, and the spider figure, Bo-Ananci. They are all humanlike in their behavior: they like a good party, a good dance, a few healthy shots of rum, and good food. They lie, cheat, and are cheated. They work on a one-to-one basis, for, like the jombees, they do not deal with organizations, groups, or institutions. The morals of the stories almost always portray an optimistically viewed universe where chicanery, trickery, and evil are eventually discovered and punished.

The stories do not begin with the classic mythological beginning of in illo tempore, or with the more familiar "once upon a time." They are told in an almost timeless present, reflecting the present- existential time frame of the Montserratian folk universe. Finally, these stories show a holistic view of life. Humor, entertainment, moral values, and ancient traditions come together in the dramatic flow of each story.

3. Music

Folk tunes and accompanying lyrics are more widespread on this island than are either aphorisms or Ananci stories. Many of these tunes and verses are called "jombee dance tunes," ("tune" may refer to melody or words) because they were and are performed at the dance ritual. I have collected over 40 sets of words for the different tunes and have found fragments of another 20 sets.

Despite the richness of these collected data, I enter the world of Montserratians music with some hesitancy. First of all. 34

Montserratians love this music and are proud of it as an expression of their cultural identity. Everyone seems to be an expert on the subject. I have witnessed many an altercation or good fight over the proper rendition of a given tune or set of verses. Second, many tunes and lyrics have been put on choral and orchestrated recordings by the Emerald Community Singers under the direction of

George Irish. These phonograph discs show the high quality of musical tradition on Montserrat, as seen in the popularity of the recordings with both local residents and tourists. Yet the tunes which I hear on these records are strikingly different from the same tunes I hear at the actual jombee dances. The recordings claim to be "the folk pulseof the island" and "to capture and interpret the folk experience of children's games, jumbie dances and masquerade rhythms" (Emerald Community Singers 1975: record jacket). The local recording group has, in fact, captured actual folk tunes and verses, but their choral arrangements and instrumentation are highly in­ terpretive and thus, in my opinion, one step removed from authentic folklore expression. This statement probably will raise controversy with music enthusiasts. On the other hand, the interpretations by the Emerald Community Singers may be but a new stage in the on-going creativity of Montserratian folk music.

The search for folk tunes and verses was aided by two valuable resources. Messenger is the first, for he was the first researcher to publish renditionsof the local folk tunes and lyrics. One which he found may well be the oldest folk account of Montserratian history. 35

"Nincom Riley" or "Come First of August," which describes Nincom

Riley’s reading of the Emancipation Proclamation (1973:55). The second resource is the collection and analysis of folksongs pre­ pared by native Montserratian Anne Marie Dewer for her undergraduate honors thesis at the University of the West Indies (1977, typescript in the Montserrat Public Library). She analyzes over 20 sets of lyrics and, most importantly, reconstructs their historical back­ ground through her 14 informants. I have used her material to cross­ check my own recordings and transcriptions.

The contents of the verses in my collection fall into two broad categories. Group one describes historical events or the escapades of historical figures on the island, while group two describes more general aspects of life on Montserrat. Both groups amply illustrate the folk worldview.

Group one includes historical events, although exact dates and the like may be lacking. "Nincom Riley" recounts the first of

August 1834, when approximately 900 Montserratians became free as one of their number, Nincom Riley, read the proclamation:

De fus' o' Agus' is cum 'gin Hurrah fo' Nincom Riley Hurrah fo' Nincom Riley If buckra nack, me nack 'ee 'gin Hurrah fo' Nincom Riley

"To Panama we go" may reflect the migration of Montserratians in the 1900s to the Panama Canal construction. And "All de relief," according to Dewer, reflects the favoritism in the distribution of relief after the 1924 hurricane: 36

All de relief dem sen' from town All de relief dem sen' from town Some git some, an' some git none

"Run Ben Dyer run" te lls of an episode when one Ben Dyer from the south of the island was the cause or the occasion of a near riot in the 1920s, The details of the story vary from in­ formant to informant, but i t is quite clear that Ben Dyer was a real Montserratian put on the run by the law. I suspect that the ever popular "Sell off yo' Ian'" speaks of the land grabbing of small plots that took place between World War I and II, or it may refer to the selling of homes and land during the peak migrations y-ars of the 1960s. Occasionally I even found lyrics about people whom informants said they had known. "Mice, John Fergus," names an obeahman whose deeds were within memory of several older

Montserratians.

The second category of verses expresses the concerns and foibles of everyday life. Unlike the previous category, these cannot, and perhaps need not, be pinned down to a particular his­ torical event. Some verses which include surnames may have originally referred to particular individuals and incidents, but those details are now lost to my informants. This category divides into five, somewhat overlapping, sections: moralizing, love end courtship, work and livelihood, amusing incidents, and obeah.

Some lyrics carry a moral which few Montserratians would disagree with — such as "When yo' wake a' morn'n" (tell your neighbor good morning) — a simple but straight-forward bit of advice. More complicated are the words to "Me paddle me own conoo." 37

In the version sung by the Emerald Community Singers, the dust jacket of the record explains that "A man issues a warning to his woman who assumes the role of the idle rich lady" (1975). Dewer uses that version in her rendition of the words:

You 'na house a cak up you foot You tink me go wuk fo' you? Me no ha' for' badoo me head Me paddle me own conoo

Tra la la la Tra la la la Tra la la la, la la la

Me no hab' fo' worry me head Me paddle me own conoo Me mamy dead, an' me dady dead Me paddle me own conoo.

I have found other versions,but they too speak of man's problem with women. One version changes the entire scene and unequivocally pro­ claims the bliss of male independence: "Me paddle me own conoo; me hab' no wife to worry me life."

Many verses sing of love and courtship. "Neddy" (="Billy

Ned") sings of a two-timer caught between his women in the north and south of the island. "Buddy Tarm" records the chiding an old gentle­ man receives from the villagers for his courtship of a young girl.

Of course, there are verses about love lost, as in "Duberry gone" and perhaps in "Tell me woman no bawl." "destina" is also heard on Trinidad and elsewhere in the West Indies, and may simply relate the problem of a less than beautiful-faced girl finding a husband, or, as one informant suggested, the two-fold problem of an ugly face and a record for prostitution: 38

Go 'way Jestina Who goin to marry to yo' Wid yo' face like a whale And yo' just come out o' jail

"Betty Martin" te lls of the girl who goes back home to mother, and

"Fan me sergeant" relates the problems of courting a police sergeant.

Verses in the love and courtship category do frequently

reflect, as may be evident by now, a male bias or orientations, but an occasional tune te lls the female side, as in "Sweet hand'some"

(= "Sweet Charlie"). But, by and large, when the verses speak of

a relationship problem, the origin is female.

Another category of daily life verses describe work and

subsistence problems. "Farm Bay, bad bay" tells of laborers

losing lunch while working on the estate at Farm Bay. "Da man from

farm" also reflects the problems of field labor, and "Penny a day"

could refer to the low wages for backbreaking field work.

Yet another category deals with obeah and jombee dances,

such as "Mice dee bad man, hich John Fergus" or "Tell Tony Red

Ants, nebber mind." "Me Valla" narrates the frustration of a

father who has called a jombee dance to cure the obeah-caused

swelling of his daughter's stomach, only to discover that she is

merely pregnant. "Carry me a law" also describes the charges of

obeah and counter-obeah.

The category of amusing incidents is really a residual

category. Here I place "Bulldog," a song about the ever present

barking dogs in the villages, and "Fire dey a nort," which tells

of the bush fires in the hills. "Telecuma" records the exploits

of a run-away slave and also preserves one of the few African names 39 left on Montserrat. As I sorted out the different versions in this residual category, especially verses which appear in the highly spontaneous music of the jombee dance, I found considerable vari­ ation and perhaps on-the-spot improvisation. Not infrequently, bawdy and explicitly sexual references emerged during the dances which Dewer and the Emerald Community Singers recorded in more respectable words.

I cannot leave this final category without including the verse which I heard played more often and at more jombee dances than any other tune or verse — "Rum done." The verses are simply and completely the monotonously repeated words of the title , and the message is equally simple: the party or dance is still going strong but the liquor has run out.

Whatever categories I or other investigators may devise for these verses, all speak from the world of everyday existence: of hopes and failures in love, of working for poor wages of barking village dogs, of police sergeants, and common island surnames ,

Lee, Fergus, Dublin). Sickness, love, obeah, alcohol, stealing, and

flirting are themes which flow in and out of these verses.

It is not surprising that a collection of lyrics which embraces

everything from historical events to ordinary day-to-day problems

should also be multi-purpose. I mean by that, that particular lyrics

are used on a variety of occasions. I have heard songs described as

jombee dance tunes and others as quadrilles for masquerade dancing

or entertainment. But the so-called jombee dance tunes are played

by the Christmas masqueraders, and the masquerade and quadrille 40 tunes, but the fact is that they are played Interchangeably at both occasions. True, certain lyrics tend to be favorites of the string

bands (guitars and ukeleles), but there are no rigid or clear-cut

lines for use.

The multiple use of the folk tunes reflects an economy of

folk expression: a single body of melodies and verses is used to

cover a multitude of occasions, from conjuring (summoning of spirits

by magical means) and divining in a jombee dance to the entertainment

and show of couples dancing the quadrilles or even Christmas masquer­

aders parading down the village streets. The use of such a wide

range of topics also reflects another aspect of the folk universe:

its holism. Jombees and lovers, humor and fear, religion and enter­

tainment blend together in a typically Montserratian unity.

Before leaving this topic, I should include at least a note

concerning two types of lyrics for which I have thus far found only

fragments. In the first group are lullabies, and in the second

group are the songs reportedly sung to lull the oxen in the fields

and at the crushing mills.

4. Ritual expression

If songs are the voice of the Montserratian worldview, then

ritual is its gesture. These rituals do not, in general, implore

the intercession of distant and omniscient powers, and they do not

use ritual paraphernalia other than elements of the countryside

itself. The ritual expression, like the songs, acts out its symbol

in a familiar world.

I am not surprised to find water a frequent ingredient in 41 ritual. When standing atop the island mountains, I could see the expanse of the Caribbean surrounding that tiny nodule of land. I heard stories but never witnessed ritual procession to the sea for a ceremonial washing with sea water. At least three sweetwater ponds on the island are noted for curing and divining properties, and adepts in obeah and bush medicine take their clients to these ponds for a washing in bush medicine and pond water. Certain people, not necessarily those known as obeahmen, are asked by ailing ac­ quaintances to lead them to such ponds and there make the magical infusions and baths. Although I accidentally interrupted one such ritual, I was never invited to one. The rituals are highly in­ dicative of the folk universe: a pilgrimage to close and familiar sites such as the sea or enchanted ponds. Bush medicine and magical infusions blend together in a holistic worldview that does not separate magic, medicine, and religion. The jombees or spirits of the dead who haunt these enchanted areas are helpful, close- at-hand spirits.

The setting of the jombee table is another ritual which expresses much of the folk universe. This ritual is an elaborate setting of food and drink on a household table. It is set either on Christmas Eve or before the beginning of a jombee dance. The

Christams table setting is food and drink for the jombees or "dee dead" — more specifically the deceased ancestors of the household.

Here is one indigenous description and interpretation:

On Christmas Eve, people usually make up a dinner from fish, fried and boiled, then a little fry meat, and a little boiled meat, and some people would have any pickled stuff 4Z

like they call it mackerel or herring, and they dress it up nicely. Then cornmeal. Cook cornmeal and call it "corn koo koo" or "turn corn," and they boil it nicely and they cook a little rice.That table laid on Christmas Eve night, and the dead, the departed, is suspected to come in and have a feast. They call them the jombees. Every­ thing nice with tablecloth and all. Have nice cakes also, some casaba bread, then they have s kind of cake not .made with eggs but only sugar and flour and spice, and they call it a four cornered cake. And then they have a bun and they have a kind of cake. Do not forget what is called dee rum. A bottle of rum, a bottle of wine, of course, those liquids will be used then by those living people too. It's put there first so that the departed dead going to make of it first. Protestants and Anglicans and us Catholics used to do it too. They consider it a tradition, no consider it do any harm. My parents used to do it, but when I got married I never did.

The food and drink on the table are what many a Montserratian would consider the elements of a festive meal. The fancy cakes can be seen baking in the old stone ovens before Christmas. The meats and fish are a luxury for low income Montserratians, but

again, all of the ingredients can be found in local shops. The symbols of the jombee table are very familiar indeed.

Precisely how both the living and the dead partake of the table is uncertain. One gentleman and his wife described the setting

of their jombee table while their daughters listened. Both daughters

laugh!ingly told him that he set it out for the jombees but ate

the food himself. His answer was somewhat befuddled, but I caught

his repeated response that at least an offering of respect had been

made.to the dead of the family. He found it difficult to answer his

daughter's skepticism, but her questions did not change his belief.

Another Montserratian told me that the jombees did eat, but the

food would remain seen by our eyes. Perhaps unwisely, I asked if 43 jombees ate the soul of the food, and if the body was le ft for the living to consume. He replied "Sure, is way can be." I fear he graciously consented to my clear-cut distinction from sheer courtesy, and additional probing showed that he was quite unfamiliar with the distinction. Douglas M. Taylor coimnents that in Dominica a feast for the family dead is prepared and left throughout the night of

All Souls. The food is eaten but "is said to have been insipid because its essence already had been consumed by the dead" (1951;

126). And among the Black Carib of British Honduras offerings are also made to the souls of the family dead and then eaten by the living descendants because the spirits consume only the soul of the food and drink (1951: 127). In any case, whatever the skepticism surrounding the Montserratian jombee table setting, it is within the familiar folk universe of a meal, a festive meal with good food and drink, a meal which links together "dee loving dead" of recent memory and the living household.

Jombee food and sacrifices are occasionally either buried or placed along roadsides in a display far less elaborate than the jombee table. I know of cheese, rum, and yellow figs (bananas)

buried in yards so that the "spirits come and eat dat food." Here

again, the spirits are thought to respond to the same food and drink which the living enjoy.

Even the wake rituals reflect a very familiar and close-at-

hand universe. After three interviews, one Montserratian became

exasperated by my request for detail about the wake ritual. He 44 gave me what he considers "de whole matter: what you wake, you must put to sleep, and what you put to sleep, you must keep "sleep." In other words, the deceased at a funeral must be put to rest and assurances sought that he or she will stay at rest. If conjuring or obeah brings back the dead, then conjuring and obeah put it back into the grave. Practices surrounding the wakes and burials are either a means of putting to rest the dead or occupying the thoughts of the living, for if the ritual performed during that time is not adequate, the dead will return on the "rising night," which is either given as the third or ninth night after the burial.

A West Indian Clergyman related to me the following story which his grandmother told him and which he was inclined to believe.

He prefaced the story by saying that "We must no fool our people telling them that there are no jombees, because there are good and eveil spirits." Here is the story:

My littl e sister had a problem from birth; she could not make saliva. People tried to cure it by putting the bitter aloes on her lips to induce saliva, but this did not work, and the little girl, Othelia, died. Now there is a folk belief that when a tiny child dies, the spirit leaving the body can be persuaded to carry out one's wish. So, my grandmother, who was going blind, bent down at the foot of the dead child and asked, "Thelie, you must make grandmother's eyes better." She had forgotten about her request when, on rising night, she fe lt something like spiders crawling about her face. She quickly brushed it away only to smell immediately the strong, strong smell of aloes. The little had come back and grandmother had chased her away.

The ritual to prevent just such rising and waking of the dead is an interesting example of the parallelism of Christian and folk beliefs. The underlying concern with putting to rest the dead may also be an example of what I call stratification, whereby a folk 45 belief pervades the Christian overlay. Here is the sequence of events

I observed at one funeral. I did not see all of the wake.

Burial is, by law and custom, within 24 hours of death, and, until the opening of Glennon Hospital in 1978, there were no embalming facilities on the island. Embalming is still exceptional.

Sometimes the body of the deceased is washed soon after death, and sometimes it is washed more ceremoniously with bush teas at mid­ night. In this particular case, there was no embalming, and the washing took place shortly after death, about noon. By the time that

I arrived at 4:30 P.M., hymns were being sung in the house of the deceased. I could see the body in a plain, wooden coffin in the bedroom. The hymns were sung only until midnight, when all Christian ceremony vanished as folk games and.songs took over.

The songs and games were led by a local villager who is well known for spirited leading of these affairs. He was introduced to me as the "boss of it all." The games are round-robin types,

played by the mourners and relatives at the home of the deceased.

The songs are half-recited, half-sung rhymes which coordinate with

clapping, intricate movements of the hands, and sometimes the passing

of a whip or some other article. When a mourner misses a verse or

makes the wrong hand movement, he or she receives a "lick," a lash

of the whip. Three of the ditties used are "Able Cable," "Everybody

coming up," and "Erin's band." As I watched the group, I sensed a

feeling of real entertainment and enjoyment. The presence of the

deceased with the candles surrounding his coffin in the next room

was hardly noticed, except for an occasional song or lullaby sung 46 to or for him. I was surprised to hear one participant break into the softly sung verses of "Sweet Charlie" with obvious gestures towards the body. At the first sign of light, the mourners headed back to their homes to wash, put on "Sunday clothes," and prepare for the funeral.

Between the breakup of the wake and the funeral, several events occurred which I was later told of but did not see. Grains of peas and corn were placed in the coffin before it was sealed.

This is done so that the dead do not come back to disturb the living, for they now have to stay under the soil in order to plant and plant those seeds. In a similar way and for a similar purpose, bay sand, the black sand of the Montserratian beaches, is secretly sprinkled around the grave so that the deceased, before returning to disturb the living, will have to count every grain of sand.

Other practices, which did not take place at this funeral may be performed to insure the non-return of the dead.. Crosses, made from the wood of the coffin, are placed on the cornices of the house to prevent return, or, where the spirits have returned to their own homes, crosses are painted in whitewash on the doors and shutters.

By nine o'clock, I could see many of the wake mourners returning in procession with the coffin and moving toward the church.

At this point, the folk ritual disappeared and the ritual turned

High Church Anglican. The procession down the road had six people in front of a flat-bed truck carrying the coffin, and 20 to 30 people followed. Most of the women were immaculately dressed in white hats. 47 blouses, skirts, and shoes, while most of the older men were in dark suits and ties and younger men and boys in dark trousers wtth white open collar shirts. These clothes are the same Sunday dress I see them wearing at this same church. The procession halted at the churchyard gate, and the Anglican priest emerged from the church building to meet the procession. He came with a crossbearer, an elderly sacristan in a black cassock, and two young acolytes in red cassocks and white surplices. After a prayer, he and the servers led the body and the mourners into the church. From my vantage point on the hill above the church I heard the hymns and after 45 minutes the procession again emerged and filed out to the cemetery which is continuous to the church building. Prayers and hymns continued, but I recognized only the familiar "Abide With Me" (After­ ward, I would notice that several passed me carrying the Anglican

Book of Common Prayer). The priest and servers left, most of the mourners slowly moved away back into the village proper, but the widow and family remained until the grave diggers covered the casket and the grave. The wild lilies and ferns which they put on the fresh mound stood out distinctly amid the whitewashed tombstones.

This wake and funeral nicely illustrate the details of the

folk universe. The services also express the alternating relation­ ship of Christian and folk practices. The individual Christian and

folk elements do not blend in a form of syncretism which would pro­

duce a third kind of religious element. The service, seen as a whole, may look like religious syncretism, but the elements are clearly

separate, thus exemplifying parallelism. 48

On another occasion, I was able to see stratification, that is, underlying folk belief interpreting the Christian ritual. I was asked to conduct a funeral because all other Roman Catholic and

Anglican priests were off the island. The deceased was Anglican.

According to Anglican and Roman Catholic ritual, I met the body at the church gate, said the opening prayer, and led the procession into the church. I was afterward surprised when people came up to me, shook my hand, and told me that I had buried the dead very well.

I really did not think burial much of a problem until I heard what

I had done. Now priests and ministers, like obeahmen, are believed to be able to see the jombees. I supposedly saw the jombee of the deceased on top of the coffin, and my prayer recited from the ritual book enticed him to return to the coffin. That being successfully completed, I led the procession back into the church in preparation for the proper burial, or so I was told. When I studied participant observation in graduate school, never did I imagine that I would be so much of a participant.

The funeral ritual and the jombee table are rich expressions of the folk world, but the best example is the jombee dance itself.

It is best because it lasts so long (sometimes for days), involves such lavish preparation of materials, and includes such a wide variety of folk elements, such as music, dance, obeah, and kinship expression.

A detailed description will follow in a later chapter; suffice it to say for now that the dance speaks of the Montserratian worldview. I now turn to a central figure for the folk mythology and ritual, the jombees. 49

THE JOMBEES

The most active, well known, and numerous beings of the folk universe are the jombees. In this section, I will examine the word itse lf, review equivalent words, draw conclusions regarding the identification of the jombees, and finally outline their behavior.

The study of the word its e lf — whether spelled jombi, jumbie, jumby, juppy, or jombee — is not particular/ revealing. I am told, for example, that jombees are "dey who be jumble yo' up, mash yo' up."

The description does catch the sometimes malevolent behaivor of the jombees, but this sample indigenous response may merely be a product of contemporary imagination.

A more scientific answer to the origin and meaning of the word may be found in similar sounding words and beings in the Caribbean.

The word jombee occurs with a variety of spellings on Jamaica. Beckwith thought that jombee was the more common West Indian word for "the duppies" on Jamaica (1928: 88). Williams agrees with Beckwith that duppies are to be identified with the jombees on Jamaica. At least the Jamaican evidence show that the behavior and descriptions attributed to the Montserratian jombees are found elsewhere. In fact, descriptions of the Jamaican duppi match in good detail the Montserratian jombee.

The following quotation from Frederic G. Cassidy about duppis accurately describes a Montserratian jombee:

In Jamaica, the duppi is the sp irit of a departed person which often returns in invisible form. Some people have the faculty for seeing duppis -- an enviable thing, since it opens a window into another world filled with wonders and strange powers. The duppi may appear in the form of a departed person, and if not maleficent, may at least be neutral. But some duppies are maleficent, and some assume 50

frightful or brutish forms: they throw gravel at houses or into trees, making them rattle suddenly; they gallop about by night with glaring eyes, bellowing and clanking chains (1953:5).

Williams also comments on the malevolent nature of duppis:

Thus, for example, on the occasion of deaths in the neighbourhood, especially if by violence, the superstitious will plug up every crack and crevice of their hovels at night, "to keep the duppis out," an entirely useless pre­ caution if the expected visitants were purely spiritual ----- (1970:152).

Curiously enough, the word duppi may survive on Montserrat in the form of the "guppi," a costumed female dancer who carries a sword and now performs only during the Christmas season. Simpson notes that on Jamaica, swords — wooden or steel — are wielded at the beginning of a folk ceremony to "cut and clean" an evil in­ fluence from malicious spirits or even from duppis (1955:424).

Simpson also observes that in the pantheon of the Jamaican

Cumina, spirits are widely known there as zombies. There is even a group within the pantheon known as the ancestoral zombies. The

21 ancestral zombies are the spirits of men and women who, while living and dancing, experience possession by a spirit (1978:98; see also Moor 1965:66). Whether or not the Cumina zombies are a linguistic variant of the Jamaican and Montserratian jombees is uncertain, but functionally they are equivalents.

The similar sounding word in Haitian Vodou, the zombie, is likewise associated with the dead, Metraux says that the word zombi refers either to the real flesh and blood living dead whose corpses have been extracted from the tombs by a sorcerer (1972:281f) 51 or is the word for the wandering souls of people who perished as a result of accidents and are now condemned to haunt the earth (1972:

258). Elsie Clews Parsons identifies the Haitian word zombi with ghosts :

The term zombi is used throughout the French West Indies. My guess at its etymology is les ombres, z'omb'e, zombi ; also that from it is derived the English West Indian term for ghost, jimbie or juppy or duppy (1928:178).

But Herskovits finds the origin of the same word in the name for an African, more precisely Loango, deity, Zambi (1933:255).

Thus, the search for either the folk etymology or the more scientific origins of the word yields little. The search is re­ warding, however, in revealing that the Montserratian jombee is relatively comparable to spirits found on other Caribbean islands, often known even by other names. The search does show the different terms may have the same meaning, that is, be functional equivalents.

Montserratians themselves have other words and equivalencies ft; the jombees. The jombees are most frequently known simply and neutrally as "dee dead." Another neutral term is used by some Roman

Catholics, the poor souls (in Purgatory). Seen as beneficent, helping ancestral sp irits, they are called "dee loving dead." I know of no alternative term for the jombee when seen as a maleficent spirit.

When an evil jombee is spoken of, it is simply called a jombee, or a jombee who "mash 'ee up." The word itse lf and the local synonyms, therefore, do not add much to the identification of the Montserratian jombee. I have, consequently, assembled an identification profile based on jombee behavior. 52

The jombees are, in general, spirits who can even be visible and physically sensed by smell or touch, but they are most often invisible and use the living as mouthpieces. If the spirit is identifiable through its behavior or Identifies itse lf through the voice of a dancer, then the spirit will be a deceased Montserratian from no more than three generations past. On the other hand, if the jombee cannot be identified through the behavior and voice of a possessed dancer or through a dream, then that jombee is a sp irit of "a dead" form another island, perhaps, brought to Montserrat by an obeahman (Obeahmen know how to control jombees). Host of the jombees who are identified in the ritual dances or through dreams, therefore, are one's kin and acquaintances. The spirits in the jombee dance are also most frequently ancestors. Occasionally during a dance an uninvited person may become possessed. This behavior is also identified as "turning" but also as "a jombee who be mash 'ee up."

The Monsterratian jombees, therefore, clearly engage in a variety of behaviors which reveal a variety of functions. They may be the impish tricksters who throw stones on roofs during the night or cause more trouble. The first capful of a new bottle of rum or whisky is poured out the window or on the floor, not so much as a sacrifice but as recognition of the jombees' presence and their potential for mischief. I once watched a lady throw a dishpan of dirty water out her door only after she quickly glanced about and said "Move, pi ease I" She told me that she did not want 53 the jombees to give trouble if she splashed them.

In their better moments, the jombees appear almost as guidance counselors who, through their appearance in dreams and trance, offer advice and direction. But here, too, something of their impish nature continues, for they will pester kin and friend for recog­ nition. They can be quite jealous if they are not remembered through continued conferring of their names. Many jombee stories tell of a mother bothered in dreams or of a child afflicted until the name of a deceased ancestor is given to the newborn child. They may re­ appearfrequently in dreams and dances to help particular descendants, and as such these jombees appear as personal protectors, something akin to guardian angels or spirits. The obeahmen of old were known to have their familiars or jombees who could be controlled. For an obeahman to lose control of his jombees meant the loss of his magical power. The jombees are even the directors of divining and conjuring during the trance dancing. Here is a description from one jombee dancer:

The spirit speak through you. I can see them and they can speak to me. I can talk but they no tell me. They say to me: give me rum, give me cheese. When somebody sick, they ask me to dance. I dance, go to this corner, then to the next, then to the next (she points to the four corners of the room). Spirit in roe say want fowl. Me put fowl in roouth. If fowl stay live you die. If fowl dead, you live. Put fowl in mouth and hold it there. Not long, maybe hour. You not do nothing. Jombee do. Then wash skin of sick man. Dancer walk and pick weeds and wash. Not talk, in silence. Spirits ask for cheese, wine, and rum, and yellow figs. Place these in corners. Then put white sheet round person and four men carry sick person on it around the house. Not use fowl. Bury it in yard with cheese and yellow fig; spirits come and eat food. 54

1 have even heard of jombees who haunted and plagued in­ dividuals in order to avenge their living kin,

Bourguignon observes that in the Caribbean, especially Haiti, spirits are dichotomized into the helpful and the evil, but in East

Africa a single sp irit can cause both malevolent possession and ritual possession as part of a cure {1970:99). Montserratian jombees f it both cases. There are good and bad jombees, and there are jombees who are good or bad depending on your relationship to their activity. The same jombee can be both helpful and mischievous.

The jombees are, in conclusion, in death as in life, representations of the entire range of Montserratian behavior. After a ll, "dee dead" were once living, and what is more logical than that their behavior for good or bad, impish or serious, should continue after death to show the same variation? In comparing the jombees with the living, only the modality of appearance has change, not the character or personality.

JOMBEE DANCES

The central ritual expression of jombee belief is the dance.

But what precisely constitutes a jombee dance is problematic. I was several seasons in the field before I could clearly distinguish an authentic jombee dance from a dance held "for a spree," sometimes also called a drum dance or a goatskin dance. In fact, one devout

Anglican lady who has helped me collect folklore (anything short of obeah) thinks that I have never seen a real jombee dance but only

"drum dances." When I confront her with the details of what I have 55

seen, she sternly chides me to "stay clear of all that nonsense" or “you be too close to de debil and all his stuff." She is my lone skeptic, but her comment does indicate the problem. I have been with Montserratians during the Christmas holidays when they gathered at rum shops, or in living rooms to play jombee dance tunes and dance the quadrilles, with some of the dancers becoming so spirited that onlookers described them as turning. Turning is the local term for the ecstatic dancing when the jombees are said to possess the dancers. In comparing a drum dance held for a spree

(= for a good time, entertainment) with the jombee dance held for ritual healing, many elements are exactly the same: the melodies and the verses are the same, and the band consisting of a concertina, two goatskin reels, and a triangle is used in both cases. The dancing patterns start out with the standard number of quadrilles and in both cases can spontaneously and unpredictably move into ecstatic dancing. In both cases, there is laughing and drinking. The musicians may be the same on both occasions, and some of the dancers who turn may also be the same.

But I should have noticed the difference immediately from the very fact that the entertainment-oriented performance is not called a jombee dance. In the goatskin or drum dance or the rum shop, the jombees are not present. There is not the jombee table to invite them in, nor is there the elaborate and much repeated variety of enticements to bring the jombees within the dwelling.

If any occasional dancer falls to the floor writhing in convulsions 55 and paroxysms, there is rarely reference to the jombees. The writhing in figure on the floor is simply said to have drunk too much, danced too fast, or (rarely) been hit by a jombee. In the goatskin dance, there is not the serious questing for a cure, an answer, or a pre­ diction, as there is in the jombee dance. True, both types of dances have their humor, entertainment, and partying, but the goatskin dance stops at the entertainment. The participants in the jombee dance are mostly kin and close friends expressing support for the sponsor, but the participants in the goatskin dance are merely in­ dividuals who wander in and out of the rum shop, including a goodly number of free loaders in quest of a few shots of plastic (162 proof, clear rum). The identical music, dances, and general merriment in both types is deceptive, for beneath the sounds are profound differ­ ences .

One might think that different occasions distinguish the entertainment-oriented dance from the jombee dance. Drum dances are for a spree, and jombee dances are for divining, sickness, and personal problems. But such is not the case. For example, members of a family now residing in Canada, but maintaining a house in rural

Montserrat, have a dance on the occasion of their annual return.

The entertainment aspect during their dances runs very high indeed,

but sometime during the night a dancer will turn, and the jombees will speak, telling the emigre couple what is in store for them for the next year. One of the leading jombee dance musikers (instrumental musician) on the island spoke in a similar vein of a dance he sponsored: 57

"In February I make one, and I even play and s till (name withheld), charge me $EC 100. Daughter come from England, and I have amusement for she. Make dance to find out what might happen in England."

The occasions for the dances are generally either life crises or times of affliction. Life crises would include christen­ ings (baptism), weddings, and departure or return from a foreign job.

Because of the high out-migration rate and difficulties in finding work, the latter category figures prominently as an occasion. Times of affliction is a broader category and would include situations of poor health, congenital illness, property problems, marital problems, and difficult inter-personal relationships within the village.

Sponsorship of a dance for these occasions is sometimes difficult to determine. Dances conducted on the occasion of a life crisis are frequently sponsored by older kin, such as father, mother, grandmother, or uncle. But, because of the financial outlay

for such a dance is so great, a sponsor must often rely on other kin or close friends to share the expenses and thus co-sponsor the dance.

Montserratians rarely use the word "sponsor" but prefer to identify the dance by the name of the sponsor: "Mary's dance" or "Dee dance

by Mary and Susan." And commitment of materials and fiscal resources

for the dance is considerable. Friends and kin can supply some of

the materials and thus cut down on the cash outlay, but I have not

seen a dance that did not involve considerable cash outlay. Here

are the cash outlays for a dance held in 1977: 58

Goat (for goatwater stew) ($EC)45.00 Roasting pig 18.00 Fowl (five chickens) 8.25 Baking supplies (flour, sugar, eggs, etc.) for breads and cakes 55.00 Fish 6.00 Liquid refreshments (plastic rum, ordinary rum, wines and sweet-smelling liquors, 130.00 Musikers (four instrumentalists) 120.00 "The sensible man" (circumlocution for someone knowledgeable in obeah) 20.00 Dancer (not kin or friend, but noted for her turning) 15.00 ()EC;417.25

The above outlay is almost incredible when one considers the high rate of unemployment on Montserrat, the number of rural dwellers who have little or no cash income from their small plots, and the number of Montserratians whose only cash income is from remittances from relatives working abroad. Add to this the fact that in 1977, a domestic working half-time in Plymouth or Salem made but $EC24.00 per week, and some full-time manual labor and clerical jobs paid no better than $EC20.00 per week. The dances are expensive indeed.

People may save for years to sponsor one. The demise of the dances may be related to their expense, and recollection of Montserratians is that they were never so expensive. One musiker told me that:

the never are so expensive in before times. In Febru­ ary I make one and I even played, and s till (name with­ held) charge me $EC100.00. ...=but be time when I called to play over all island and never have time to sleep, just put head down on table for hour or so. Me and (names withheld) used to be the team — but anybody can play the rod (triangle). About 20 years ago, played for only seven shilling.

The fiscal commitment required by a dance reflects the faith commitment to jombee aeliefs and ritual. The laughing and joking 59 and the entertainment of the dance belie its serious nature. The entertainment-oriented drum dance requires no such enormous outlay.

Again and again, I saw musikers randomly wander into a rum shop and after a drink or two begin playing. People paid for their own drinks or found some acquaintance returned from Canada or England who would buy a few rounds of plastic. The drum dance is a good time indeed, but it requires neither the fiscal or faith commitment of the jombee dance.

Jombee dance sponsors have only limited control over parti­ cipation. That is why I have called the ritual "semi-public."

Setting may be the reason, for dances are held in residences, pre­ ferably houses with wooden floors where stomping of the musikers and the dancers can resonate. The sound of the drums and triangle piercing through the night always attracts curiosity seekers and uninvited neighbors. Occasionally, a sot from one of the rum shops will stagger in after his financial resources have given out or the shop is closed.

He will be ever so firmly but courteously invited and assisted to leave. The uninvited do come and can be a great disturbance.

The most important participants are the sponsors and their kin and close friends. In the cases I observed, the sponsor directly asked certain kin and friends to help in the preparation for the dance.

As one group begins stockpiling foodstuffs and money, another group is talking up the affair, discussing the life of the sponsor, the history of the family, and problems in family relationships. Al­ though I was not invited to every dance, it was quite easy to find out when a dance was in the making, because I would hear by local 60

gossip that so and so was preparing. I, unfortunately, was not

privy to much of the preparation-talk held within the close coterie

of a sponsor's kin and friends, but I was able to note that pre­

paration talk greatly increases the level of expectations. I would

have been most interested to learn if solutions which emerged during

the trance dancing were already discussed and perhaps even received

a majority opinion vote long before the dance itself. Were this so,

then the dance would be a vehicle for authenticating an already

determined social decision. In any case, the close association of

sponsor, kin, and friends prior to the dance has both the logistical

function of stockpiling materials and the psychological function of

increasing expectations.

The second group of invited guests are the musikers. The

leader generally plays a concertina (sometimes called a "pulley")

or a fife. Two other musikers play flat drums covered with goatskin.

Sometimes called French reels, the larger is called the woowoo, and

the smaller the bcbla. Both instruments are practically identical

with the Irish bodhran (Messenger, personal communication). The fourth musiker carries the beat with a triangle, called the rod.

The leader is the one whom the sponsor approaches with the request to play. The sponsor may request this or that other person to be included, but both the formation and the conduct of the band is the leader's responsibility. He calls the tunes, sets the speed, dickers for payment, and distributes the money.

Sometimes a dancer is well known for turning (trance dancing) and will be invited by the sponsor as a paid guest. This paid dancer

is somewhat of an insurance policy. There must be turning for a successful dance, and the sponsor wants to be doubly sure and not leave the matter to the spontaneity of kin and friends. I was able to learn little about these paid dancers.

Someone knowledgeable in obeah may also be invited and even paid to attend. I often asked if an obeahman were necessary to

interpret the outcome of the dance. The answer was always the

cryptic reply that "a sensible man" should be present. Sensible man is the local circumlocution either for an obeahman or an adept

in obeah.

Music and dancing bring together the invited and the un­

invited, ind and curiosity seekers. After the jombee table is moved out of the living room where the dance is to take place, the musikers line their chairs along one wall, place a sounding board

beneath their feet, and open with a waltz. The opening tune begins

about five or six o'clock in the evening, after musikers and invited

guests have eaten a light meal, compliments of the sponsor.

The waltz opens the first of five quadrilles. When the

waltz is finished, another quadrille begins, with the partners

moving and exchanging much like an American square dance, but the

change from a number one to number five quadrille brings a faster

and faster tempo. A heel and toe polka follows the intense and

sometimes frenzied movement of the number four and five quadrilles,

and after that the cycle of quadrilles begins again. The repetition 62

of quadrille cycles may go on for hours, or an individual dancer may break out of the paired dancing and begin the frenzied, darting movements of a person about to turn. At this point, either the

leader of the musikers or one of the sponsors encourages the band

to strike up a faster beat, and someone will help the dancer to

move faster by turning the dancer around the floor. The dancer may

or may not turn, performing that ecstatic dance wherein the jombees

speak. The dance may go back to quadrilles or a slow, shuffling

type of dance. There is just no pattern for a typical dance;

there is always room for the unprogrammed and the unexpected. In

a later chapter, I will analyze the implications of programming

the unprogrammed.

But sometimes during the course of the dance, one of the

dancers should turn and tell a "secret" — if the dance is to

be successful. A dance is considered enormously successful if

several dancers turn, and many secrets are revealed by the possessing

jombees. I have been at dances where no one turned in the course

of 16 hours; the element of chance and failure is always present.

The large outlay of human physical energy and fiscal resources

only increases the intensity of failure. But turning or trance

dancing is an essential part of the dance either because it is

expected or does occur.

The percentage of dancers who turn is small. A dance may

have anywhere from 20 to 40 active participants, but rarely do more

than five or six of these turn or "do de dance." I am not certain 63

what qualifies one to "do dee dance," but it is definitely perceived as a gift. And the gift is understood not as a one-way charisma bestowed by a power outside the dancer, but rather as an interaction between the attractive personality of the dancer and the desires of the possessing jombee. Most of the ritual enticements and gestures to attract the jombees recognize the fact that only certain personalities can "do dee dance," only certain people can attract the jombees. Participants look sharply for signs in dancers, es­ pecially in young people, of that gift to do the dance and attract the jombees. I watched several male and female teenagers who began to dance singly and with gestures of great speed and abandon, but they were restrained by their parents from dancing. The parents; told me that, yes, the children could do the dance, but this would be proper only when the children became adults. But these same teenagers were encouraged to attend and to dance at least the slow- shuffle dance or the waltzes. They thus seemed to me informal apprentices, waiting for the threshold of adulthood and approval from kin.

Thvs, community recognition informally determines who can do the dance and really turn. But not everyone who can dance with abandon and even fall unconscious is considered as "do'n dee dance."

Montserratians have a battery of positive and negative validation tests for authentic turning.

Turning should not be stimulated by consumption of alcohol.

This criterion is surprising, for great quantities of alcohol are

consumed, thrown out windows and doors to entice the jombees, and 64

even tossed on the rafters where the jombees may s it. The dance room is frequently suffused with the strong smell of rum and sweet wines, but sponsors and participants watch carefully for any dancer who tries to induce turning by use of alcohol. One who is “boozy- boozy" or ■■•’all boozed up” may very well appear to dance with ecstatic abandon, but heads shake disapproval and the musikers do not respond with a faster tempo. Ironically, alcohol is used to attract the jombees, just as it so often attracts many a living Montserratian; yet a drunked-up dancer is an unacceptable housing for the jombees.

Someone who is neither kin nor friend nor invited guest should not "do dee dance." The uninvited dancer causes concern that an enemy or opponent of the sponsor has put obeah on that dancer.

The dancer may, in fact, turn, but this turning is by a malicious jombee who either "mashes up" the individual dancer or the entire dance. On five occasions, I have seen sponsors throw water on un­ invited dancers who began to turn, and on two occasions these dancers were literally thrown out of the room. The continued their wild gestures, screaming, and darting movements in the darkness about the house.

Positively speaking, an authentic turner must tell a secret.

This secret can reveal either past, present, or future details. Thus, a dancer whose gestures imitate a long-time dead ancestor whom that dancer could not have known will be considered authentically doing the dance. Or, the dancer may tell details and secrets known only to one or two of the sponsors. Finally, a dancer -- interpreted as 65

the jombee speaking — may reveal something in the future of the spon­ sor, but, of course, such a prediction can be validated only later.

Some dancers gain reputation and esteem over the years because of

a remarkable success record in revealing the future. But, in some way, the guests always want to know that the dance is more than play

acting. This point is crucial, for in applying Victor Turner's

concept of social drama to the dance, I in no way imply that the

participants think that the dance is merely a play or stage per­

formance.

This quest for authenticity and validation is subtle but

can be quite strong. As one after another sign or secret comes to

light, the overall atmosphere of revelation and presence of the

dead increases greatly. I frequently see that as one or two par­

ticipants begin turning, other participants are stimulated to en­

gage in gestures and shouting which imitate the behavior of their

dead kin. For example, at one dance, two people were doing the

dance within the center of the room, when suddenly, at one corner,

an elderly woman began to coo like a baby and with her hands slowly

stroke form her neck down to her stomach and repeat the gesture.

Later, I was told that she was recalling or perhaps even being

visited by a son who had been born hirsute, and the stroking was

her recollection of how whe straightened out his body hair. Such

peripheral contacts with the dead are frequently ambiguous and

mysterious. Even those who saw the lady could not later tell me

whether she turned or only remembered in gesture her dead son. In

any case, I had the impression that one dancer's contact with an ancestor-jombee could be quite contagious, stimulating others either to trance dance or at least recall memories of their deceased kin.

When the dance become "hot" and many experiences of the dead are occurring simultaneously, this is considered an authenticating sign.

Who participates in "do’n dee dance," therefore, is difficult to precisely delineate. Not everyone who dances with the wild abandon of gesture and speech so characteristic of turning is actually "do'n dee dance."

Although turning may be the much hoped for but unscheduled event of the dance, the midnight feast is definitely scheduled. The muskers put down their instruments at midnight, and supporters of the sponsor begin distribution of generous portions of hot goatwater

(stew), large chunks of hard crusted bread, and mugs of coffee. First the musikers are served, then the leading dancers and other invited guests. Rarely are the uninvited and curiosity seekers served. A dancer who has been turning will sometimes remain dazed during the break, wandering about the room or the house, mumbling, maybe darting back and forth. Women who have been turning or dancing heavily will disappear into the night to a neighboring house where they can change their sweat drenched clothes. The atmosphere is uncanny without the reverberation of the floor stomping and the piercing beat of triangle and drums. People even speak in low, subdued tones as they audibly slurp up the highly spiced goatwater and munch on the hard bread.

The midnight break last between 45 minutes and an hour and a half.

When I first saw the midnight feast, I immediately thought of Odette Rigaud's "The Feasting of the Gods in Haitian Vodu" (1946). 0/

The meat, stew, cakes, and breads of the midnight feast are precisely the foods displayed earlier, in the same room, on the jombee table.

I wondered if there might be an interpretation that the feast was a communion or feasting with the jombees. I could find no such interpretation. The break is simply a much needed pause and refresh­ ment during a dance that may last 12 to 20 hours. Informants tell me that in times past if the dance were particularly "hot," the feast would be by-passed and the musikers hand-fed so as not to break the flow of the music and action.

At about one in the morning, the dance music resumes, often with a slow waltz. The dance again becomes unpredictable. A series of quadrilles may go on for hours or turning may begin immediately. But one pattern does emerge during the early morning hours: signs of obeah and counter-obeah appear more frequently. This is the bewitching time. The occasional vistor and uninvited guests or even invited guests, whose support of the sponsor is only minimal, now leave. Now the sponsor is surrounded only by closest kin and friends (and an occasional disturbing drunk from a rum shop). It is altogether appropriate, therefore, that the somewhat secretive and highly personal acts of magic appear at this point. Plaited grass may be discovered outside the house (a sign of obeah placed on the dance by an opponent), and dancers may lead a procession into the bush and around the house, carefully and ritually seeking out signs of obeah and placing protective charms and medicine.

As daybreak arrives, an obeahman or an adept may offer an interpretation of what has happened during the dance. This is a.hushed 68

time, as sponsor, kin, and friends gather about the "sensible man" to listen to his verdict. The sensible man may summarize what has been said fay the jombees, what is the sponsor's worthiness, or what is his evaluation of a possible cure. The monologue is broken by spontaneous acclamation such as "he be speak de truth." The monologue is both interpretive and exhortative and is consoling to the sponsor. The message is not always everything the sponsor hoped for but is generally expressive of the characteristic optimism of the folk religion. At one dance, for example, the sensible man offered the verdict that the sponsor's ailing vision would not worsen, although it would not get better.

If dancers are s till turning by eight or nine o’clock in the morning, the musikers will continue to play, however tired they might be. Dances formerly went on for two or three days, but all that

I witnessed began to wind down in intensity no later than ten in the morning.

I am s till puzzled by what determines termination of the dance. If the musikers and dancers are extremely tired by about eight o'clock in the morning, they simply play and dance less and less. If the sponsor and leading advisors agree, they break for a breakfast of bread and coffee, and the band leader may begin to talk about payment. If sponsor and advisors believe that continuance of the dance offers some hope of added resolution, musikers may continue through midday. In any case, it is during this closing time that guests gather to discuss and evaluate the events of the dance. I interviewed those who had turned and was again and again 59

impressed by the appearance of freshness and energy In super-annuated dancers who may have been performing 12 hours of sustained dancing.

Unfortunately, their feigned or real amnesia kept me from obtaining much data about personal reactions during the turning episodes.

Although the dance proper may end at some time before noon, the effect and aftermath of the dance continue long beyond that time. The jombees may have called for the making and use of bush teas or the preparation of obeah to be conducted in later days and month. In this sense, the end of the dance is often the cause and beginning of the next dance.

CONCLUDING QUESTION

I have outlined the central role of the jombees in the Mont­ serratian folk religion and the key role of the jombee dance. Does the central role of the jombees and their identification as kin justify categorizing this as an ancestral cult? In a paper presented at the 1978 meeting of the African Studies Association, I did label the jombee dance as an ancestral cult (1978). I have since modified that interpretation for the following reasons. First, the folk religion, and the jombee dance especially, are not cult in the literal and root meaning of worship. The jombees are not worshipped; they are enticed, invited, bribed, and cajoled, but they are not offered the worship given divinity in the Christian Churches. The folk re li­ gion could be considered cult only in the broader sense of cult as any form of ritual. Second, it is true that ancestors are the key to the dance and are the chief beings of the folk cosmology, but the 70

magic of obeah is much more persuasive and popular on the island, and obeah often has nothing to do with either kin or ancestors. Third, indigenous exegesis does not unequivocally and clearly see the jombees as ancestors. Montserratians frequently do speak of the jombees as loving dead, but only in the ritual of the dance can one observe that

"the loving dead" are th e ir loving dead. In sh o rt, the jombee ritu al is not a cult in the sense of worship, and the jombees themselves are not always and clearly seen as ancestors. Yet the jombees can and are frequently understood as the ancestors. Whether the ancestor interpretation is the historical residue of a once strong ancestral cult is impossible to determine without historical materials. I prefer, therefore, simply to avoid the term ancestral cult and call the dance ancestor ritual.

In this chapter, I described the Montserratian folk worldview, which is the religious context fo r the jombee dance. I also described

the jombees, the focal beings of this worldview, and the major ritual,

the jombee dance. I have stressed th at th is worldview is fa r broader

than belief in the jombees, and that the dance is a major ritual but

only one of many expressing jombee belief. In the next chapter, I will focus on a detailed description of the dance which I have here

only outlined. CHAPTER II: A CASE STUDY OF ONE JOMBEE DANCE

INTRODUCTION

I attended over a dozen dances during the course of five

field trips, but I only slowly realized that some of these dances,

the ones held a t one p articu lar house and under the sponsorship of

the same woman year after year, gave me a case history of the genesis,

evolution, and progress of a series of interrelated dances. In short,

I came to understand that the dances are not always mutually indepen­

dent, arising only when an occasion presents itself, but they are

often possessed of an elaborate history linking them together. Con­

sequently, although I select one dance to describe in considerable ethnographic detail, I am concerned to relate it to previous dances.

I am not presenting, therefore, a typical dance. The previous chapter

sketched, as much as possible, a typical dance. I cautiously noted th a t the dance is always programmed fo r the unprogrammed or unexpected.

Considerable freedom in ritual specifics is part of the typical jombee dance.

The details of this chapter are based on personal observation

and interviews with actual participants, but personal names and place

names are changed to protect a promised anonymity. My observations

and interviews deal with what Turner calls the exegetical and opera­

tional levels of symbolic meaning, that is, what do the participants

themselves say about the ritu a l, and what can the observer see is

taking place (1978:247f). I am focusing, therefore, on descriptive

detail, but analysis, though not completely absent in this chapter,

71 72

is reserved for following chapters.

EVENTS LEADING TO THIS DANCE

This dance follows the personal problems and history of

Penny. She is 59 and has a long-standing eye ailment which causes her to te a r often and exude large q uantities of "sand" from her eyes. Her eyes are notably glassy, and one eyelid sags heavily over the pupil. When I first entered her house, I knew her to be a practicing Anglican. Prints of Jesus and The Last Supper are on the wall, and an old and much used King James Version of The Bible is prwninently placed on the coffee table. The Book of Common Prayer is atop the Bible and next to it are copies of recent bulletins from the local Anglican Church. Hers is an affluent house fo r th at v illag e, but it was actually her brother, who has been working in the United

States for the past 20 years, who financed the house. The structure is one of three other spacious (over 2000 square feet of floor space) and sturdy (cement brick) houses in that village. Fifty yards behind this modern residence is a four room, unpainted wooden house with a rusty corrugated steel roof. Here Penny's parents lived, and here she, her two brothers, and two siste rs were born. Here the jombee dances she sponsored took place. This older and somewhat dilapidated looking house is ideal for the dance: it is the house of birth and death for Penny's family; it is off the beaten path away from the main v illage road, and i t has a wooden rather than cement flo o r, on which dancers and musikers can stomp out the tunes. Between the old house and the modem one are pens fo r chickens and goats. Small plots of 73

dasheen, Irish potatoes, sweet potatoes, and other vegetables are neatly cultivated around both dwellings. A large outdoor stone oven is still in use and was, in fact, used for roasting the fowl and pork fo r th is dance. The two houses, small garden p lo ts, animal pens, and manicured front yard all speak of Penny's prosperity.

Seeing her in work clothes and muddy boots, I would not have suspected jthat she is relatively prosperous. Two other houses in the village are equally impressive, but they belong to non-resident Montserratians in Canada. Thus, Penny's compound easily appears the most prosperous in the village. And that is part of her problem.

Although Penny is a hardworking woman, most of her wealth has been e ith e r inherited from parents or sent in remittances from her brother in the United States. She describes her father to me as a "sea captain" who returned to the island with enough cash money to buy acreage on the old estate next to the village.

Penny lived for some years with a man in a village four miles distant. They were not married, although that is by no means an un­ usual relationship in the West Indies. How many years they were to­ gether, I am unable to learn. I am under the impression that it was between three and ten years. In any case, they did not get along well, and Penny returned to the land she had inherited. The land is one of the reasons for the breakup, as her man expected to run the properties. Perhaps other factors contributed to the deterioration of the relationship, but property and possessions are at least one factor.

It is not that Penny is a stingy person. Although she is 74

somewhat aloof from the day to day happenings and gossip of the v illa g e , she has a strong reputation for generosity to friends and kin. I am told of her past generosity to dance guests. Several young and older people from her husband's village came to the dances and, when asked why, told me th at Penny had been good to them.

In talking with Penny, I detect no feelings of bitterness or anger towards her former; she seems only concerned about the evil he might do to her. She understands that evil is neither physical nor legal violence but the magic of obeah. Penny strongly believes in the Montserratian folk universe.

Dreams are important to her, because it is in those sleeping moments that the spirits of the past speak out to her. In dreams, her loving dead tell her of the evil being perpetrated by her former man. They intimate the presence of obeah on her property. They even call out the name of a dear niece, indicating that the girl is "fixed" by obeah — against the g i r l 's wishes and directed against Penny. The loving dead or jombees are a real and active force in Penny's lif e .

Little wonder, then, that she is a frequent sponsor of the dances.

I am at a loss to expalin her openness with me. She is not loqubcious, and her answers are always short and straightforw ard. Her responses are never the long-winded replies I receive from some infor­ mants. I once asked her why she let me know all these things, and she simply replied that I am not an evil man, and I "wanted to know."

I help with preparation for the dances, offering my auto for transport of material and personnel, and I occasionally contribute to the purchase of some foodstuffs. Perhaps that is sign enough for Penny, 75

In any case, compounding the problems of property and her former man are undisclosed internal ailments and the eye problem.

She consulted the clinic about her poor vision, but the prescribed eye wash did nothing. For Penny, this sickness, the problems with her former man, and the property are all related. So, she sought out a sensible man to tell her precisely how they are related. Her attitude bears striking resemblance to the African worldview which

Dominique Zahan describes:

In the eyes of the African...the cosmos does not constitute a fixed, cold, and mute world. On the contrary, it is a world charged with meanings and laden with messages, a world which "speaks."

Thus man finds in his surroundings a partner with which he can en ter into communication, with which he must in fact maintain an almost constant dialogue if he wants to be informed about himself. This is because the macrocosm contains in itself all the potentialities of the microcosm which is man. In th is sense the world possesses an absolute value. Consequently, to know one's self it is necessary for one to know the messages which the universe continually sends. I t is through these messages th a t one can in te rp re t one's own destiny (1979:81).

An undisclosed adept in obeah confirmed her suspicion that land, man, and eye are in fact related. Later in a dream, one of her loving dead called to her night after night for "dee dance, dee dance." So, she sponsored a jombee dance with the hope th at the loving dead would cure her and help her with her personal problems. But this dance was broken up by groups of young rowdies and drunks. Her nephew te lls me that the loving dead will not come with all those young rowdies there doing nothing but "squeezing" the girls and drinking the liquor. This ob­ servation reminds me of the important difference between a drum dance and the jombee dance. 76

I did not see th a t f i r s t dance. When I f i r s t met Penny she was preparing for a second dance, hoping it could be held one year after the first and unsuccessful one. She also wanted to hold the dance before her vacationing brother departed for the States. This dance, which lasted from five o'clock in the afternoon until ten o'clock the next morning, I saw. During the dance, turning and the jombees confirmed th a t her former man was in fact using obeah against her. Signs of obeah buried or hanging in trees were found in the compound. There was a reconciliation between the favorite niece and

Penny {Recall that the niece had been "fixed" with obeah by some enemy of Penny), and one of the dancers made a concocti on of bushes, plants, and flowers with rum in which both the niece and Penny were washed. Penny and supporters believed th at th is bush medicine might also cure the eye ailment. But when I returned a year later, the eye problem remained, and the difficulties with Penny's former man were intensifying.

She told me that she was stockpiling for another dance. Her brother was here again vacationing, and she wanted him to participate before he returned. His participation on Penny's behalf is considered highly significant to kin and friends. The arranging of the dance to meet his schedule is an important clue as to the role of relatives.

THE THIRD DANCE IN DETAIL

1. Occasion

Information from the previous dance provided the occasion for 77

th is dance. Obeah, which had been found then, is s t i l l working against Penny, as evidenced in the deteriorating condition of her eye and the gossip of a mounting c risis in the relationship between ricr aiiu iicr ittan* tttc mure iitiiieuiacc uwasiuii ; a une uiieApeuueu shortening of the brother's stay on the island. He has repeatedly indicated his willingness to help sponsor a dance.

I may also be a part of the immediate occasion. I first started talking with Penny about her problems two years earlier, and last year I helped with the logistics of the dance. She knows I want to see th is dance, and she knows my auto can get the needed materials together quickly and distribute messages to relatives and friends across the island. But, like the brother, I have to leave the island soon. The dance is se t for two weeks hence.

2. Preparations

With Penny's decision to call a dance (sponsor), preparations begin almost irranediately. Long term preparation had already begun, for she had already arranged for the purchase of a goat. The brother and I drive over to a neighboring village, where he pays for it, and we put the tied animal in the trunk of the car. We also buy a supply of maize and fodder fo r the two suckling pigs which Penny is keeping for the dance. I will also make two trip s down to Plymouth during the week with Penny's nieces, where they will purchase foodstuffs for cakes and breads to be baked next week. Penny, her brother, and I sit down with pencil and paper to figure out how much money will be

required for liquor, malt, and soft drinks, as well as to pay the 78

musikers. We s p lit the cost three ways.

Immediate preparations begin on Monday through Wednesday both the outdoor stone oven and the indoor range are hot with the baking of sweet cakes. The hard crusted bread, for which this village is well known, will have to wait until Thursday, because that bread has no preservatives and goes stale after a day or so. On Thursday, the cement brick house and the outdoor oven are the scene of feverish activity, with roasting fowl, pigs, and stewing goat being prepared.

I park my car at the edge of the village, but even at 200 yards distance I can smell the sweet aroma of suckling roast pig and the highly pungent pieces of goat for the stew. When I come into the big house, I s i t out of the way on a couch in the living room, ob­ serving and taking notes. I want to know who each helper is and his or her relationship to Penny, but the brother laughs and says that they are too busy for all that. They are busy indeed.

On Friday morning. Penny's niece telephones me to bring a bottle of non-alcoholic malt drink, for they forgot to purchase some, and i t should be on the jombee table before noon. So, I arrive shortly before noon, and the two bottles are immediately taken to the old wooden house and placed on the large dining table which is set in the middle of the living room. The jombee table is not complete.

3. The jombee table

On the table is a bottle of every conceivable soft or hard beverage, neatly placed in a single row around the edge of the table. 79

A large bouquet of wild lilies is in the center, and surrounding it

are plates or roast chicken and suckling pig. I can smell the goat­ water displayed in two large serving bowls. The mounds of sweet breads and cakes are covered with waxed paper to preserve them from the flies, and small and large loaves of bread, shaped something

like French bread, are inserted here, there, and elsewhere on the

table. If nothing e lse , the jombee table displays great preparation

and bounty.

This table will remain until about four o'clock in the after­

noon, and the wooden house will be unoccupied with the living room

absolutely bare, except for this lavish setting of the jombee table.

The contrast between the mound of food and the bare room is stark.

Within the cement brick house, however, the feverish activity of

Thursday has slowed down to groups of kin and friends and chatting

and sipping on tea or a soft drink. Several ladies ask me for a

ride down the hill so that they can change clothes in preparation

for the evening dance.

4. Opening

I return at 4:30 P.M. to find the musikers already here. They

are all from distant villages. Daniel is the leader and plays a con­

certina; Tom plays the small goatskin-covered bobla with Henry on the

large woowoo and Ben on the triangle. All the musikers are well known

across the island as active participants in obeah, and all are over

50 years of age. They laugh and joke as they eat goatwater, bread,

and coffee in the big house. They certainly do not seem all that serious 80

about the dance, and do not appear fearful of entering a holy of holies.

By a quarter of six, the jombee table relishes (meats), drink, and food can be seen in a side bedroom; the table was p a rtia lly dismantled a fte r four o'clock. The musikers then come into the living room, line up chairs against the wall, adjust a long one by eight inch sounding board beneath their feet, and proceed to untie their instruments from coverings of bleached white flour sacks. The first tune begins at 6:00 P.M., and, as is customary, it is a waltz -- "Jane and Louisa." Participants whom

I had seen helping with preparations during the past week now begin to straggle in, in pairs, often pairs of females, and begin to waltz. The dance proper has begun.

Three couples are waltzing to "Jane and Louisa," and then the waltz is followed by the tune of a number one q u ad rille, "The man from Farm."

More couples enter the ring (the center of the room where the dancing takes place), and there is some haggling over the proper steps for the number one quadrille. The second quadrille is danced to the tune of

"Joe Lee gal:"

Me no want no Wes'Hi 11 gal All of dem be Joe Lee gal When me breadfruit be a ripe All of dem come "Mista Lee" Me no want no Wes'Hi 11 gal All of dem be Joe Lee gal.

I could not understand these words because Ben's triangle drowned them out, but another musiker later gave them to me. They tell of one of Joe Lee in the West Hill part of the island, whose breadfruit tree made him rather popular with the ladies, thus diminishing the popularity of the West Hill girls with other island males. There 81

is a bit of a pause before the number three quadrille begins, and

I hear the concertina distinctly playing the notes of the ancient

Welsh air, "Men of Harlech." I am not certain of the tune for this number three quadrille. No one is singing the words, so perhaps it is "Me paddle me own canoo." As the dancers move into the fourth and f if th quadrille movements, th e ir gestures are fa ste r, and they move with greater abandon. Exchanging of partners is less frequent.

I hear the tune to "Tell Tony Red Ants nebber mind" and Ben droning out "Rum done." Sometimes the "follow suite" or the heel and toe polka follows the number four quadrille, but more frequently only after the number five quadrille. There is a noticeable cooling down after the intensity of the fourth and fifth quadrilles, which are called "course" dances because of their speed. A neighbor of

Penny's enters and does the heel and toe with great grace and poise; her partner is Penny's cousin. The tune is the popular "Chiggafoot maya," the story of a rather bold sexual culprit with a lame foot

(a chigga-foot).

5. Dance underway

A second and then a third round of quadrilles are played, and the quarreling over steps has finally stopped. Penny's cousin calls for a tune, but Daniel asks him who is leading the band.

Sometimes the quadrille dancing stops and guests move around the ring in a circle, dancing along in the form of shuffling which cannot be identified with any of the quadrilles. 82

Guests continue to flow in and out. Penny appears about 7:15

P.M. I had not even noticed her absence. She is accompanied by a tall and lanky kinswoman who acts as a sort of maitre de who brings

food and drink to the musikers when they are exhausted, and who

brings ingredients to the dancers when they call for them. A half

brother of Penny has been functioning as what I call the floormaster.

He shouts out of the ring those dancers who cannot properly dance the quadrilles. Later, he will ask some young rowdies to leave the dance and le t th is group go about th e ir business. Lucy and Fagan are old friends of Penny and follow her closely about the room as she shuffle dances. Throughout the night, they will act at personal aides to Penny. Frances, one of Penny's nieces, rarely dances but

remains in the shadow of the doorway to the kitchen, keeping the

goatwater warm on the burners and bringing out food and coffee.

One by one, the relatives and friends of Penny step into the ring to dance, and many make a point of te llin g me th at they have come to dance for Penny. Harry the floormaster asks some curiosity

seekers not to dance, and the invited guests refuse to dance with

them. At this point, there are another four curiosity seekers

hanging on the outside door frames or peering in the windows.

Fagan moves from window to door shouting them away. Later, when I would stand in a doorway, Fagan would gently but firmly te ll me to

keep i t clear because the jombees come in through the doors and

wi ndows. 83

5. Early attempts to "do dee dance"

By 7:00 P.M. it is quickly getting dark, and the room is l i t by only one 40 or 60 watt bulb. The living room dance floor is very small, approximately 12 by 12 feet, but I have been in rooms o f no more than seven by ten where full jombee dances were staged.

I am always amazed at how much dancing can take place within these small spaces.

It is evident that there is present one superb dancer. She looks like she is about 20, but in talking with her the next morning

I discovered that she is 37. Her rapid and expansive movements in the dance show that she may possibly move into trance. With one exception, all those whom I have seen turn are very spirited dancers who show great form and grace in th e ir movements. I am told her name is Marie but cannot find her relationship to Penny. She now dances with an older woman, the owner of the rum shop across the road.

Two other women are dancing. Paul, an old time musiker from this area, is also slowly shuffling across the floor dancing by himself.

People who had been dancing the quadrilles are now hanging in the doorway laughing and smiling, and the entertainment aspect of the dance is most apparent. Daniel again moves the group into a course dance, and Ben again drones out the words to "Rum done." Those two words are apparently the only words to that melody. The fact that such an earthy song about drink could be part of a serious curing session is indicative of how the various elements of enter­ tainment, divination, and medicine are intertwined in the jombee 84

dance ceremony.

A young bearded man, barefoot, shuffle dances into the room.

He comes to Penny and says "I'm go'n to dance fo' yo." He has a pleading, almost whining, crying tone to his voice. Agnes tells me th a t he has come to "do dee dance" for Penny. I la te r learned th a t he comes from the village of Penny's former man and was often there fed and cared for by Penny. I also learned later that he had come to the dance liquored up and tried to force himself to turn. He now begins to stomp heavily about the room as he dances, and in my audio recordings I can clearly hear the pronounced stomping of his bare feet on the wooden floor.

During la s t y ear's dance at Penny's, the same young man was present and did what I call the "lame foot dance." He danced around as though his ankle were broken and twisted to the side. He held up his pants with one hand as though he were tugging on an invisible suspender strap. I since discovered that he was imitating

Penny's dead fath er, who was supposed to have walked ju st that way and also made such gestures with his suspender. He again begins the lame foot dancing, although it is definitely not as pronounced

as la s t y e ar's performance. He goes over to the door and then to

the window, peering out in the traditional way of looking and

beckoning for the jombees to come in from the dark. Now he dances

crouching down at the waist and goes over to the leader of the

musikers. I think he has told Daniel to do something, for Daniel 85

stands up and moves over to the door with his concertina, then to the window, sticking i t out door and window as though beckoning to the jombees. Agnes follows the young bearded man around, trying to lis te n to what he says. They are not yet sure whether the jombees are really speaking through him, but Agnes is there to carry out every command whether he calls for rum to be tossed on the ceiling or for meat to be given to the musikers.

Things are moving very quickly at this dance. Sometimes there are several hours of much more light hearted and jovial quadrille dancing, and sometimes only near or after midnight does the serious dancing take place. But, then, it is so impossible to predict when and if one or more of the dancers will begin the turning.

Now the bearded man cries out again and again, "I'll tell you who coming here. I 'l l te ll you who coming here." In that crouched dancing position, with arms hanging somewhat like a chimp, he dances around the room, comes by me, stares at me, and moves on.

His eyes are very glassy with moisture. Often I cannot understand the words he cries out. Agnes te lls me th a t even she has problems hearing and understanding him, and th at is precisely why she follows the dancers around, especially when she thinks that they are turning.

Sometimes the dancers will whisper things into someone's ear, so that

i t is not open to the knowledge of cu rio sity seekers. Some of the secrecy is no doubt also due to the fact that uninvited witnesses may divulge what takes place, and this could be used in counter-obeah. 86

The bearded man calls out three times, "They good to you, they good to you." I am not certain of the reference, but I think it means that the loving dead or the jombees are good to Penny and not the cause of her illness. He takes Penny by the hands, speaks to her, and stares at her as they both shuffle dance. Agnes leans over and stands almost between them, listen in g to what he says. He now begins to yell, "nebber mind gal, nebber mind gal," directed at

Penny. Agnes says i t is Penny's fa th e r's jombee speaking, but not everyone in the house is convinced that the bearded man should be taken seriously. The musikers — Daniel, Henry, and Tom — think that he has ju s t had too much liquor.

7. Sensory bombardment

Perhaps the bearded dancer called for this, but Agnes spreads particles of parched corn along the edges of the floor, in the corners, and in the back of everyone standing or sitting alongside the walls.

The smell of the parched corn is strong and particularly sweet. A variety of drinks is repeatedly spread on the floor or tossed up on the ra fte rs in order to bring the jombees down to the floor, and the room is thus filled with the strong odor and fumes or rum, cognac, and sweet ginger wine. Perhaps the alcoholic fumes even stimulate the dancers. In any case, the combination of a small room, hot and filled with the smell of human sweat, plus the aroma of alcohol and corn, creates a strong and powerful smell atmosphere. A good audio recording may preserve the feeling of sound, and video tape will 87

capture the visual, but nothing can capture the combination of smell, sig h t, and sound which is so prominent at the dance. The aroma, perhaps more than the powerful drum beats and reverberating floor, does more to transform the tiny room than any other element.

Every sense is bombarded. My n o s trils are hot from the fumes, and Agnes now offers me fowl (chicken) on a fork and hand feeds me rum and coffee, as she does for the dancing guests. I am sitting on a small stool operating the video camera. The sensation of the stomping dancers and musikers rises up through my bones and up the tripod of my video camera. I must take the camera o ff the tripod to keep i t from bouncing, but I s t i l l cannot steady i t adequately be­ cause of the reverberations coming up into my arm. The drums are powerfully loud; the triangle pierces through all of the low-register tones; and it is only with difficulty that I can hear the bearded man speak. I am sweating profusely, as are the musikers and dancers.

The first of many headaches arrives, and I reach for my tin of aspirin.

8. Exchange with dancer

The bearded dancer continues to walk around holding up his pants with one hand and shuffling as he dances. He asks again and again of the guests, "You nebber see him do this so, you nebber see do this so?" —referring to this gesture of holding the pants high.

He cries repeatedly "0 Jesus Lord have mercy, Jesus have mercy."

Christian elements, such as that ejaculation, do occasionally appear, but only rarely. Last year I observed a dancer beckoning to the jombees with a sign of the cross. Apart from such examples, I find 8 8

little evidence of religious syncretism with Christianity in the dance.

The bearded man is again talking with Penny and asking her,

"Yo" fadder pull up his pants so?" There is again the pleading and crying tone to his questions,and. he repeats the questions like a litany.

I can now hear Penny telling him that she does not remember her father, for he died when she was a child -- although he did wear braces (sus­ penders). He then stomps away from her saying, "0 Jesus Christ, you ain't got no sense at all, you ain't got no sense at all." She appears to accept what he is saying because this may just possibly be

her father speaking through him. Daniel starts moving the music faster, and the bearded man shuffles around faster and faster, repeating "Jesus

have mercy."

There is obviously some validation process going on here. Is this really the father speaking? The boy wanders about the room saying,

"You want fadda, he come tonight, you want fadda, he come tonight."

This dancer, like so many others who turn or feign turning, will repeat

and repeat the same phrases in the form of a litany.

The music is now definitely a course dance, for the beat is

much heavier and quicker. Agnes and Lucy begin urging the bearded

man to "do dee dance." The unusual aspect of this man's dancing and

speaking is that he did not go through a couple of hours of intense,

fast dancing that could induce turning. He just came in and started

shuffling and speaking. Perhaps this confirms that he was doing just

as the musikers said, trying to force the possession state with alcohol

taken prior to the dance. But I notice that during the dance he refuses 89

to take any alcohol when it is offered.

He now tells Agnes to bring giner wine. She rushes into the kitchen, brings out the wine, and, as he points to the ceiling, she throws wine from a glass onto the ceiling. Some of it drips down and hits me and my equipment. Again, the room is filled with that heavy, sweet smell. Agnes later told me that the jombees have a tendency to hang up in the ceilin g , and the wine is thrown there to get them down on the floor and into the people.

He now staggers back to the window, s t i l l holding his pants high and saying, "They no le t me go." He moves back and forth as though struggling with himself, and then falls back, leaning against two women and asking "What happened, what happened?" He now begins dancing opposite Penny saying, "I give yo' two mo' days to recover,

I give yo' two days to recover." More and more people s ta r t to pay attention to him and what he has to say. He moves into the middle of the room with Penny, and others dance in a c irc le around them as he screams out in a ro llin g voice th at "I'm going to dance dee dance tonight. I'm going to dance dee dance tonight." The musikers are no longer playing the quadrille tempo but have quickened the beat and the in ten sity of th e ir foot stomping. The melody becomes more and more repetitious and prolonged. Again, Lucy urges him to "do dee dance." Now she says, "If you go'n to dance, dance like this," and she gets out on the floor and begins twisting and flailing her arms in

all directions. She stomps down on one foot and then on the other with an extremely intense, quick and short series of movements for 90 about five minutes. She continues to dance, running over to him and telling him to "do dee dance." The stomping is pronounced, and I find myself stomping out the beat with the dancers and musikers.

Agnes nw comes out of the bedroom with a glass of plastic and throws a b it out each door and the windows. The bearded man now cries out,

"Oh, oh," elongating the syllables and with hands raised up as though he were one of the prophets of Israel crying out to the Lord. Once again he drones out "Lord have mercy," then says, "Let me loose, le t me loose," and begins a series of cries for Lucy. She immediately rushes over to his side, bends down and repeats, "Do dee dance, do dee dance." It is now eight o'clock and th is scene has been going on now for approximately 15 minutes — the same tune, no stop of the beat. Suddenly, he starts crouching again at the waist, letting his hands swing and flail, but he really never gets into an excited dance, despite his repeated protests th at "Miss Lucy, I like to dance dee dance for Miz Baba" (Baba = Barbara = another name for Penny).

9. Obeah discovered

An interesting s h ift now occurs. Lucy, who has been urging the bearded boy to do the dance, begins twisting her torso and swing­ ing her arms, darting from one end of the room to the other. She is stomping so heavily on the floor that the whole house is shaking, and Henry the musiker lets out a big "aaah" as he speeds up the tempo, thinking that Lucy is about to turn. Her movement is furious, with that rapid staccato twisting that so often characterizes dancers be­ fore they turn. She goes to the doors and windows and with her arms 91

beckons the spirits to come in. She then brings Penny into the middle of the room and dances with her. Now her body moves up and down, around and back and forth, almost like a small child's toy top. She takes Penny's hat off and thrmvs i t away in to the other room and then runs back to the windows, peering out at though looking a t something.

But she throws up her hands as though in disgust. To the musikers she yells "faster, faster" and darts out of the house with Agnes quickly following. I discovered later that she went out to pick cer­ tain bushes fo r making obeah medicine. She also le f t to find out what prevented the bearded man from doing the dance. According to

Agnes, Lucy found signs of obeah near the banana orchard about 100 yards from the house.

The band plays a favorite course tune called "Salt water"

-- "go'n up a wo'k all day, salt water good enough fo' me." Ben on the trian g le sings out these words again and again. The repetition of words and melody, almost like a stuck record, is characteristic of a heated dance, especially when somebody is ready to turn.

Now Lucy is back in the doorway, and the bearded dancer beck­ ons to her to come in saying "Help, help, help." Frances comes out of the bedroom with a kerosene light, as she and Agnes then go out into the darkness looking for something. But the bearded fellow continues to shuffle dance about Penny and to repeat, "Me dada, me dada" (= my daughter, my daughter). The band stops for a two minute break, and the bearded man shuffle dances about the room, repeating 92

the words and dragging one foot as he moves. He goes up to the t r i ­ angle player and says, "I habn't called me tune." Later in the dance,

he w ill say th at the tune to which he can turn is "Salt water," but

the band has just played it. He is really saying, "Don't play it

until I am ready."

Music resumes, and five people slow dance in a single file

around the edge of the ring as the bearded man shuffles about in the

center. Suddenly, Penny comes into the room with Lucy and Frances:

they carry the kerosene lamp and a bush. It looks like a soursop

bush. Frances dips the bush in a basin of what smells distinctly

like coffee and now shakes the dripping bush on the floor. The bush

medicine momentarily distracts me from the rest of the room, and I

suddenly hear Veronica shouting at the opposite comer of the room.

She is bent from the waist and, although 78 years of age, twists with

great vigor. I cannot understand what she is screaming to Penny, but

it is becoming louder. She is definitely beginning to turn; Agnes

te lls me th is , and I can see i t . Her turning now is not quite as

dramatic as la s t year when, a fte r a period of very pronounced and

heavy dancing, she darted out of the room and came back in rolling,

writhing, and speaking in a high pitched voice to Penny.

Right now, the combination of her screaming in that high

shrill voice, the bearded man shouting, and Ben singing "Salt water,"

plus the noise of the band and other people dancing about — all

give the impression of total chaos. But the guests here know what

is going on; they are not frightened and are not mystified that 33

something out of the ordinary is happening. They look, watch, and judge the atmosphere. Apart from the erratic movement and shouting of the dancers, everything is really quite controlled and calm.

veronica continues her jerking movement, holding both hands at the bottom of her skirt, twisting her torso first to the left, then to the right, dashing over to the door and then to the window, peering out and searching for the jombees. white rum is again brought out, tossed on the rafters and on the floor. She may have called for some rum to be brought to her, as she now sips lightly and places the empty glass in the center of the ring. She darts back and forth to the side of the glass and now around it. The same glass will appear again and again during the dance. In fact, drinking glasses figure prominently at the dances. A glass may be put on a person's head to bring the jombee into that person, but this glass is put on the floor to bring the jombees from the ceiling or from outside the house. Some dancers throw the glass out the window, and onlookers rush to see if it is broken. For if it remains unbroken, this is a sign that the spirits are at work.

Veronica continues to dance, twisting from the torso, and then moves over to the bearded fellow shouting, "Who are you, who are you?"

She says something else which I cannot understand. Agnes listens, picks up a flashlight, and runs into the darkness. Agnes now returns to the room holding a plate of roast pork, and, as the dance continues, she moves from musiker to musiker, dancer to dancer, giving a little

bit to each participant. Henry tells me that "in olden days" dancers 94

called for roast rat, not the kind of rat found in the villages but a mountain or forest rat (perhaps mountain rat = agouti). This rat would be stuffed with bread stu ffin g and passed around much as Agnes is passing around the pork. I think Veronica called for this meat.

Veronica continues to dance and pull Penny around. They are now directly in front of me. When I brought the malt to the house yesterday morning, I saw Veronica sitting at the table, and her face was so sweet, serene, and calm. Now it is close to a grimace, possessed of a certain tenseness and intensity that is observable in the way the

lower jaw ju ts forward, the way the brows knit.

Agnes again rushes out of the house and brings back a glass of clear liquid — white rum or plastic, I presume. Now cassava bread is brought out, torn into small pieces, and mixed with the rum in a metal porcelain pan, then set in the middle of the room next to the empty glass. Later I learned that Veronica called for these as part of thebush medicine to fight the obeah put on Penny.

Despite the intensity in the facial expressions of the dancers, despite the frantic activity of Agnes to fulfill every wish that the jombees or dancers call for, despite all the obeah, there is still

levity. It is now nine o'clock and the musikers break for a couple of moments, laughing and joking with the guests. Tom the bobla player is quite pleased, and says he could play for this kind of dance until

Christmas. He is perhaps pleased because so much has happened so early in the dance. I later learned that he had been hired by Penny to make obeah at the end and to fin ish the dance. He has a stake in 95

the dance beyond his position as a musiker. He also comments to the assembly that the bearded fellow "could do dee dance."

Now Marie, who had been dancing with such grace earlier, returns to the ring and iranediately moves with speed and abandon. Fagan comes out of the side room and throws white rum on ner. Later I am told that they did not want her to dance, for she is neither kin of

Penny nor invited. Fagan and Frances try by a variety of means, such as throwing coffee or rum on her, to bring her back to her senses.

It is odd that they use rum thrown on the ceiling to attract the jombees but also throw i t on a person to prevent turning. Dancing next to Marie is a very young girl, only about 16, who is Henry's daughter. She too dances furiously, but suddenly the music stops.

Fagan takes charge of matters and goes over to the musikers saying,

"De girl could do dee dance." But Henry, who is playing the woowoo, does not want his daughter dancing — although he brought her here and also to a previous dance at Tom's.

Now Veronica returns and screams for white rum, which she rubs over the face and now the arms of Penny. I was told by an obeahman in this very village that one must rub the skin to fortify it against evil spirits. Veronica now calls for brandy, and Agnes rushes in with

it, which Veronica hand-rubs over Penny's face. Penny's facial ex­ pression is unmoved by this action, as the room slowly comes to reek

from the aroma of brandy. Veronica becomes more furious and jerky

in her movement, pulling Penny about the room, f i r s t th is way and then 96 th at way. She returns to the center, goes down on her knees, and rubs more of the brandy on Penny's leg, going well above the level of her knee-high s k irt. She meanwhile continues to chatter loudly, but from my distance I cannot understand. I catch only occasional snatches, such as, "I catch you, I see you.” When I asked her next morning what i t meant, she did not remember.

It is 9:45 P.M., and we are back to a slow dance, a waltz.

Daniel wants to break, because them musikers are tire d and hot from the long musical drive which they have sustained. They need a slow dance to regain energy. The amount of energy expended over the course of at least a dozen hours by both the musikers and dancers is enormous. I know of no way of measuring it but realize its importance as stimulant for the turning.

Four couples are dancing to the waltz. It is not Infrequent to

find women dancing together at these dances and occasionally men also.

The bearded fellow wanders about the room, s t i l l shuffling and stomping

in a rather dazed s ta te , and the musikers and guests keep te llin g him to "do dee dance." Sarah, a kinswoman of Penny, tries to get Henry's daughter into the ring, but Henry repeats, "No, not in the ring."

The waltz is the well known “Jane and Louisa," and, as the waltz

proceeds, the heavy stomping again begins, a stomping which is charac­

teristic of the Montserratian adaptation of the waltz beat. Both musikers and dancers accompany the waltz beat with this heavy stomping.

Ann Marie Dewer (personal communication) thinks th is beat an African 97 retention. Ben and Tom now cry out the words of the waltz, "I come to see Janey, I come to see Janey oh, Janey oh, Janey oh," but those are the only words they use. This tune is one of those whose lyrics are always sung in Standard English and not in Montserratian English.

The course dance tunes are most often in heavy dialect, but the slower dances, especially the waltzes or schottishes, are in Standard English lyrics. I do not know why. I only know that singers separate dialect and Standard English songs.

The band suddenly shifts into a course dance, and a tall, thin cousin of Penny, named Ryan, begins to dance furiously. He is quite tall, perhaps six feet six inches, and, because of his size and the swinging of his long, lanky arms, the floor is quickly cleared for him.

He calls first for a four-cornered cake, and Agnes brings it on a fork.

He then takes it to the front door and holds it out in the darkness.

His facial expression has changed, with jaw ju ttin g and teeth tig h tly locked. Ryan twists his torso and flails his arms for approximately three minutes and then leans against the wall, slides down the wall, and sits on the floor. Lucy now takes over the fast dancing, and

Agnes rushes over to hear what she is saying. Lucy, however, is only repeating the title of the tune being played, "Tell Tony Red Ants nebber mind." She dances as I have seen no other, first dancing on one foot with the other outstretched in the air and then moving her body up and down as though th a t single foot were the pivotal point of a toy top. The dance stops momentarily, but the bobla keeps the 98 beat, and Lucy keeps dancing around the room. Anyone who gets in the way is hit by her swinging arms. I do not know why the dance stops, but I suspect she is getting too lewd, for she is starting to pull off her skirt. It is curious how lewd behavior or exposure is strictly prohibited, yet many of the jombee song ly rics speak o f sexual in te r­ course and sex. play. This concern with decency which I repeatedly observed is in stark contrast to the overt sexual behavior of the possessed dancers in the Jamaican Convince cult (Hogg 1960:14).

10. Unapproved turning incident

Marie begins to dance again. She now moves with greater abandon than at the beginning of the evening. Her hands are twisting about in all directions, and she moves very quickly — but without the staccato and darting movements of the other dancers. I have little doubt from her body contortions as she moves alone or opposite someone that this is a very sensual dance, but not everyone approves of such sensual dancing. She is quite well known for her affairs with men, but she wants nothing to do with children. This wish puts her apart from the rest of the women here who may have had liaisons and lovers in life -- but bore children. Not only is she neither kin nor friend of Penny, therefore, but also somewhat of an outcast.

Marie now incorporates jumping movements with her dance, leaping high in the air, both feet off the floor but always coming down to the beat of the music. The tune changes to "Cool down Mary Dublin."

Tom and Henry watch Marie with great attention and amusement, and I suppose someone would say they are "dirty old men." In any case, 99

Agnes comes in with a bush which she dips in a can of coffee and uses to beat Marie on the head with.

The band goes back to "Tell Tony Red Ants nebber mind," and

Marie falls to the floor, collapsing as though fainting. She gets up again, twisting, twisting, but much slower. The music stops, but she s t i l l moves about, tw isting and tw isting. She now has her back to the window, and as she leans back and arches her back out the window, she almost falls out. She does fall to the floor, and Fagan quickly brings a towel which she fixes between the legs and sk irt so Marie will not be indecently exposed. Marie looks unconscious, but her body still twitches and shakes and her garments are thoroughly drenched with sweat. What has happened here has not met with approval, so a fte r about five minutes Martha helps her up, and Marie staggers as though drunk, while Martha leads her from the room and out into the darkness.

I cannot keep up with the activity. The tall Ryan has returned to the room with saucepan containing cassava bread and rum. He dances over it with split legs, moving first forward and then backward. He picks it up and then takes it outside. I did not see him again for some time, but the pan will appear again next morning. Now an old musiker, named Paul, has come into the ring and is dancing alone.

He repeats and will repeat ad nauseam the phrase "Dolly Hill go'en burn boy" or "Dolly go'en burn." Later I asked him why he used those words and where was Dolly H ill, but he did not know. No one knows a song with precisely those words, although it is a variation on known 100 tunes and ly ric s. Paul now fa lls to the flo o r, ro llin g back and forth, curled somewhat in a ball. Even on the floor he continues to repeat

"Dolly Hill," while Ben repeats the words of "Salt water." Paul stomps his feet while lying flat on his back. Rum is thrown on the floor, and whether or not he called for it I do not know. He tries to get o ff the floor but can only s i t up. Adding to the noise and the confusion is Lucy who still shouts "Tell Tony Red Ants nebber mind."

Thus, there are three parts of different songs going on at the same time.

Paul is now crawling on all fours, first to the window, then to the door, and then to a side door, peering out at each point. Penny,

Lucy, and Agnes later confirmed that Paul's actions are a pivotal point in the dance and account for why one of the key invited dancers, the bearded fellow, cannot "do dee dance." They think, and the sensible man la te r confirms, th at a sick half-brother of Penny has put obeah on the place so that the dance cannot take place successfully. The brother is jealous of what Penny has received from her American brother. Others will add that Paul, because he was not invited to be a musiker, is trying to "mash up de dance" and put obeah on it. More of this later.

Paul now stands up with one shoulder leaning sharply and shuffles about the room repeating the "Dolly Hill" refrain. He then goes outside the house. What I did not see in the darkness turns out to be another crucial event of the dance. Agnes and Lucy dance out to the banana orchard where obeah signs were found e a r lie r , and now they find new 101

signs: tufts of plaited grass. When the tall grass has been so woven

together, i t is a sign of obeah — somebody has put a hex on the dance.

Agnes will accuse Paul of having done this when he left the dance.

Next day Paul w ill be apologetic, because Agnes and the other continue

to accuse him of "humbugging" the dance. But he will te ll me th a t he

has no recollection of "mashing up" the dance. It is possible that

Paul was genuinely turning which brought on a form of amnesia. Some

of his unconscious motivation and resentment may have surfaced in the

activity of plaiting the grass.

11. The midnight feast

It is 11:58 P.M. and time for the midnight feast. Frances,

Agnes, and Lucy rush into the room with enameled tin plates containing

goatwater and bread. The generous portions are first offered to the musikers, after which I receive a plate of this rich and nicely spiced

goatwater. Tin mugs of coffee are given to musikers and dancers.

Both groups are visibly tired but there is, nevertheless, a low level

of chatter and some quiet laughing. I am exhausted from observing

and have a headache. I need the coffee to keep awake but already

have heartburn from the strong coffee offered at least every hour

to all in the room. I need fresh air, so leave the house and sit

against an outside wall, where I fall asleep and reawake after one

o'clock.

12. More obeah

The dance has already started when I come back in and see Marie

lying on the floor, arms extended, hands shaking as though she has a 102

tambourine in either hand. She has obviously turned and then collapsed on the floor. All this happened within a period of ten minutes, according to Agnes. Once again her skirts are pulled between her legs and knotted in front for the sake of modesty. Agnes says that she did not speak when she turned, that she could not speak. Now

Marie s its up. reels around, puts her hands and arms back to support herself using all fours, and when she finally manages to stand up she reels about. Were I to see her on the s tr e e t, I would imagine th a t she were drunk. All of her gestures and body movements express a tired n ess. She yawns, stretch es, and shakes her head trying to shake herself out of the stupor. When she wanders over to the front door and stands out in the fresh air, she again shakes her head and gives the appearance of being half-dazed. I ask about i f the jombees had come to her, but both Agnes and Frances say, "No! Jombee only mash she up." This and later explanations will lead me to conclude that jombees can come and speak through a person to help, but they can also come into a person to do him or her harm. This distinction is part of the validation process for a good turner: the good turner can speak, or better, the jombees speak through the turner.

Marie disappears into the darkness, and the band strikes up a waltz, "Sell out your house and your land." The tall Ryan is dancing about, and a young drunk has come intothe room, causing all sorts of altercations with guests and musikers. They want him to leave but he will not. Frances and Agnes come to me and ask me to dance, and only with the greatest of difficulty and by actually holding tight to the 103 chair am I able to avoid going into the ring. Fagan asks me then if

I were not dancing because I am a "Christian." This is not a reference to the fact that I am a Roman Catholic priest, for everybody knows that. The reference "Christian" means a member of one of the

Pentecostal sects, which are very strongly opposed to the dance. The word does not refer to the larger denominations, for they are called by their appropriate titles: Anglican, Catholic, and Methodist. Fagan's question, which I had heard before, reinforcing my conclusion that the bombardment of preaching and teaching by the fundamentalists since World War II has contributed significantly to the demise of the jombee dance. Clergymen o f the larger denominations are too few to have the same intense effect that the many small Pentecostal preachers have.

Penny's cousin now identifies for me a drunk and a couple of associates hanging around the house as "Rasta." That term originally denoted the followers of a Jamaican derived religion which preached the divinity of Haile Selassie and repatriation to Ethiopia as the promised land (See B arrett 1977). But these young men are rather fashionably dressed and do not wear the long and closely curled hair locks of the true Rastafarians. In this part of the island, rasta is often used to describe any anti-social rowdie. Such are eventually persuaded to leave.

Circular shuffle dancing continues. Ginger wine is spread on the floor at the entryway, and a bouquet of flowers, including some strong smelling wild white lilies, is also put at the entryway. These flowers are e ith e r from the jombee table display or were collected by 104

Agnes during one of her quick exits from the house. Apparently one of

the dancers called for the flowers. Parched corn is again spread

around the floor edges, and the room is filled with the confusion

of smells. Fagan comes in, picks up the flowers, dances with them,

holds them out in one hand, and then gives them to Sarah as Sarah

dances about. Sarah too takes them first to the window, now to the

door. When Fagan goes to the bedroom, she comes back in with a glass

which she puts on the windowsill, and then she begins to twitch and

vibrate. She is quite large but now dances with great poise. She moves back to the window, picks up the glass, holds it out the window,

then shakes her head, twists her torso, and carries the glass out to

the door. Paul returns to the room and stomps around, arms and

hands clenched tig h tly next to his body, and as he goes by me he

says, "Me dance, me dance, me dance."

13. Procession to the orchard

Now occurs one of the strangest events of the early morning

hours. Lucy dances in through the side door and beckons for Daniel

and the band to come out. Out they go, and I follow. Lucy has picked

up the kerosene lantern, and we begin moving toward the banana orchard,

led by Lucy with the lone lamp in a single file procession. She

dances as we go. The night muffles the sound of the instruments,

except the triangle's piercing beat. When we arrive at the orchard,

Lucy goes round and round looking at the bushes and now finds more

plaited grass. The young bearded man follows Lucy and Agnes and

holds the two tufts of plaited grass which Lucy has given him. 1Q5

Lucy xnen sees xne lantern on xne grouna arm uancês arourm i t , arm as she dances she sings the jombee dance song, "Mice dee bad man, hi ce John Fergus." The words are appropriately about obeah put on a thief, and as she cries out those words she is "calling" for the tune to be played by the band. The bearded man begins dancing opposite her, as Penny leans next to the two of them hoping to hear something. Lucy now spreads out her arms and says, "Clear dee way," and dances down the path toward the cement house — carrying the lantern, twisting and turning down the path. Frances is at the rear of the procession holding high the bouquet of wild lilies. Somehow the scene reminds me of the closing dance of death in Bergman's eschatological film, "The Seventh Seal." But the activities here, however, are neither eschatological nor futurist, for they clearly focus on the here-and-now existential problems.

The procession marches around the cement house and then returns to the old wooden house. I surmise that the action was either a cleansing of the property or a hunting for obeah. After the dance.

Penny will tell me that the purpose is both searching and purifying.

I am not surprised, for the symbolism is rather obvious, and the history of the case is intimately involved with this property.

It is 5:30 A.M. We are no sooner back in the wooden house when Lucy once again leads the band outside, down and around the cement house. This time Penny is holding high the bouquet of l i l i e s , th at same bouquet which has played such an important part throughout the evening. Lucy leads the band first into the bedroom and now into another bedroom, lif tin g up the curtains, opening up the 1 05A curtains, and dancing back into the living room. Lucy dances in place as she cries, "Who go'en to do dat, we go'en to stop 'em... somebody do dat...they can't get over you." Her facial expression is changing quickly: she now has the intense look with the jutting jaw, clenched teeth, and glassy eyes. She leans back against the window and begins to stagger. Now she calls for a basin as the band plays "Farm Bay bad bay;" then she c alls for bushes, herbs, and roots from Penny's garden; and fin a lly she mixes these with water and with the contents of the basin used last night. As she puts on her shoes, she continues to dance, not missing a beat. Once again she leads the band out the back door and takes us to the l i t t l e house. Although she carries a lantern, this is no longer necessary for it is already daylight.

Lucy disappears, but the band continues to play on, even though no one is dancing. The bearded fellow paces around the ring and says, "Me just come here for breakfast, me just come here for breakfast," but no one is paying attention to him. Although there has been much ta lk about the authenticity of his turning, his words are most interesting to me regardless of the authenticity question.

His references are mostly to kin and th e ir relationship to Penny. So, genuine or staged, the man's reactions confirm my interpretation of the jombee dance as ancestral ritual. Right now he is saying, "Your family, your family, it is right this moment your family here." Now he says, "I am marching, I am marching, I see you coming th is morning and you was nice as usual." 107

15. Winding down

It is 6:13 A.M., and a new set of dances begins. Veronica once again starts her gyrations during a number four or five quadrille and becomes quite ecstatic in her movements as she

roughly pulls Penny into the privacy of a side bedroom. I hear

Veronica yelling and saying things to Penny, and I n»ve closer to the bedroom in order to hear better. I see Veronica stomping and swaying as she screams at Penny, but the only words I understand are the dance words, "Tell Tony Red Ants nebber mind." She speaks so quickly and in such heavy dialect that I can understand only an occasional word or phrase. When I later ask both Penny and

Veronica what was said, neither of them could, or would, give me an answer.

At 6:52, Veronica stops her gyrations, but the bearded fellow

continues to wander and stomp around the ring as breakfast is served to musikers and guests. The hard bread dipped in hot coffee tastes

good. During breakfast, I talk with Marie who has come back into

the house looking very tired. I ask her what she remembers, and

she says that she remembers "earlies" but not "lates." In

other words, a fte r midnight she does not remember what she was doing

during her dancing. She asks me if she "did rude" — probably a way

of asking whether her gestures were indecent when she rolled on

the floor. She tells me this is the second time she has turned.

She turned once before, at a dance put on for a spree; I attended

th at dance at a local rum shop, and i t was the young bearded fellow

who then helped her to turn. 108

During breakfast; I also have the opportunity to talk with a boy of 18 or 20 who last summer at this same location disrupted the dance by forcibly trying to get into the ring. He screamed and screamed and rushed about frantically, throwing stones at those who trie d to prevent him from entering. I ask him i f he remembers what took place la s t year, and he, much lik e Marie, says "parts" and repeats to me, "I couldn't help it, I had to do it." Other dancers have also described their feelings in this way. They say th at they sometimes know what they are doing or have only a vague recollection of what they have done, but there is some compelling force which drives them to dance. At th is dance, the boy has stayed out on the porch all evening, all night, and up to now. He just hangs on the porch, watching inside, and he has about his face th a t hurt and pained look which was so pathetic to see la s t year. This year, he has not trie d to come in and dance.

16. Conclusion of the dance

By 7:15 A.M. the dancing resumes. A new supply of rum arrives and the musikers drink some, a t which point they take on a second

lif e . Rum is once again poured out of the windows by Fagan. The

bearded man puts two glasses of scotch and rum on the floor, dances

around them, leans back on them, and then sticks out his rear toward

them. Tom tries to tell him what to do, how to dance, but he does

not pay much attention to Tom. He puts the glasses out the window,

then on the floor, and Tom says, "Tat's right." At this stage of

the dance, Tom begins to take over leadership of the entire affair.

The dance stops abruptly, and Tom and Ben go outside to relieve themselves. 109

Torn now begins to act lik e an obeahman. He calls for pomegranate, has it cut into several pieces, and then orders the pieces to be put on the rafters at the corners of the room. Some of the pomegranate is then passed around to the guests for them to eat. I eat some of i t . Is th is a form of communion in obeah? Tom now talks to the bearded man, and — almost as a test of his validity -- asks him, "Could you reveal a secret?" In other words, i f what you say tonight is true, then offer a surprise or a secret which will validate it all. The boy then asks, "What you want from me to reveal secret?"

Tom answers, "Then you cannot do it!" and laughs and laughs at this.

Tom now addresses Penny: "You goin' to get frightened now... you goin' to see what is going to run out of you," referring to her eyes. Penny listens intently and then tells Tom how someone is doing evil to her. She says that she has seen big worm-like things going out of her eyes and knows someone has done evil to her. Tom says, "I is gon' to axe yo' a question: What come firs' o' August'?"

Penny and the others answer "Nincom Riley," a reference to the well known song, "Come first of August." One of the ladies cries out,

"Oh thank you, Jesus." Then Tom asks about buckra, again a word which occurs in the song. I understand him to ask i f anyone knows a buckra (white person) and think this is a reference to me. But the bearded fellow says that he has buckra in him, referring to the fact that he is a mulatto.

Now as quickly as the music stopped, it resumes. But Tom is not playing with the band but is speaking with Penny and Agnes. Penny goes out the front door followed by Tom, the band, and the rest of no the guests in single f ile procession back to the big cement house.

In the house, the music to "Come first of August" continues. The song refers to the Proclamation of Emancipation on that historic first of August, but here the date refers to next August when everything is going to be revealed at another dance.

The dance is now winding down. There is little music and less dancing. Tom and Penny go o ff and ta lk secretly in the corridor, but I can overhear Tom tell her that, although she will not be completely cured, things will not get worse. They then return to the room, and he speaks to her very harshly about the evil that afflicts her. He tells her that it is not her fault, but that other people have tried to do these things to her. Yet, they cannot harm her beyond this illness. We are all gathered around Penny and Tom listening attentively. Several chime in "He speak from dee heart, he speak from dee heart." Tom is not in trance, nor is he speaking as a jombee, and it is also quite obvious to all present that he is speaking as a "sensible man," either as an obeahman or one adept in obeah.

Daniel and Penny now go aside, talk about a price for the musikers, and agree on $EC 130.00. After this, there is a little haggling in the corridor between the musikers as to who gets how much, but then they start to pack up their instruments as guests sit around the living room discussing the dance. One of the ladies comes, sits next to me, and tries to explain how so many here are related to Penny.

She says that they are all one family at the dance, except for Paul and Veronica. 111

As I wait for people to leave, I ask questions about the dance.

Paulsimply will not talk about it, saying that he does not remember and is very disturbed about being accused of "humbugging” the dance.

I replay the tape recorder for Penny and Agnes to interpret some words, but they say they do not know or understand. Agnes says that we "can understand the jombees only parts." I felt rather badly about missing the meaning of so many words and phrases. (I also thought that i might find a distinction similar to that in Christian glossal alia, wherein the incomprehensible utterances are interpreted by another person, but I found no such distinction.) Either the jombees' words are understood, or they are not.

AsI leave the house. Penny tells me that there will be another dance come f i r s t of August next year. It is 11 A.M., and I am driving back to Plymouth with a carload of exhausted guests. I see others wandering down the road in the other direction.

17. After the dance

In my interviews the next day, I note that guests are not e n tire ly consistent regarding what actually happened and the meaning of it all. Some place more emphasis on the original evil obeah done by Penny's former man, but others refer more to her half-brother — who is known to be an adept in obeah. Is it the former man or the half-brother who put the obeah in the yard and made Penny sick? Still others say that Paul planted the obeah.

I ask Agnes about the success of this dance, compared to the one la s t year which she had called "so-so" (moderately successful).

She replies that this "dance much better, much better, 'cept what 112

that bastard Paul do. Paul be son-of-bitch." Agnes also tells me that when Lucy turned, she said that obeah would attack Penny's stock and fowl. Thus, sometime within the seven days following the dance Penny has to wash down the animals to protect them from obeah.

The mixture of cassava, water, and bushes that I had seen in the basin will be used for this. As I talk with Agnes, Fagan and Veronica a rriv e . Both are beaming and pleased with the outcome of the dance.

Wayne P ittard , an American student of mine who had helped in the taping and recording, then comes into the room. Fagan looks at me, points to Wayne, and says, "Me man!" Wayne has good rapport with the group, and I suspect his sense of humor and discretion helped. Fagan jokes with him about being her lover, although their ages differ by about 50 years.

Fagan politely inquires about my health, and I tell her that I am still tired. As a matter of fact, I had slept only fitfully during the night following the dance. I had enough coffee to give a workhorse a caffeine high, and I just could not block out the echoes of the drums and triangle. I could hear them as plainly the night after as during the actual performance. I still have a splitting headache. I mention this to Fagan and the others, and they curiously nod with great approval. Fagan says, "He know de jombees."

Apparently the continued echo of the drums and voices in one's head is considered a good sign. Fagan's skill as a bush doctor now comes to lig h t. She suggests a strong bush tea of fresh avocado leaves

(Persea americana), and indicates that if that does not do the job to 113 take some tea from eucalyptus leaves (Eucalyptus robustus). I ask her about a tea made from soursop leaves (Anona muricata) but she says this is not strong enough. I later tried her concoction and it works. CHAPTER III: ANALYTICAL MODELS FOR INTERPRETING THE DANCE

INTRODUCTION

I use three theoretical frameworks to in terp ret the descriptive data. Victor Turner's model puts this particular ritual in the comparative context of ritual in general. Mary Douglas' model throws lig h t on the symbolism of trancing dancing, and George Simpson's categories for Black religions in the Americas place the Montserratian ritual within the comparative perspective of Caribbean religions.

This chapter summarizes the models, and the next chapter te s ts th e ir a p p licab ility to the jombee dance.

TURNER'S PROCESSUAL SYMBOLIC ANALYSIS

Turner's model for ritual derives largely from his studies of

African so c ie tie s, as in Schism and Continuity in an African Society

(1957), The Forest of Symbols (1967), and The Drums of Affliction (1968),

More recently, he uses his African data and insights to present a

ritual model of broader application, as in The Ritual Process (1969) and Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors (1974). He has most recently applied his ritual model to Christian pilgrimages in Image and

Pilgrimage in Christian Culture (Turner and Turner 1978). I have

chosen Turner's model not because of Africanisms or African-Christian

syncretism in the Montserratian case, but because the Turner schema —

regardless of geographic origin — sheds light on a wide v a r ie ty o f

ritual including, I will argue, the jombee dance.

For Turner, the basic form of ritual is, first of all, drama

He chooses drama because it is a human esthetic form, and because

114 115 ritual is also a product of culture and not of nature. Natural systems are objectively given and, therefore, are independent of theexperience and activity of human beings, but cultural systems, on theother hand, depend on conscious, volitional agents (1974:32f). Turner's choice is perhaps consciously directed against Douglas' Natural symbols, for she clearly selects a natural rather than cultural framework:

...the organic system provides an analogy of the social system which, other things being equal, is used in the same way and understood in the same way all over the world. The body Is capable of furnishing a natural system of symbols (1970:12).

Both frameworks have d is tin c t advantages, but Turner's elim inates the extra step of an organic analogy or metaphor. In other words, he has no need to say that ritual is like drama, because ritual i^ drama.

Second, Turner distinguishes between social drama and social enterp rises. Social enterprises are prim arily economic in character, based on considerations of utility, such as road making. Social dramas, on the other hand, are "units of aharmonic or disharmonie process, arising in conflict situation" (1974:37). As social drama, therefore, ritual is a drama of contestation.

As social drama, ritual is also necessarily processual (1974:35).

Ritual, as a drama consisting of such processual units, will express a variety of structures: (1) temporal, i.e ., organizational relation­ ships in time; (2) cognitive structures, i.£ ., those resulting from mental processes; and (3) atemporal stru ctu res, i . £ . , models of what people believe they ought to do (1974:35f).

Turner then finds that the processual structure of social drama typically divides into four phases. The first phase is a break in 116 social relations, and the second stage is one of mounting crisis or escalation. At this second stage, a pattern of factional intrigue, hitherto covert, may be exposed and the true state of affairs revealed. This second phase is important in the Turner schema because it can show liminal characteristics, that is, it acts as a threshold between stable phases (a more complete discussion will be included later). The third stage is redressive action, activity to limit the spread of the c r is is . The mechanisms or means for redress may be advice, mediation, arbitration, or performance of ritual. Turner considers this third phase crucial to the analysis of ritual, because precisely in this phase both pragmatic and symbolic techniques reach fullest expression. It is at this stage that the all important question must surface for the analysis of ritual, namely, is the redressive machinery capable of handling the crisis, restoring the status quo, or of restoring peace? The final and fourth stage is reintegration or legitimization of irreparable schism. Although these four stages appear to emphasize the temporal structure of ritual. Turner adds that analysis must also include the cognitive and atemporal structures described above (1974:37). Turner's basic framework of r itu a l, to summarize th is section, is drama, and as drama i t is both social and processual.

In explaining the structure of ritual. Turner appeals to three key concepts: social structure (and anti-structure), communitas, and liminality. These concepts form the larger, theoretical model within which ritual as social drama expresses itself. Ritual as social drama expresses in symbol these three social realities. 117

Perhaps one of the most important contributions of Turner's understanding of ritual is the subordinate role he assigns to social structure within society and the relationship he develops between structure and anti-structure. Despite the fact that he gives social structure a meaning sim ilar to th at used by B ritish social anthropologists, his justapositioning of structure with anti-structure gives a broader meaning to the relationship of ritu al to social structure. Ritual may well express, reflect, and reinforce social structure, but ritual may just as often express anti-structure through the agency of communitas. Thus, Turner's definition of social structure may be commonplace, but the role given i t goes beyond classical social anthropology. He defines social structure:

By "structure" or "social structure" I do not mean what Lévi-Strauss or his followers mean by these terms, that is, a structure of "unconscious categories” located at a deeper level than the empirical, but rather what Robert Meron has termed "the patterned arrangements of role-sets, status-sets and status- sequences" consciously recognized and regularly operative in a given society and closely bound up with legal and political norms and sanctions (1974:201).

More recently. Turner identifies communitas with social anti-structure, describing i t as "a liminal phenomenon which combines the q u alities of lowliness, sacredness, homogeneity, and comradeship" (1978:250). He also notes that communitas is not merely the negative of structure, but rather the fons et origo and even the critique of structure

(1974:202: 1978:250). Communitas is spontaneous and liberates from conformity to general norms (1978:250), and, as such, it is open. 118

the spring of pure possibility and release from day-to-day structural necessities and obligations. Turner calls this type of communitas ex isten tial or spontaneous (1978:252), but when spontaneous communitas is preserved in ethical precepts or legal ru les, he calls th is normative communitas. And i f spontaneous communitas is preserved in ethical precepts or legal rules, he calls th is normative communitas. And i f spontaneous communitas is formulated into a reformed blueprint for society, this is ideological communitas (1978:252).

The relationship of communitas to liminality is particularly close, for it is in liminality that communitas breaks through structure and into society (1978:251). Both lim inality and communitas are components of a n ti-stru c tu re , but they are also d ifferen t: liminality is not a social modality but a sphere or domain of action and thought, a sta te of being "betwixt and between" (1974:13).

Liminality is that state between the categories of ordinary social life. Thus, it is in the state or movement of liminality that the social modality known as communitas emerges.

Turner acknowledges his debt to Znaniecki and van Gennep for these three key concepts (1974: 13 and 44f). He follows Znaniecki in identifying communitas as the "bond uniting people over and above th e ir formal bonds" (1974:46). His concept of lim inality obviously draws from the tr ip a r tite processual structure of Arnold van Gennep's rites of passage. But Turner takes both concepts beyond their original usage. Znaniecki's term becomes only one of the key poles 119 in Turner's processual analysis of ritual. Communitas becomes the negative pole of anti-structure in opposition to the positive pole of structure. Second, Turner takes van Gennep's second stage of margin or limen beyond the r ite s of passage. For Turner, liminality is more than a state or movement between two fixed points.

Liminality is broadly conceived of as two fixed points. Liminality is broadly conceived of as that state which expresses the anti­ structure of communitas. In general, therefore. Turner has either broadened or refocused the application of pre-existing terms.

To this point, my summary of Turner's ritual model has placed ritual within the category of social drama. Second, the summary has explained the social dimensions of ritual in terms of three key concepts — social stru c tu re , communitas or a n ti-stru c tu re , and liminality. But these terms elucidate only part of Turner's model for the analysis of ritual. By and large, these terms only underscore the processual character of ritual. The Turner model, however, is described as both processual and symbolic analysis.

The symbolic element now needs explanation.

The smallest unit of ritual — "whether associated with an object, activity, relationship, word, gesture, or spatial arrangement" (1978:244f) -- is the symbol. Symbols are different from signs because the symbol always bears some likeness to the things signified; unlike the sign, the symbol may have a multiplicity of meanings (1978:245). For Turner, more important than any definition is the function of ritual symbol: 120

1. Ritual condenses many reference points, uniting

them in a single field (1974:55f). Turner notes,

however, that it is the constellation or cluster

of symbols rather than the individual symbol

which forms the typical unit for interp retatio n

(1968:17). Ritual symbol functions as a store­

house for memnonic devices thus holding a clu ster

of values, norms, beliefs, roles, and relation­

ships (1958:lff).

2. Ritual symbols originate in and sustain processes

which involve time changes in social relations

(1974:57). Thus, the symbol, whether it is thing

or gesture, is a social phenomenon, because in

ritual a particular relationship receives recognition

and stereotyped representation (1968:273f).

3. If the beginning and continuation of ritual symbol

involves social relationships, it is not surprising

th at the end toward which ritu a l moves is social

action (1974:55). Ritual symbol is a positive

force in social action (1958:80ff).

4. Ritual symbol is open to many meanings; it is

multi vocal (1974:55). Perhaps in this function or

property of ritual symbol Turner merely recognizes

the la te n t ambiguity which resu lts from symbolic

condensation. Turner sees that latent ambiguity of 121

symbol may be eliminated by repetition. He cites

the analogy of the communications engineer's

techniques of overcoming noise interference by the

use of multiple redundancy (1968:lff).

5. Ritual symbols can either polarize or unite opposite

poles of meaning. They may represent a coincidence

of opposites in which the organic or physiological

symbols are united with value-oriented or normative

symbols. Thus, the physiological elements of blood,

birth, death, and coitus may be brought together

with the ideological values of kinship, sex-

affiliation, and generosity (1974:55). As such,

the ritual symbol may contain the values of the

believing community; what is stored in the

condensed symbol is considered authoritative and

not simply idiosyncratic behavior (1968:2ff).

Turner would add that not just values are involved

but also the relationship between values, and thus

symbol expresses an ideological structure, not

simply a random assemblage of values (1968:3f).

According to him, it is precisely the drama of ritual

symbol in action which activates an exchange between

the physiological and normative poles. The biological

pole can be ennobled by proximity to the normative,

and the normative becomes charged with the emotional 122

because of proximity to the earthy and physiological.

This exchanges moreover, can achieve cathartic effects,

that is, transformation of character and of social

relationships (1974;55f).

Thus, the focal point of Turner's method is the dynamic of symbol, or what happens to symbol in the social drama called ritual. The relatively unique elements of his method are, first of all, the juxtapositioning of structure and anti-structure and, second, the role of liminality. It remains to be seen if his methodology implies a peculiar definition of ritual. I think not.

The Turner definition of ritual is rather standard: "Formal behavior prescribed for occasions not given over to technical routine th at have reference to beliefs and mystical beings or powers" (1978:243).

In explaining his own definition. Turner quotes Grimes' definition of ritual: "[T]ransformative performance revealing major classifications, categories, and contradictions of social processes" (1978:244). By so defining ritual as behavior that has "reference to beliefs" or which reveals," Turner clearly places ritual in the category of

communication, much in the vein of Douglas who also tre a ts ritu al

as preeminently a form of communication: "We can tre a t ritu al forms,

like speech forms, as transmitters of culture which are generated in

social relations and which, by their selections and emphases, exercise

a constraining effect on social behaviour" (1970:42). Turner's

definition of ritual, therefore, is not significantly peculiar.

On the other hand, Turner's definition may be misleading. I 123 suggest that his definition leads one away from the practical power which he himself gives to r itu a l. Note the phrase in his own definition: "[[Occasions not given over to technological routine"

(1978:243). Turner here apparently refers to the fact that ritual

Is not the formal behavior required for tool making, house building, or some similarly pragmatic task. Yet the phrase might also lead one to think that ritual has no practical effects, although Turner himself emphasizes the practical consequences of ritual. He even understands ritual as a powerfully practical means of restating the terms within which people interact (1968:6f). Ritual, as such, is expressive and even creative of the categories through which people perceive reality.

Ritual, therefore, is not a meaningless and ethereal inheritance from the dead past but an effective means of meeting contemporary needs

(1968:237f). Ritual as communication is thus definitely practical, and if communication today is considered both art and technology, then ritual might also be considered technological — but that conclusion, admittedly, goes beyond Turner's claims.

The above paragraphs summarize Turner's concept of ritu al and his methodology for its study. The summary has obviously selected

detail with an eye to application to the Montserratian data. Yet there

is another rationale: The complexity of any theoretical model always

faces the danger of obfuscating the simplicity and structure of the

data under analysis. There is a law of diminishing returns whereby

additional distinctions and subdivisions yield increasingly less insight

into the data. I have sought, therefore, to isolate the essence of 124

Turner's model and also to review each of his terms, selecting and eliminating on the basis of their heuristic value for the Montserratian data. This procedure may not do full justice to the complexity of the Turner schema, but Î think it gives primacy to the data by a l­ lowing the data to speak louder than the model.

DOUGLAS AND NATURAL SYMBOLS

I do not use Douglas'model of ritual as extensively as that of Turner. If I must defend the choice, I would merely replythat the Montserratian material determines the choice. Whereas Turner sets up the essential polarity of structure and anti-structure, Douglas, especially in Natural Symbols (1970), gives central emphasis to ritual and anti-ritual. The problem of anti-ritualism is not a Montserratian one, for there is no noticeable movement away from ritual on that

island, despite some movement from one ritual pattern to another

(e.g., Anglican to Pentecostal or Catholic to Seven Day Adventist).

I use her model, therefore, only to elucidate the trance elements of the jombee dance.

Her model of natural symbols hinges on the relationship between the two bodies of self and society:

The physical body can have universal meaning only as a system which responds to the social system, expressing it as a system. What it symbolizes naturally is the relation of parts of an organism to the whole. Natural symbols can express the relation of an individual to his society at that general systemic level. The two bodies are the self and society: sometimes they are so near as to be almost merged; sometimes they are far apart. The tension between them allows the elaboration of meanings (1970:112). 1

She phrases her thesis more succinctly elsewhere: "[Tjhe physical body is a microcosm of society...," (1970:101).

Three points are worth special note in Douglas' explanation of that thesis. The body, as a means of expression, is limited by controls from the social system (1970:98). Bodily control, therefore, is an expression of social control, and abandonment of body control expresses less social control or pressure. Moreover, where role structure is strongly defined, concludes Douglas, there also formal behavior will be highly valued — reflected in social distance, well- defined and insulated roles (1970:99f). Second, on a continuum of weak to strong societal pressure, the bodily expression is progressively "disembodied or etherealized" (1970:100). Put simply, the greater the social control- the greater the control of physiological expressions. Two corollaries follow in expression of social distance, one of physical dimension and the other of spatial: "[F]ront is more dignified and respectworthy than back. Greater space means more formality, nearness means intimacy" (1970:101).

In applying the two body thesis to trance, Douglas observes that

"we tend to find trance-like states feared as dangerous where the social dimension is strongly controlled. According to my general hypothesis, the inarticulateness of the social organization in itself gains symbolic expression in bodily dissociation" (1970:104).

Conversely, of course, the trance or altered states will be more approved and welcomed the weaker the structuring of society. Thus, the relationship of altered states to the Douglas thesis is but an 126 easy application of the recognized tendency, expressed in her general thesis, that body symbol replicates the social situation. Douglas, like Turner, acknowledges her debt to van Gennep for this insight

(1970:111). It is not surprising, therefore, that despite the differences of terminology, both Douglas' and Turner's models bear points of similarity. Just as Turner sees the anti-structure of ritual expressed in liminal symbols, so Douglas finds lack of social control expressed in bodily dissociation. I will argue in the next chapter that trance dancing is a liminality expressing communitas, or, as Douglas might word it, loose body control expressing loose social control.

SIMPSON'S NEO-AFRICAN RELIGIONS AND ANCESTRAL CULTS OF THE CARIBBEAN

The difference between the Douglas and Turner models and that of

Simpson is the difference between internal and external comparison.

Douglas and Turner offer internal models, if you will, models for the internal dissection of ritual itself, but Simpson's comparative study of Black religions offers external models, that is, similarly structured rituals elsewhere in the Caribbean. If the first two models answer the question "What is happening," then the Simpson model answers

"How does it compare with what is happening elsewhere in the Caribbean?"

In the light of the extensive catalogue of literature on the Caribbean (See Szwed and Abrahams 1978), the question naturally arises at this point, "Why Simpson's categories?" First of all, his work is new, incorporating even much recent and unpublished ethnographic data. I refer to his 1978 publication. Black Religions 127 in the New World. Second, his categories are comprehensive, reflecting a 40 year span of field research and writing on Caribbean religion. I know of no other recent single volume work on Caribbean religions which is as comprehensive as this volume. Third, his terminology advances beyond earlier debated categories and terminologies. He thus avoids speaking of African retentions (as an independent category) or of

Africanisms, which were so controversial in the writings of Melville herskovits (See Simpson's discussion 1978:58ff). He is cautious, referring only to "African influences in religious beliefs" (1978:58).

He also avoids, for example, Alfred Metraux's monistic interpretation of Haitian Vodou as syncretism or a "blending" (see Metraux 1972:35) and clearly sees the acculturation process as more complex than only syncretism: "Acculturation operates by means of three analytically distinctive but interrelated processes: retention, syncretization, and reinterpretation" (1978:61). Admittedly, however, Simpson here returns to Herskovits for these key concepts (See Herskovits

1930:149; 1933:260; 1937a:635; 1958:214f). Third, Simpson

incorporates both the social structure approach characteristic of so many British Caribbeanists and also the ethno-historical approach of

his own mentor, Herskovits.

Finally, and not least importantly, I use Simpson's categories

because he makes fleeting reference to now disappeared African

influence on Montserrat. Curiously enough, he is quoting one of the

directors for this dissertation: 128

Bourguignon asserts that there is some evidence to suggest that African-derived religions existed in the 18th century in areas where they are not found today. Such areas included the British Leeward Islands (Antiqua, Anguilla, Barbuda, Montserat, Nevis, St. Kitts, and the British Virgins), Martinique and Guadeloupe (Simpson 1098:94; quoting Bourguignon in Whitten and Szwed 1970:94 [But Bourguignon (1970:94), quoting Goveia, merely states "the Leeward Islands" without naming each specifically as Simpson has done]).

In applying Simpson's categories of Neo-African religions and ancestral cults to the jombee dance, I will argue that at least on Montserrat the evidence found lacking in the other Leeward Islands is extant.

Simpson finds four main categories of Black religions in the

Americas: (1) the historical Churches, including Pentecostal ism and

Spiritualism; (2) revivalist cults; (3) ancestral cults; and (4) Neo-

African religions. Although the category of historical Churches is found on Montserrat, it is the categories of Neo-African and ancestral cult which apply to the Montserratian jombee dance. Simpson uses the term Neo-African rather than simply African cult, and thereby recognizes the transformations of the acculturation process since the arrival of the first Africans in the New World. I adopt his list of traits for identifying the Montserratian data as Neo-African:

1. Names and characteristics of African deities

2. Soul concepts

3. Ritual objects

4. Drum rhythms

5. Song styles

6. Dance steps 129

7. Spirit possession

8. Ritual use of herbs, stones, and water

9. Seclusion and mourning

10. Animal sacrifices

n. Belief in the immediacy of intervention of super­

natural beings in human affairs

12. Utilization of the spirits of the dead

13. Ritual words (1978:61).

The second cross-cultural category which applies to Montserrat is that of ancestral cult. Simpson describes ancestral cult as follows:

In the religion of many peoples of West Africa, the great gods are usually headed by a creator, control major aspects of nature — sky, sea, earth, thunder and lightning, and so on. Besides nature divinities, there are many specialized and local gods — deities of divination, war, medicine, childbirth and agricul­ ture, as well as deities of villages and towns. Each deity has its own followers, priests, shrines and ceremonies and in addition the ancestors are worshipped. The ancestral cult consists of a few essentials — the importance of the funeral, the need to assure the benevolence of the dead, and concern with descent and kinship. In some New World religious cults, worship of the old African deities has disappeared, but the practice of honoring and propitiating the ancestors including African ancestors, has persisted in modified form (1978:95). CHAPTER IV: ANALYSIS OF THE JOMBEE DANCE

INTRODUCTION

This chapter is crucial to the argument of this dissertation, for the different threads of the descriptive data and the theoretical models must now be woven together. It should be noted that the dialogue between the raw data of the dance and the insights from the theories is two-way. The theories are applied in order to clarify the data, but the data are also testing the theories.

Placing the task of this chapter in the broader perspective of the scientific method, this relationship between data and theory illustrates a characteristic feature of the research process, namely, its cyclic or feedback nature.

THE JOMBEE DANCE AS SOCIAL DRAMA

The dance is preeminently social. The very fact that the dance form is chosen for this ritual underlines its social nature. The case history presented in Chapter Two focuses on the afflictions of one individual, but these problems are not seen as purely personal and private. The personal afflictions of Penny are but focal points for an intricate web of social relationships and histories.

I might add that the social element of the dance has both a diachronic and synchronic aspect. The web of relationships goes back through time bringing forth deceased kin and friends, but it is also synchronic inasmuch as the afflictions and the social crisis are here and now problems.

130 I J l

Second, the dance is very much drama, an acting out of relationships already existing and slowly emerging. The dance described in Chapter Two is an excellent example of an acting out which both solidifies and clarifies opposing social forces. In this sense, the drama of the dance is both centripetal — bringing closer together those attached to the sponsor — and centrifugal — throwing out and isolating those opposed to the sponsor. The drama of the dance does not so much reveal or discover answers to afflication as it makes explicit what is sensed but not said or what is said only in whispers between close friends. As drama, the dance raises the whole matter to the level of public importance, and, as such, is communication.

Turner finds four phases to ritual as social drama: a break in social relations, mounting crisis or escalation, redressive action, and reintegration or legitimization (1974:37-42). In the case study of Penny's dance, these first two phases lead to the calling of the dance, but new breaks in social relations and new escalations occur again and again during the dance with the discoveries of obeah. The obeah discoveries then lead to redressive action (counter-obeah) and new levels of crisis. These phases in Turner's schema, however, have the character of succeeding stages in time. But in the jombee dance, they are partof the program as elements which can occur spontaneously, sporadically, in fact, anytime. Here again is the typical feature of the dance: the unprogrammed is programmed.

Turner's third stage ofthe social drama, redressive action, is most apparent — but not as a separate segment in the sequence of the 1 o32 o ritual event. Among the mechanism of redress mentioned by Turner, mediation and arbitration do not appear in the jombee dance. At least I have never seen them operative. But the redressive mechanism of advice — whether from the jombee, the sensible man, or from the interpretations of guests — is most evident. The performance of minor ritual within the dance is another species of redressive action, often taking the form of prescribed bush baths, bush medicines, washings, and rubbings with alcohol. The question arises, of course, are these mechanisms appropriate or adequate redress? Are they capable of handling the social crisis portrayed in the ritual drama? I have yet to see a dance restore the status quo or peace. But I have repeatedly seen the pattern whereby tension is heightened and the lines of opposition are drawn. The symbolic techniques of drama, including both obeah and trance dancing, have the pragmatic result of critiquing the events leading up to the dance.

It is difficult to separate in the dance Turner's third stage of redressive action from his fourth stage of reintegration or legitimization of irreparable schism. In the case of Penny's affliction, the redressive action of the dance also legitimizes the

_-hism between her and her husband and the jealous brother. The

redressive action the legitimization of the break. Here again is

the problem of Turner's phases which, in the Montserratian case, appear

only as elements without necessary chronological sequence.

Finally, the dance is drama in the sense that its symbolic

processes express a plot of social relationships leading to climaxes. 133

The dancers are actors who slowly during the night reveal the dramatis personae of the opposing forces. The dancers and acts of obeah are a mini-recapituelation of a social pit which extends beyond the liminal frame of the dance itself. I find it significant that acts of obeah, which outside the confines of the dance tend to be highly secretive and personal magic, here aid in developing the movement and excitement of a social plot. The dance drama is probably not good drama according to the Aristoltelian canons of the Poetics, whereby a single plot and subplots are neatly interwoven.

The spontaneity of the jombee dance leaves many loose ends, and some mini-plots which spring up just never develop. But I would expect this in a drama where spontaneity is given such prominence.

THE JOMBEES: DOMINANT SYMBOL OF THE SOCIAL DRAMA

The jombees clearly form the dominant symbol of the dance.

Turner uses the term "dominant symbol" for the key or master symbol. Dominant symbols preside over the flow and pattern of the ritual, but instrumental symbols depend for their enactment on the purpose they serve in a ritual. He gives the Virgin of Guadalupe as an example of a dominant symbol in that pilgrimage ritual, but the candles and kneeling at her shrine as examples of instrumental symbols (1978:245ff).

It hardly seems necessary to establish that the centrality and emphasis given the jombees qualify them as the dominant or focal symbol of the dance. The fact that most of the instrumental symbols 134 are enticements for the jombees only underscores them as dominant symbol. Moreover, a dance is evaluated as a success or a failure depending on the presence of the jombees.

As the focal symbol of the dance, the jombees also exhibit those properties which Turner attributes to ritual symbol. The jombees are, therefore, multivocal, that is, a single symbol standing for many things. In the dance I described, the jombees are both the ancestors of Penny, "the loving dead," as well as the sp irit forces opposing

Penny, spirit forces which can "mash up" Marie and Paul and thus the dance itself. Their presence, on the one hand, is a token of kinship and friendship, but they are also, on the other hand, quite destructive and mischievous. Turner notes in his African material that dominant symbols tend to unify different meanings

(1978:245), and such is also the case with the Montserratian jombees: all behavior, activity, and belief regarding the jombees points to a central theme of spirit intervention either to help or harm the living.

As dominant symbols, the jombees of the dance also evidence what Turner calls the "polarization of meaning" (1978:247). At the sensory pole is the cluster of physical enticements for the jombees.

Turner might call these physical items instrumental symbols rather than the sensory pole of the dominant symbol, but I think they can function in either category. The jombees are, after all, rather invisible. Their presence must be made real through physical symbols, such as the enticements of food, the aroma of the lilie s . 135 parched corn, and rum poured on floor and rafters. As a matter of fact, it Is precisely the obvious presence of these physical symbols which has mistakingly led some observers to think that the jombee dance is simply a wild night of entertainment, drinking, and feasting.

The items of food, drink, and entertainment make sense as ritual only when seen as but one pole of the dance's dominant symbol. In short, it is the focal symbol of the jombees which transforms the ordinary items of food and drink into religious ritual.

The ideological pole of the jombee symbol is the moral value of kin and friendship ties, the value of those groups for advice, moral support, and encouragement.

The dance also bears out Turner's contention that the coincidence of the sensory and the ideological poles in a single symbol gives ritual its transforming power (1968:17f). Anyone observing the dance cannot but be unimpressed by the ordinariness of all the ritual items.

Not a single item surfaces during the dance which cannot be found in a Montserratian home, marketplace, or small store. Initially, I was very disappointed with the ordinary quality of the dance symbols.

Perhaps influenced by Turner's study of the Ndembu, I expected to find a much more profound sensory pole of symbols, such as blood, genitalia, semen, and urine. Only later, as I came to understand the transforming power of the dominant jombee symbol, did I realize how extraordinary the ordinary had become.

The very ordinary ritual items are ideally suited to the expression of a social crisis. Eating and drinking together is so 136 highly social, perhaps better suited, better indicative of the social dimension than the highly personal elements of bodily excretion cited in Turner's Ndembu data. In any case, the fact that the dancing, feasting, and drinking can and are part of a dance for a spree shows that something brings the sensory pole onto a different plane of efficacy. Relatives and friends may be present at the secular drum dance, but they are present in a different role, not as supporting kin and friends but as neighbors having a good time. At the secular drum dance, there is no turning or only rarely, and then it is often called "kick'en up dee heels" (that is, no possession by the jombees but only some wild and frenzied dancing). This fact also underscores the jombee symbol as bringing together the two poles of meaning within a single dance. If precisely the jombee symbol unifies the two poles and gives the dance its transforming power, little wonder that the very jombee symbol is visibly expressed as a physical and spiritual transformation. I mean that transformation within the dance known as turning, which logically leads to a discussion of the dance as liminal ritual.

THE JOMBEE DANCE AS LIMINAL RITUAL

The problem here is knowing precisely where is the focal point of liminality. It is possible to see the liminality either in the entire dance or only in those phases involving trance dancing or altered states of consciousness. I tend to think that elements of liminality occur in both, but particularly during the turning is it most apparent and prominent. 137

S till, a case can be made for the entire dance as a liminal phenomenon. The dance is a state or process betwixt and between two phases of daily life. It is separated from ordinary village life, and, at the dance's end, participants will be reaggregated into the ordinary, humdrum village existence. The dance installs the guests formally and publicly as relatives and friends of the sponsor, and a sense of comradeship and communion pervades the entire dance phenomenon. The bonds of communitas characterize the interaction

between the participants: spontaneous, egalitarian, existential,

I-thou. The structure of the entire dance also shows the essential ambiguity of liminality: certain events are expected and hoped for

but unscheduled. The structure of the dance is both unsettled and many of its events unsettling. The orderly dancing of the quadrilles and repetition of familiar dance tunes probably belies the highly

unstructured process of the dance. In fact, I would have to say that the more structured and orderly the dance, the less successful.

The drum dance or the dance conducted simply for a spree does not

participate in this liminal character; the liminal distinguishes the jombee dance from pure entertainment. Thus the social dynamics and

drama of the dance are not simply a set of performances produced by

a predetermined program or design precisely because liminality

intervenes. Without liminality, the program of the dance might indeed

determine and specify the performance (See Turner 1974:13-16 for this

characteristic of liminality).

I do think, however, that it is more helpful to focus on the 138

turning or trance dancing as the primary or pivotal points of liminality. These moments certainly express liminality and communitss in a form far more intense and vivid than the dance seen as a whole. But before describing the dancing as liminality, a definition of trance should be given and its presence validated in the jombee dances. The next pages address these problems of definition and presence.

What I have identified throughout this dissertation by the popular term of trance is known more technically as an altered state of consciousness (Prince 1968:Bourguignon 1974a and 1974b), or elsewhere as dissociation (Bourguignon 1970: Douglas 1970:104). A definition is here appropriate in order to determine if, in fact, the jombee dance involves altered states. Arnold M. Ludwig describes altered states of consciousness:

I shall regard 'altered states of consciousness'...as those mental states, induced by various physiological, psychological, or pharmacological maneuvers or agents, which can be recognized subjectively by the individual himself (or by an objective observer of the individual) as representing a sufficient deviation, in terms of subjective experience or psychological functioning, from certain general norms as determined by the subjective experience and psychological functioning of that individual during alert, waking consciousness. This sufficient deviation may be represented by a greater preoccupation with internal sensations or mental process than is 139

usual, by changes in the formal characteristics of thought, and by impairment of reality-testing to various degrees (1978:69f).

The complexity of Ludwig's definition may well disguise the broad category of human behavior included under the phenomenon of trance.

Ludwig's definition does match the unusual and ecstatic behavior of the dancers who turn, but the definition appears to emphasize the extraordinary nature of the trance phenomenon. Applying this definition to the jombee dance would only unduly emphasize the distance of turning from ordinary behavior. I have already referred to the difficulties in determining when turning begins and ends.

Certainly, some turning is easily seen as a "sufficient deviation" from ordinary alert consciousness. Those moments of ecstatically wild abandon or of stupored and dazed functioning are clearly altered states according to Ludwig's definition. But it is the many other moments which are so difficult to separate from ordinary consciousness or day-to-day behavior which turn me to Erika

Bourguignon*s broader and less defined understanding of altered states of consciousness.

Bourguignon sees altered states as an extremely broad range of experience, extending from such common experiences as sleep, alcoholic intoxication, and daydreaming, on the one hand, to intense task absorption and religious states at revival meetings on the other hand (1974:4f). when Bouguignon's list of rather familiar states is added to Ludwig's ponderous definition, any necessary 140 implications of the spectacular disappear. This point is essential.

Her de-emphasis of the spectacular in relation to the jombee dance draws the focus away from the solitary moments of ecstatic abandon to the over-all process, a process which could include a long or short period of inducement.

Bourguignon also carefully distinguishes between the observable behavior of the altered state and the interpretation bestowed on that behavior (1979:88). Thus, in the jombee dance the term altered state of consciousness describes the behavior or experience of the turning dancer, but control or possession by the jombees is the cultural interpretation given by the dance participants to the turning they witness. Not all trance is interpreted as possession, because possession, according to Bourguignon, refers only to those "native beliefs concerning certain potential relations between human beings and postulated spiritual entities" (1970:88).

In yet another way, Bourguignon's distinction between behavior and interpretation is helpful to understanding both the scientific and indigenous evaluation of the jombee dance turning. Turning can be an altered state of consciousness in the researcher's evaluation.

Given aspects and moments of its performance may not appear as spectacular and extraordinary, but the observed behavior is certainly outside the day-to-day, ordinary existence of the Montserratian village. Both I, the researcher, and the dance guests could agree that the behavior is "altered" and quite beyond the normal. Yet, for the

guests, the interpretation and the behavior is also normal, given 141 their cultural beliefs and worldview. Bourguignon, following

Herskovits' observations of Haitian possession trance, argues for the cultural normalcy of possession trance, "considering it in the framework of cultural learning and of the African tradition to which it clearly belongs" (1980:2). The dance is accordingly and ironically both altered and abnormal according to behavior, but quite normal according to the cultural beliefs of the participants.

Bourguignon, therefore, quite rightly sees that the crucial

"alteration" in altered states may well occur at the level of inter­ pretation rather than observed behavior. She continues, associating this contrast with Durkheim's well known distinction between the sacred and the profane:

All these typologies contrast the "normal" state of human functioning with one or more forms of "altered" states. This "normal" state is that of adaptation to the world of work, of problem solving, of reality testing, in short the world of the secular or the profane. The other, the "altered" state, is more peculiarly linked, as we have seen, with the world of the sacred, the supernatural, the mystic....and as we have seen, all altered states are not necessarily religious. Furthermore, anthropologists know that not all societies separate the sacred and the profane as radically as Durkheim's ideal types would have it (1974:5f).

This distinction is especially noteworthy in light of the

Montserratian folk religion's failure to distinguish radically between the sacred and the profane. Now if the world of the sacred and the profane is not so radically dichotomized, it is not surprising that the distance between the ordinary things of the dance is so close to the sacred world of jombees, divination, and obeah, and that the 142 transition from normal to altered state is sometimes difficult to discern.

Bourguignon's insights on trance, therefore, nicely emphasize the ordinary and the normal within the behavior and interpretation of altered states. But does this behavior in fact occur during the jombee dances? Simpson has summarized Raymond Prince's highly detailed analysis of the precipitating mechanisms and identifiable characteristics for altered states (See Prince 1968:127; and for a more complete treatment, Ludwig 1968:69-95). Prince's own lis t of features associated with possession states bears striking similarity with some of the features I observed at jombee dance turning:

1) Induction of the state is frequently achieved through dancing to music which features a pro­ nounced and rapid beat.

2) Induction frequently occurs following a period of starvation and/or a period of overbreathing.

3) The onset of possession is marked by a brief period of inhibition or collapse.

4. In the neophyte, collapse may be followed by a period of hyperactivity; once experience is acquired, a controlled, deity-specific behavior pattern emerges.

5) During the state of possession there is frequently a fine tremor of head and limbs; sometimes grosser, convulsive jerks occur. A diminution of sensory acuity may be evident.

6) Return to normal consciousness is followed by a sleep of exhaustion, from which the subject awakens in a state of mild euphoria (Prince 1968:127).

Two of the mechanisms cited by Simpson and by Prince are present in the jombee dance. First, the beat of the musical instruments and 143 the floor stomping of dancers and musikers produce an extraordinary auditory bombardment. Ludwig has also noted the effects of such sensory bombardment in the production of trance states (1968:72).

The power of this bombardment can be noticed in the tricks it plays on the listener. Even I have heard the drums echoing within my head during musical breaks and even a day after the dance. My experience is not unique. Dancers tell me that the drums "speak to them," not in the Haitian sense where the drums are quasi-personified, but simply in the sense that the sound power compels one to dance.

I have already commented that the lingering beat of the drums in the head is an indigenous sign that one could "do dee dance." I should add that the bombardment is more than just auditory. The beat reverberates up through the bones of one's body, and the skeletal structure feels what the ears hear. Second, a variety of maneuvers by the dancers produce hyperventilation or overbreathing. Here again Ludwig joins Prince in noting the importance of excess oxygen in stimulating trance states (1968:75). I have often noticed dancers jumping from one foot to the other with the apparent effect of driving more oxygen into the lungs. Their loud gasps attest to this. Still other dancers will jump high into the air coming down on both feet, again with the resultant deep inhaling and exhaling. Perhaps also the torso twisting movements and outstretched arms achieve a similar hyperventilation effect. Which one of these maneuvers is used by a given dancer depends entirely on the dancer. Marie and Agnes, for example, use jumping in the air and stomping from one foot to the other, but Veronica adopts a bending, torso twisting movement. 144

Prince describes the onset of the trance state as marked by a period of inhibition or collapse followed by a second period of hyperactivity or "controlled deity-specific behavior patterns (1968:127).

Bourguignon also speaks of the initial stage of possession trance as resembling hysterical attacks (1980:19). My observations reveal a somewhat different pattern. After reacting to the sensory bombardment and hyperventilation by highly ecstatic dancing (hyperactivity), certain facial and body transformations can be seen in the dancers. These body and facial changes may be followed by a period of collapse or may move the dancer immediately into behavior imitating a dead ancestor.

It is also frequent to find the auditory bombardment and hyperventilation producing a hyperactivity — both vocal and bodily -- which may continue for hours and only then stop with collapse, writhings, or other uncontrolled paroxysms. Because I have watched certain dancers induce trance on a variety of occasions, I can tell the peculiar facial expressions which mark the onset of a trance-like state for given individuals. Veronica, for example, achieves hyperventilation by a gyrating up and down torso and arm flailing movement much like the center paddle of a Maytag washer. She responds to the auditory bombardment by faster and jerkier movements. And after two to 15 minutes of this response, I notice her eyes become glassy and do not focus or respond to light or to movements of my hand. Her jaw juts forward, and the neck muscles become visibly taut. Her normally peaceful and smiling face changes into an almost total grimace of intense seriousness. As her body gyrates and twists, the head 145 remains relatively stable, and the eyes stare out into some unknown point in space. I know when I see this facial transformation that

Veronica is about to turn, Fagan's facial transformation, on the other hand, is quite different. She keeps her arms close to her body, but the buttocks twist around, and the head twitches as though hit by a branch. In any case, the onset of Montserratian turning is almost always marked by facial and body changes.

Once a dancer begins to turn, several features may appear. The dancer may speak in an altered tone and pitch, which indicates to dance guests that the jombees are now speaking through that dancer.

In the more experienced dancers, hyperactivity slows down at this point, and the gestures imitate a dead ancestor. The gesture may be a limp, a sloped shoulder, or really anything that would remind the guests of that now dead ancestor or friend. The reader may recall the gestures which the bearded fellow adopted to imitate the behavior of Penny's dead father. On reading Donald Hogg's description of possession in the Jamaican Convince cult, I was struck by the remarkable similarity on this point:

Once the ghost gains control of his body the Bongo Man undergoes a physical transformation (PI.2). His face contorts into a grimace, which remains as long as the spirit stays in possession. Jamaicans insist that "his features change so he resembles the dead man," but I noticed that all the ghosts bore marked physical sim ilarities to their devotees. He bends his knees slightly and points them at 45 degree angles to the front, hunches his shoulders, and stoops from the waist. He holds his arms out from his sides with the elbows and wrists stiffly bent and his fingers oddly contorted. Although his dancing is very light and nimble, he walks with a 146

peculiar shuffle. Aside from these regularities, however, each ghost has his own idiosyncratic characteristics. For example, one ghost I met talked as if he had a cleft palate. Another had a paralyzed left arm, crossed eyes, and a limp (1960:13).

In the jombee dance, I heard of no relationship between the facial expressions of the entranced dancer and the dead ancestor, although the relationship between bodily gestures was most evident and much discussed by the guests.

Much of the verbiage uttered by jombee dancers is incomprehensible even to the guests, and the words and phrases are repeated ad nauseam,

almost like a stuck record. The function of this monotonous repetition

is uncertain. It may be, as Turner suggests, an attempt to reduce the ambiguity of the situation and symbol (1968:lff). The use of litanies in both tribal and historical religions is well known.

I have the impression that once the bodily contortions take

place and the endless word repetitions begin that the sensory perception of the dancer to outside stimuli is minimal. I have tried a variety of amateurish maneuvers to test the perceptive acuity of

turning dancers. I have discreetly but distinctly waved my hand or

clicked my fingers directly in front of a dancer, with no perceptible

effect. I have already spoken of the indigenous tests for turning.

With the exception of the negative criterion regarding no alcoholic

stimulation, none of these tests is physical or physiological. I

thus know of no sure fire test to determine when a dancer is really

turning, but I can say that my evaluation and that of the participants

have almost always agreed. I can also say that the mechanisms of 147 induction and the behavioral characteristics of a turning dancer compare

favorably with the standard literature on altered states of consciousness.

I am reasonably certain, therefore, that what I have seen and evaluated as trance or altered states is, in fact, genuine trance. But I also do not doubt that some dancers either feign a trance-like state or go through a standard set of learned behavior which imitates turning but never authentically achieves it. Without instruments for taking vital physiological signs (a procedure which would be incredibly disruptive to the dance), I must rely on my observations of bodily and behavioral transformations. Put simply, trance does occur during the dance, and this trance is interpreted as a possession state, i.£ ., the human vocal and motor control is operated by the jombees. I now return to the analysis of the trance phenomenon as liminal ritual.

The trance dancing exhibits many of the qualities which Turner attaches to liminality. In general, the dancers break through the control of social structure, and, by means of the possession symbol, express that communion and comradeship with the sponsor which Turner calls communitas. He insists that the bond of communitas is egalitarian. This egalitarianism is very apparent in the liminality of the dance: one's status outside the dance ring vanishes once a dancer enters. All dancers, regardless of sex, age, or religion, are

in support of or in opposition to the sponsor's cause.

The liminality of the trance dancing also expresses both the existential and deeply personal bond of communitas. In the case study

I presented, the dancing isdirected to the here-and-now clarification of Penny's situation and is thus highly existential. It has the 148 personalism of what Turner calls the "I-thou dimension" (He uses a phrase popularized by Martin Buber). The relationship between speaking jombee and sponsor is clearly a personal I-thou relationship. Even in the example of the bearded young man, who may well have been feigning the turning, I see the clear signs of an I-thou relationship between the now-returned jombee-father of Penny and Penny herself. It is thus a curious but interesting confirmation of the personal dimension of the communitas bond that even feigned cases exhibit the I-thou dimension. Moreover, relatives and friends dance exclusively and expressly "for Penny." Through them. Penny's own loving dead come to her aid. Even the non-trance dancers take Penny by the hand, and one by one shuffle dance with her around the ring.

When entranced dancers do speak, that is, when the jombees speak, they always speak in the first person and address the sponsor or the participants in the second person singular. The I-thou, personal dimension of liminality is all to apparent.

The liminality of the dance also expresses the concrete bonds of communitas. The values of kin and friendship support here expressed are not abstract values, but the real and definite relationships arising from concrete marital problems, from specific illnesses, and from real property disputes. The analytic observer may indeed find abstract values behind the concrete ones, but even so the values are certainly directed to a concrete and existential application.

The liminality of the dancing exhibits yet another bond of communitas: it liberates from general norms. The very freedom of 149 movement and general abandon in the trance dancing is itse lf beyond the limits of day-to-day existence. The voices of support and opposition expressed by the jombees during the trance dancing are not those normally expressed in public, even in a rum shop. I should here comment, however, that the anti-structure aspect of communitas, which

Turner so stresses, is not that strong in the trance dancing itself.

Anti-structure surfaces more in the aggressive acts of obeah enacted during the entire ritual.

Still another aspect of communitas exhibited in the liminal trance is a straining for openness. The liminal trance dancing is, to apply Turner's phrase, "a spring of pure possibility" (1978:251).

The whole purpose of the turning is a questing, seeking of solutions, and clarification of problems. Jombee possession is sought in order to discover. I often sense that feeling of quest and seeking as I watch sponsor and participants gather around an entranced dancer, trying to discover what is being said and who is speaking. Highly indicative of the quest aspect is, in my case study, the procession to the banana orchard in search of obeah. I am not certain that Lucy, who led that dancing possession, was then s till in a trance state.

Nevertheless, the element of search is there and perhaps never so strongly symbolized as by that single file procession, which left the well-lit confines of the house and danced off into the unknown darkness of the night.

Finally, the bonds of communitas and the liminality of the trance

are non-rational bonds (1978:250). By non-rational, Turner does not 150 mean that the performer has lost control of his or her wits {196S:42ff), but that the participant simply works from non-rational premises.

The pre-scientific worldview and cosmology of the folk universe form these non-rational premises in this case. Significantly for the

Montserratian case. Turner discusses the problem of rationality largely in the context of divining (1968:42ff), and divining is an important element of the dance. I suggest ti.at the Montserratian trance dancer is, in fact, a diviner, and the jombee possession is the divining mechanism. Turner notes how the basis of divining is rooted in mystical beliefs, and although the diviner is a ratiocinating individual, he still works from non-rational premises.

The diviner tries to bring into the open a secret, to bring it beyond conscious motivation and the aims of other people. Divination is thus a stage in the social process for Turner and, therefore, a form of social analysis. Curiously, however. Turner appears to withdraw from the problem of the non-rational in describing the insoma ritual of the African Ndembu:

Finally, insoma is not 'grotesque' in the sense that its symbolism is ludicrous or incongrous. Every symbolic item is related to some empirical item of experience.... From the standpoint of twentieth century science, we may find it strange that the Ndembu feel that by bringing certain objects into a ring of consecrated space they bring with these the powers and virtues they seem empirically to possess, and that by manipulating them in prescribed ways they can arrange and consecrate these powers, rather like laser beams to destroy malignant forces.... The symbolic expression of group concern for an unfortunate individual's welfare, couple with the mobilization of a battery of 'good' things for her benefit, and the conjunction of the individual's fate with symbols of consmic processes of life and death — 151

do these really add up for us to something merely 'unintel­ ligible (1969:39)?

Perhaps Turner's ambivalence only reflects the continuing and yet unsettled debate concerning the ratio n a lity of ritu a l (See Wilson

1970 for 3 sample of this debate). Suffice it to say that in the

Montserratian case, the trance dancer as diviner does work within a non-rational, pre-scientific universe. And as diviner, the trance dancer functions also as a diagnostician, much as the Haitian religious s p e c ia list observed by Bourguignon do (1980:11).

A comment on the creativity of liminality concludes this section on the dance as liminal ritual. In bringing fully to light and into public view the subsurface problems and relationships o f the community, the liminality of the jombee dance is highly creative. The known and the unknown are brought together in the symbol of the entranced dancer and now given expression in a form which is more than ordinary communication. In the complicated interplay between the individual dancer and the group, a formulation and c la rific a tio n of the problem emerges, clothed in the voice and gesticulation of an ancestor.

Turner's designation of social drama aptly f it s the jombee dance precisely because this dance acts out the problem with all the artistic creativity of drama. But the acted out problem-as-drama is not completely pre-programmed. The expectations and suggestions of the participants influence the response and learned behavior of the dancers, but the spontaneity and unproqrammed quality of the liminal trance creates solutions during the very course of the dance itself. 152

THE DANCE AS SHARING IN CHARACTERISTICS OF BOTH TRIBAL AND HISTORICAL RELIGIONS

Turner's field research both with the tribal Ndembu of Africa and with a variety of Christian pilgrimage locations give him the basis for making d istin ctio n s between trib al and histo rical religions.

The distinctions are not, strictly speaking, part of his symbolic processual analysis, yet the distinctions are of particular interest for the Montserratian data simply because they do not fit. I suggest, moreover, that the designations do not fit most of the cults and religions in the Caribbean which bear traces of African origin.

The problem is not solved by simply saying th a t the jombee dance and other Caribbean religions are products of a syncretism between the tribal and historical categories, thus creating a tertium quid -- a new and blended product such as found in aspects of Haitian Vodou.

The inapplicability of the Turner categories perhaps points up the inadequacy of categorizing religious types by the extreme poles of the continuum, namely, the trib a l and the h isto ric a l. Whatever the case, the seven distinctions proposed by Turner, when applied to the jombee dance, emphasize the problem of applying the trib a l-h isto ric a l dichotomy (1978:8ff):

1. Tribal relig io n has ascribed membership, but

historical religions tend to be voluntaristic,

according to Turner, At this point in history,

the jombee dance appears to be v o lu n taristic,

but the dreams in which the living dead call

and demand a dance show aspects of the ascriptive. 153

2. Tribal ritual often involves seciusion rrom view,

whereas the voluntaristic, as in pilgrimage, is

open. The jombee dance is both. The dance is

held off the beaten path, perhaps because of

curiosity seekers and the no longer enforced

colonial laws. But curiosity seekers are not for­

bidden entry, although their presence is not

welcome. The dance is in no way as open and

public as a drum dance held at a rum shop.

Certain aspects are very secret and open only to

the eyes and ears of the sponsor. The dance is

both closed and open.

3. Tribal religions stress the social group while

historical religions, especially Christian

pilgrimages, stress the individual unit. One

stresses corporate harmony, the other individual

salvation, according to Turner. Here again, both

the social and the individual elements are

inexplicably intertwined in the jombee dance. An

individual's problems are solved or clarified in a

highly symbolized social drama. I would even suggest

that the corporate personality of the kin and friend­

ship group is expressed in the individual jombsc

symbol of the trance dancer.

4. Christian pilgrims seek release from structures which

bind them, but tribal initiands seek deeper commitment 154

to structure. Once again, I find both elements

present in the dance: release from a social

structure which has created the co n flict (in the

case described, Penny's property and inheritance

problems with her former man and brother) and

commitment to kin and friends.

5. Historical religions and pilgrimage groups are asso-

ciational, whereas tribal ritual participants are

from primary groups, such as the family. The

associational aspect of the jombee dance is found

in the friends and select body of kin in attendance.

The primary aspect is evidenced in the kin, but more

prominently in the ancestor jombees.

6. Pilgrimage, as an example of an h isto rical religious

ritual, expects no corporeal remedy; tribal ritual

often does. Corporeal remedy may or may not be part

of the jombee dance; in Penny's case, i t was an

integral part.

7. Christian pilgrimage seeks a deeper religious parti­

cipation, whereas tribal ritual deals with status

elevation. This distinction I found inapplicable

to the jombee dance.

The inapplicability of Turner's distinctions, in conclusion, is by no means fru itle ss for understanding the jombee dance and Caribbean religions. The dance arises in what is now the Christian culture of an historical religion, and the dance is, as I will describe shortly. 155

African derived. Nevertheless, the dance does not share the Turner attributes of an historical religion or the tribal characteristics of the original African source. This dance, in its Christian milieu, illustrates the methodological problem in applying classifications which fa ll into two opposed m irror images? Behavior is too often a continuity o f phenomena, not to be polarized, dichotomized, or squeezed within an eith er-o r schema.

The search for a proper classification for the jombee dance may^ point to a lacuna in the literature on Caribbean religions. Some schemas, such as those proposed by Herskovits, Metraux, and Simpson, categorize according to origins: African, Neo-African, African retentions, syncretism, and the like. But to my knowledge, there is no comprehensive schema which correlates Caribbean religions with social structure. The simple category of folk religion or peasant religion simply will not work here, for Montserrat is not just a peasant society

(This point will be discussed in greater detail in the concluding chapter), and the folk aspects do not permeate all aspects of life and of the population. I suspect that in the future an adequate classification will correlate a triangulation of elements: type of social structure, economic history, and religious-cultural influences.

THE ENTRANCED DANCERS AS A SOCIAL MICROCOSM

Douglas' proposal of a correlation between the physical body and the social body in ritual would appear to have obvious application to the trance dancing. Is the physical body of the entranced dancer a microcosm of the social body? There is some evidence in the

Montserratian material supportive of her thesis. 156

Douglas f i r s t offers a correlation between the physical dimension as expressive of social distance: "Front is more dignified and respect­ worthy than back. Greater space means more formality, nearness means intimacy" (1970:101). The front-back dimension appears to have little or no application to the jombee dance, but the space dimension definitely does. Dances are always conducted in small rooms. Initially,

I thought this pattern flowed from the requirement for wooden floors, as only the smaller wooden houses had the requisite wooden floors. I eventually found I t most curious th a t sponsors and planners o f the dance do not seek out large wooden floored rooms. The answer is now obvious to me: participants have to be close during the dance. I have never seen a dance performed in a room larger than 12 by 12 feet. The nearness of the dancers, musikers, sponsor, and active participants Is important.

The proximity of the dancers within the tiny confines of a small room and an even smaller dancing ring is highly expressive of the intimate social body which gathers for the dance. The nearness of the dancers to all other guests indicates to what extent the dance is not a performance for the gathered group but a performance with.

Second, the emotions of the dancer, which are given free rein in bodily g esticu latio n , rapidity o f movement, and general abandon, also re fle c t the social group or body. Notes Douglas, "Bodily control will be appropriate where formality is valued..." (1970:100). Now it is precisely in the trance dancing that formality, social distance, and the well-defined roles give way to the spontaneity and unprogrammed intervention of the jombee possession. Turner would say th a t the lack of bodily control and dissociation is indicative of the movement from 1S7

Structure to anti-structure, from structure to liminality. Turner's language differs from Douglas', but the insights are quite similar.

Third, the inarticulation of the social situation is given symbolic a rticu latio n in bodily dissociation (1970:104). Reviewing the d etails of the jombee dance, I would have to modify th at to say that the inarticulation of the social situation seeks symbolic arti­ culation in the dissociation of the trance. In the trance-divining,

I do not always see solutions but more often only problems clarified.

Fourth, Douglas argues th at the more approved and welcome the trance, the weaker the structuring of society (1970:104). More pre­ cisely, she observes three reactions to trance: possession cults in which the invading spirit is feared, pacified, or driven off; cults where trance is held to be benign in effect although not altogether safe; and fin ally where i t is regarded not at a ll dangerous (1970:

106-110). Trance or turning on Montserrat is often held to be benign but is also regarded as not completely safe. It can, on occasion and as happened in the case of Marie, "mash" one up. On the other hand,

in the approved trance dancing, the trance state is much courted.

In those approved occurrences, Douglas' expectations of the corresponding social body hold true:

Where trance is not regarded as at all dangerous, but as a benign source of power and guidance for the community at large, I would expect to find a very loosely structured community, group boundaries unimportant, social categories undefined, or distant control but impersonal rules strong (1970:109).

Douglas' description of community under these conditions corresponds

well with Turner's bonds of communitas. Moreover, Douglas goes on to 158

offer an example of the correlation between lack of control and loose social structure taken from J. C-. Malcolm Galley's account-

(1965) of a West Indian Pentecostal sect in London;

...I shall simply compare their state of social flux with the steady allegiances of the Londoners among whom they lived. For the Pentecostals, as the name implies, the greatest gift of the Holy Spirit is the gift of tongues, which gives insight, foresight and healing. But, paradoxi­ cally, the gift of tongues is recognized by totally inar­ ticulate gabbling of allelujahs. The more he is inartic­ ulate, the more the proof that the speaker is unconscious and not in control of what is being imparted to him. In­ articulation is taken as evidence of divine inspiration. So also are 'dancing in the sp irit', involuntary twirling and prancing, and involuntary twitching and shuttering taken to be a sign of blessing...(1970:109-110).

I imagine the English in the same environment spend their Sunday mornings polishing their cars, or neatly trimming their lawns and window boxes, or correctly repeating the Lord's Prayer in unison. Compared with these English, these West Indians are weakly structured in several sense. Their groups are ill-defined; they have no common provenance from a single country of origin, no common organization; amongst themselves th e ir social categories are weakly formed, their allegiance to local groupings undetermind; in realtionship to inhabitants of their London environment they have few close or permanent contacts with the repre­ sentatives of power and authority.... On my thesis it is expected that the London West Indians should favor symbolic forms of inarticulateness and bodily dissociation more than the Londoners with whom they interact....W hat I am saying is that the full possibilities of abandoning conscious control are only available to the extent that the social system relaxes its control on the individual (1971:110-111).

Again, the parallel with the Montserratian jombee dance and the social situation of the dance is obvious.

F ifth, .Douglas also makes a correlation between social stru c­ tu re, bodily d issociation, and magic. At th is point, however, I do not find the jombee dance supportive of her position. She argues: 159

The weaker the social constraints, the more bodily dis­ sociation is approved and treated as a central ritual adjunct for channeling benign power to the community. The stronger the social pressures, the more magicality in ritual and in the definition of sin (1970:130).

Quite the contrary is true in the jombee dance, where during the entire dance and especially during the trance phases, both dissociation and a great quantity of magic (obeah) are present. I found the trance dancing and obeah closely intertwined, not separated.

Nor do Douglas* categories of trance fit the Montserratian case. She uses Raymond Firth's three kinds of trance to which she adds a fourth: (1) spirit possession: a human passively loses control to the spirit; (2) spirit mediumship: invading spirit speaks through the possessed person and the group try to get occult information and

power from i t ; (3) shamanism: the s p ir it is largely domesticated and made to do the will of the human host; (4) Douglas' additonal category:

It may happen that the human person loses consciousness, but the state is not regarded as undesirable or dangerous; the onlookers may make no attempt to control and try to use, or to change the state, pacify or send away the invading in­ fluence. They assume th a t i t is a channel of benign power for all (1970:104-105).

I do not object to the categories as such, but only note that elements

of all four categories appear in the trance of the jombee dance.

Sometimes the so-called kinds of trance as described by Firth and

Douglas appear during the dance only as phases. The shaman-trance

is probably the least apparent in the jombee dance. Yet, if the

elaborate rituals of enticements for the jombees are seen as attempts

to bring the spirits within the confines of the room and the dancer,

then the shamanistic aspect of the dance is also apparent. IbU

In general, therefore, I find the Douglas thesis helpful in understanding the relationship between body symbolism and social structure. The fact that certain details of her thesis cannot be applied to the Montserratian case only underscores again the hazards of cross-cultural generalizations from a limited data pool. More importantly, the applicability of her material shows what Mont­ serratian ritual shares with other cultures, while the inapplicable material may point to the creativity and unique qualities of ritual in Montserratian culture.

THE JOMBEE DANCE AS NEO-AFRICAN RITUAL

I use the Turner and Douglas studies of ritu al largely for the internal analysis of the dance, but in using Simpson's studies

I turn to what might be called the external or comparative analysis of the jombee dance. Simpsons comments th at "a sizeable number of

African cultural elements have been incorporated in the belief systems and rituals of the religious cults of the Caribbean and South America"

(1978:61). In the following section, I compare Simpson's list of

African traits against the Montserratian data in order to determine whether his category of "Neo-African" fits the jombee dance. Lastly,

I compare the Montserratian dance with several of the Caribbean cults which Simpson designates as Neo-African.

Simpson sees the following traits as the product of a com­ plicated acculturation process which can no longer simply be des­ ignated as "African retentions," because the process includes syncretization and reinterpretation as well as retention (1978:61). 161

I add several traits to his list, although these traits are really

implied in his schema. Simpson begins with the names and characteristics of African deities:

1. Names and characteristics of African deities. At first

glance, the jombee dance ritu al evidences nothing comparable to th is trait. Certainly the African names found in Haitian Vodou or Trini­ dadian Shango are not found in jombee ritual. In fact, African place and personal names appear only rarely any place on Montserrat (e.£.,

Quashie Springs, Cudjoe Head, Telecuma). Paradoxially, however, th is lack of names may camouflage characteristics which are quite African.

The Montserratian folk universe leaves the creator God, identified with the Christian God the Father, at some unapproachable distance from humankind, and even Jesus, whom the Pentecostals find so close as to be their personal savior, is to the folk religion practitioners somewhat distant and aloof. But it is the jombees, those now dead

but active ancestors, who stay close to the living. Such a popu­

lation or pantheon trisected into distant gods, intimate spirits, and human beings is iden tified by John S. “ b iti as typically African

(1969:37-118). Still and all, such a trisected population of

d istan t gods, intimate s p irits , and human beings can be found in

folk Catholicism where the intimate spirits are saints who take on

semi-divine status. I doubt, therefore, that this trait can be

unequivocally attributed to the Montserratian jombee ritual. I say

that it cannot be unequivocally applied because it is possible that

similar Catholic and African structures met centuries ago, and pre­

cisely the similarity aided the maintenance of the African structure 162

within the folk religion, without good historical documentation, it is difficult to assess the perhaps complicated and subtle inter­ action which took place between the Christian and African religions.

2. Soul concepts. Simpson compares the highly elaborate soul concepts in West Africa, where three or four souls per person is possible, to the two souls of Haitian Vodou (1978:68), to the

Trinidadian Shangoist's belief in a compound soul and shadow

(1978:76), to the Jamaican d istin ctio n between soul and duppi

(1978:115), and to the Surinam Winti b elief in a dual soul

(1978:205). For Simpson, the Caribbean examples are all re in te r­ pretations of the West African m ultiple complex (1978: 354, note 101).

Montserratian folk belief also has a well attested multiple soul concept, and the belief surfaces most obviously in descriptions of burial. I am repeatedly told that at burial one soul goes down into the grave and eventually to God, while the other soul, the "dead" soul, becomes the jombee. Not surprising, therefore, th at the jombees are often called the dead. Indigenous Montserratian descriptions of the distinction, functions, and traits of the two souls vary greatly and are sometimes contradictory, but a b e lie f and ritu al behavior based on this belief is definitely extant. The Montserratian trait

is, therefore, both a widely held Caribbean belief and a West African reinterpretation.

3. Ritual objects. In Simpson's listing, this category over­ laps with several others, especially trait number eight, the ritual use of herbs, stones, and water. I will discuss this trait under other headings. 163

4. Drum rhythms. I was once told by a university educated

Montserratian that the drum beats of the wcowoo and the bobla change^ from pure quadrille beat to African rhythms, but he could not explain what he meant by an African beat. Presumably, he meant th a t the use of bars and, for example, the three quarter waltz time eventually gives way to a fast and free beat. This is also presumably what the Emerald Community Singers meant when they describe some of th e ir rhythms as "African" {Emerald Community Singers 1975: dust jack et).

In any case, I am not an ethnomusicologist and w ill gladly lend my many hours of audio tape to any specialist willing to answer the question of African rhythm. The band instruments are certainly

European, and even the tambourine-like drums are called by the

Montserratians "French reels." Some case for the African element might be made if the important role given to the combination of fast drum beat and ecstatic dancing is taken into consideration. The problem with isolating cultural traits, such as Simpson does and I am doing here, is precisely that the total configuration may not emerge.

5. Song Styles. The words of the jombee dance tunes play such a small role within the dance — in fact, frequently only the title or first line is sung — that this trait is hardly worth considering.

6. Dance step s. Once again, I must acknowledge my ignorance of the fine arts. I do know that the slower quadrilles are waltz steps, and that the quadrille exchanging of partners imitates

English, and Irish dancing of the last century (Dewer 1978:53; 164

Messenger, personal communication). But more important than the origi; and nature of the quadrille dance steps themselves is the role of dance as religious ritual and the use of ecstatic or trance dancing within ritual. The role of dance in African religious ritual hardly needs to be established, but the case for the African origin of

Caribbean dance is less apparent. Certain authors do see rituals which are sim ilar to the M ontserratian jombee dance as African derived.

The big drum dance of Carriacou, gives prominence to both dance and the ancestors, and Simpson follows both M. G. Smith and

Andrew C. Pearse in attributing this dance to an African origin

{Simpson 1978:103; 337, note 139; Pearse 1956a: 1-6).

As an "argument from silence," a prominent role for dance -- whatever the step of style — is rarely found in recent denominational

Christianity. Certain Pentecostal groups incorporate it, and it existed in Spain at the Court of King Alfonso the Wise and more recently in Toledo (Bourguignon, personal communication). Some avant-garde Roman Catholic congregations in the United States have recently introduced, as an innovation, "sacred dance" into liturgies, but the only continuing and regular use of dance within Christianity appears to be the dance-like Eucharistie procession in the Coptic

Church. Ecstatic dancing, however, has been historically associated with the African slave population of the Caribbean. Within eyesight of Montserrat are two islands where such dancing is recorded as early as the 18th century. "Wild dances were recorded on Martinique and 155

Guadeloupe as la te as 1750" (Simpson 1978:57; 328f, note 21).

Informants also tell me that some form of trance dancing was held on St. Kitt's and Nevis about the turn of the century. Captain

Stedman's description from 1756 of ecstatic dancing by African escapee slaves is classic:

...th e s e dances, which are performed to the sounds of a drum, to which they strik e time by clapping of hands, may be properly considered as a kind of play or pantomime divided into so many a cts, which la st for some hours. But the most remarkable is, that during this represent- tation, the actors, instead of being fatigued, become more and more enlivened and animated, till they are bathed in sweat like post-horses, and their passions wound up to such a degree, that nature being overcome, they are ready to drop into convulsions (1796: I, 364).

I conclude, therefore, that the case for the prominent role of dance in thejombee ritu a l as evidence for African derivation is strong.

That the African literature and early Caribbean historical records describe th is dance as e c s ta tic , f ille d with abandon and free movement, confirms the case fo r jombee dancing as an African element.

Whether the very steps or dance patterns are African or the country dancing still found in Ireland, I cannot determine.

7. Spirit possession. This feature is strongly evident in the jombee dance, and nothing else needs be said here.

8. Ritual use of herbs, stones, and w ater. Concoctions and infusions of herbs, water, and liquor play a prominent part in both the obeah of the jombee dance i t s e l f and th at conducted outside and apart from the dance. In the wider context of the Montserratian folk universe, certain Sweetwater pools are considered charmed by the 166

presence of jombees and are therefore believed to be therapeutic.

Salt water, however, is also prescribed in obeah but frequently as an element to scare away evil spirits or jombees. Whether or not th is distin ctio n between sweet water and s a lt water reflects a similar African distinction, I am not prepared to decide. Stones, on the other hand, play little role in the folk religion. Jombees are known to throw stones on house roofs, and a Montserratian described large round stones to me as "thunder stones," but he had been raised on another island and may well have remembered a

Dominican or Haitian term. Lastly, black sand from the Montserratian beaches is used in obeah and burial customs, as outlined in a previous chapter. The ritual use of herbs and water would, therefore, appear to classify as an African element in Simpson's categories.

9. Seclusion and mourning. Neither of these practices, with the p articu lar meanings given by Simpson, appear in the dance or in the wider context of the Montserratian folk religion.

10. Animal sacrifices. They may occur on Montserrat, depending on the narrowness of one's distinction between sacrifice, libation, and enticement. Offerings and libations of food and drink are made to the jombees, but these are not animal sacrifices. One dancer uses a live chicken as a divining instrument, but I doubt if any concept of sacrifice is present. She holds the live chicken in her mouth as she dances, sometimes holding her teeth on its neck for over an hour — so she and others tell me. If the chicken dies, the sick 167

sponsor of the dance lives -- and vice versa. An occasional informant speaks of chicken sacrifices, but most deny such ever occur. Thus, only if the libations and enticements are considered sacrifice can this trait be found on Montserrat.

11. Belief in the immediacy of intervention of supernatural beings in human affairs. Unless the jombees are considered supernatural beings, this trait occurs only marginally on Montserrat. I pointed out in the description of the Montserratian worldview that the dualistic dichotomy of the world into natural and supernatural, secular and profane, just does not apply to Montserrat. Still, the powers possessed by the jombees certainly are not those possessed by ordinary folk. If that qualifies the jombees as supernatural beings, then this trait is d efin itely found in the jombee dance.

12. Utilization of the spirits of the dead. This African trait listed by Simpson is most apparent in both the Montserratian

folk religion and in the jombee dance ritu a l.

13. Ritual words. I have not heard or been told of ritu al words being used except by dabblers in the cab a listic magic books.

14. Animistic worldview. In the introductory chapter, I

describe the folk universe as infinitely capable of those trans­

formations which could turn it into good or evil. The use of herbs, water, and sand are only small indications of this worldview. I

described i t as having an in fin ite sacram entality when compared with

the limited sacramentality of the Christian doctrines on the island.

The worldview bears greater affinity to African religions than to the

historical Christian religions. 168

15. Non-exclusivist attitude. I once asked a Montserratian informant how he could take part in the jombee dance and also be a loyal Christian church-goer. He told me that religion was like a big pie, and the different religions were different pieces of the pie. The more pieces, the better. After all, they are all from the same pie of life, or so he told me. Participation of other islanders in both Christian and folk ritual is well known (For Trinidadian

Shangoists, see Simpson 1978:74; for Haitian Vodouists, see Metraux

1972: SOff). Citing the attitu d es of the Black Caribs of B ritish

Honduras (B elize), Douglas Taylor makes a cormnent th a t might well be written of my Montserratian informants: " ...it must not be forgotten that all or the great majority of the Black Caribs are professing

C hristians For them, th e ir sp ecifically Carib beliefs and rite s are no more inconsistent with their Christian faith than are for the citizen of the United States his own traditional loyalties and the

"American way of l i f e " . . ..(1951:133). A sim ilar non-exclusivist view of particular cults and religions is cited by Mbiti as a typically

African pattern (1969: 299ff; 346f; 360).

16. Obeah. I have already noted th at most authors consider the word and practice to be of African origin. The strong presence of obeah in the jombee dance also points to an African origin.

17. Divination. The role of divination in the folk religion and in the very person of the trance dancer may also be an African element. Although a variety of divining mechanisms are known within

Western European so cieties — from tea leaves to Tarot cards — the 169 role of divining within religious ritual appears to be an African feature.

Up to this point, I have evaluated each point of Simpson's l i s t against the Montserratian data and have also added to his list. Now the general question needs to be addressed: is the jombee dance ritual Neo-African? In the sense that Simpson uses the word, yes. But I hasten to add that the judgment is based not only on statistics and quantification. It is possible to use Simpson's l i s t as a quantifiable l i s t , whereby a positive answer to seven out of the thirteen items, for example, would thereby qualify a given ritual as Neo-African. On the other hand, it is also possible that strong, positive evidence for only two or three of the Simpson indicators could qualify a ritual as Neo-African. By either approach, there is enough evidence from the jombee dance to ju s tify the category of Neo-African. S t i l l , i t must be admitted th a t the jombee dance is not Neo-African in the way that, say, Haitian Vodou or Trinidadian

Shango is. Evidence for African elements may be strong or weak, and it is obviously strong in the Haitian and Trinidadian cases. The evidence is less strong and far more subtle in the case of Montserrat.

This means that the Simpson listing is deceptively static.

By th a t, I mean th at the Caribbean shows a wide variety of dynamic

(historically changing and growing) responses to the African diaspora.

These varied responses, in tu rn , form a continuum along which the various Neo-African religions should be placed, moving from very strong, obvious African elements down the continuum to subtle and 170

highly camouflaged African elements. I hesitate to call the one

end of the continuum "weak African elements" because the African there

may be very strong but effectiv ely camouflaged by Western European

fea tu res. Forexample, the Western European quadrille dances, the

instruments of the musikers, the initial waltz and schottish melodies of the quadrilles, and the lack of African words do, in

fact, camouflage the possession and ancestor elements of the jombee

dance. Yet the possession trance plays as an important a role in

the jombee dance as it may in Haitian Vodou services.

Both the difference of responses to the African diaspora

and the continuum of African elements are important features. The

different responses emphasize the creativity in adjusting to and

resisting colonial regimes. I am not the only researcher who has

come to admire the persistence and stamina of African origins.

The persistence of strong and obvious African elements on Haiti is

a cultural marvel indeed. But in studying the Montserratian folk

religion, I have come to admire another type of persistence, namely, one which transforms and blends but s t i l l maintains the African. To

what extent the Montserratian pattern is the product of a long history

of conscious and unconscious cultural selection or is simply the

last remnant of a once strong African culture, I cannot determine.

I tend to think that the Montserratian ritual represents a long

conscious and unconscious process of selection, adaptation, and

retention. My prime clue for th is judgment comes from the songs. Some

of them such as the ever popular waltz, "Jane and Louisa," may go back 171 to the early 19th century, perhaps even the 18th, and others — such as "Come first of August" — date from the early 19th century. Still others reflect events of the turn of the century (building of the

Panama Canal), the great depression, or early 20th century migration.

The words of the tunes are at least one clue th at the cultural transformations which produced the jombee dance ritu al were in process for centuries.

In comparing the jombee dance with other Caribbean

Neo-African religions, parallels can be found with the well known Haitian Vodou, Trinidadian Shango, and Cuban Santeria. But

I find that the most striking similarities are with those less known

Neo-African cults described by Simpson as "ancestral cults." The principal ancestral cults of the Caribbean are the Cumina and Convince cults of Jamaica, the big drum dance of Carriacou, the kele cult of

St. Lucia, and the ancestor cult of the Black Carib of Belize

(Simpson 1978:95). Bourguignon speaks of "canonized" ancestors on

Haiti, spirits known by their personal names and who also possess certain descendants (personal communication). Although the parallel

is remarkably striking in comparison with the Montserratian jombees,

I unfortunately have no additional data at present.

The Cumina cult of Jamaica, as described by Joseph 6. Moore

(1965), bears many similarities to the jombee dance of Montserrat.

First of all, the names and functions of the Cumina gods are similar

to the jombees: the spirits are known as zombies, and one particular

group are the ancestral zombies. Second, the Cumina dances are held 172

for purposes sim ilar to those of the jombee dance: they can be held for life crises -- such as death, betrothal, christening — and simply for paying respect to the dead ancestors of the participants.

Joseph Moore's description of the Cumina attitude towards the spirits is more akin to respect and devotion than worship, ju s t as the jombee dance participants' attitude is much more one of seeking, asking, and divining rather than of worship. Possession trance dancing is also part of the Cumina r itu a l, and the zombies are attracted by drumming (1955:66f; see also 1953).

The Jamaican Convince cult bears fewer sim ilarities with the Montserratian jombee dance, but the role and function of the possessed "bongo man" is quite similar to that of the Montserratian trance dancer (See Hogg 1960:6-9). The devotees of the cult are called bongo men, and they deal with the ghosts of people who once belonged to the Convince cult. The bongo men feed their ghosts with sacrifices, and the ghosts in turn teach them the secrets of the spirit world. Although the bongo men do not appear to have the divining function of the jombee dancer, still the role of a single possessed dancer calling for songs, leading processions, and offering libations to the spirits is quite comparable (Ibid.). Hogg finds that the ceremonies of the bongo men, lik e the jombee dances, have recreational as well as religious purposes (1960:18). He also notes the facial and bodily transformations which are visible in the possessed bongo men (1960:13) and the extensive use of obeah in the ceremonies (1969:6f), as well as the long period of preparation and stockpiling of foodstuffs for the ceremonies (1960:10). IT73

Although the big drum dance on Cariacou does not include spirit possession, the prominent role of food and drink offerings is similar to the procedure of the jombee dance. The "parents' plate" is quite sim ilar to the jombee ta b le , and in both cases the food offering are later consumed by the guests. In both cases, the ancestors are called to the house by music, and the sprinkling of rum libations is prominent. It is curious that both the jombee dance and the big drum dance have a dance "ring." Since there is no possession belief in the big drum dance, the ring is kept free (Pearse 1956a:lf).

In the jombee dance, of course, the "ring" is very much occupied in hopes that the jombees will show their presence in the dancers. In both the big drum dance and the jombee dance, the role of the ancestors is prominent, and a variety of minor features are also comparable, e.a., quadrilles and reels, European instruments for the band, occasions for the dances the role of family and kin, the "bawdy flavor" of some of the songs

(Pearse 1956a:1-6).

The Kele c u lt of St. Lucia, which Simpson himself investigated, bears fewer points of comparison with the jombee dance than e ith e r the

Jamaican or Carriacou folk religions. Most significant, I think, is the domain given the folk religion on both St. Lucia and Montserrat,

The gods are left to the devotion of the churches, whereas the folk religion of the Kele cult (and that of the jombee dance) deals with ancestors and other spirits closer to the poeple ( Simpson 1978:106).

The pouring out of liquid libations in the Kele cult is thought by

Simpson to be a West African derivation. Libations are also found on 174

Montserrat, both outside the jombee dance in the ritual "fus' capful fo' dee jombees" (in opening a new bottle of rum. a capful is poured on the floor or out the window for the jombees) and in the dance itself to entice the jœnbees to take possession of dancers.

Trance is also a part of the Kele cult, and Simpson finds two degrees of i t :

All of the active male particpants in a kele ceremony are supposed to become possessed by the ancestors; cer­ tainly this is expected of the leader. Among those who do not achieve a high level of dissociation are some who believe, nevertheless, that they are possessed — and some of these persons may experience "light" possession trances. Communication with God is achieved through possession by the ancestor; ancestors then transmit the appeals of living human beings to God (1978:105).

I observe similar differences in the levels of trance among Montserratian dancers. On a variety of occasions, I watched dancers try to turn, but with only occasional and fleetin g success. But on M ontserrat, however, one is not believed to turn unless the state can be sustained for some minutes.

The final point of comparison with the St. Lucian Kele cult is the role of evil spirits. In the case study of the jombee dance which I presented, both obeah and "opposition" trance dancers prevented the janbees from possessing the young bearded fellow . Like the Kele r itu a l, therefore, the jombee dance has roles fo r both the benevolent spirits (the loving dead) and for the malevolent. Still, the role of the malevolent janbees is not so clearly defined as the role of the

Kele evil s p ir it, Akeshew. Akeshew is ousted from the Kele ritu a l by 175

a magical smashing of a food-filled calabash, but the evil jombees are not so easily dismissed in the Montserratian dance. Informants offer a variety of maneuvers to control evil jonbees. For example, cheese and rum are put within an empty rum b o ttle , and the jombee is induced by the dancer to cme into the bottle. When the dancer is convinced that the jombee is within the bottle, the cork is put on and the bottle buried, put in the sea, or hung in a tree. I have also seen the maneuver done with some "sleight of hand." Alcohol vapor is left within a bottle, and the dancer or obeahman holds the opening of the bottle shut. The bottle is rather cleverly put near a candle or fire, thus warming the alcohol vapors. The dancer then puts the bottle opening near a flame, » lifts off his finder, and "poof," the torched vapor gives both the sound and the smoke signal th at the jombee has been caught.

Like the St. Lucian Kele c u lt, the ancestral cult of the Black

Carib of Belize shows many of the African elements from Simoson's list and compares remarkably well with the jombee dance. For example, the ancestor rite s are called as a re su lt of dreams or other warnings, as is the case on Montserrat and on Carriacou (for the big drum dance of

Carriacou, Pearse 1956a:l; for the Black Carib, Taylor 1951: 103, 108,

113). Interestingly enough, the Black Carib control possessions the way the Montserratians do:

Spirit possessions that threaten to become too violent, or those of persons not members of the family by their own gubida [collective name for the family d e ^ , may be re- strainedT This is done by rubbing the face of the possessed persons with rum, by fanning them with the cotton-strip fans to placate the possessing sp irit.... (Taylor 1951:124). I /o

On Montserrat, leafy limbs of bushes are used instead of the cotton

s trip s , and the drink is variously coffee, rum, and sweet smelling wi nes.

Finally, the Caribs, like the Montserratians, are for the most part professed C hristians and see no inconsistency between th e ir

Christian practices and the ancestral cult (Taylor 1951:133).

Thus, the Black Caribs of Belize present another ancestral

cu lt with features comparable to the Montserratian jombee dance. The

purpose of this and earlier comparisons is simply to show that the

jombee dances compares favorably with other Caribbean ancestral cults

which Simpson designates as African derived. Simpson presents a

generic l i s t of 14 African elements which he finds in a variety of

New World Black religions, including the above mentioned ancestral

cults. Whether one takes his generic list or the details of the Neo-

African ancestral cults, the Montserratian jombee dance fits; it is

Neo-African and an ancestral cult. I have hesitated, however, to call

it a cult for the reasons described before, and I likewise have some

hesitation in using the prefix "neo." For the jombee dance, I would

have preferred the more modest designation of "ancestor ritual of

African origin." CHAPTER V: CONCLUSIONS

INTRODUCTION

The outline of this dissertation has been rather simple.

I began with a description of the folk religion in general and then focused on a detailed case study of the major r itu a l, the jombee dance. I next analyzed the dance ritual in the light of three theo­

retical frameworks. In this final chapter, I should like to take the

results of that theoretical analysis and show what contribution this

study of the jombee dance makes to a better understanding of Caribbean

religion in general and of Montserratian culture in particular. I will make a case for the importance of the jombee dance as a reservoir

of culture. This argument, in turn, brings me logically to the next

topic of this chapter. If the dance is important, why is it dying

out?

RESULTS OF THE THEORETICAL ANALYSIS

The description of the folk religion and the jombee dance

could have been made without benefit of the theoretical frameworks of

Turner, Douglas, and Simpson. But without these models, my work would

have been a product of pure ethnography, and as pure ethnography the

description would have been isolated from and unconnected to the mass

177 178

of anthropological literature on ritual, symbol, altered states of

consciousness, and the other Caribbean religions. It is precisely

the theoretical analysis which allows me to take the data fron the

level of "what happens" to the level of "what does i t mean" and "what

else does it conpare with?"

Both the Turner and Douglas model elucidate how the jombee dance is religious ritual which replicates the social situation. Again

and again, the symbols of the dance, especially the elsnents of trance,

show themselves to be dramatic enactments of social relationships and

problems associated with the life of the sponsor. When the dominant

symbol of the jombee is seen as the focus for such a social drama, then

the nature of the dance is clearer and less esoteric. There is no devil worship here, as sane of the local preachers claim, but there is

defintely expression of the bond with past and present kin. True, obeah

does play a part in the dance, but the ritual primarily gathers together

a group of friends and relatives in the highly social setting of eating,

drinking, and dancing, and under the symbol of the jombees seeks support,

answers, and redress to social problems. The symbols of the dance are

certainly pre-scientific, but the dynamics of the dance are quite human

and d efin itely social. Both Turner and Douglas are p articu larly good

in demonstrating the richness of human relationships which can be expressed

in ritual and in trance ritual in particular. It seems to me that either

author could have chosen to explain away the symbols by simply stating

their social significance. In that case, the jombees, for example, would 179

be nothing more than a p re-scien tific symbol for kin and friendship bonds,

and that is all there is to the ritual. Quite to the contrary, the

penetrating analyses of Turner and Douglas show the depth and complexity o f human experelnce which can bs expressed in social ritu al such as the

jombee dance.

It is Turner's concept of social drama which helps place the

jombee dance not only in the category of the social but also of the

artistic. The dance is an artful expression of the social situation,

and an a rtfu l expression which captures the trad itio n al mediums of

music and the dance. I had initially missed the role of the artistic

and esthetic in the performance of the jombee dance. I was puzzled why

altercations arose during the dance about proper steps and the correct

beat. I was amused th at a jombee dance had been "staged" at the Uni­

versity Centre (University of the West Indies extramural unit on

Montserrat). To my way of thinking at that time, a staged performance

would be devoid of the symbolic; the religious content would probably

involve no turning, and certainly would have no room fo r the "pro­

gramming of the unprogrammed" (which I had found as an essential in ­

gredient of the genuine dance). In other words, the staged performance

was even a step below a goatskin dance put on for a spree — or so I

thought at the time. I also was initially impressed by the musicality

of the Emerald Community Singers' rendition of jombee tunes but was un­

impressed by the authenticity of the instrumentation. Slowly I began

to realize that even Montserratians who did not share the beliefs of 180

the folk universe, or simply may not have experienced its ritual, were striving to experience and preserve the esth etic expression of the jombee dance. They understood that it was good musical drama long before I did. But it was later that Turner's schema helped me to explain how the artistry of the drama could be an integral part of the religious symbolism of the dance.

If Turner and Douglas helped to highlight the social and the artistic within the dance, then Simpson puts the jombee dance "on the map," so to speak. His analysis of Black religions in the New

World, especially his treatments of the Neo-African and ancestral cults, give me a way of placing the dance on the great continuum which Herskovits proposed so long ago. There is a long line of differences — a continuum

— in the way Africans adapted to the diaspora in the New World. The anthropological literature has understandably emphasized cultures where the African elements remain obvious and strong. Montserrat is somewhere at the other end of the continuum, where the African elements have dis­ appeared, been reinterpreted, or been ever so successfully camouflaged with a layer of "Westernisms" (Western instrument, waltzes, quadrilles, etc.). Thus, the Montserratian case, when analyzed in the light of

Simpsons's model, both throws light on that neglected other end of the continuum and also places Montserrat on that continuum. Since Herskovits'

day, th e in te re s t in Afro-American studies has risen in both academic and

popular circles. But without studies at "the other end of the continuum,"

I think the variety, richness, and creativity of adaptation within the 181

African diaspora would be lost. Montserrat is, comparately speaking, an important witness for "the other end of the continuum."

The creativity expressed in the dance ritual should not be interpreted just as a curious persistence of musical and dramatic art forms. It is a creativity born of opposition, resistance, and perhaps even rebellion. Certainly, the Montserratian folk religion is another case negating that difficult-to-kill myth of passivity in the face of slavery and colonialism (See Herskovits 1941). Where Montserratian police and court records show dances and obeah to be punished by raids, flogging, imprisonment, fin e s, and even an a rre st as la te as 1961, the jombee religion p ersisted. Denied p o litic a l voice and social status in the past, the Blacks of Montserrat expressed their resistance in the domain of religion. The jombee religion expressed and still expresses the creativity of the suppressed and exploited. The fact that an occasional African word, an occasional English or Irish air, or a Euro­ pean instrument is used in the ritual, is at least a clue to the pro­ cess of se le c tiv ity which over the centuries has created the a rt form of the jombee dance, an a rt form which, I suggest, is also highly p o li­ tical in its implications. Thus the now rare and much misunderstood ritual of the jombee dance is an important witness to the creativity and resistance of the very ancestors symbolized by the jombees.

In summary, therefore, the theoretical models have helped to highlight the social and dramatic features of the dance, and they have helped place it within the cross-cultural context of other Caribbean religions. 182

THE VALUE OF THIS STUDY

I here want to make a case for the intrinsic merits of what has been preserved and analyzed in my study.

I can argue, first of all, that this study has shed light on the variations of adaptation to the New World, on the continuum of

Caribbean Black religions. Second, this study records and preserves a dying folk r itu a l. But have I preserved i t , and, more importantly, what is the worth of what is here preserved?

I cannot evaluate the accuracy of the description of the jombee dance — apart from the checking mechanisms which I describe in the appendix. But if the description is reasonably accurate, then the salvage task of this study has been accomplished, namely a fast dis­ appearing element of folk culture has been recorded. I have l i t t l e doubt that as Montserratians read this work, they will offer changes, additions, and m odifications. I welcome these. But I argue not only that I have here recorded an element of Montserratian culture but also that this element is important. This is possibly the ultimate hubris: not only to say one has found something but also to claim that it is

important.

The importance of the dance stems from its function as a reservoir of Montserratian culture and as a potential factor of Mont­

serratian culture and as a potential factor of Montserratian cultural

identity. I know of no other single event on the island which brings

together at one place and one point in time so much of the culture and 183

historical heritage of Montserrat. I know of no other event on the island which contains so much of the trad itio n al lifeways — music, dance, folklore, wisdom, kinship and friendship values. It is pre­ cisely the holistic nature of the dance which can bring together not only symbolic values of kinship and friendship, but also the art forms of the dance and music in a single symbolic statement which is both religious and entertaining. This single ritual con­ tain s so much of the trad itio n al customs and values that I often question how much of i t I have captured.

Note, however, that I only claim that the jombee dance is an important reservoir of culture. There may be other such re­ ceptacles of the traditional culture outside the area of the folk religion. I do not make any broad claim that religion, as a point of cultural focus, is an African retention, nor do I claim that religion is necessarily the institution which best retains the tra d itio n a l. I wish th at I could reconstruct the process whereby the Montserratian folk religion came to be this receptacle of culture. I suspect that even the opening of the island's archives

(which I am currently microfilming) will not yield the kind of information to answer why religion exhibits this persistence.

The tenacity of traditional religious forms is characteristic of other cultures; it is not unique to Montserrat.

Not only is the dance an important cultural receptacle, it is also part of Montserratian cultural identity. This second claim is far more difficult to substantiate than the first one. 104

The first claim can be partially proven by default, so to speak. In the absence of other institutions which enshrine so much of the tra­ ditional folkways, the position of the jombee dance as cultural reservoir stands out rather clearly. This second claim moves the argument one s?ep farther, asserting that the traditional folkways are part of

Montserratian identity.

Cultural identity, as I use the term here, is the awareness of and association with one's culture — culture being understood as

"the summation of the variables in belief and behavior of a people"

(Herskovits 1955:505). Cultural identity is thus a highly subjective and perceptual reality; that is, its content depends on the willingness of a people to accept certain objective cultural elements and insti­ tutions as noteworthy or distinguishing symbols of that society. In short, cultural identity answers the question of "who are we as a people?"

The concept of cultural identity is similar to Herskovits' concept of cultural focus. For Herskovits, cultural focus "designates the tendency of every culture to exhibit greater complexity, greater variation in the institutions of some of its aspects than in others"

(1955:484). These focal points are often used to characterize whole cultures (Ibid. ). Herskovits here implies that the process of charac­

terization, the emic view of the people themselves.

The emic emphasis of cultural identity is especially significant

in the West Indies where the forced culture change of slavery, colonialism,

importation of multi-ethnic laboring populations, and recent tendencies 185

to embrace North American trends re su lt In such a mixture of culture

sources. In the face of this mixture of cultural influences* West

Indians themselves are raising the question of cultural identity to

a new intensity (See, for example, Deosaran 1978: n.p.; Fergus 1975:2).

The question of identity will be difficult to answer, precisely be­

cause of the complex cultural origins. But the Question will assume

greater interest and importance with the new spirit of nationalism

and independence in the West Indies.

Over 40 years ago, Herskovits attacked the problem of Black

cultural identity in his now classic The Myth of the Negro Past (1941).

He approaches the problem as somewhat of an iconoclast, destroying the myths and unfounded popular beliefs about Blacks. Although much of

his ethnographic writing contributed positively to the creation of

Black cultural identity in the United States, the 1941 classic is

largely negative, that is, concerned with stating what the Black cul­

tural identity is not. I suggest that the changed political position

of the Caribbean in the last 40 years now requires a new and more

positive emphasis on the identity question. In brief, existing classics

and new field data must answer the questions of cultural and national

identity for the emerging Caribbean nations. I suggest, moreover, that

the now highly popular economic and p o litic a l studies will have a d i f f i ­

cult time articulating an answer to cultural identity.

But the forces which created the dance are now past. The in­

frequency of its performance assigns it to a position in Montserratian 186

tradition but not in its day-to-day life. How, then, can the folk religion and the dance be related to the contemporary cultural identity of Montserrat? After all, few Montserratians have taken part or even seen the dance. I again turn for an answer to Herskovits who observes that

...every culture is the result of particular experiences of its population, past and present, that every body of tradition must be regarded as the living enbodiment of its past. It follows that a culture cannot be understood un­ less its past is taken into account... (1955:307),

The folk religion is one of the strongest remaining evidences of that tradition on Montserrat. It is definitely a part of Montserratian culture, but do the poeple consider it as "their roots?" With the exception of the few remaining participants, the answer is no. The music and the quadrilles are seen as authentic expressions of Mont­ serratian identity, but the jombee dance is considered a relic and even an embarrassing reminder of a superstitious past. And this is precisely the problem. The dance contains so much that is authentically

Montserratian and so much that could contribute to a better understanding of Montserratian heritage, but it is not perceived as an important reservoir of tradition or culture. Consequently, although I have argued that the dance contains much of Montserratian tradition and that such tradition has an important role in the formation of cultural identity, I must admit that the dance is not perceived as important to identity.

Until the link is made between the dance, trad itio n al culture, and cultural identity, the dance will be a neglected cultural landmark.

The dance has great potential value for answering the question of

"roots," of what makes Montserrat unique and not just West Indian. 1R7

The search for roots and identity may well intensify. Perhaps then the msiiory of the dance will have a role COTmensurate with its cultural value. And I have reason to believe that Montserratians will eventually look more to their traditions as a source of cultural id en tity . The use of jombee dance tunes by the Emerald Community

Singers, the widespread interest in the broadcasts of the Anansi stories, and the persistence of the masqueraders are at least indica­ tions of some identification with the traditional customs. If and when the search for roots and identity intensifies, the searchers will find the record of the jombee dance. That, by the way, is the value of this thesis: it records and preserves the memory of "do'en dee dance."

I suppose that my optimism regarding the role of the traditional in cultural identity flows from my experiences in another culture. I spent my youth and most of my teaching career on the Northern Plains of

Montana. I went to school with Crows and Cheyenne; I worked as a seminarian with the Cree. I taught many a Cree and Gros Ventre. Over the past 20 years, I have watched the gradual return to the traditional ways as a symbol of ethnicity. And much of the return is accomplished

by the study, especially at the secondary and college level, of cultural

features which have died out but been recorded by an earlier generation

of anthropologists. It is possible that Montserrat may witness a

similar trend. 188

WHY THE DECLINE OF THE DANCE

No amount of speculation on the role of traditional culture

can change the fact that the jonbee dance is dying out. In 1977, I

estimated th a t no more than a dozen dances are held on the island each year, but by 1978 I revised th at estim ate to half a dozen each year.

By 1980, I doubted that more than three or four dances had been held that year. The musikers are all very old, and three of the leading artists

have died since I last recorded their music (1980). Musikers tell me

that an occasional lad tries to have a go with the woowoo or bobla,

but they insist that no one is really learning to olay the goatskin

reel. As I write in 1982, I think that the dance may well disappear

completely within three to five years.

But why should the dance be dying out? Why does it not show

the persistence and tenacity of the Christmas masquerade dancers or

the jombee tunes themselves? I have commented on the fact th at the

folk religion expresses much of what is M ontserratian, and have also

stated th a t i t persisted through raid s, fin es, and floggings. I have

claimed that the folk religion survived the centuries because of what

it expresses. Now the cat-o-nine-tails is no longer used, self govern­

ment is real, and yet the dance is dying. If the folk religion pre­

sumably developed over the course of hundreds of years of colonial

opposition and suppression, why should it disappear precisely at a

time of greater freedom? Unfortunately, there are major obstacles to

answering this question adequately. loy

The problem behind the question of disappearance is one of change or acculturation. But change takes place over time, and time means history. Any solution to the question calls for the historical record of Montserrat. And primary sources for such a history are either largely unavailable or have not been examined. Host of the archives a t Government House and the Court House have yet to be catalogued and microfilmed; because of their extremely fragile conditio, government officials have permitted only limited access to these valu­ able records. Only a few documents have been microfilmed and are now

on file at the Mona, Jamaica campus of the University of the West

Indies. Without such sources and the historical record they can pro­

duce, any answer to why the dance is dying will be highly tentative.

My own work on Montserrat has been largely into the ethnographic

present. Hence an answer to the question is really beyond my present

resources, ethnographic or historical. I will quickly glance at the

literature on religion and social change and also at the concept of modernization in an attempt to find a tentative answer.

The literature on religion and social change is not particularly

promising for answering the question at hand. There is a vast biblio­

graphy of detailed and now classic studies on religious movements, such

as the cargo cults, the ghost dance religion, and revitalization move­

ments. But this body of literature deals mostly with movements of new

fervor, nativism, and return to traditional religion. It does not pro­

vide useful models in the study of the decline and fall of traditional 190

religion. Moreover, among Caribbeanists, much of the study of Black religion has focused on the preservation, retention, and syncretization of African elements (perhaps due to the influence of Herskovits and

his students). In the literature cited in this dissertation, there is precious little on the danise of folk religion, presumably because the

reason is so apparent — modernization (Hogg 1960: 21ff is a notable exception). Initially, I too was satisfied with recourse to an answer which simply stated modernization was the cause. I now think that a more detailed dissection of the modernization process might offer more

evidence of why the dance is dying.

John W. Hall offers a summation of elanents in the modernization

process which I find helpful in examining the Montserratian case:

1. A comparatively high concentration of population in cities and the increasingly urban-centeredness of the total society.

2. A relatively high degree of use of inanimate energy, the widespread circulation of commodities, and the growth of service facilities.

3. Extensive spatial interaction of members of a society and the widespread participation of such members in economic and political affairs.

4. Widespread literacy accompanied fay the spread of a secular, and increasingly scientific, orientation of the individual to his environment.

5. An extensive and penetrative network of mass communication.

6. The existence of large-scale social institutions such as government, business, industry, and the increasingly bureau­ cratic organization of such institutions.

7. Increased unification of large bodies of population under one control (nations) and the growing interaction of such units (international relations) (1965: 19). 101

Not all of these elements are operative on Montserrat, nor are they equally important there. There is no high concentration of population in cities, but there is definitely an increased reliance of the island on the one town of any size, because the growth in service facilities

(electricity, telephones, fuel depots, open markets, retail stores) comes fran that single town. Village markets have all but ceased to exist, and shops in the villages rarely carry anything other than liquor and a very limited line of tinned groceries. Since World War II, there has been a marked cen tralizatio n of service f a c ilitie s in Plymouth, although the churches, police stations, schools, and clinics remain spread throughout the villages. This is a feature somewhat akin to what Hall calls "urban-centeredness" and the growth of service facilities.

Interestingly enough, I once received a far less sophisticated but similar reply from an elderly Montserratian: ""'Lectricity come, dee jombee die out."

With better roads and a regularly scheduled bus system, Montserrat has achieved the more "extensive spatial interaction" which Hall also speaks of. Older informants in the north and east of the island tell of coming into Plymouth only once or twice a year "in olden times." Now many of their children take a bus each day to work in and around Plymouth.

The modernizing policy of the government stresses the importance of a specialized and scientific education. To get ahead in a highly competi­ tive world, Montserratians know they have to be specialized and trained.

Two decades ago, Montserratians were migrating in record numbers to 192

Canada, England, and the States (See Philpott 1973). Now they leave

the island to take special courses which w ill qualify them for techni­

cal and modern specialties. Mass communication — radio, T.V., news­

papers, bookstores, telephones, reads == are not only more available

than In the past but also affordable thanks to a cash economy and in­

expensive technology. The growth of large scale social institutions,

even within the span of seven years I have worked here, is obvious —

the Provident Fund (a social security-like retirement system), a modern hospital with free medical care, and an expanded secondary and

technical school system. Modernization is definitely taking place on

Montserrat and changing the lifestyle of the population.

There are in addition a number of easily identifiable factors

which are hastening the modernization process on this particular island.

First, the small size of the island and the population facilitate quick

expansion of modernizing agents and elements. Most of the small popu­

lation is located in Plymouth, the villages, or along the paved roads

There has been an obvious movement in from the h ills and slopes to

the roads for easy access to tap water, electricity, and transportation.

There are really no isolated pockets of population as one might still

find on Dominica or Haiti. The penetration of and access to modernizing

agents faces no obstacle from the location of the population.

Second, modernizing agents have penetrated the island in re­

turning migratory laborers, returning trainees for the schools and

civ il service. In the 1960s, a large real estate development program 193

brought a significant increase of expatriate residents to Montserrat, and with them came the influx of commercial ideas, new demands for consumer goods, and so forth. And the opening of Blackburne Airport in 1957, coupled with the government’s 1955 Five Year Plan to emphasize tourism, has had obvious modernization effects. In 1980, a post-graduate medical school opened, has now built extensive campus facilities, and serves 350 students.

Third, mass cœmnunication on Montserrat has been p articu larly promoted by the presence of two radio statio n s, one of which (Radio

Antilles, an affiliate of Deutsche Welle) broadcasts in three languages and boasts one of the largest transmitters in the Americas. Even the tiny and cheap tra n sisto r radios can also pick up broadcasts from

Antigua, St. K itts, the American Virgins, and Puerto Rico.

Thus, there is a definite modernization trend in progress, and the island has certain features which promote the rapid advance of new ideas. I can think of two ways to conceptualize this movement.

First, Montserrat is less and less a peasant society and more a society of wage-earners. By peasant, I mean rural cultivators who operate not primarily as business or agricultural entrepreneurs (as do large com­ mercial farmers) but do transfer their surplus into cash or rents

(See Wolf 1966:1-8). Terms such as "peasant proprietor" or "peasant planter," which occur in documents from the 1940s, are rarely used to ­ day. The Caribbean Peasants and Agricultural Workers Association (in process of formation) is the only way I still hear the word used. And the word has disappeared because the reality is vanishing. I observe 194

th at most of the non-commercial ag riculture is done by the elderly.

Rare indeed is the sight of people between 16 and 40 years of age working the land. It is possible that the archives will be able to document the sh ift from peasant to wage-earning society. But i t is very d iff ic u lt to even document the current number of wage-earners and rural cultivators, because many Montserratians are both or have both categories within the same household. Not untypical is the case of one of my informants. He is 68 and works the acre of slash-and- burn land he has on the slopes of the nearby mountain. His daughter takes some of his vegetables in to the public market for sale in

Plymouth, and two of his grand-daughters, also living with him, work a t a Plymouth industry. Another informant has a job with Public Works in Plymouth but also works the plots around his house. He commutes to work in a mini-bus. Hardly the classic peasant. In any case, the modernization movement on Montserrat since World War II can be conceptualized as one from small-plot subsistence agriculture to th at of commercial wage-earning labor.

Second, with the commercializing and specialization of labor has come what Max Weber might have called greater bureaucratization of life or greater rationalization of enterprise. Now it is exactly the traditional which stands opposite the highly rationalized enterprise. And this brings the topic back to the folk religion and the dance: they are the heart of what is traditional. One might even say that the movement toward greater rationality of

enterprise has won the competition with the non-rational of the

folk religion. 195

And what precisely has been the effect of this modernization process on the folk religion? In general, the folk religion simply does not fit in. There is no place for it; it is out of date.

There is no evidence that the modernization process might be opposed by a form of nativism which would seek greater id en tificatio n with the traditional symbols.

More particularly, the institutions and the technology of a modernized society are now competing successfully for the functions once performed by the dance. It is no exaggeration to state, in the light of so few dances still performed, that the modern agencies have already replaced the functions of the dance.

Let me indicate some of those replacements.

F irs t, the entertainm ent function of the jombee dance is

now fulfilled by a variety of agencies. A cheap transistor radio

puts every Montserratian in contact with steel drums, rock music,

reggae, and a variety of other musical diversions. A highly

sophisticated recording studio brings to this little island the

world's most famous recording a r tis ts . The cinema in Plymouth is

popular and generally packed. A special antenna atop St. George's Hill

brings in T.V. from Antigua. Since my f i r s t v is it in 1975, a horizon

of T.V. antennas has sprouted up in Plymouth, Salem, St. John's,

St. Patrick's, and Harris' Village. Once upon a time, the

musikers of the jombee dance bands could have competed with the

local steel bands, the guitars, and the ukulele string bands.

But the jombee dance musikers are no competition for the power

of Radio A ntilles and Air Studio. 196

Second, the medical and therapeutic functions of the ritual are supersceded by the work of a new hospital and by the medicines easily available at modern drug stores. The little old lady who used to s i t a t one corner in Plymouth sellin g obeah medicines

(compelling powder, etc.), has disappeared, as has the gentleman who walked down into Plymouth each week carrying a gunny sack fu ll of bottled bush medicines and teas. Not only are the medical facilities better and medicine more available, but the appreciation of modern medicine is better. Nurses no longer tell stories of patients being taken out of the hospital to a jombee dance or obeahman. There was talk th at no one would use the f i r s t floor wards of the new hospital because of an embalming room below and fear of the jombees. But the hospital is now much used and often at peak occupancy. No doubt the primary and secondary school programs have helped to promote modern medicine. The effectiveness of modern medicine on Montserrat is considerably better than in the 1940s when over 30 children died annually from diarrhea. Now everyone can see how well modern medicines work. Moreover, Montserrat now even has its own medical school. Although most of the 350 graduate students are Americans, the impact must have some effect on the local appreciation of modern medicine. In short, modern medicine has never before been so available, so effective, and so highly pri zed.

Third, the emphasis of the Ministry of Education on technical and specialized education makes the holistic worldview of the folk religion less desirable and viable. A holism which mixes together 197

elements OT worsmp, aevotion, meaicine, social relationships, and even predictions about the future is out of step with a highly compartmentalized society which strives for and rewards technical specialization.

Finally, the role of Christian religions in the demise of the dance is a curious relationship indeed. There is no record or memory that during this century the larger denominations (Anglicans,

Methodists, and Roman Catholics) conducted a widespread and active campaign against the folk relig io n . They simply did not have the personnel to mount such an effectiv e campaign. But the smaller

Pentecostal and Evangelistic sects are now bombarding the countryside with dozens of small churches and with active preaching against the jombee beliefs as devil worship. In the past, the main denominations tolerated the folk religion by necessity, but the Pentecostal sects offer an unprecedented and intense competition to the folk religion.

Possibly more importantly, the highly emotional, trance-inducing, glossalalia-filled, and healing sessions of some Pentecostal groups are the functional equivalents of the jombee dance and turning. I do not want to suggest, however, th at the role of the Pentecostal sects is part of the modernization process. Quite the contrary, the movement to the Pentecostals is,possibly a compromise with the modernization movement. Many of the Pentecostal pulpits are filled with minimally educated clergy. They are frequently a one-of-a-kind church or have only loose affiliation with a parent church or organization. They lack the organization, bureaucracy, and interaction with other units which Hall notes as a key element of the modernization 198 process (1955:19). In any case, 20th century religion is hitting the folk religion hard and providing functional alternatives to the ritual of the jombee dance.

Thus, what Montserrat has experienced since World War II and probably most intensely since 1960 is a convergence of factors which have caused the decline of the folk religion and the jombee dance. Many of these factors are old but now attacking with new

intensity (Christianity, modern medicine). Other factors are tiny

in size, technological in nature, but great in impact (for example,

the cheap transistor radio and tape recorder). Some are Caribbean- wide (tourism); others are uniquely Montserratian (a post-graduate medical school of 350 students which suddenly appears on an island with a population of 13,000). The causal factors are not necessarily

new, therefore, but they are coming together in a way which they

did not in the past. I suggest that the very factors causing the

demise of the dance turn out to prove that the dance is truly a social

drama, a ritual which reflects the values and structure of society.

A jombee dance with its folk universe and worldview could survive

in a peasant society, but it is out of tune with a wage-earning,

highly specialized and technological society. I do not say that

the process of modernization made the decline of the dance inevitable.

It is a combination of factors unique to Montserrat (such as size,

population, and history) and the modernization process which have

replaced the folk values and structure which were the underpinning

of the jombee dance.

There is not, on the other hand, a modern institution or 199 agency replacing the jombee dance emphasis on kinship and friendship bonds. Modernized institutions are well known for their impersonality.

And it might be argued that governmental provisions for free health care, a retirement fund, subsidized housing for the aged, an old folks home, and the like have lowered the need for kinship bonds.

Still and all, there is no modern agency replacing the friendship and kinship bonds which "do'en dee dance" so symbolized.

CONCLUDING STATEMENT

And so the dance will die, and its death will probably pass unnoticed. The jombees themselves will quickly become only amusing historical relics. People will continue to joke nervously about them, and jombee tunes will be occasionally played in a concert a t the University Centre. Butcher's Art Studio may continue to make those l i t t l e humanoid figurines of the jombees for to u rists . But apart from those r e lic s , the jombees will no longer be called forth in ritual. The demise of the dance is the demise of the society it reflected. The disappearance of the jombee dance marks the rise of a new and different society. Modernization and culture change on Montserrat has not been the cataclysmic reversal and crisis which took place, for example, under the Meiji reform in Japan or under Ataturk in Turkey. It has been a slow change, gathering momentum and speed since 1960. Consequently, the past two decades have been a twilight period, a period when both the peasant and traditional elements could stand side by side with the in d u strialized , commercial, and modernized elements. I t is perhaps to quaintly romantic to say that in witnessing the passing 200

of the dance, "the twilight of the gods" is also seen. But if the jombee ancestors did function like gods and sain ts, and i f one can agree with Durkheim that the gods are in fact society itself, then the passing of the folk religion which survived centuries of slavery and repression is also the passing of the old society. It is the twilight of the gods. Thus, even in death, "do'en dee dance" is an apt symbol of Montserratian society. APPENDIX: METHODOLOGY

With a generous introduction and a long lis t of contacts from

Dr. Messenger, I made my first research visit to Montserrat in 1974 and have returned every year since then except 19S1. I o rig in ally came with a research design for a status-role study of the movement of leadership form the folk religion to the Pentecostal Churches.

The design appeared good on paper but proved inapplicable in the field -- for reasons I will shortly return to. I then turned to a salvage ethnography of the fast disappearing folk religion.

Messenger (1975) and Philpott (1973) had already w ritten about the jombee dance, and I doubted th a t I would find enough m aterial for a new work on that particular ritual. But by 1978, after four field trips varying in length from one to four months, I knew that, first,

I had amassed vast quantities of raw data on the folk religion, far too much to fit into one dissertation. Second, by a remarkable stroke of luck, I was invited to witness many of the few jombee dances still being held on the island, and I then realized that I had more than enough d etail to focus on the dance alone. I had been fortunate enough to witness ritu a ls which most Montserratians had heard of but never seen. Precisely why I was so fortunate will probably always remain a partial mystery to me.

My research methods are trad itio n al: participant observation.

201 structured and free-flow interview s, and case h isto rie s. I augment

pencil and pad by audio and video tape recordings. Most of my

interviews are preserved on audio magnetic tape, and many of the jombee dances are on video tape. I use these electronic devices only after gaining good rapport with my informants. At first, I wondered

if people would shy away from being recorded or perform differently under the lens, but I find no difference in behavior and reactions

between video-taped and non-recorded events. Moreover, interviewees

have asked me to send recordings of their stories and folklore to their

grandchildren in England and Canada, and participants continually

beg me to show the tapes to their friends. I feel it would be

indiscreet to show the tapes outside of the limited circle of

participants, and I never play or show the tapes without the

expressed permission of the participants.

The advantages of the electronic media are rather obvious:

they offer great detail for later recall, replay capability for

instant reaction, stimulus for eliciting new data, and of course,

the accessibility of my raw data to other researchers. The

disadvantages of the video equipment were also only too obvious, as

I laboriously sweated, toting 60 pounds of gear up and down the

back paths of the h ills . Friends observed with great sympathy my

frustration as batteries blew, a new video camera smoked during

a precious and never-to-be-repeated interview , and microphones

malfunctioned. The replaying of the video tapes presents the

ethical problems mentioned above. A final disadvantage is that

replay for analysis is enormously time consuming. 203

As audio and video supplement pad and pencil, so they also help my data-checking methods. I am severely limited in cross-checking information because of the small number of knowledgeable informants.

Out of 165 formal or extensive interviews, only 53 of these provided new information on a second or third visit. My original plan was to interview as many persons as possible who, within the recent past, actually participated in the dances. I eliminate material gained from people who have seen the dances but not participated actively, and I use their information only to check data from participants. With some success, I check d e ta ils by "pairing" one informant with his or her opposite. If a detail surfaces in the interviews from the North of the island, I check i t out against information in the South or the East, and if Protestants offer one interpretation, I check it out against Roman Catholic or Anglican informants. Place of residence, age, sex, religion, and sojourn on other islands surfaced as the main variables I could use in the pairing process. I am thus able to determine whether an indigenous interpretation is idiosyncratic or an expression of the collectivity.

I emphasize, therefore, those indigenous interpretations which show some homogeneity. Because of the small sample of participants still alive, I am unable to determine more precisely the range of heterogeneity within a given homogeneous interpretation.

Video tapes are an excellent checking device. I frequently retaped and interviewed key informants one or two years la te r on the same subject, and by replaying both versions I am able to detect

important nuances, variations, and Inconsistencies. Many key 204

Informants allow me to replay tapes to their friends and acquaintances elsewhere on the island. I cannot emphasize how much additional detail is elicited during these replay sessions. I even had three very elderly but spry and knowledgeable participants bring other friends to taping sessions. I had been working with these gentlemen for over two seasons and was now amazed to find them spontaneously engaging in a dialogue with their friends, asking many of the questions

I asked, while also asking some of their own. In that way, I learned how to ask the M ontserratian way, and I learned of questions that were important to the local people but not to me. Several interviewees have an almost intuitive sense that a precious heritage of folklore would be lost unless it was recorded before they died.

In any case, the burdensome and bulky use of the video paid o ff, both as a collecting and retrieving device as well as a data- stimulating and checking method.

As I collected materials, I was painfully aware that my original status-role model was inapplicable. I searched for other models, hoping to find a theoretical framework for my analysis, with no luck. So, I reversed the process. Instead of superimposing a model on the data, I looked for a model which would explain two problems emerging form the data themselves. First, I needed a theoretical framework which would show how the jombee dance is

religious ritual. Second, I wanted to know how unique or commonplace were the elements of the dance. In short, to do a comparative analysis I needed models th at would give both a theory of ritu a l and also show where the dance f it s on the continuum of Caribbean 205

religions. This need led to my selection of Turner, Douglas, and

Simpson, as described in the body of th is d isse rta tio n . These frameworks were adopted only a fte r other models, such as the re v ita l­ ization and relative deprivation ones, proved inapplicable. Although

I did not approach these theories uncritically and did not expect to adopt them without modification, my original motive was their use fo r explanation of the jombee dance. But as points of inap p licab ility surfaced, I realized that I was also testing the theoretical framework of the three paradigms.

Observation of the trance states in the dance led me back to the vrorks of Bourguignon. Her generous correspondence monitored the progress of my fieldwork, and her publications provide the framework for my observation and analysis of the ritu a l trance phenomenon. Her questions and coranents have d ire c tly influenced the shape of this dissertation, but it is difficult to cite adequately such help with a standard bibliographic entry. Likewise, and on a much broader plane, the insights of Messenger have shaped this study of folk religion. My research builds on his earlier findings, his approach, and his pioneering description of

Montserratian culture. Traditionally, such acknowledgements are relegated to a page of laudatory praise at the beginning of the thesis, but it seems more scientific to place these names within a methodology section because they are as much influential models as those drawn only from library sources. The influence of

Herskovits can also be seen both directly in the bibliography and

indirectly through the directors of my thesis. 206

I must also call attention to the part which my status as a Roman Catholic priest played in my research. In many ways» this question is as difficult to answer as a question about the influence of a researcher's personality on a given project.

Initially, I thought that priesthood would be an obstacle.

I agree with Renzo Sereno that "deceit and personal disguise" are not called for (1948:15). I did not hide my identity. Sereno also notes that the interviewees are likely to be aware of one's social identity, and he finds that such awareness helps rather than hinders (Ibid.). I also found this to be the case. During the first two field trips, I lived and interviewed mostly in remote areas of the island where Catholics were few. On Sundays, I drove into Plymouth to help the Roman Catholic priest with services, but I was not a priest assigned to the island nor one doing missionary work. Granted, my clerical profile was deliberately low, but the people where I lived and worked knew I was a Catholic and a p rie st.

They were, for example, solicitous to introduce me to their ministers and the Anglican p rie s t, and they pointed out here and there an isolated Catholic family as "your people" (Often denominations are clustered in particular districts or villages). Occasionally, interviewees might tell me that a wife or a daughter is Catholic.

Numerous other incidents assured me that they knew of my status, but I certainly felt no animosity or even hesitancy, except from one group of Pentecostals who thought I was a C.I.A. agent. Two university educated Montserratians think that I would never have gotten all the material I did were I not a priest. They 207 may be correct, but I have neither a subjective feeling nor objective

statements from my informants that would verify their judgement.

Other factors may well have aided my acceptance. First,

John and Betty Messenger are very popular, and their interviewing

is well remembered with local musikers and dancers (as is not the

case, by the way, with a number of other researchers). To say that

I am a student of "Dr. Messenger" (He is always remembered with

title), opened many a door and gate without further question.

Second, I first arrived during the festivities of the Christmas

season and participated more with the gusto of a fun-loving tourist

than as a serious anthropologist. When I video taped dancers and

musical groups parading, I would return to my rented house only

to find a crowd of callers waiting to see themselves and their

friends on video. We shared Christmas refreshments and a thousand

laughs. How can I separate what they thought of "Mister Dub-e-lin"

(as my name was then often pronounced) as a man, as priest, as

anthropologist, or as whiteman? In any case, th is introduction

to music and dancing was also my introduction to the jombee dance.

Although I did not realize it at the time, many of the people whom

I watched perform during the Christmas festivities, and many who

came regularly to watch and listen to the tapes, were also musikers

and dancers in the jombee dances. Sometimes I found th is out only

after several seasons of interviewing. But when I heard that a

dance was being called, I was in a position to ask for an invitation.

I eventually developed sufficient rapport to even bring tape recorder 208 or video camera. I can only conclude that it was my acquaintance with the participants which opened the door, and that my standing as a clergyman often appeared inconsequential (despite the corraients by the two Montserratians mentioned above).

Priesthood may have been a factor of some consequence with particular people on particular occasions. I am told, for example, that medical doctors and priests can see the jombees. But precisely what effect that had on invitations to the dances I cannot gauge.

I have no evidence that I was invited to any gathering because of

supposed cl?.irvoyant powers. True, an occasional soul approached me for blessed candles in order to burn out the insides of someone stealing, but this was an understandable misunderstanding of Roman

Catholic symbols as magical means (obeah). In general, however, my entree to the dances was neither helped nor hindered by my clerical

statu s.

On a one-to-one basis, I did occasionally detect references

and subtle consideration that I was a priest. With certain Catholics,

the reference was less than subtle. One lady, who thinks that anything

which has to do with the jombees is so much "nonsense," s t i l l calls

me the "jombee p rie s t." But other Catholics openly discuss th e ir

folk beliefs. Even the obeah adepts definitely know who I am, but they

look on me as just another professional within the trade. They have

th e ir tric k s , and I have mine, remarked one of them. I recall one

obeahman offering me a fixed ring (treated with magic) for my trip

to Guadeloupe when th at isla n d 's volcano was dangerously active. ^uy

ne to i d iiic t h â t fiiy nOly WStcT W3S ïlOt GnOUyh. CUi iOUSiy, ne ShOWcu no signs of competitive jealousy. Why this openness? I can only speculate from'limited observations. First, some adepts are practicing Christians. They see little or no conflict between their magical practices and their Christianity, so why should I?

Second, many were older folk who thoroughly enjoyed singing out the old songs and recounting highly animated stories about long dead obeahman and their now legendary deeds. I enjoyed those marvelous sessions, and they knew it. That someone was interested in listening and even recording for posterity was often a point of their conment.

I do have evidence th at clerical status may have been valuable in placing me on the Montserratian social map. The

British governor died during my first summer on Montserrat, and a ecumenical service was scheduled for this extremely popular official. I was invited to attend in the absence of the local pastor. I wondered what my regular interviewees would think of me, because this service was broadcast live across the island. But during the week after, several interviewees stepped forward with broad smiles expressing their pleasure that I had helped to commend the good governor to his God -- they even shook hands to express their approval. I noticed after this event that my status was much clearer to those acquaintances. I was now introduced, with some noticeable pride on their parts, as "The Father from Plymouth."

I suspect that as anthropologist I had been an unknown and mysterious quantity, even after explanations. I had previously introduced myself as "Dr. Messenger's student" (which served remarkably well) 210

or as someone interested in the old folk tunes and the bush medicines.

In any case, this new publicity, including an article on my work which appeared in the Montserrat Mirror, did not hinder my work but actually brought volunteers to my doorstep,

I always employ the cross-checking system outlined above to examine the validity of the materials offered to me. It is quite easy to separate out yarns and tales fabricated to amuse me: these never match details given by other informants. On the other hand,

I must not leave the impression that information poured forth from people who were beating a fast path to my doorstep. My network of interviewees took years to build. Sometimes it was insignificant th at I activ ely helped in the Roman Catholic parish; sometimes that status opened doors. I often went weeks without significant break­ throughs or new details. I returned to some people for a dozen chit­ chat visits before learning new material. If my rapport or distance from interviewees is viewed in terms of statu s and role terminology, then it is my role as congenial acquaintance, not my status as priest, which opened the doors and gates of most homes. We interacted on the level of personality rather than status. I have little doubt that the limitations of my personality also closed certain doors. Mont­ serratians of secondary and post-secondary education were hesitant to talk about folk beliefs, but I think that was a function of their education and occupational status rather than my status.

If priesthood was only a matter of indifference or of sec­ ondary importance to my interviewees, it is of singular importance 211

to my subjective analysis. I have long mused over the contradictory picture of the atheist or agnostic involved in participant observation of ritual. The opposite picture of the robed missionary holding high his cross and fulminating against idolatry appears to me rather in­ tolerant, but at least less contradictory and requiring fewer mental gymnastics. Consequently, I approached the study of folk ritual with the assumption that subjective, personal participation in ritual and religion — albeit in a different faith system -- can aid the observer's insights into the ritual process. Training and experience in the active m inistry can be an asset in the fie ld .

There is a via media, if you will, between the subjective in­ volvement which castigates other faith s and the noninvolvement which cannot share in the quest for the transcendent. Admittedly, this via media is fraught with difficulty. I cannot insist, for example, that understanding of ritual demands some form of faith participation in a belief system. Yet, I do claim that participation in some ritual system lends a certain experiential communality between the observer's per­ sonal faith world and the ritual world under observation. Put simply, the observer may thus move closer to the felt experience of the emic.

On the other hand, the observer must resist the real temptation of imposing his own faith categories, an etic system of analysis drawn from one's own belief system.

Stated yet another way, as a Roman Catholic priest, I know ritual. I work within a denomination of high ritual context. I studied ritual in the seminary, experienced it in my personal life, led it with 212

many congregations (including Montserratian parishes), and even an­ alyzed it in post-graduate and doctoral theological studies. I have perhaps participated in more ritual than most anthropologists will ever witness. As I watch other forms o f r itu a l, therefore, I am in a position to repeatedly ask "What do ^ share, where do ^ differ?"

This question is the via media which, I think, adds another, though not essential, aspect to participant observation.

The basis of my position, of course, rests on the assumption th at a sc ie n tific analysis of religion neither assumes nor precludes the validity of faith claims. BIBLIOGRAPHY

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