The Voodoo Box Laveaus Box PaulPrater.com 4700 Edgemere North Little Rock, AR Copyright © 2019, PaulPrater.com All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, manual, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior express written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable for criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. Design, layout and photography by Paul A. Prater. Special thanks go to Michael Blain and Joe Diamond for their careful review, editing and suggestions. Thanks so much guys! I want to tell you a true story about a man and desperation. When men are desperate they will do things they normally wouldn’t do. Paul Mathews had to save his wife. She was dying. Paul had tried going to all of the local doctors. They said she would only make it a few months. Their time was running out. Paul asked everyone he knew what to do and where to go. He finally took the advice of a mechanic that worked in his gas station. The mechanic was raised in Louisiana and had made the short trip north to Arkansas, where he tried his hand at harvesting rice but quickly realized it was an easier job working at a gas station. Paul hired him more than ten years earlier and he had stayed ever since. Joe was his name. Paul trusted him completely. In that time in the South, a white man probably would not admit a black man was his best friend. However, Joe and Paul were best friends, though that sentiment remained unspoken. Joe told Paul of a man he knew, a man who wasn’t a doctor but could cure the sick. He could communicate with the spirit world. One who could intercede on behalf of the desperate. He could make the offerings to the Baron and stop death. So, Paul took the trip to Louisiana. It was hot and dry when he left in August in an old pickup truck. The trip was only a few hours, one he made in one day, but he felt as if the heat had beat him down. His lungs were filled with the dust that hadn’t caked to the sweat rolling down his head. However, he had no time to waste and no money to stay the night. He would meet with the man and then drive back home. Luckily Paul didn’t have to go into New Orleans to find the man. He found who he needed in Lafayette. Well, close enough to Lafayette anyway. When Paul reached town, he drove to the home where Joe had grown up, being assured he would be pointed in the right direction. The only one left there was Joe’s grandmother. The rest had moved on, but Joe knew she would be there. She was kind enough to provide Paul with a meal of cornbread and greens with ham. Joe’s grandmother offered him a place to stay for the night. “Any man that gave Joe a job and treats him like a friend is welcome here,” she told him. “I appreciate it, but I cannot stay. You can help me by pointing me to Papa Babalou.” The woman crossed herself. “I hope you ain’t meaning no evil?” “No ma’am. My wife is dying of the cancer. I want to help her. I am desperate,” the man responded. “Oh, well then Papa Babalou can help you.” She told Paul where to find the healer. Papa Babalou wasn’t so much in the town as he was in the country. He lived in nothing more than a shack. Paul was welcomed in by the healer. Papa Babalou had a face worn and cracked like an old book. Paul guessed that the healer probably contained as much knowledge as one as well. He still was uneasy about this Hoodoo healer though. He wasn’t raised up to believe in this. “I knew you were coming, sir. I have everything ready.” “What, you have everything ready? How did you…?” “Sir, just have a seat. Let me show you.” The healer put a box on the table. It had strange markings on the top. The healer opened the box and removed several items. “Do you believe in the power of the loa?” the healer asked . “Well, I don’t know what that is,” Paul answered. “Hoodoo. Do you believe in it?” Paul looked uncomfortable. He squirmed in his seat. “Well, I don’t really…um… I don’t know.” The healer pushed forward three face down cards. “I want you to take these, keeping them face down, and mix them, so their order is completely rearranged. Then I want you to place them in a row. Once you have done that, I want you to place this little black skull on one of them.” Paul did as the old man requested. “Good. We are going to see if the loa are guiding you.” Papa Babalou placed three items on the table. “Please pick up one of the items,” he directed. Paul picked up the brick piece. “Now did you feel the direction of the loa? Good, now put it into the box,” the healer directed. After Paul did so, the healer closed the lid of the box. “Now, I want you to concentrate on another item. Really look and choose wisely. Let the loa direct you. When you have made your choice pick it up.” The man picked up the cross. “Are you sure this is what you want? Did you feel the loa direct you?” “Yes,” Paul answered, going along with the old man. He felt relief to see a cross and it comforted him hold it. “The cross, it is a sign of Baron Samedi, and not just your religion. It is made from wire that once was part of a fence around Marie Laveau’s house. You know of her?” “No, the man answered.” “Go to N’awlins and see her house. It still stands on St. Ann. The fence does not.” “What about the nail?” the man asked. “Oh, the nail, it is from a coffin. No need to worry. No one was in the coffin…or so I was told. The coffin maker let me pull out the nails,” the healer answered. “Well, I suppose I should ask about the brick, as well,” the man said. “The brick? That came off the tomb of Marie Laveau. All of these things are a tribute to Baron Samedi, the loa of the dead. He guards the crossroads and can turn those away who are on the path to the cemetery.” “You see the Baron and I knew you would come. We knew what you would do.” The healer opened the box and pulled out a letter. “This note is like a holy scripture. It tells of the loa and the future and what would happen.” The man opened the note and read aloud what it said, and it correctly predicted what had just transpired. “Now take a look at these two cards you didn’t pick. You see these cards here. These card look like the saints. The saints that the white folks pray to. We pray to them too, but they have different names. I would like you to look at these saints carefully and pick the one that appeals to you,” Papa Babalou said. “Now turn over the one you selected. You see it is Baron Samedi; the one who you have come to for help. He led you here. You asked how I knew you were coming today. I didn’t know, but the loa knew. The loa knew you were coming. You see, they guide your path; they lead you where you need to go.” The man sat looking at the box in confusion and disbelief. Papa Bablou again removed the items from the box. “Now, sir, I see you feel the power of the loa. I now need you to concentrate on why you came here. Think of just one word that would say why you are here. Then write it on this here piece of paper,” the healer instructed. The man took a small slip of paper and wrote “cancer” on the paper. “Now sir, if you will just take it and fold it in half. Very good, now fold in half again. Now, put it in the box.” Papa Babalou shut the lid on the box. “Now, we have the coffin, which is kind of like putting a letter in the mailbox to the Baron. We have the darkness, but we need to present our gifts. Put the cross and the nail inside. The brick is in there and Marie will be our mailman…or mailwoman I suppose. “We will shut the lid again after making the offerings and send your concerns to the loa. Baron Samedi can use his vessel to hear your concerns. We have given him our gifts.” Papa Babalou shook the box as he chanted. He stopped and then opened the box again. Please take your paper and hold it. He then moved the coffin off of the table and reached into a box on the floor. He came back up with four strange looking shells. Papa Babalou then said what sounded like a prayer. Paul didn’t understand a lot of the words. It made him uncomfortable again, but one thought of his ailing wife wiped the worry from his mind.