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A collection of articles, papers, essays, articles and photos on the religion of Vodou as well as on Haiti and it’s many topics. This is the top of a large section of the web site that is continually updated, as we expand our own knowledge of the faith, gather new information and explore new ideas, forms and styles.
Vodou is a fluid, evolving, accumulating religion. Not one for becoming stale and outdated, Vodou moves through time and space, adapting and changing as it's followers do. When Vodou came to Haiti, it absorbed the Taino and Arawak cultures. When it flowed into Cuba, it picked up a Spanish accent and the fleet-footed dances of Spain. The Lwa flow forward, ever moving, always timeless, constantly in motion. The Spirits can not be contained by time, space, cities or men. They are omnipresent and omnipotent. Like a Mobius Strip, turning in and out upon itself, Vodou becomes what ever is needed, where ever it is needed.
 My own voyage into the Vodou religion began years ago, at the Feast of St. Anthony in New York City. Down on Mulberry Street, as the statue of the saint was being paraded by, my family and I stood on the corner, smelling the sausage and bread around us. The air seemed alive and the crowds were a gentle, rolling mass of pilgrims, making their way to the wharves, to toss food and flowers into NY Harbor, as an offering to the great saint. Even now as I remember, it was much like a pilgrimage in Haiti, with the offerings and the people wearing pictures of the saint on their bodies.
As we stepped off the curb to follow the crowd, a small African American man approached me, and offered me a red rose. I accepted, with thanks. He smiled, showing large white teeth and crinkly brown eyes. "My daughter", he said, "Have a safe trip." He turned and vanished into the crowded street. I stood for a moment, looking for him -- then my brother tugged at my sleeve and we continued our way down the street, with smiling little Italian ladies sporting gold teeth and holy cards pinned to their sweater sleeves.
I now know that Papa Legba had marked me for himself. Many years later, another Legba would present themselves to me. In Philadelphia, one warm summer evening, I made my way to the house of Shakmah Winddrum, the most celebrated mambo in all of the city. The tall imposing house, with it's huge front door, seemed more than a little intimidating. But I rang the great bell anyway and waited. After what felt like an eternity, the door was opened by a spry African-American woman of indeterminate age. But what grabbed me were her eyes - the same crinkly brown of that fellow I had encounter in NYC so many years ago. "My daughter" she said, "come in and take a seat." I haven't truly been anywhere else since coming home to her.
In these pages, you will find some basic information, a starting place if you will, to begin your own voyage of discovery. Be open to strangers on the road - they are not always a danger and can bring you some of the most startling of surprises and inspiration. Be especially open to older, small men of any color - Legba is a trickster who wears many faces. He's been my constant companion since I was a little girl. I hope he continues to surprise me and to open the way for my spiritual growth. I ask that he do the same for you.
Ayibobo. - Mambo Vye Zo
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