Showing posts with label voodoo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label voodoo. Show all posts

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Zombie Palm

Zombia antillarum, commonly known as the "zombie palm", was originally native to Haiti and the Dominican Republic but is catching on in Florida. Its name is related to the Haitian zombie concept but linguists and ethnographers aren't fully certain how. According to Wikipedia, researchers Fabienne Boncy Taylor and Joel C. Timyan studied the zombie connection to Zombia antillarum and found:

Oil extracted from the seeds has been described as a "sense-activator" by one ethnographic source and can be used to "awaken" a zombie, and that a dwelling with thatch made from the leaves of the plant could prevent zombies from being used to spy on its occupants.

Charles Reynolds, a Winter Haven horticulturist, says in the Lakeland Ledger, October 18, 2002, that "Zombie palms are said to hold near-sacred status with some individuals" and states that the sharp wooden spines of the tree are often used for voodoo dolls.

Monday, April 7, 2014

Voodoo Funeral Home

A severed hand was discovered washed up on the shore of the Manatee River in Bradenton in November 1997. The Bradenton Police Department fingerprinted the grisly find, and a few months later, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement crime laboratory in Tampa successfully found a match. It was the hand of Willie Suttle of nearby Palmetto. Problem was, Suttle was listed as having died of natural causes at the age of 70 the previous summer and was buried.

Confused and concerned, the police decided to exhume Suttle's body from its grave at the New Memphis Cemetery in Palmetto. Sure enough, the corpse's left hand was missing. But it got even weirder - upon further inspection of the body, the coroner found internal organs removed and small, handmade, fabric voodoo dolls stuffed inside the abdominal cavity, along with some bizarre notes on paper.

"Be gone and may you rot in your grave," said one of the notes, addressing someone named Richard Woodie, who police later determined operated a funeral home in Bradenton. The note went on to invoke Damballah and said "Curse him as I curse him, spoil him as I spoil him, by the fire at night." Even if you don't believe in voodoo, can you imagine the sickening feeling of having Bradenton's finest show up at your door to tell you they just found a piece of paper cursing you, found by accident, sewn up inside a total stranger's buried corpse exhumed at the cemetery?

As detectives pieced together the evidence, they realized that many of the voodoo notes were attacking local funeral home directors. However, Green's Funeral Home wasn't named - and of course, they were the one who performed Mr. Suttle's embalming. Cops interviewed the culprit, one Paula Green-Albritton, who was an unlicensed embalmer. After about an hour and a half of being questioned, Paula finally cracked and admitted the whole thing.

The removal of Suttle's hand was part of what she called a voodoo "Helping Hand" ritual, in which she kept it as a good luck charm to bring prosperity and success. The names of her enemies were written nine times on each note, she explained, because she saw nine as the number of death. In addition to her competitors in the mortuary business, she also had her ex-husband's name included in the curse.

Suttle's hand was placed in a weighted plastic bag and thrown into the river in a second ritual, with various incantations muttered as it disappeared into the water. But she hadn't weighted it enough, and it didn't take long for the plastic bag to tear open and for the hand to wash up on the banks of the river. Had more care been applied to the wrapping of the hand, the crime would never have come to light.

Albritton was sentenced to a year in prison, but an appeals court later overturned the conviction on a technicality. The judge ruled her videotaped confession inadmissable because Bradenton Police had misspoken in promising her that she would not be prosecuted if her acts were found to be part of a religion protected by the U.S. Constitution. For her part, Albritton insisted that the purpose of the ritual was not just for her own benefit, but also to "bring peace" to her friend Willie Suttle, and that the deliberately hyperbolic handwritten notes on the voodoo dolls should not be taken seriously out of context.

One question I haven't heard answered because I haven't heard anyone asking it: how many other instances of this occurred that we just don't know about? Has anyone gone back and checked other burials handled by this funeral home? Apparently not, and why not?

Since you asked my opinion (you did, right?) - although I am very supportive of legitimate practitioners of Haitian Vodou, Santeria, and southern "Hoodoo"-style folk voodoo (which comes closest to what Ms. Albritton was trying to do), I believe the entire idea of going to such lengths to attempt magickal obliteration of one's enemies is completely wrong-headed and has just the opposite effect. You don't have to believe in Karma to understand that on some level, what goes around really does come around, and the only people who really get hurt by being consumed with hate are the haters themselves. If you really believe in the power of intention and the force of will, there's no need for all this convoluted Rube Goldberg ritualistic rigamarole, and by buying into it, one has already admitted their own weakness. In fact, I suggest that by applying all this mental energy - call them "attention units", if you will - one is actually giving energy and granting existence to the very people one is trying to psychically attack. Whether it's writing hate notes pinned to voodoo dolls, carrying a protest sign, or leaving psycho-stalker anonymous comments on someone's blog, you're only empowering the very people you oppose. I figured this out by the time I was twelve; some people will never get it.

The abyss is always going to gaze back, so don't bother gazing in - unless that's what you want.

Monday, November 11, 2013

Florida Water

If you've ever been in New Orleans or Miami and happened to find yourself in a smells-and-bells shop that sells knick-knacks and nostrums aimed at the witchcraft set, you probably have noticed the garishly ornate little bottles of the puzzling perfume known as Florida Water, and registered a dull sense of free-floating wonderment. Maybe you've even subsequently gone home and googled its purpose, and come away even more bereft of a frame of reference than before.

The stuff dates back at least to the year 1808, when a company called Murray & Lanman introduced it in New York City as a sort of Americanized Eau de Cologne (Cologne Water). Like Cologne Water, Florida Water is citrus-based, but really emphasizes the sweet orange - along with notes of lavender and clove oil.

The product's name derives from Murray & Lanman's marketing of the fluid as more than just a bottle of smellum-good, but rather an all-purpose tonic and cure-all. Hence, "Florida Water" was chosen as a nod to the life-giving properties of the mythical "Fountain of Youth" fabled to be located somewhere near St. Augustine.

Given that Florida Water's genesis was in a New York marketing scheme to sell perfume by appropriating Ponce DeLeon's myth of magical springs, I wonder then what mssrs. Murray and Lanman must have thought when they realized that Florida Water began to really take off as an ingredient in practices of Voudoun (Voodoo) and Santeria. Florida Water started showing up in rural deep-south traditions as a "drawing" ingredient, meaning drawing money, love or luck toward you. Some would pour Florida Water into a metal or porcelain cup and ignite it, warming their hands over its flames and letting the evaporating elixir work its thing. Other rituals call for it to be used as a floor wash, as a cleaning fluid to wash implements from one's altar, to scent bowls of water left out for spirits of the dead, or as an ingredient in making your own ink-dyed scrying solution.

You can still find Florida Water today at any hoodoo-ish sort of place, from the silly ones to the serious ones. I keep a bottle around; you never know when it might come in handy. Especially with all the other kind of "Florida water" around here - the sewage-scented reclaimed water that is unfortunately ubiquitous in the Sunshine State.