The woman in labor on that night of November 18-19, 1926 was not just a random person; it was actually my grandma. Louisena Fleurigène was not then the old woman that I knew of as my Grandma.  She was a much younger woman who was ready to raise children. However she had had several dreadful experiences and was not blessed with children. After fifteen years of free union with Louima Lilite, my grandpa, she only had  one five-year old girl: My auntie Sagrace.

Grandma was sad and felt frustrated. Nine years before Sagrace was born, she had given birth to her first daughter Sylvia. Unfortunately, she did not live long enough to know even her little sister Sagrace. Also, since Sylvia’s birth, every time she had given birth to a boy, he was a still-born baby.

And there she was expecting again. Her mind just wouldn’t remain still. She kept repeating silently, “Seven pregnancies, but only one child.” She loved Sagrace deeply and was thankful that she had her in her life. However, that didn’t satisfy her desire to have a son. She felt like she was going to faint as she kept recalling what she had been through.  “Will the same thing happen again?” she wondered. That feeling of fear, hopelessness and despair kept haunting her. – “Is it going to be a son?” she continued.  “Will my son live this time?” she added.  “What if the evil spirits destroy this one too?” She worried again. “Will the voodoo priest make it possible for him to live?” She asked again and again. The Voodoo priest had given her his words that he could make it happen, but Louisena Fleurigène didn’t know what to believe. She was suffering physically and mentally.  She was dying from anxiety and felt there was no way she could be freed from it.

Haiti is known for voodoo and witchcraft. In that remote area not far from the town of Jean-Rabel in Northwest Haiti, it looked like that was the only thing the people knew. The voodoo priest was firm about that. He made it clear that a witch had cast a spell on her and had sold her belly to the Devil. Though Louisena was convinced that wicked people, bad neighbors and evil spirits would never give her a chance to have a male child, she would not give up. She was a fighter and decided to press on. She was adamant about saving this coming baby. She sat down and thought it through. Finally, she had her mind made up, “I am not going to stay home this time. I am going to see the voodoo priest three months before my baby is due, and live at his house until after delivery.” Grandpa Louima had no objections…

It’s been now three months since Grandma Fleurigène had left the thatch-roof hut she called home. She had walked around 15 miles to be in a safe haven at last. The voodoo priest had accepted her into his dwelling place. The mud walls of the priest’s little hut were white and had different kinds of paintings on them. Each drawing seemed to have to do with certain spirits he was calling for help.

On that night of November 18-19, 1926, the moonlight was clear and bright. Captivated by the brightness of moon, and having realized that the day of the baby to be born had come, the voodoo priest started his ritual. He said that he felt the existence of certain energy and power in the moonlight. It was as if the star of the child to be born was made visible by the light of the moon. He started dancing at the beating of the drums, getting in trance while singing, sprinkling alcoholic beverages and other kinds of liquids on the ground as he tried to chase away the evil spirits of death. He was rocking, rattling and leaping as he chanted in a rhythm quite original to him.

 

Oh moonlight! O moonlight

It’s twilight and you’re bright

And bright you’ll be bright

Throughout the night, night, night

Please help this poor woman fight

Against the knights of the night!

 

O moonlight! O moonlight!

Chase away from my sight

The powers of the night;

Give me the strength to fight

Oh, yes, with all my might

Against the knights of the night.

And the midwife who was called to attend grandma took oil, rubbed Grandma’s belly as she hummed along. She whispered to Grandma a few words of encouragement here and a few words of comfort there. Finally she exclaimed, “ Oh yes, the baby is coming; Louisena, push with all your might! I feel it, I feel it. You are going to make it, and baby will make it too. Grandma groaned, grandma pushed; grandma moaned, grandma pushed… and soon afterwards a baby was crying. It was a boy. Father, my superhero was born on that morning of November 19, 1926.