Laveau’s Legacy
Derek Marshall

St. Louis Cemetery No. 1
Marie plants a philter in her garden for me,
As I etch three X’s on her scarred tomb.
She dances with spirits to voodoo drums,
While I place a rose and a two of hearts
At the base of her stone crypt.
Damballah and St. Jean Baptiste are invoked
By the spirit of Marie Laveau as she
Returns to Lake Pontchartrain
Where for years she held her sacred rituals.
African deities and Catholic saints
Join powers at her command;
virgin Mary and Erzulie mend hearts
And conjure devotion for my call
At the grave of Manbo Laveau.

I.
“Hurry up!”
“I am. Do you have the lighter?” Tamara placed the pink candle at the base of the crypt.
“You know this isn’t the safest place,” Adele said as she handed her friend the lighter.
“I know,” she sighed as she lit the candle.
The night was sticky. Too sticky for voodoo rituals by the uninitiated. The two girls came to St. Louis Cemetery on a whim. Local legend intrigued them enough to follow the motel map down Basin Street to the city of standing graves and elaborate stone tombs.
“Remember what that man said,” Adele tugged at Tamara’s sleeve.
“Shut up,” Tamara interrupted. She began to scratch a small diagonal line in the bottom corner of the tomb. She used a rock to etch a small X on the face of the stone. The tomb was already scarred with many X’s, left in neat little rows of three. “Hand me the rose,” she said as she got up from the ground and turned to Adele.
Adele handed her the red rose they stole from the hotel lobby. Eleven red roses would be enough for whomever they were for. “Twelve is too many anyway,” Tamara had said as she pulled the rose from its vase, not stopping to pick up the baby’s breath that fell out of the bouquet.
“He said people get mugged or murdered out here all the time.” Adele was less enthused about the love ritual. She was as interested as Tamara when they heard it from the bartender, but she thought he was just another local adding a little spice to their stay in the Crescent City. She had no idea Tamara would really want to come to the graveyard and try to perform the ritual.
“Okay,” Tamara said. She had placed the rose by the candle where she had scratched the three X’s. “All I have to do is knock three times and we’re done.”
“This is so silly,” Adele said nervously.
Tamara faced the tomb and knocked once on the grave, “one.” She turned toward Adele and smiled wryly. “Two.”
“Three,” Adele finished the ritual for her. “Let’s go.”
Tamara began laughing. “Maybe my love wish will come true now.”
“Whatever.” Adele tugged at Tamara’s sleeve and began walking from the grave. “You and Corey don’t know what you guys want.”
“How do we get out of here,” Tamara said as she looked down the row of tombs ignoring Adele’s comment. The moonlight glistened off of the smooth marble faces of the mausoleums.
There were so many paths among the tall rows of tombs she couldn’t remember which way they had come. “It’s this way,” Adele said, relieved to be leaving.
As they were walking out the gates of the cemetery Tamara stopped. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Adele turned to her friend.
“The sound of voodoo drums,” replied Tamara in an exaggerated tone. She began laughing.
“Come on,” Adele said impatiently.

II.
The voodoo drums pounded as the worshipers swayed to the sadistic beat. The night dripped with sweat, as wet as the waters by which they worshipped. Women cried out with the spirit of their gods as men stomped their feet.
The Voodoo Queen danced to the center of the ring of people, her white skirts floating out as she spun in her ritualistic circles. She moved to the rhythm of the drums, sweat dripping from her forehead onto the muddy ground. The air was filled with smoke and incense. She danced for her worshipers. It was what they expected from their Manbo. But more than that she danced for herself. She danced and prayed for her love to return to her.
In the center of the ring was a small bonfire; a basket sat nearby. The Voodoo Queen skirted the fire and danced toward the basket from which she pulled her snake, Li Grand Zombi. She held it high above her head as the thing twisted and coiled around her arms.
“Damballah,” she called out and the crowd replied with joyous cries at the sound of his name, the snake god.
She began spinning around the fire with the snake still held above her head. She was swept away by the drums. Her entire being moved with them, was consumed by them until she became unaware of the people calling her name and the names of her gods. She focused solely on her love, Jacques. Jacques.
Come home to me, Jacques. Damballah, with your power, manifested here in this snake, bring Jacques home to me. Come to me. Come into me. Take my soul and deliver it to Jacques so that I may lead him home to my flesh.
She fell unconscious to the ground with the snake still writhing around her arms. Two of her men came forth unwrapping the snake from her arms and pulling her from the ground. With this sudden movement she regained her consciousness, but in what appeared to be an altered state. Her eyes were glassy; her caramel skin, covered in sweat, reflected the firelight. She moved as if in a stupor, but was again aware of her surroundings.
“Listen,” she demanded in a voice not all her own, “listen to your Queen.”
The drummers ceased their relentless beating and all voices lowered to a hushed whisper before quieting altogether.
“Damballah speaks to me,” she called over the crowds. Her voice echoed among the people and drifted over the waters of the lake. “Damballah has given me word to deliver to all of you.” She stood before the worshippers still supported by the two men as if the ritual had seized her of all energy. “Never follow first love.” She dropped her head ending her message from the gods. The two men carried her from the circle.
On her departure the drummers began to beat again and the crowd, mixed of slaves, Creoles, and white aristocracy, began to disperse.

III.
Adele and Tamara were smoking cigarettes outside Hurricane City on Bourbon Street. They had already been through three clubs and were about to enter another before being stopped by the local who had more drinks than they. He wreaked of alcohol. “Ladies,” he called to them, nearly falling to the ground as he stumbled on the sidewalk.
“Oh God,” Tamara said in annoyance, “here comes another one.” She turned her back toward the man, pretending not to see him, and began talking to Adele.
“You’re not too good,” the drunk man said as he circled them. “Lovely ladies need a man to show them around town.”
“That’s okay, we know our way.” Adele took Tamara’s arm and led her away from the man. He had his eye on Tamara, watching her dark skin glisten with sweat. Adele’s pale face blended in with the crowd, but Tamara glowed with an exotic beauty.
Tamara began laughing at the man. She walked with Adele but he followed close behind.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing her by the arm.
Tamara spun around and jerked her arm away from him. “Back off,” she demanded, quickly changing her tone.
“You can love me,” he said with a coy smile. “I’ll show you good time.” He rubbed his hand across his bristly hair.
“I don’t think so,” Tamara replied turning to walk away.
“You can love me,” he said again, “I’m not your first.”
She kept walking.
“Are you okay,” Adele asked putting her arm around her friend.
“I’m fine,” Tamara said. It wasn’t the first time she had a man make a pass at her. It happened every night in New Orleans. But she wasn’t looking for a date, she already had Corey, somewhat. One day he would give her all of his attention and the next he would detach himself from Tamara as if she were nothing to him. Adele often said that it wasn’t really love. However, Tamara would not give in. Corey was the first guy she had really dated. Although she had gotten plenty of offers, she just wasn’t interested in anyone except Corey. “Remind me to call Corey when we get back to the hotel.”

IV.
Marie Laveau cried in her room. She refused to see anyone and refused to perform her rituals. Many came to seek her help, but all were refused. How could she help others when she failed to bring her husband home.
Christophé came into her room carrying a gris-gris bag. “Take this,” he said handing her the tiny red bag, reminding her of her responsibility and hoping she would realize she must not give up completely.
“Why?” she cried. She stood from her chair and walked to the door. “This will do nothing for me.
He followed her and quickly put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. “It has been over a year, Marie. You have me now.
She turned to him and buried her face in his shoulder. “Never,” she cried. “Never will I cast another love spell.”
“You can’t say that, these people need your power.
She tore herself from him and walked into the parlor. She tossed the gris-gris to the table already piled with herbs. “As Damballah said,” she heatedly spoke to Christophé, “never follow first loves.”
“Follow his word then,” he pleaded with her.
“I will never cast,” she vowed, “never another spell for first lovers. Since Damballah does not see it fit to return Jacques to me then no one can use me to fulfill their request for first loves.”

V.
“Did you call him?” Adele asked entering the hotel room.
“Yeah,” Tamara said rolling over in bed.
“Don’t sound so excited.” Adele sat down beside her. “What’s wrong?”
“He said its over,” Tamara said solemnly. She buried her head in her pillow. She began to sob quietly. “He said that it was just too much for him right now. I guess I was too much.”
Adele rubbed her friend’s back. She sat silent for a moment, not knowing what to say Tamara rolled over and wiped the tears from her already tear-stained cheeks. “I’ll be alright,” she said taking a deep breath. “It’s not going to ruin our trip.” She got up from the bed and walked into the bathroom. She washed her face with cold water before turning back to Adele. “Let’s go back to Bourbon Street tonight.”