Prince of Voodoo: Breaking the Chains

By Heather Rodin

This story of Wouillio Zamor, shows the immense power of the prince of darkness.
It is also filled with incredible stories of God's ultimate victory in both the spiritual and human realm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Word Alive Press
• Release date: Aug 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781486615421

Heather Rodin

Heather Rodin has served as Executive Director for the mission, Hope Grows Haiti for the past 14 years. An award winning writer, she uses her passion for true stories to reveal the power and glory of God. Author of three books and a contributing writer for Chicken Soup for the Soul, Heather’s speaking, writing, and podcasts, center on victory through spiritual warfare. Mother of six married children and grandma to thirteen, she thanks God everyday for a full and exciting life. She and her husband, Gord, live on an acreage near Peterborough, ON.

Book preview

Rodin

Foreword

His brilliant smile bedazzled us as we caught him furiously waving in our direction. We crossed the crowded greeting area at the Port au Prince airport, fighting off red caps grabbing at our bags, and elbowing a path through the masses of hot, sweaty bodies also attempting the difficult exit. Dragging hockey bags filled with necessary supplies for our mission, we slowly struggled our way toward the handsome young Haitian man.

The humidity was heavy and the sun beat down with a blazing heat. I was overdressed in slacks and a long sleeved shirt, having just left the icy winter blasts of Canada, and perspiration ran in rivers under my clothing.

Finally standing before him, we clung to each other in hugs of unmitigated delight at finally meeting face to face. Many months of emails, phone chats, and messaging, had been incredibly helpful in establishing our mission in his hometown. Wouillio Zamor already felt like family.

Over the next few years, we would spend as much time as possible with him, talking programs and direction, but always finding time to listen over our steaming cups of sweet, black coffee, as his life stories unfolded. We sat spellbound, barely breathing as we learned how the incredible power of God reached into the dark side to save a precious child dedicated to Satan at birth…now the Godly man sitting before us. It was thrilling to see the God we served working miracles in the seemingly forgotten country of Haiti. Night after night, minutes drifted into hours while we listened in awe to his adventures involved in the invisible world. Eventually our questions began and he patiently answered every one. He introduced us to others from his past and after interviewing several, details of the stories and events in this book were corroborated.

In May of 2012, I was heading back to Canada when a Haitian man in a business suit sat down beside me on the plane. Our conversation revealed both his work with the Canadian Government, and my attempt at writing Wouillio’s story. He expressed an interest in the book and I offered to let him read the manuscript.

After reading undisturbed for three straight hours, he closed the book and looked at me with huge eyes. I know these stories you have written about. I know of these people. They are exactly as Wouillio has said. My people need to read this and see the dangers of voodoo in our country. It is destroying us. Please send me the book when it is finished. I hope to meet this man in the future.

At that moment, the hand of God rested on me in a silent affirmation of this journey, and I knew I had to write on. This story must be told, regardless of the difficulties in the telling.

I believe that learning about the reality of the invisible world, which is alive and well not only in Haiti, but in every country, is a necessary but disconcerting reminder of the enemy’s power and his evil goals. Satan desperately wants to keep humanity under oppression and defeat. He also wants to keep God’s creation from experiencing the love and forgiveness that brings salvation and life everlasting.

I trust you will not only enjoy Wouillio’s story, but also see it as a warning of the power and presence of evil. As we struggle with his blatant control in Haiti, we must remember, although more subtle, he is just as powerful in North America. The enemy may be alive and active, but thankfully, as for us all, he must ultimately bow to the power of the living God.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

There are so many people that made this project possible.

First I want to thank the people that agreed to read the manuscript, editing spelling and grammar, but also suggesting ways to say it better. Thank you Heidi, Becki, TJ, Amelia, Julie and Laura. Judi, you went above and beyond the call of friendship. The contributions and critiquing from each of you were invaluable.

Thank you Mom and Dad, (Jim and Dora Rae), for your positive influence and years of love and support. You have been my front line proofreaders since I was six years old, scratching out my stories, and always a source of eternal encouragement.

To my awesome husband, Gord, who put up with two years of obsessive writing and re-writing, encouraging me to keep going even after losing part of the book in some weird technical blip, thank you baby…you are a saint. I love you.

Wouillio, you are amazing. I know that sharing your story and not leaving out the bad stuff was difficult for you and the re-living of each trauma was painful and exhausting. I love that the tears you still shed over past mistakes are instantly dried by the Master’s hand as you share the joy of forgiveness and overcoming. Thank you for meeting with me in so many small, dark places while you were in hiding. I know I may have jeopardized your safety more than once as I walked past your enemies with a telltale computer under my arm, but God was in control. I also appreciate your patience with my never-ending list of questions. It was worth it all, my son.

CHAPTER

One

Conversation:

Satan - Do you see my kingdom in Haiti? I am the prince of power. I have invested hundreds of years into this country with plans to bring one into this world that will be a powerful intercessor for me. He is coming soon.

Jesus - Lucifer, you have come only to steal, kill and destroy. I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

______________________

Darkness closed in around the couple hurrying up the treacherous narrow path—the young woman struggling to keep up with her partner’s long stride. The air was heavy and ominous, propelling them forward with excited urgency. The witch doctor was waiting.

It had been years of heartbreak for Vesta Valentin. She and Therilien Zamor had been together for many years, looking forward to having a strong, healthy child. In spite of many pregnancies, each baby died in her womb. Everyone knew you had to have a son to take care of you when you were old, but that had not happened. It was time to take action and solve this problem; it was time to visit the houngan and buy a baby.

Tonight the ceremony would be performed to guarantee a boy-child. The cost was high, but they had no other options. And should a son be conceived and born, it was required he then be dedicated back to Satan, to serve as the witch doctor’s apprentice.

There were benefits to this arrangement. It would put them in an enviable position in their impoverished village, plus as a future , their son would keep them financially stable. There would always be food to eat and gifts from grateful villagers. Yes, after tonight, life was going to be good again. But they must hurry.

Arriving at the small dark hutte made of sticks and dried mud, they stepped around symbolic items strewn along the path—a stuffed toy, bones from an animal sacrifice and some brightly painted pottery vessels. Each one represented a source of power from past mystical ceremonies, and each one would have required a little of someone’s soul in return.

Silently, they entered the close, musty living space. Their eyes adjusted immediately to the inky blackness. They were used to living without any light other than the sun and saw quite well in darkness. The room was small, and talisman were scattered around the hard, packed dirt floor. The skull of a goat hung on the wall along side ceremonial mirrors suspended by ornately carved frames. Human skulls, animal parts in jars and vials of concoctions needed for various rituals and casting of spells, lined the floor. A single glass, half filled with water, sat alone on the wooden table as an invitation for the spirits. Foul odors of sweat and decay permeated the air and singed their noses. Vesta’s stomach clenched but there was no turning back now… and she didn’t want to.

No affable greeting passed between them as the two stood silently before the small wizened man. Wordlessly the houngan reached for his ceremonial headband. He tied the colorful ‘moushwa’ around his head and gestured for Vesta to lie down on a soiled mat.

Folding himself into a squat beside her, he opened a small sac of items Therilien had brought with them. Besides the required sum of money, there were bird feathers, the foot of a goat, a ceremonial boogi candle, and a handful of fresh herbs. He seemed pleased, and a fleeting, toothless grin lit his weathered face.

The voodoo priest closed his eyes and his now rigid body began to sway. After a few minutes, a low primal groan emanated, seeming to come from the core of his being. The groaning stopped and unfolding himself, the old man stood and moved to crouch at a small fire smoldering outside. Pitching the herbs into it, he waved his hand over the pungent smoke that billowed into the hutte, making Vesta heady. Would this work, she wondered. It must, there was no other recourse. Returning to his place beside her, the houngan began chanting a prayer. His face became a dark mask and his eyes rolled into his head.

The couple waited. Usually there were drumbeats to accompany voodoo ceremonies…tonight it was different, specific and personal. Private.

Suddenly his chanting stopped and he opened his eyes. Stretching to his full height, his black eyes pierce them. Moving briskly in the darkness, he crossed to a corner of the room and picked up a vial of lotion and a small piece of paper. He focused for a moment on the couple staring at him as if making a final decision. Striding toward them, the old man held out the paper. Vesta scrambled from the mat.

Put this card under your pillow every night with this side up. He pointed to the paper. These words will protect the unborn child that will soon be conceived. As he spoke, Vesta glanced at the card but looked perplexed at the unfamiliar markings. The letters and symbols held no meaning for her.

When the baby is born, turn this card over and leave the other side up. The old man’s voice dropped and he pointed a crooked finger at them. You must keep this card under your pillow as protection against any voodoo curse that could be put on you or the baby. Peering pointedly at them, he whispered, This is most important.

Turning to Theillien and extended the vial containing his creamy concoction. He continued. Anoint Vesta every morning and night with this. Do this again the next day…and the next. When you find a child grows within her, keep anointing the growing womb. When the baby boy is safely born, begin anointing him with the lotion every morning and every night, covering his whole body. Come to me when it is gone and I will give you more, as this must continue every day of his life.

The old man was quiet for a few moments, then continued to speak in a raspy whisper not his own. This boy will be special. He will be very intelligent, full of wisdom and understanding—a leader among his people and loved by many. He will be successful in business and make a great deal of money. You will all be very, very rich and never want for anything again. This child is anointed by Father Lucifer, and he is going to be a powerful prince of voodoo.

The witch doctor paused. The fierceness in his eyes softened and his voice returned to normal. You will call him ‘Joasaint’ for he is a chosen one.

Vesta and Therilien were overcome with excitement at this unexpected proclamation. They respectfully took the vial of cream and the card with the strange markings.

We will do as you have instructed us father, Therilein’s emphatic response pleased the old man and he waved them on their way.

Hurrying back over the mountain path to their small hutte, hope for the future lightened their steps. They would soon be holding their own baby boy. And not just any boy—their son would be the anointed one, a powerful prince of voodoo.

CHAPTER

Two

Conversation:

Satan - I have claimed one of your creations for my own. He will be a great and powerful force for my kingdom here in Haiti. I will do incredible things through this child of mine.

Jesus - No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared...

______________________

The old woman sat hunched over in front of the smoky fire. The voices were back. They would not leave her alone. They hammered inside her brain, each day becoming more insistent, more demanding. The spirits could no longer be ignored. They wanted a soul…a child’s soul. If she did not obey, it would be her life that would be taken.

In the beginning, the spirits demanded a child sacrifice once a year but lately they could not be satisfied. She sat with her head in her hands rocking back and forth, cringing with the persistent noise. Tonight must be the night!

She sat cross-legged on cracked, dry dirt, and surrounded herself with the items needed. The small fire was soon acrid with the burning herbs and animal parts. In a high pitched voice she began chanting an incantation over and over until her body began to exhibit change. She continued until she no longer had control of her body, but felt another taking over. Darkness was closing in around her when she completely submitted to the spirit that had come to claim her.

Slowly her arms and legs began to disappear and tiny appendages materialized. Her slight frame shrunk even more and a mangy grey fur sprouted to cover what was left. Her head was the last to make the transition and in seconds the old woman was transformed into the scraggly form of a cat.

She preferred this animal. It seemed easier. Sometimes in an attempt to fool people she chose a turkey or a snake to find her way into the small homes and huttes, searching out the tiny new life required. It must be at night when all were asleep and less likely to spot her. There was one problem with the cat creature though; the difference between her feline form and a real cat was her glowing red eyes. They always