Prince of Vodou: Breaking the Chains

By Heather Rae Rodin

That night, for the first time in five years, the beautiful spirit woman came to visit, floating through the thick cement wall without making a sound.

He had not seen her since the day he decided to follow Jesus, leaving vodou behind, and had almost forgotten about her. She appeared the same, but surrounded by darkness he had not noticed before.

Reaching his bed she knelt at his side weeping bitterly. Why are you doing this to me? she sobbed. Dont leave me, Joisaint.

You must go and never come back, the boy spoke firmly. I belong to Jesus now.

If you obey me, I will make you very rich and powerful. Her breath tickled his ear and he pulled away.

He wanted to be rich. He wanted to be powerful.

Softly filtering through the darkness came the still small voice of God, reminding him he was loved.

The two voices battled in his head throughout the night until, in the early morning light, he lay limp and exhausted.

It was time to make a decision.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Dec 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490863016

Heather Rae Rodin

Executive Director of Hope Grows Haiti, Heather Rodin has been working among the impoverished in Haiti for several years. In her spare time she keeps busy as a freelance writer and speaking on behalf of the mission. Heather and her husband, Gord, have six children, and live near Peterborough, Ontario, Canada.

Book preview

Copyright © 2014 Heather Rae Rodin.

Cover design by Peter Rodin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4908-6302-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-6303-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-6301-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014922054

WestBow Press rev. date: 12/19/2014

Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Glossary

About the Author

Preface

H is 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. Having just left the icy winter blasts of Canada, I was overdressed in slacks and a long sleeved shirt, 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 e-mails, 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 before us. It was thrilling to see the God we served working miracles in the seemingly forgotten country of Haiti. Night after night, minutes turned into hours as 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 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 vodou 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 that, although more subtle, he is just as powerful in North America. The Enemy may be alive and active, but thankfully, as with us all, he must ultimately bow to the power of the living God.

Acknowledgments

T here 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, Ameilia, 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 frontline proofreaders since I was six years old and scratching out my little stories, and always a source of eternal encouragement.

To my awesome husband, Gord, who put up with two years of obsessive writing and rewriting, 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 reliving 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 1

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 who 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.

38525.png

D arkness 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 Thierilien 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 that 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 witch doctor, 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 talismans were scattered around the hard-packed dirt floor. The skull of a goat hung on the wall alongside 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 sack 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 vodou priest closed his eyes, and his now-rigid body began to sway. After a few minutes, a low, primal groan emanated from him, 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. Will this work? she wondered. It must—there is no other recourse. Returning to his place beside her, the houngan began to chant a prayer. His face became a dark mask, and his eyes rolled into his head.

The couple waited. Usually there were drumbeats to accompany vodou ceremonies, but 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 pierced 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 vodou curse that could be put on you or the baby. Peering pointedly at them, he whispered, This is most important.

Turning to Theillien and extending 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 and 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 vodou."

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 vodou.

Chapter 2

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.

38470.png

T he old woman sat hunched over in front of the smoky fire. The voices were back. They would not leave her alone. They