The Triumph of Christianity: Tales of Good and Evil

By Joseph P. Policape

“Tell our stories, my child.” It was his mother’s last wish. Now, three years after her death, he gathers the stories that changed his life forever.
Author Joseph P. Policape introduces us to the man responsible for recording these stories of faith’s victory in his new book entitled Voodoo and Christianity: Confrontations between Good and Evil.
Mario’s flooded memories bring him back to the time of distant wounds. He had witnessed the town of Bainet’s suffering during its most treacherous times. Once, the whole town was enslaved by the demonic vodou spirits until a small band of Protestants started a war against them. His own family had been torn apart by this spiritual war. Mario’s mother had been a strong believer in Jesus while the father had rejected Christianity for his vodou gods.
Read and discover the struggle that leads to the victory for the Pentecostal faith against vodou. After reading this book, readers will see how Jesus Christ alone stopped the dominant curse of Satan and his bloody, hopeless helpers in Bainet.

Poetry was the river that Mr. Policape dived into to wash off the anger of his
soul. It helped him to mock his own madness and was his support when he finally forgave himself and the world around him. His very first published book had the peculiar title, The Bird’s Love for Poetry and Essays, and came out in 2004. Two years later, in 2006, an intense, creative time, he published two books, A Spiritual Journey and Interpretations of Romance, and now working on two more creations, which hopefully will be out in the fall of 2009.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664175143

Joseph P. Policape

If life or someone has discouraged you, this book will revitalize you. Poet, writer, thinker, and citizen, Dr. Joseph P. Policape was born in Haiti. He moved to the United States in the early eighties. His higher education took place in Massachusetts whereby he focused on Mental Health and Christian Psychology. Writing short story collections, a short story book has always been in the mind of the author Joseph P. Policape.

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Copyright © 2021 by Joseph P. Policape.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 05/13/2021

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CONTENTS

Introduction

Those Vodou Gods

Tale 1 The Massacre at Bamboo

Tale 2 The Haunted House

Tale 3 The Power of Witches in Risqué

Tale 4 The Power of Vodou

Tale 5 Vodou and the Rich

Tale 6 Liana and the Rich Man

Tale 7 Master of Moreau and Uncle Hismera

Tale 8 Karandeli, the Mystery Cow, and the Faceless Old Man

Tale 9 The Witch Stepmother and Chiffon

Tale 10 Vilasi Vincent, the Zombie that Returned

Tale 11 Daddy, I Heard Mother Scream Last Night

Tale 12 Jesus Saved Me from Death

Tale 13 Athena and Her World

Tale 14 Diane, This Is Not My Skin

Reference

INTRODUCTION

B AINET! WAS THE strong whisper under his breath, and this took him on a trip to the wide-open universe of his past. Every time he looked back, he couldn’t help but fall on his knees and praise God’s son, Jesus Christ, for what he had done for him and his family.

Mario was nearing his forty-seventh birthday. He was sitting in his favorite rocking chair, thinking about his one great passion, the Christian Church, and how Christianity had saved him from the tentacles of Satan and his supporters.

In those days, the whole town seemed to have become the servant of the demonic spirit of vodou. Christianity, or rather, Roman Catholicism, had made its peace with this religion of possession although it was not done purposefully but because, during the ’60s, Papa Doc expelled all non-Haitian priests out of the Catholic Church. And later on, when he asked to be reinstated in the church, he demanded that he would only hire Haitian priests. Haitian priests took control of the Catholic Church, and with that, he also instilled vodou culture and it is the practice within it to this day.

But a small band of Protestants, Pentecostal in spirit and early Christians in faith, started a war against vodou, and Mario’s mother joined that righteous band of Jesus lovers. And that changed his life forever.

Slowly at first, but with increasing authority and religious force, they saved many citizens of Bainet from the spiritual shackles of vodou and the seemingly limitless powers of Satan.

Today was a bit harder for Mario because of these flooding memories. They were like a clear stream cascading through his mind and heart. Once he got up from his bed, all in good health, and washed himself and waited not long for his niece to fix his breakfast, he found himself walking to his porch with the dreams of his past heavy upon his mind and heart.

He seemed to be two persons today, a distant neighbor and a very close neighbor to himself who he heard his voice, and then somebody else’s voice was heard above his head. To know that it was not him speaking though he knew that both voices were his voices, he felt that God was the voice he couldn’t figure out earlier. And these voices pointed to his responsibility to tell all the stories that were stored up in his mind and heart, how Pentecostalism won the victory against the brutal and manipulative deception of vodou worship and magic.

The second voice wanted to remind him of how long it had been, and that now was the time to get the stories out there in the world and to the people of Bainet. His head was a whole library of stories, and before his dearest mother passed, she made him promise that he would sit down and tell these stories, or she would isolate him within the wounds and happiness of time to write the church’s stories for posterity.

The day was so beautifully bright and warm for Mario, almost like the day when his mother went off to eternity. Hers was such an easy and peaceful death. Looking up at the morning sun, he knew this was going to be a very different day and that his mother was going to dominate in his thoughts.

Tell our stories, my child, she told him, gazing in his soul and yet already at the right hand of God.

Mario remembered how he had leaned over and touched her forehead with his lips and squeezed her left hand as a promise to give each account of how Christ and his band of warriors took on all of vodou’s protectors, including the corrupt and murderous government.

Nobody came on that porch, and his niece, after giving him a midmorning breakfast, had left for the market. Mario continued to sit long enough to see nature bring some slight rain followed by a lovely mist to the day. He was pleased that the clear day was erased from the sky and was replaced with this dark mist, so the world couldn’t see his tears of joy for the life of his mother. He could hear her now, saying God has blessed us to find the way and to show others the way too, my child.

Next Thursday would mark the third year since she had been called away to heaven. Only three years before, Mario was left with a stubborn, but infinitely fascinating man who was his father.

The father broke his mother’s heart because, as her husband and as his father, he refused both pleas and rejected Christianity; he would not yield to their wish to believe in Jesus and Christianity. Ogou Feray, Danbala-Wedo, and Legba were his gods, and they would remain his gods even as she pleaded for him to convert on her deathbed. Vodou is what he worshipped, and it seemed that no amount of prayer or preaching or teaching of the holy word would change that.

Yes, he was a mystery, but not to God, and Mario strongly felt that he was left here on earth to bring the old man into the Christian fold. And when that was accomplished, his father would join his mother, and only then could he leave Bainet and minister somewhere else.

It’s not natural to sit for so long, he said to himself.

He got up with his plate and glass and walked back into his house, passed through the living and dining rooms to gain the kitchen, and placed his plate and glass into the sink, rinsing them and leaving them there. He needed a walk by the waters because he had convinced himself on that porch that he was going to do exactly what his mother had made him promise to do three years ago. He was going to make sure that the stories of the Christian Pentecostals like his mother and others would get out into the world. His stories and others would show the world how his mother’s Christian Pentecostals had won a victory over Satan and vodou, miracles over magical illusions, human love over human misery, life over death.

The stories were going to be told in homage to the old saints and for the healing sake of the young generations in Bainet, those who were still dabbling in vodou for answers because they are still victims of fear and revenge.

So Mario would gather up these stories on the curse of Satan and the victory of Jesus Christ in Bainet. He had grown up in these two worlds with a father who was involved in vodou and a mother who had led him to Jesus Christ and Pentecostalism, the genuine and powerful Christianity that took on and won the fight against Satan and his bloody and greedy helpers in Bainet.

All of Bainet knew he was a great storyteller and, just as important, a great listener. Here then you will find fourteen short tales. Some of these tales are told by Mario and some told by other Christian witnesses and some told by worshipers of vodou who turned to Jesus’s truth after being led to salvation by the Christian Pentecostals. In each one of these wonderful tales, we find vodou to be a very powerful religion that only Jesus can undo and conquer. Everyone who reads these heartfelt tales will be affected by them one way or another.

THOSE VODOU GODS

E VERY HAITIAN CARRIES a bag filled with secrets of vodou gods they could not reveal. Danbala-Wedo is the benevolent loa (spirits) that filled us and enable us to say how we feel. Ayida-Wedo promises miracles to his horses. How did I get to be associated with such mysteries that I have heard? I regretted watching the sacrifice of black goats, cows, and pigs. The vèvè and magic diagram had been drawn before my eyes.

I had seen my mother filled with Loa Cousin and my aunt with AgweTawoyo, the spirit of the sea. How did I get to go to places filled with magic and demonic powers? Oh, I was young; Ogou Badagri wanted me to hold his spiced rhum. As I ran, he laughed; I saw blood in her mouth. I sat under the temple of Ougan to watch Erzilie Freda and Danto dance, and Marassa ate their meal and played with their toys. How dare I go that deep into the darkness? I heard of Kalfu, the hungry vodou god who controls the evil forces, laugh.

The mystic culture brought tears to my eyes, but with Jesus, I rise from such a disgrace. I now understand how blind I was before I found the essence of true grace. My ancestors were so blinded. They worshipped the stars and praised the sun. And now, the gods of my parents are Ghede, Simbi Dlo, and Legba. What a disgrace and curse to their children as worshipers of nature.

The gods suck the blood of my brothers, for Daddy had not paid them with a black goat? And my father still serves Azaca, the vodou god that walks barefoot wearing a black raincoat.

Thank you, heaven, for saving my soul from such a culture filled with ferocity. I was too young to have seen the mysterious powers of vodou, which, to my brain, was such a fatality. Those gods that some of us chose to serve are our curse, and they took away our peace.

Does Haiti look like Africa? Their gods make them war with each other and keep them in ceaseless conflict. Those mystery vodou gods caused many to live in fear, anger, and anxiety.

Ah, those whom Baron Samedi possessed and mounted became killers and apathetic. Why did anyone serve those devil gods who caused them to live in poverty and homelessness? Those vodou gods make Haitians, among all the Caribbean nations, live in hopelessness.

TALE 1

THE MASSACRE

AT BAMBOO

I T WAS IN April 1968, on a Thursday dawn, and the day had just exchanged position with the night. I saw the moon take her nightgown off, and I saw her going back to her chamber. Then I saw Ms. Day dressed in her pink robe as Mr. Sun came to meet her on his golden suit as he sang, Hail to thee, Ms. Day! Then I heard the rooster sing the four o’clock song when I heard a horse arriving on our premises, then a rich man by the name of Officer Belony knocked at our door.

It was just after the vodouisant, vodou priest Monier, finished feeding the dead and breaking the jugs in the month of April. And because Loa Cousin showed up at the ceremony and he was eaten before Brave Gede, Brave Gede promised a bloodbath in the area.

My father, known as Mr. Nicolas, got up in his blue pajamas, quickly put his dark night robe on, and asked, Who is this?

The children overheard the person answering, This is Officer Belony. Then the glare of his flashlight blinded Daddy’s eyes when he opened the door for the officer.

Officer Belony pushed the door wide open, and as he entered the house, so did the cold air. Belony pointed the gun at my daddy, and momentarily, my daddy’s heart broke into little pieces.

Father found his voice and yelled, What’s up, man?

I’m just kidding, Officer Belony answered him. I’m here to let you know, this morning, we are going to have a massacre at Bamboo.

Officer Belony stood proudly, and on his face was the disgust that he had for the future victims. Well, the officer said, we have had enough from the thieves in this commune. They steal everything we have. They think that we are rich, and we do not eat. I came here to see if you are hiding some of them.

Then Officer Belony laughed. No, I know you would never hide any thieves in your house. We’ve got to kill them though, or they are going to destroy us by stealing our entire livelihood. I have a list of all the thieves in the area. I met with the other officers and every man of value in the area. You know them. You, me, and Lubin, we are the rich men in Zorangé. We are also the men of values. Even God knows that, but the thieves and the poor in this area feel they can disrespect us. Since they have no reverence for us, we are going to make them respect us once and for all. We are going to wipe them out forever in this commune. We shall slaughter them one by one. We shall create a bloodbath today. Lucifer shall descend to salute us after this bloodbath.

Show me your list. Who do you have on it, may I ask? Daddy inquired of Officer Belony.

If you go down by the river right now, you will see them. We already arrested about 95 percent of them, and they’re ready to be massacred. We should be ready to proceed with the slaughter around five o’clock this morning. Make sure you are there on time, Mr. Nicolas. I will make the first toss with you, Officer Belony said.

Can you name a few of them that you already have on your list? asked my father.

Officer Belony said, Look! He handed a list to Daddy. I have Neresto, Jason, Lemonier, Wilson, Benjamin, Raymond, Lené, Joel who are some of the gang leaders, said Officer Belony.

Daddy took his three sons, including me, a twelve-year-old boy at the time, and walked us down the river to watch the massacre. We were afraid. Something was not right.

Daddy, why did you wake us? And where are we going?

Sons, do not be afraid, Daddy assured us. You are with me. There is going to be a massacre at Bamboo. The officers are going to be despicable, but do not be afraid of them. They are going to be furious while they beat the thieves, but you are men. You need to know about this stuff. You need to learn how the police react when they are enraged.

Along the path to the river, I pulled on my dad’s pajamas. Daddy, I see blood. I see a trail of blood from Risqué to the river of Zorangé. I see blood coming down the river. Is this the blood of Nereste, Jason, Lemonier, and Wilson?

He saw how very upset I looked, and he said, Son, Lucifer drinks blood. Without blood, he would not survive. My daddy told me and my older brothers, These men stole things that didn’t belong to them. They lost their rights. That is the reason I tell you, you can only make friends with certain children. Did you know they have been stealing? Yes, this is their blood. This morning, there is a massacre at Bamboo.

Since there were no cars in that remote area at the time, there were horses and mules tied on every corner under each tree. Then I looked to the right of the coffee vines and saw somebody I knew, Jalbert.

Jalbert was a man that we children loved very much. He would cut our hair once a month, and he was a great barber in the commune. Although he is not a member of our family, we used to see him as more than a good friend. I knew Daddy would have asked for forgiveness for Jalbert if he knew he was about to die.

Daddy, I said softly.

Then he took a step toward Jalbert. "Here is Jalbert, Daddy! He