The Gris Gris Bottle

The Gris Gris Bottle



The date was August 29, 2005 as I left the Royal Sonesta on Bourbon Street in New Orleans with the manky towel I stole from the hotel. Hurricane Katrina is pounding the Gulf Coast. The rain was stinging my face and the wind was blowing me from one side of the street to the other like one of those Saints Football bobble heads. People were running past me, panicking and screaming as they rushed to evacuate the city. Some of them had guns. I struggled to reach the Voodoo Authentica of New Orleans on rue Domaine Street in the in French Quarter and frantically searched for a practitioner. Never before did I believe in Voodoo, I was raised Catholic, but the St. Louis Cathedral in the Quarter was already locked.  "Help! The water is rising in Lake Ponchartrain and the levee is about to give way! Get me the Voodoo priest, I want to buy a spell."  Haitian Voodoo Priestess, Mama Viola, blessing locally made voodoo dolls, calmly looked over at me and smiled. "Wait here, in the sanctuary, we've been expecting you."  It was quiet and still, a sharp contrast to the chaos outside. The sanctuary had several decor alters, Haitian flags and metal work, and had candles and table centerpieces throughout. When Voodoo Priest Delmer B. Folger entered the Sanctuary, I noticed remarkable qualities in him. He had a unique blend of humility, sincerity, and outright magical expertise. He was experienced, caring and insightful. Even as a child, he had an affinity with all of Nature and was regularly heard conversing with storms, lakes and rivers. "Every culture has a spiritual path rooted in the natural", he said. "When you get your information directly from nature, it's consistent." He constructed a personal Practioner-Made Gris Gris bottle. "The methods and ingredients required for your particular needs are dedicated to me through the Spirit. You will receive instructions as to your Gris Gris bottle's particular use when you reach the Seventeenth Street Canal Levy." The instant I placed a $50.00 bill in his hand, I was standing on the levee with the manky towel as my headwrap. That moment I realized the subtle irony of a strand of my long blond hair sticking out of the Hatian inspired headwear that was a manky towel. As per instructions, I tossed the bottle of root and herbs in the water and rubbed the essential oil on my forehead in hopes of calling forth Agwe, Loa of the ocean, of ships and boats, patron of seafarers.  Less than a minute passed when the manky towel began to spin off my head. It seemed to endlessly stretch far and wide for miles as I turned slowly around in a circle with my arms reaching out toward Agwe. The towel continued around the entire coast of the Gulf of Mexico, as a huge protective barrier that hardened like cement. Waves could barely splash over the top of the wall. Peace and protection reigned supreme as families returned to their homes the following day. 



Byline: Tracie LaCour is a freelance writer from New Orleans, Louisiana, USA

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