Voodoo Bones & Vaudeville Blues Jo Carley & The Old Dry Skulls
“The priests pray for bad spirits to fly away,” said a neighbouring man, before a shriek rippled the now feverish crowd. Somebody had seen an evil vision, so a semi-naked Voodoosi came over, cast sanctified water over us and urged the sacrifice of a chicken to atone. The harmonious singing commenced, as before, but altogether more frenetic.
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Barefoot, I stepped onto a putrefying mound of candle wax, palm oil and the feathers and blood of sacrificed goats and chickens. I was ready to converse with the spirit god Dankoli. In a shady woodland glade before the charred tree-stump fetish, adorned with jawbones, I hammered a wooden peg into the gooey shrine. After beseeching the god to grant my wish, I sealed our deal by anointing the shrine with blood-red palm oil and spitting out three mouthfuls of fiery homemade gin.
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In the same way that the Hubble telescope has allowed us to explore both the Big Bang and the expansion of the universe that then followed, this wonderful 3-D set takes us to what could be considered the 3 skulls of voodoo origin point of Folk Rock and gives us a… Most orders for post are same day dispatch if ordered before 2pm if everything is in stock, turnaround for collect in store orders is 48 hours if everything is in stock. Browse 725 voodoo spell photos and images available, or start a new search to explore more photos and images. After communing directly with the powerful Dankoli fetish, a further half-day’s drive north at Savalou, Filbert and I returned south for my last day in Benin. Filbert knew of an important Voodoo ceremony occurring in Cotonou.
It was Chinese masquerade meets the ‘running of the bulls’ at Pamplona. Before long, Remi and I were pinned against a wall by a hulking Egungun. Averting my eyes, it brushed its horsehair flywhisk across my face. “White man,’ growled a deep baritone voice, before moving on.
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His Dahomian lineage was restored in 1995 after Marxist government rule ended and although his powers are limited these days, he’s a charming man. Porto Novo’s ceremonial king no longer resides inside Honme’s maze of red-earthen compounds. Nor does he take advantage of the royal bathhouse where two new queens were once prepared for the reigning monarch every 21 days, or the mysterious chambre noire where successive rulers consulted the spirits about their destiny. From the off we’re thrown into a concoction of spells and magical dealings under the streets somewhere in an unlit part Soho.