The Seer Renee (7 page)

"I'd be happy to do a wedding ceremony for you and your fiancée. Do
you understand that I will require you and Gualter to meet with me a couple of
times before the ceremony?" Granny had emphasized that it was a religious
ceremony; therefore, a mambo had a responsibility to ensure the participants understood
the commitment they were making.

"Yes, Mambo. Can we meet with you later this week?" She sounded
like a little girl in a candy store asking for her favorite sweets. I got out
my appointment book and arranged for a seven p.m. appointment on Friday. She
bounced out the door, smiling.

Later that day, I sold several gris-gris bags. I kept several cloth bags
of various colors and a chart showing the ingredients for each effect the buyer
wanted. For example:

For luck—four leaf clovers and herbs such as
daffodil, Devil's
shoestring, galangal, grains of Paradise, holly, huckleberry, Irish moss, and ivy.

For spirituality—crosses, saints'
medals, and herbs such as cinnamon, iris, yerba santa, and wood aloes.

And, for prophetic dreams (used in
your sleep pillow), herbs such as chamomile, jasmine, lavender, marigold, nutmeg,
peppermint, St. John's wort, and clary sage.

By keeping herbs and items such as
crosses, the customer could use the chart to fill his or her bag with the
appropriate items. Most customers didn't take it seriously but thought of it as
an interesting souvenir from New Orleans. It frequently resulted in selling
herbs to help with some condition or other.

* * *

Elva and
Gualter arrived a few minutes early.

"Mambo Renee, this is my fiancée Gualter. Gualter, this is Mambo Renee,"
Elva said as I opened the door.

"It's nice to meet you, Gualter. Y’all come on in and have a seat at
the table." Before I could advise the couple, I had to find out a little
about them. "How long have y’all known each other?"

With my encouragement, they spent the next hour talking about themselves.
They had met three years ago at Elva's high school graduation. Gualter had come
with a friend who had a sister who was graduating from the same class. Over the
next two years they only saw each other a few times a week, mostly on Saturday
and Sunday. They had only started going steady the past year and had been
having frequent sex for the past six months. Gualter had a job at a packing
plant and was a regular member of
Houngan
Olabisi's congregation. Elva hadn't been a regular attendee of any
services, but had gotten interested since she met Gualter.

"Alright, I think that is enough for tonight. I'd like you to attend
my biweekly ceremonies, so I can get to know you better and for you to know if Vodou
is for you and whether you want to belong to my congregation. We'll meet next
Friday at the same time."

"What do you charge, Mambo?" Gualter asked.

"I don't charge for counseling you or the wedding ceremony. If you
want, you can give me a donation either at the biweekly meetings or before or
after the wedding ceremony." It wasn't the Vodou way to charge for our
services. A true mambo existed to help people, not to make money. Of course, we
needed money to help pay for the expense connected with conducting some of the
services. I felt good about our first meeting. I had learned a lot about them,
which would help me guide them to understand marriage was more than sex.

* * *

I met with the couple several times over the next six weeks. They planned
to have a baby soon after they married, so I asked them to prepare a budget.
They were to calculate their current salaries separately, then estimate the
amount for rent, food, transportation, clothes, etc. The first time I reviewed
it, I had them add items they had overlooked and revise some of the estimates that
were obviously way too low. The last time we met the budget looked reasonable
if they could stick to it and no emergencies occurred. So we added a small
amount as saving for emergencies.

"I think your budget is a close approximation of your monthly
expenses. With both your current salaries, you could get by. But if Elva stops
work, y’all will lose her income, and there is little you can cut out of your
budget to compensate," I said, running my finger down the sheet of paper
containing the itemized list. "Even if Elva has the baby and is able to
continue working, where are you going to get the money for a babysitter, food,
and clothing for the baby?"

"I don't know?" Gualter shrugged and looked at Elva as if she
might have the answer.

"Life is simpler when you're single. You have nothing to worry about
except yourself, and you are both still living at home and have lots of extra
money, thanks to your parents. I'm not suggesting you don't get married nor
have children. I'm trying to help prepare you for your new life. Getting
adjusted to living together will require compromises on both your parts and
will be stressful without money problems."

Gualter looked at Elva, smiled, and shook his head negatively.

"I know the sex seems attractive, and I'm sure it will be. But there
are many other things you haven't considered because you don't see each other
more than a few hours a day," I said realizing I had no experience living
with another person full time. "How long does it take you to get ready in
the bathroom in the morning, what do you like to eat and when, which programs
do you like to watch, when do you like to go to bed… The list is long and complicated,
and many compromises will have to be made. Adding money worries to the list
could be more than you can handle. One more session, and I'll conduct the
marriage ceremony. I want you each to make a separate list of your current
daily activities and sit down and discuss them. Don't forget your ideas on how
to bring up your child when you have one, how many would you like, concerns
about Vodou, potential conflict with your in-laws. Bring your list with you
next time. I want to see them and hear any concerns you've discovered. Be
honest. You can avoid a lot of future problems if you address any concerns now
rather than later."

They had been smiling when they had entered but not when they left. I
hated to be so pragmatic, but they would get enough glowing optimism from
everyone else. Better they approach the marriage with realistic expectations. Gualter
was looking at the frequent sex, and Elva the children she'd have. But too soon
they would find marriage was a bit more complicated.

* * *

"Good Morning, Mambo Renee," Harry Bishop said as he entered
the shop. He was a big, heavyset man with an ever-present smile on his ebony
face that softened the intimidating impression from his size and shaved head. “Have
you seen Ellen yet? She was looking for a good fortuneteller, and I recommended
you. She seems very worried, which is unusual for her."

"Yes, I did. Thank you for recommending me."
I think.
Life was getting complicated since
Granny's suicide. But what was I to do? I had no intention of giving up Vodou
or giving up being a mambo. And a mambo has a God-given responsibility to help
people whether they believe in Vodou or not.

"I also recommend you to a fellow named… Ken, I think it was. He was
asking around for a good fortuneteller. He claimed someone had mentioned my
name to him. Asked a lot of questions… almost like he was investigating
you." He gave me a hard look, before shaking his head like he'd just woke
up. "I wonder if you could do a reading for me?"

"Let me get my calendar." I had nothing scheduled for the next
two days. "I'm free tonight and tomorrow if that's all right or next week
if it isn't."

"Tomorrow night would be good. Seven OK?"

After I nodded, he turned and left, seemingly deep in thought. I had been
right. Ken and Sheila were using my client list to check me out, trying to
determine whether I could really tell the future or not. I could only hope it
proved inconclusive.

Later that day, two Locos entered the store. I recognized Banger. I had
heard his friend, Knife, had been injured in the fight with MS666.

"No trouble, Mambo," Banger said as he entered. They wandered
around the store for a few minutes, picking up things but to my surprise
putting them back. I wasn't sure what to expect. I thought I was on Hector's
good side, which hopefully carried over to the other members of his gang.

"Mambo Renee, would you make up a gris-gris bag for me and
Madman?" Banger said when the pair made their way to the counter. Madman
didn't look sinister. He had a vacant, open mouth stare you would expect from a
mentally challenged or insane person. I doubted he had normal feelings about
anyone including himself. Not someone you would want to antagonize. I removed a
tray of colored bags from my locked case.

"Pick a bag you like, and tell me what you'd like the bag to
do." I was glad the gris-gris bags didn't have my shop's name on them.

"Protection… from evil," Banger said, nodding.

"Evil spell," Madman said, smiling.

"I don't do black magic… Madman. How about strength?" I asked
in desperation. He smiled and nodded. At least I thought that twist of his lips
substituted for a smile, that or maybe he had a toothache. "If you will
return tomorrow, I'll have your gris-gris bags ready. Fifty dollars each."

They nodded and left. I normally charged twenty-five for most gris-gris
bags, but I thought I deserved more having to deal with the Locos, especially
Banger for trying to rape me.

That night I selected beans, cinnamon, dogwood, ebony, wolf's bane, and wormwood
and placed them in Banger's bag and painted
Odenkyem—the rune for
defense and protection—a turtle looking symbol on the outside of the bag.
In Madman's bag I put nettle, St. John's wort, tea, and a bat wing. I thought
he'd like that. I painted on the outside the symbol Wawa aba—the rune for
overcoming barriers—an oblong circle with a line through it which split
into three parts at the ends.

* * *

They both appeared right after I
had opened for business, approached the counter, and each laid down fifty
dollars.

"Banger, this is your
bag." I handed him a red colored bag. "And Madman, this is
yours." I handed him his black bag. "This is important. There is an
even number of articles in each of your bags. There must be an odd number. I
want you to take some part of your essence, hair, a small piece of cloth soaked
in your sweat, finger nail clippings, skin… and add it to your bag. I have
carefully prepared each bag for you, but remember unless you believe in the
power of your
gris-gris
it won't
help." While I was talking, Madman opened his bag, poked a finger in it,
smiled, closed it, and hung it around his neck with the string I had attached. They
left with their heads close together, whispering.

The rest of the day dragged on with
few customers. I sold a few candles, good luck souvenirs, and a book on Vodou.
About enough money to pay for my home-cooked meal. I closed a few minutes early
to eat and prepare for Harry Bishop. I defrosted the other half of my Cajun meatloaf
I had prepared last week. I didn't mind spending the time making homemade
dishes, and usually made enough for two or three days. That way I had a tasty,
quick meal when I needed it. My meatloaf had a combination of onions, celery,
bell pepper, green onions, garlic, Tabasco, Worcestershire, an egg, and
seasoning mix in addition to beef and pork. As I sat savoring the meal, I
couldn't help wondering what Harry wanted to know. He had looked a bit worried
when he asked for an appointment. As far as I knew, his business was doing all
right. Well, I'd find out soon enough. That prompted me to think about establishing
a set of rules for what I would and wouldn't tell people when I told their
fortune. I pulled out a sheet of paper and grabbed a pencil, which hovered over
the paper ready to write. Nothing. I drew a blank. Obviously, I couldn't tell
everything I saw or my secret would be out within the week. But which part must
I withhold? I wanted to help people with my gift, but I didn't want to be a
pawn for someone who would keep me locked up and be looking after his own
interest exclusively. Or maybe worse, kidnapped by the government. Ken and Sheila
could be working for either, which made a solution to the problem urgent. But
all I had managed to do was give myself a headache without getting any closer
to a solution. I put the pencil down in defeat.

* * *

Harry showed up a few minutes late
and smelled like he'd been drinking, although he showed no outward signs.

"Evening, Mambo Renee," he
said as he walked toward my table and took a seat.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I've had a few drinks,
and I'm sorry. I'll leave if you want." He looked down at his large hands
resting on the table. Harry was a giant of a man with a large personality which
could be overwhelming.

"No. You have something that
is bothering you. Let’s see if I can help. Running away or drinking won't,"
I said. As I sat, he stretched his hands out, palms down ready for me to start.
I placed mine over his and closed my eyes. Although I couldn't hear what was
going on, it appeared he was getting more and more animated—angry?—both
at work and at home. The following week an older woman came to stay, and Harry
seemed to get worse and spent less time at home. Then he began sleeping in
their daughter's bedroom. She was attending college and lived out of state.
Several weeks later the woman died. For the remainder of the time I could see,
Harry continued to sleep in the spare bedroom. He didn't realize how much of a problem
he had. I suspected his mother-in-law was sick and coming to live with them,
and he didn't get along with her. His wife was also stressed with worry over
her mother. It made for an explosive situation.