#by divine intervention of course i mean Sou

[rockofeye]

hello! would you be willing to talk a little bit about the different ranks of priests/kanzo? I had a leson recently and was very surprised when Papa Loko came forward and told me I could do kanzo and possibly be sou pwen. I’m trying to research if this is something I want (and how to go about it if so) but mostly finding just the difference between hounsi v asogwe.

Hi there,

Sure! In lineages that utilize the asson, there are three generally accepted levels of initiation:

Hounsi (sometimes hounsi kanzo or hounsi senp) is someone who has passed through the djevo and come out member of the lineage/sosyete. Hounsi are intrinsic to the function of a temple, particularly in Haiti, as they are the folks who support the ceremony functioning and the house running smoothly. Hounsi assist priests with saluting the spirits, making sure the temple is ready for ceremony, assisting with singing and prayers, and are called upon for any number of support tasks to make everything come together. They have no license to do spiritual work for others, teach, call spirits, utilize the asson, or act as a priest….but hounsi are often the folks who hold a huge body of knowledge that can rival some priests. In Haiti, hounsi are often the ones who know how to cook all the sacred foods in particular and prepare garments and vessels for use.

A houngan/manbo sou pwen is essentially a junior priest in many ways. A houngan/manbo sou pwen can take up the asson in ceremonies for salutes and similar, but does not have the license to confer it to others or utilize it broadly. A sou pwen may learn traditional divination systems (in some houses; in some lineages that is asogwe only) and may be able to learn some forms of spiritual work, but a sou pwen does not have access to all spirits or all knowledge and generally cannot work for others independently in all situations. A sou pwen can sometimes take up particular ritual roles/titles that require some specialized training (such as laplas/guardian of the house), and sometimes specialized roles require a sou pwen initiation (such as hountogi/master drummer).

A houngan/manbo asogwe is considered a complete or senior priest, in many ways. An asogwe is a priest who has the asson conferred upon them and, in turn, may confer the asson to others, as dictated by Loko. Asogwe priests are who have the license to know all secrets and do all work. Folks who comes out of the djevo made for the title can speak to any spirit on behalf of a client or themselves, and can do any work necessary. The flipside of that is that an asogwe is expected to know every part of every ceremony required for initiation, feeding spirits, building a temple, etc including songs, dances, leaves, spirit language, spiritual technology, full language fluency, and on and on and on. Like, if it was the end of the world and kanzo still needed to happen, an asogwe should be able to carry the entire ceremony on their back, start to finish. 

With all of these things in mind, it should be remembered that initiation is a beginning in that no asogwe emerges from the djevo ready to put their own ceremonies on. It takes quite a bit of time spent at the proverbial knee of their parent learning, with their hands in the work with their parent. For someone who grew up outside of the religion, that is quite a journey.

It’s common in Haiti for folks to apprentice to a temple for significant amounts of time and earn their way through an initiatory cycle in order to gain the ceremonies they need to arrive where they need to, as dictated by the spirits, because the cash economy is so tight that folks would likely never have the money needed for ceremonies.

For folks coming from outside of Haiti, it is much more practical and common to initiate to the level dictated or needed right from the beginning. It is financially much more feasible (pay once versus paying several times) and the benefits of an asogwe initiation can be accessed immediately, as one of the mysteries of kanzo is that it can literally prevent someone from dying, reverse an illness, or redirect serious misfortune that is coming for someone. So, for many folks that need the djevo, delaying those opportunities to have the full and complete work of kanzo can prove damaging in some ways.

As you mention, Loko is consulted along the way and has one of the final says as to how someone initiates. There are reasons someone may not initiate further than sou pwen, but if someone has health issues or serious situations that the lwa indicate need the intervention of the djevo, Loko must be consulted and appealed to so that life-saving measures may be undertaken. 

If there is indication that someone may be asked to take up the asson as a houngan/manbo asogwe, it is generally a pragmatic approach to wait until an asogwe initiation can be undertaken, as there is no religious reason to go step-by-step or pay multiple times. Some folks talk about how an initiation to asogwe is intense and that spacing things out sometimes makes it easier, but there are built-in mechanisms that process through that intensity as indicated in post-kanzo restrictions/taboos and the support of the family in those times. 

And, of course, there are folks who take up the trappings of Haitian Vodou to charge enormous fees for what they state are basic, mandatory initiations. I’ve seen upwards of close to $8,000 asked for hounsi kanzo and heard first-hand about folks charging $25,000 for an asogwe initiation where the would-be priest walks with nothing. None of these things are reasonable and legitimate priests do not present that sort of financial ruin packaged as initiation.

For someone who is interested in undergoing ceremony, the ground floor advice I give is to go to a lot of ceremonies first. Build a relationship with the house you are interested in and see how they do things. Most sosyetes hold a couple open ceremonies each year; go to them and see how the religion works and see how that sosyete works. Sit with the lineage/sosyete head and chat with them about what kanzo means in their house and what the obligations–both personally and in the house–are. Kanzo is a personal and community commitment, and they should be able to indicate how that takes shape in the lives of the initiatory children of the house.

The biggest mistake folks make is not taking time to get to know the people in the sosyete and jumping into ceremony with no real base understanding of what the religion is. The way to combat that is all of the above. Folks often rush when there is no real need to rush; the lwa can communicate with us when it’s time to get a move on for ceremonies if we know how to listen (which is built through a relationship with a house..) and there are very, very few situations where the lwa will say ‘right now’ that can’t be negotiated into a different timeline. 

This is particularly important for folks who are going to initiate as houngan/manbo asogwe, as there is no undoing that or overwriting it–it’s binding and indelible. That means, overall, to move slowly. For me, I attended regular ceremony at my mother’s US temple for almost two years before kanzo was brought up by the lwa and had spent a decent amount of time speaking with her on matters involving the lwa. I studied intensely (once a week for several hours, plus regular ceremonies) for a year before I entered the djevo, and, for me, that was still faster than I think I preferred (but I historically dragged my feet on things at that time). 

As with many things in Vodou, the road to kanzo should develop organically with the lwa as someone continues to know their spirits. The lwa definitely nudge when they feel like someone is taking too much time, but all things fall into place at the right time when the nudging is listened to. In particular, there is really no place for pressure from the presiding priest or sosyete. No one should feel pushed into kanzo or any ceremony, and there should not be a hard sell (unsolicited messages about kanzo, offers to do lower prices if you bring friends, etc). Many sosyetes have a loose schedule that they may keep if someone has indicated that they are planning to kanzo soon, like a vague outline of how to break down the financial planning or deadlines where the presiding priest may need to know a firm ‘yes, I’ll be there’ or ‘not this year’ so they can plan materials that will be purchased in your name, etc. 

But….those are things that develop over time. The most important part of Haitian Vodou is relationships, everything else (magic, possession, healing etc) are secondary. Relationships that you build are what carries you into and through initiation.

So…this was probably more wordy that you were hoping for! I hope this was helpful in some way, and please let me know if I can be clearer with anything or explain further.

[heartandsoulfood]

Reflections on A Black Feminist Food Genealogy by Taryn Jordan

A theory doesn’t always make sense in praxis. I usually find that the supporting examples and argumentation style that shape a framework are particularly boring, unremarkable, and not stimulating. This reality exists partly because I can’t relate to the subject (or subjects) — partly because I’m uninterested in the same white actors— or a nuanced combination of both. But then there are new frameworks that replenish your (dead/cynical/grieving) heart and reshape your mind — making you believe in theory again. Taryn’s four-course food-talk did that and made me believe in the power of theory again. Through the lens of Black feminist food genealogy, Taryn created a space for Black women to laugh, sing, commune, cry, let go, hold space for one another and eat around the kitchen table. They also infused Chicano and Black American culture into the food, offering a brief meditation on the importance of multi-racial solidarity spaces and relations in the United States (southern ceviche). 

A key to a strong theory is its afterlife. Can it live beyond the moment described? Does it extend to other spaces and places? Or, simply put, can it endure? There’s no doubt that Taryn's work endures and will endure, but what’s most remarkable is what the theory's afterlife sparks from within each participant. Especially when I think about the (many) times I’ve retold their family's story in a sun-down town (fried chicken); how grieving sometimes means pushing past your fears when creating and starting anew (grit cake); and how a pound cake (7up cake) can connect Black women from across the Diaspora and even ancestrally through our divine lineages. Their 7up cake and the process of creating it with their father as a child in Vegas (and with their niece) helped me revisit my own memories of baking a 7up cake with my grandmother. The depths of my memories on this are rarely revisited because of a fear that my 7up cake won’t be good enough if I make it solo or that grief and sadness will overcome me principally. But a Black feminist food genealogy reminds me of how Taryn's dad was there for her as a sous chef and guide back then and now, as she recreated the cake just for our collective’s retreat. They re-illuminated to us that the ancestors are not only divine but are also with us as we measure, as we mix, as we taste, as we add more 7up or lemon extract to ensure the batter “looks like ice cream,” according to Taryn’s father. And by divine intervention, I imagine they are with us as we enjoy. 

The food-talk overwhelmed my senses, haunted my thoughts, and warmed my hardened soul. In four acts, Taryn told stories of love through delicious food that shared parts of her journey with each of us through a timeless new and necessary intervention. The food-talk recenters the Black feminist tradition of telling our own stories, bearing witness and auto-ethnographic experiences as ours, and destabilizes white feminist philosophers who erroneously believe they first imagined this intervention. Taryn masterfully defined theory and took back what has always been ours. 

Chelsey