#mitan my beloved

[deebyfeeby]

You done Anna's paralogue yet? The Boss you fight is a tough beauty!

OH YES I KNOW WHO YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!

I did Anna's paralogue yesterday and MA'AM

[ao3animal]

Here’s a post to honour you Benrim (Ben+Karim from Mitan, Midi) shippers out there

This post after @selunchen has made our dream come true: the fanart all of us Benrim shippers need, she gave it to us Ladies and Gents

I’m beyond touched. It’s simply gorgeous. 

PLEASE LET HER KNOW SHE’S A BELOVED MEMBER OF OUR COMMUNITY

Excerpts: Benrim in Mitan, Midi

Chap.17: Nobody denies the existence of cannibals

1.

“ Ben gets along well with Karim, very well even, but Karim's shifts always start when Ben's end, or the other way around.

Karim is the definition of a sweet pea, like Fortunée would say. The most altruistic person there is, always trying to help, just someone who's really ---kind. Other than that, he's six-foot three, so taller than Ben -and built like a fucking tank, because Karim spends a good deal of his free time at the gym, and is crazy about martial arts in general.

He's probably the one who Ben feels the closest to, but he doesn't get to hang with him very often. “

2.

“ Karim whistles, teasing, and looks him up and down when Ben comes back from downstairs with his suit on:

"Le BG ---OK, watch out, Ladies!"

"Shut the fuck up," Ben mutters.

Karim grins even wider instead:

"Looking good, Benjamin. What about me?" He asks, opening his arms so Ben can have a good view.

"...so you want me to call you beautiful, is that it?" “

Chap.20: Frère

1.

“ Karim slowly nods. He doesn't look back at him.

Karim doesn't like guns. He doesn't like holding a gun.

He's scared he'll kill someone on accident if he does, and he can't bring himself to even imagine holding someone at gunpoint.

Ben doesn't know that there's another man on earth that's as harmless as Karim is. “

2.

“ On their way back from Marseille this time, Karim is as silent as a tomb. The night is dark, and not many cars are circulating on the A7, the highway to Grenoble.

They arrived in Marseille two hours ago maybe. They were supposed to spend the night. “

3.

“ "I'm telling you because you're my friend, Benjamin. I'm leaving Grenoble."

...just like that, it's harder to breathe.

If he doesn't have Karim, Ben doesn't have anyone.

"I'm going to Morocco. My brother lives there." “

4.

“ Karim lets the reason of his visit be known the second the door is closed.

"I came to say goodbye."

Ben's throat closes.

Karim sits on Ben's single bed, looking up at him, expectant, and Ben avoids his eyes.

Eventually though, he sits next to him.

"You don't have the intention of going tomorrow, do you?"

Ben huffs, his words near a whisper: "What do you want me to do?"

Never the kind face of Karim has looked more pained than in this moment.

"I can't make the decision for you," he murmurs, looking down, before his eyes find Ben's again. "I will pray Allah. So that he watches over you."

Ben distantly wishes Karim wouldn't add solemnity to a situation that doesn't need any.

His eyes and his chest burn.

Karim's expression is the most tender there is -his tone assured.

"I can't continue living my life in sin. But I'll be praying for you," he repeats. "---I love you."

Before Ben can anticipate anything, feeling too much in this moment after months spent feeling not enough, Karim's hands come up to cup his face.

Ben tries to look at him, but his vision gets blurry.

"You're a good man, Benjamin."

Ben lets it happen when Karim leans in.

His lips press against his.

...when Karim stands up, Ben's eyes don't leave the ground.

"Take care," is what he hears him say before the door closes on him. “

[rockofeye]

Now that Gede is feeling fat and happy (at least for the next five minutes or so...the Dead Man can A-L-W-A-Y-S eat), we are headed into a truly hot time of year in Haitian Vodou. The beginning of Advent all the way through to Epiphany/Jou Twa Wa is a seriously Petwo part of the year...what is more spiritually hot than the divine coming down and taking human form to walk among the people?

This means it’s a good time to do a lot of work. Traditionally, this is when vodouizan take their yearly baths; one for a heavy-duty cleansing to clean all the gunk off from the previous year and one for good luck in the new year. Priests who do a lot of spiritual work may do baths more regularly (like, maybe every couple months...too busy for much more), but once a year is the real cleaning. In Vodou, cleansing is never done without balancing with a benyen bon chans/good luck bath; if you clean all the crap away and don’t put something in its place, then you are open to anything just sticking to you. 

So, we bathe. I usually time mine for around the turn of the new year; cleansing in the old year and then the good luck as soon as the calendar turns or is ready to turn. I enjoy making baths and similar things in general, but benyen bon chans has to be one of my favorites. It smells SO GOOD. I usually make a big ol’ basin of it and bottle it up for future use or for folks who want some of their own, if they don’t want a bath made just for them.

I’ve got some other things up my sleeve that I’m excited about making, too. I love getting my hands in things..creating really makes me happy and seems to please my spirits, too. Medicine and magic are so closely intertwined and inseparable in Vodou; all come from the lwa and all work to create the best situation possible.

It’s Simbi season especially, along with all of his Petwo compatriots. Simbi walks with many saints, but in particular all Simbi can be welcomed with the image of the Wise Men/Kings/Magi. Simbi in all his faces is a magician and healer who holds the secrets of magic and of the fey/leaves and all that comes from deep in the Kongo basin, and some Simbi are more masterful in some areas than others. They all know the things and do the work, but sometimes it’s like talking to the head cardiologist on the East Coast, and then speaking to the premier cardiologist in the entire world. Simbi carries all of that. The image of the three Magi hold these secrets--they are conceived of with different skin tones which speaks to the different areas that Simbi comes from (those under the water often appear more pale than those that walk on land..), and the Magi hold in their hands substances that can harm or heal or create miracles. Simbi is notoriously quiet and shy, but he comes through with fire right about now.

In Haiti, it’s time for Petwo fets and to call down the spirits to make the baths. A traditional Twa Wa fet has the Petwo spirits arriving to make the benyen bon chans for their children, which is a sight to behold. For priests, it can be an extra special occasion not only to facilitate those lwa seeing their community but to see how the lwa make those things. On more than one occasion, the spirits will grab a priest by the arm and direct them to watch how something is dispersed in the bath or what extra ingredient to add that might not be standard. When I have had the opportunity to watch spirits make baths, I always feel like it’s a gift that they might give me..feels like getting a peek behind the curtain.

These fets are HOT fets: loud, crowded, and literally hot. People pack into these fets really tight, and there is usually a lot of fire involved, ranging from fires set to call particular spirits (some spirits only come when there is flame involved or heavily prefer it) to fires set by spirits (some spirits will stand in the fire and dance or leap through it or maybe eat it). Big fires at carrefour yo a/crossroads or outdoor temples are common, and adventurous vodouizan and/or insistent spirits sometimes will light the poto mitan/central pillar of a temple on fire. Animals are often given for Petwo spirits at this time, too. 

For all of those reasons, these fets can be hard to hold similarly in Diaspora (a big fire at the local crossroads would *probably be frowned upon*) but we are still celebrating and getting all that work in.

From here, there might be a quiet lull in late January into February, but by the time March rolls around, we have hit ‘busy season’ for Vodou as we hold fetes for some of our beloved lwa and then start prepping (in our house) for our summer kanzo cycle and fets in Haiti. I’m excited and am looking forward to heading back down this year to see new siblings and our spirits. Good stuff.

[rockofeye]

Interlude II

I am on the floor, and I stare at the ceiling.

It is day #unknown of my post-kanzo period of seclusion, of quarantine, of rest. I don’t count because I don’t want any more pressure. I am supposed to be still and as calm as is possible, after all. The days are long enough as it is, and they don’t need to be any longer. If I was working, they would go faster, but, as both a blessing and a burden, I am not working. My days are filled with resumes, cover letters, cooking so that I may safely eat, and resting, and all of those things are exhausting enough on their own.

I am on a borrowed floor, and I stare at a borrowed ceiling.

I have traded the cool linoleum of my mother’s house in Jacmel for the slightly sticky-with-humidity hardwood floor of a generous friend back in Boston. I lay on my sheet in an attempt to rest after an exhausting afternoon of taking the T to go grocery shopping. I feel like an old man who needs his naps, but also an old man who is constantly on fire and who cannot lay still.

On my last night in Haiti, my mother and I sat in the peristyle near the poto mitan and talked, just the two of us. In the background, my mama hounyo,a  tiny dynamo of a Haitian woman who took care of me while I was in the djevo, fusses and takes care of things that need taking care of while the generator buzzes outside the walls. All of my ritual items are carefully packed in my suitcases, wrapped in clothes and layers of duct tape and prayers that none of them will break or be seized by customs before I get back to my borrowed, temporary home.

My mother and I sit, and this is a rare privilege. In Haiti, she is constantly busy. There are children to see and speak with, much-loved friends and family to welcome, and, above all, so much work to be done. She readily admits that she doesn’t sleep much, if at all,. for the few months she is down there full time because there is so much to do.

The ceremonies are over and the work is mostly completed, so there is a little time. We sit close together, with our knees almost touching, and I receive the information I need to know and instructions that I must follow once I am back in the US. As much as the next 41 days will be rest for me, it will be rest for her, too.

She opens her notebook and hands me a slip of paper with my baptem name on it, as well as the name Papa Loko has given me and the identity of my head. I look at it for a moment, and ask her questions about the names and my met tet. Then, I listen. She goes over the list of things I must avoid and has me recite it back to her. I have been well-prepared for this, and I remember everything. She reminds me over and over to guard my head and tells me how she will be able to tell if I don’t follow the guidelines laid out by her and the spirits. We talk about how to care for some of my ritual items, and she agrees that we will go over this another time, as I know I won’t remember everything now.

After a short moment of silence, she asks me how I am feeling. I feel like I am still inside, I tell her, and nod towards the room that was consecrated as the djevo, and it feels like everything is burning from the inside out. She smiles and tells me that is normal. 

I go to bed soon after, just past midnight, and she goes out to the peristyle of a priest who worked my kanzo next to her, for her. When I wake up  at close to 5AM to get ready to leave, she is already awake and ready to bid us farewell.

Inside my 41 days, that burning has not subsided. In the afternoons when I am exhausted from the work of the day (no matter how small--everything is a precious expenditure of energy) and I try to rest, I end up practically writhing on the floor for lack of ability to still the furnace in my belly. I throw myself in front of my makeshift altar and beg my spirits for a little peace and a little sleep, because I am so very exhausted.

They relent, but when I do sleep I dream of fire and explosions and the spirits that come with those things. One morning, I wake up nauseous and tearful, having watched a spirit wearing the face of a beloved family member sacrifice themselves for the good of the family. In the dream, I have refused to watch the ceremony that would contain such a sacrifice, but afterward my mother comes to me dressed in splendid whites to detail what has happened so that I may know. When she tells me how this family member/spirit threw themselves into a bonfire to assure our collective survival, I scream and sob in grief. When I wake, my head is still filled with the smell of burning flesh.

As my 41 days comes to a close, I have slowly learned how to contain the fire inside me. The dreams with fire and explosion still come, but I know what they mean and who stands in the middle of them. The notebook that contains the narratives that unfold behind my eyes nan domi grows full, and I am grateful for their careful instruction.

When I see my mother for the small piece of ritual that closes out my 41 days, I am starting to feel human again and I tell her so. She laughs in a way that tells me all I need to know, and we finish this small piece of work together that is really just another beginning.