No, it wasn't a KKK rally, it was the annual St. John's Eve voodoo ceremony. I walked over and took a picture before the crowd came.
I didn't linger, since the double fudge cookies were calling, but I've been every other year I've lived here in the hood. Apparently, I live in a hotbed of voodoo tradition.
I quickly snapped this photo. (See, white white white)
I did not take this video, by the way...but it's nice to hear the drums.
3 comments:
Who knew you do da voodo? Voodo hood dweller is sweller!
Cool!
I was obsessed with voodoo as a child. In fifth grade, my evenings were spent concocting voodoo amulets from kitchen herbs, food coloring, talcum powder, and my mother's after-bath body splashes. My plan, which never got off the ground, was to pedal gris-gris to my fifth grade classmates. I even got my mom to mimeograph(!) inventory and price lists.
Someone gave this book to my dad, and I wish I still had it, because the early version had weird 1940s illustrations:
http://tinyurl.com/37kmolj
Oh, I don't think I would've hung out there for long. Reminds me of when I was about 5 years old and living in Idaho, in a small town called Dubois that was situation in the middle of nowhere.
I went exploring one afternoon out in the desert-like area next to our house, and I came across a plateau of sorts. When I climbed the edge and looked over the top, I saw a group of crazy looking people sitting in a circle. There were talking or chanting or something unfamiliar to me.
Now looking back, I think they must have been hippies or devil worshipers. All I knew is that is scared me immensely. As I slowly backed away from them and out of their site, I ran like hell all the way home. For the next couple days I kept thinking they were going to come and abduct me.
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