Henri Christophe's Government

Hénock Trouillot's Le gouvernement du roi Henri Christophe offers a broad overview of the kingdom of Haiti under Henri Christophe. Based on archival sources, newspaper accounts written in the Republic to the South, and the descriptions of travelers and writers like Dumesle, Trouillot endeavored to reconstruct the history of Christophe's state. Recognizing that most of our writings on Christophe from the Republic were authored by ideological and political opponents of the kingdom, Trouillot attempted to offer a balanced assessment of Christophe's government. Instead of seeing him as a bloodthirsty tyrant, Christophe's state was a totalitarianism avant la lettre which sought to build a modern black nation through a strong economy and well-ordered polity. One sees this through Christophe's fortifications and national defense policy, protection of national commerce and promotion of Haitian industry and labor, and economic, educational and political policies that regulated social life while creating clear hierarchies in which the rights of the cultivateur were, at least on paper, protected. 

Due to Trouillot's desire to shed a more positive light on Christophe's kingdom, one can see how every policy pursued by Christophe, even before the death of Dessalines, was connected to establishing a firm foundation for a wealthy, civilized, and well-defended state. Surrounded by slaveholding powers in a hostile world, Christophe, like Toussaint and Dessalines, believed the island's fate lied in reestablishing agriculture and industry. Christophe accomplished this with a system in which the large estates were preserved and distributed to a nobility appointed by him. Paying 1/4 of the proceeds of the estates to the state and 1/4 to the laborers, Christophe instituted a system of taxation and strict controls to ensure the recipients of land grants performed their duty of producing sugar, coffee, and other exports. Christophe's state relied on the military and police to ensure the laborers did not leave the estates without permission, too. However, the laborers were, at least in theory, the recipients had access to government redress in cases of exploitation. In addition, Christophe's state was wealthy. The successful system of production adopted in the kingdom, based on that of the earlier system used by Dessalines, Toussaint and Sonthonax, left about 30 million gourdes in the state treasury. This wealth came from sound economic policies and a system of land tenure in which the state was ever-ready to ensure consistent production and pursue international trade (most favorably with Britain). 

In addition to Christophe's system of land administration, he promoted national industry and commerce. Christophe spent dearly for foreign teachers, artisans, expertise and technicians to train local Haitians. His educational policy, which appears to have still been in a limited form by the time of his death in 1820, included an ambitious program that would have, if he had the time, probably reached all corners of the state. Nonetheless, his policies did succeed in promoting the training of a cadre of Haitian artisans and technicians. Indeed, even what at first seems like a waste of funds on Christophe's fine palaces, chateaux and monuments, was actually an expenditure that mostly employed Haitian labor and artisans. This further encouraged the development of Haitian skilled labor while also ensuring that the appointed nobility would also employ or seek the services of Haitian skilled laborers on their own projects. Christophe's success in this regard, combined with the success of higher agricultural production, ensured his state was far wealthier than the southern republic. One can see how his lavish palaces and monuments were spent in ways that could support local industry and the development of a local economy.

Sadly, the lack of additional sources, particularly on taxation and imports and exports, prohibits a deeper understanding of Christophean state's political economy. Nonetheless, with what has survived and made it into the Haitian National Archives, Trouillot's analysis affirms the kingdom's economic wealth. It was exactly the type of state which, despite its internal problems (the use of forced labor, the limitations on the movement of cultivateurs and the attempts to prohibit Vodou) was likely to build and consolidate a strong nation-state in a sea of hostile powers. Unlike the republic to the south, Christophe's kingdom was a centralized administration in which the state played a direct role in nearly every area. Christophe's success could be seen in that his treasury contained an estimated 30 million gourdes when he died, with most of it looted and pillaged by his disloyal subjects, leaving only an estimated 9 million for Boyer's government (according to Trouillot). His grandiose vision had even included a plan to recruit 40,000 African recaptives through negotiations with the British, presumably using these Africans to supplement his army. This was a brilliant strategy that, if there had been sufficient time, could have helped save Christophe from the rebels who pushed him to commit suicide. Lamentably, Christophe's regime perished and a reunified Haiti, under Boyer, agreed to the onerous indemnification of France.

Eugene Aubin and Vodou

Eugene Aubin's En Haïti; planteurs d'autrefois, nègres d'aujourd'hui is quite valuable for its portrayal of Haitian Vodou of the early 20th century. Although Aubin's experience at hounfort and with Vodou priests and priestesses was closer to those in the plains and other regions near Port-au-Prince, his observations and conversations with Vodouisants provide some interesting insights on the religion. This is so in spite of Aubin's view of Vodou as a resurgence of African superstition. Regardless of Aubin's own biases, there's a useful account of the various lwa here and some of their attributes. For instance, the association of Saugo with lightning (probably Shango), or characteristics of Ogou, Loko, Legba, Agwe, Dambala, and other lwa appear in Aubin's travelogue. Furthermore, practices of pilgrimage in Vodou and Catholic elements with the use of prayers, chromolithographs of saints, and the fusion of Vodou and Catholic features in centers of Marian devotion were already deeply established. 

One valuable revelation from Aubin's account is the still strong distinction between papaloi and houngan. The houngan, according to Aubin, was still more akin to a sorcerer or the modern bocor. That said, Vodou was still, when Aubin traveled through Haiti, based in the family. The head of the family was the one who led the group in the service to ancestors, particularly through the manger-ignames ceremonies. Nonetheless, the greater wealth in the plains and the rise of papaloi whose services were purchased (for hundreds of gourdes, depending on the service) from clients drawn from Port-au-Prince and the countryside attests to the development of temples, extended networks, and more elaborate hounfort featuring a combination of various rites (Arada, Congo, etc). Clearly, by this date, the papaloi-houngan distinction was losing some of its significance.

One finds this development in Aubin's discussion of some of the prominent papaloi and manbo he met or heard of in Haiti. For instance, Romulus Jacques, or Aisse, a reputable Vodou priest from la Petite Plaine near the capital, came from a family of Vodou priests, was a renowned papaloi who followed the Arada rite. Serving Dambala, Agwe, Ogou Badagry, and Loco, his temple had an inscription referring to Roi d'Engole. So, there was some hint of "Congo" connections from his temple. Moreover, Aubin found old coins at Aisse's temple left for the lwa, which included coinage from the late 18th century as well as Haitian currency from the presidency of Boyer. This amazing mix of coinage from over a century ago could be an indicator of the age of the hounfort. If so, Aisse's temple may have begun with someone in his family from the beginning of Haitian independence.

Another renowned Vodou priest, Manbo Zera Vieux, was also consulted in Port-au-Prince and in L'eau de Cazeau. She was married to a military man who was the son of Cadeau Bois, the head of a hounfort on the road to Petionville.  Aurelien Bernard, another respected papaloi, was based at du Mornay-Laboule. Both of his parents were Vodou priests and he observed both the Guinee and Congo rites, each rite with a separate section. Part of his Congo ritual practices involved pacquet Congos and the use of Catholic chromolithographs. Besides these, a manbo named Tela from the Bellot family of habitation Le Francois was also well-known. Her father was a houngan and the family held 2 temples, one dedicated to the Arada rites and Dambala and another for Congo and Nago rites. Clearly, by this time, Vodou prominent religious leaders held sufficient knowledge of a number of rites of Central African and West African origins. These aforementioned leaders came from families of manbos and papalois, yet notice how, per Aubin, their services were sought by a far-ranging clientele and their services could cost hundreds of gourdes. 

As part of the growing specialization of Vodou religion, Aubin additionally noted some of the other politically connected papalois. One, a Durolien of Croix-des-Missions, was the papaloi of President Hyppolite. Ti-Plaisir of Mariani, or Plaisimond, was another Vodou leader with significant economic resources and political connections. Indeed, a picture of his houmfort is featured in Aubin's book. It's painted exterior and the wealth of its leader must have made it a more impressive temple than smaller temples or family-centered cult spaces in the hills. Indeed, Ti-Plaisir's service in honor of Agwe included a large procession with hounsis and others. This type of elaborate service with drapeau, societies and titles, hefty fees for services, and political connections at the Presidential Palace attest to the high status of Ti-Plaisir. Indeed, Ti-Plaisir was considered by Milo Rigaud to be one of the famous papaloi, fictionalizing his life for a character in his novel thinly based on Haiti under Borno. 

Religion and Politics in Haiti

A collection of 2 essays by Harold Courlander and Remy Bastien, published as Religion and Politics in Haiti in 1966, presents an interesting moment in the study of Vodou and politics. Written at a time of economic malaise and authoritarian rule by Papa Doc, both Courlander and Bastien present Vodou in a provocative fashion. To Courlander, whose studies of Haiti always struck us as superficial, Vodou is not to be blamed for the woes of Haiti. Indeed, Vodou was actually something that represented a complete worldview and ethos for the Haitian masses. Due to the extreme poverty and precariousness of life for the Haitian peasant, Vodou offered something lacking in Catholicism and it continued to play such a pivotal role due to ongoing governmental neglect, incompetence, and exploitation. 

Bastien, a Haitian, offered a more extreme position. Indeed, Bastien went as far as accusing the Haitian ethnological movement of a trahison des clercs. Instead of dedicating themselves to the betterment of their illiterate brothers trapped in backwards, regressive living conditions and a magico-religious worldview disconnected from modernity, the Haitian intellectual sought to make Vodou (and folklore) the pillar of Haitian identity and authenticity. According to Bastien, these Haitian intellectuals, followers of the school of Price-Mars, lacked the brakes necessary to stop their extremism. So, unlike the situation in sub-Saharan Africa, the Haitian ethnologists took things too far and neglected their ultimate responsibility of ameliorating conditions for the Haitian peasantry. 

Of course, Bastien's brief essay is excessive itself, especially in light of the writings of Haitian ethnologists like Price-Mars which directly concerned social inequality and the failure of Haiti's elite. However, one can also see the justness of Bastien's critique at a time when Vodou had become another institution corrupted or controlled by Francois Duvalier. By 1966, at least in Bastien's eyes, Vodou had become part of the oppressive panoply of Duvalierism's toolbox of administration. Furthermore, Vodou was incompatible with the types of modern change, education, healthcare, and poverty eradication that Bastien believed was necessary. No houngan would sponsor or support these aforementioned reforms since their achievement would, in Bastien's perspective, defeat the purpose of the houngan's existence in the first place. This characterization of the houngan is unfair, or at least lacking the evidence for such a broad generalization. Nonetheless, the Haitian religion was, by then, a product of long-term marginalization and growing impoverishment of the Haitian. Consequently, Vodou reflected those regressive conditions of living and would be threatened by progressive changes in the Haitian countryside. Indeed, the Vodou of 1966 or even 1915 was far from the conditions of 1791. Instead of fetishizing folklore and Vodou, Haiti's intellectuals should have devoted themselves more passionately to the question of bringing the peasantry into the 20th century.

Voodoo and Politics in Haiti

Papa Legba

Michel Laguerre's Voodoo and Politics in Haiti is one of the more interesting studies of the intersection of Haitian Vodou and politics that warrants a follow up, perhaps with greater historical detail and a chapter on Vodou and politics in the 21st century. Beginning with the colonial era and the role of Vodou in sustaining and providing a meeting ground for enslaved people to interact and plot the eventual liberation of the colony, Laguerre argues persuasively for the importance of colonial-era Vodou (or Vodous, given the great religious diversity of African captives in the 18th century). The rest of the book consists of chapters exploring marronage, secret societies, pilgrimage to Saut D'Eau in its folk Catholic and Vodou dimensions, the Duvalierisation of Vodou, and the necessity for the Haitian government to commission a study into Vodou and provide some of the basic protections to the populace so that secret societies are less necessary. 

As a reflection of the religious and spiritual values of the Africans, and something understood by colonial authorities as a threat to the security of Saint Domingue, Vodou, and the related phenomenon of marronage (but one wonders if the Bahoruco maroons really did interact with Indians if, by the time of large-scale French slave trading to the island, there were probably not indigenes around outside of the Creolized, Spanish-speaking colony's population), are presented as revolutionary. Due to the limited Christian evangelization in the colony and the huge demographic transformation as Saint Domingue became a slave colony with blacks vastly outnumbering the French, Vodou and marronage became even greater threats to the established order. The connection to maroons is also made explicit by the detailed use of archival and other written sources that attest to the frequency of religious leaders as heads of maroon bands. Likewise, the Vodou or religious leaders were significant among the slaves on the estates, too. By continuing to preserve and practice values that were in opposition to those of the French and providing a space for slaves and maroons of different backgrounds to congregate, it is no surprise that Vodou leaders were also vital during the Haitian Revolution itself. 

The period after Haitian independence, however, does not receive the same kind of detail. While mention of the occasional persecution of Vodou practices by various Haitian governments appears in the text, the full history of the relationship between the state and the "Voodoo church" is not explored. Undoubtedly, Vodou and some of its priests were consulted by different heads of state and other politicians skillfully exploited or observed Vodou practices for popular appeal and control. For instance, President Salomon is cited as an example of a Haitian president who consulted a Vodou priestess and was a believer. Others made donations to temples and even before Duvalier, surely endeavored to tap into the network of Vodou temples. But the necessity of presenting Haiti as a civilized state to the rest of the world, anti-Vodou crusades of the Catholic Church, and the Western cultural orientation of Haiti's elite (both black and mulatto) ensured that the state either ignored, persecuted or never officially recognized Vodou as a religion. Surely, the full history of how Vodou was an influence on the Haitian state before Duvalier remains an importance question, particularly for administrations of leaders such as Soulouque, Antoine Simon, Salomon, Nord Alexis, Hyppolite, and others. Vodou was also very much a part of the ongoing resistance of the masses to abusive or exploitative authorities through the piquet uprisings (those black anarchists, to paraphrase one source) and the caco resistance to the US Occupation. 

Unsurprisingly, the masses continued to consult their Vodou leaders and further developed the related secret societies, such as the Bizango (named after the Bissagot). Secret societies such as the Bizango operated like a government, providing a measure of security and protection to members against rival Vodou communities or even defending the land and property of peasants in their jurisdiction from avaricious elites or the civil authorities. Amazingly, secret societies like Bizango even issued passports for their members and adopted or adapted titles that display the political history of Haiti. Although the actions and operations of secret societies, which were an outgrowth of colonial-era maroon communities and Vodou, sometimes pursued actions that a modern state would not approve of, Laguerre adopts a reasonable approach that sees their presence as ongoing and necessary in a Haiti without a central government capable of providing the same degree of security to its membership. 

Where Laguerre's study exceptionally shines is the chapters on Saut D'Eau and the "Voodoo church" under the Duvalier dictatorship. Saut D'Eau, first developing as a pilgrimage site due to Fortune Morose seeing the Virgin Mary near today's Ville-Bonheur, was clearly linked to the Soulouque administration's search for a new pilgrimage site and further legitimation for his coronation. Furthermore, the separation of the Dominican Republic made Haitian pilgrimage to Higuey more difficult. Thus, the convenience of developing a pilgrimage site within Haiti itself and one that could be adroitly exploited by Soulouque to justify declaring himself emperor made it more likely for Saut D'Eau to become an important territory in Haiti's spiritual map. In addition, Soulouque, who earlier tried to use apparitions of the Virgin in Port-au-Prince, may have been influenced by the type of popular devotion to the Virgin Mary that was already evident in the band of Romaine the Prophetess as well as Frere Joseph among the piquets. These two religious leaders, one from the era of the Haitian Revolution and the other part of the piquets, both drew upon the Virgin Mary for spiritual succor and justification of their causes. Laguerre does not go into any detail here, but this suggests that the cult of the Virgin Mary was already of some significance in Haitian popular Catholicism and folk belief. Soulouque, by seeking to align himself with it, was able to exploit popular beliefs derived from Catholicism as well as Vodou practices.

Laguerre's real contribution of a detailed overview of pilgrimage at Saut 'Deau is revealing. Damballah, Ayida Wedo, and the Virgin Mary share the space in a characteristically Haitian fashion. The "Voodooists" collect donations, give alms, congregate at the sites associated with Damballah and Ayida Wedo, and will even pay for masses. Other pilgrims focus on the Catholic Church, attending services, giving alms, visiting the area near the tree the Virgin first appeared at, fulfilling vows, and asking for the intercession of Mary. The Catholics and Vodouizan both believe the site is holy and seek miracles, cures, or use the pilgrimage as an opportunity for building community, relationships, or aiding the less fortunate. Residents of Saut D'Eau benefit from the pilgrims renting homes and buying local goods. The gamblers, prostitutes and mendicants congregate in the area to make money, too. Pilgrims coming for spiritual reasons also benefit, or believe they do. Those coming from the same village or town travel together, strengthening bonds and representing friends and family at Saut D'Eau. Ultimately, the pilgrimage tradition affirms the status quo and has been used by Haitian leaders, who send donations, to sustain popular legitimacy. Nonetheless, Saut D'Eau's history and the cult of the Virgin Mary in Haiti can have an anti-establishment dimension.

The other gem in Laguerre's study is the chapter on Vodou and the Duvalier regime. While the Duvaliers, especially Francois, is often remembered as an ethnologist and someone who exploited Vodou for political purposes, Laguerre's explanation of how the regime actually accomplished that is revelatory. Instead of viewing Vodou as completely decentralized, Laguerre argues that it is better to understand Vodou temples as networks. These networks come in different forms, but basically point the prominence of houngans or manbos of central temples which also possess satellites. The satellite temples may not always follow the leadership and guidance of central ones, but they usually do because the central temple may have been led by priests who trained the satellite temple priests. A shrewd politician who understands this could, therefore, increase their political power by focusing on exploiting the priests of central temples. These central temple leaders then, as macoutes, beneficiaries of Duvalier's government, and spies, could greatly increase the likelihood of Duvalier winning more votes or neutralizing centers of opposition. 

The Vodou priests who went along with this process were allowed to continue their practices (although some allegedly incorporated Francois Duvalier himself as a lwa) and, as Tonton Macoutes, protect their own temple network from others while also exploiting their position for status and power. This role of the Vodou priest as a broker, especially in electoral politics, made identifying, coopting, or enforcing the cooperation of central temples a key pillar in the Duvalier regime's rise and longevity. Thus, even though Duvalier himself may have not been a practitioner of Vodou and never gave the "Voodoo church" official status, he (or those in his administration) knew how to "Duvalierize" Vodou as one of the major institutions of the country. Like the Catholic Church and other institutions, the Duvalier dictatorship exploited their understanding of Vodou and Haitian social structure to weaken or eliminate sources of opposition in all corners. It was not his mystical power per se that made this happen, although Duvalier undoubtedly understood how to use that for political ends, that was the basis for Vodou's politicization. Understanding how Duvalier excelled at this to a greater extent than past Haitian political regimes is one of the key elements of the dictatorship. Surely, as admitted by Laguerre, Francois Duvalier's sour relations with the Catholic Church and the ideological currents underpinning noirist and ethnological schools of thought provided a context for this. But how did this process work in rural Haiti, where Laguerre's direct evidence is slighter than that of Port-au-Prince?

Acaau of Les Cayes

Although we were hoping to trace the roots of the Piquet leader, Acaau, deeper into the colonial era or back to Africa, we did find a few instances in which his name appeared in the civil registry of Les Cayes, available at the Family Search site. According to the above document, registering the birth of a fille naturelle in the 1830s, Acaau was already a sous-lieutenant of the district's rural police. This position must have prepared him well for his future role as a leader of the rural population in the area in the 1840s. He was already known and had some authority. 

From another birth record for Acaau's child, we learn he had a brother, Gil Acaau. Unfortunately, I was unable to find any Caroline Acaau, but the birth records at least tell us that the famous leader had a brother. According to Madiou, Acaau was literate, which one can see in the signature in one of the birth records. Either way, it is interesting to have a very limited glimpse of Acaau before his (in)famous movement in the 1840s. 

Houngan in Cayes-Jacmel

While perusing Jean Desquiron's anthology on the Haitian press, we came across this fascinating but too brief article from a Vodou priest, or houngan. Francois Cesar apparently took to the press to denounce the Catholic priest in the Marigot area, going so far as to say he was the real priest. According to Francois Cesar, the priest, Moizan, took to persecution and ignoring authority, perhaps a reference to his attempts to crack down on Vodou in the area. Indeed, he accused the priest of thinking that he was white, he could get away with abusing his authority and taking money from the people. Being white led him to think he was a Rochambeau! It would be interesting to know what happened, but by 1907 Moizan was dead. Sometime before his death, he had been transferred to Dessalines. 

Mandingue of Morne Rouge

Gerson Alexis's Lecture en Anthropologie Haitienne, a book we randomly encountered at a library today, includes the ethnologue's Notes on the Haitian Mandingues, in French and a slightly different English translation. Supposedly part of an unpublished manuscript, all we have, sadly, are the notes. While Alexis acknowledged the tentative nature of some of his conclusions of his study of the Mandingue cult in Morne Rouge, in Plaine du Nord, some of his conceptualizing of the community he observed struck as bizarre. Indeed, when one reads of this syncretic religious community, perhaps about 1000 people in Balan and a few nearby areas, one reaches the conclusion that this cult perhaps represents what Haitian Vodou was actually like in the 19th century. Indeed, after reading Duverneau Trouillot's ethnographic observations, from the late 19th century, one can see that "Vodou" in those days often revolved around African "nations" with particular rites, taboos, and customs. But over time, some of these distinctions were lost as the Africans and their Creole descendants became Haitian. The intriguing thing about the Mandingues of Morne Rouge, however, is that their distinctive practices and claim to a Mandingue ancestry persisted so late into the 20th century. 

To explain what we mean, consider Alexis's observation of congo, yanvalou and djuba rhythms in the Mandingue ceremonies. He seems to conclude that the Mandingue, perhaps due to their ancient Islamic influences and medieval empires, were culturally "advanced" and influenced the other "nations" of Africans in Saint Domingue/Haiti. Due to their allegedly advanced state, these Mandingues influenced other Africans in Saint Domingue. In fact, Alexis goes so far as to suggest words like mambo and houngan actually come from the Mandingue! However, yanvalou actually comes from Benin and the other rhythms noted by Alexis likely derive from other regions of West and Central Africa. Vodou terms such as houngan and many other aspects of the religion clearly owe more to other parts of West Africa, too. It is far more likely that the Mandingue cult observed by Alexis in 1967 had already been heavily influenced by the same forces that shaped the development of Haitian culture and Vodou. This would explain why Alexis observed rhythms from other traditions in the Mandingue ceremonies or "ordonnances." Indeed, this has to be the case since the "Mandingues" observed by Alexis are scarcely different from the other peasants in the area. In addition, while most of their members were descendants of past members claiming Mandingue lineage, new members could join the community through initiation. This process, in addition to the shared general culture of the region, might explain the appearance of rhythms from other traditions. 

But let us revisit the distinct features of the Mandingues. According to Alexis, the members of the community possessed a strong group consciousness, reinforced through ritual communion and a pact with degue, a type of rice flour with cane syrup. The members of the community claim African authenticity and distinguish themselves from the Canari dances and Vodou. They even claim to be members of the Society of King Mahomet! Unfortunately, the way Mahomet's name is transcribed by Alexis is somewhat ambiguous (MA-RO-MET) but it is probably the Prophet Muhammad of Islamic tradition. Besides referring to Muhammad, the Mandingue believe in a Supreme Being, sometimes associated with the Sun. Their cult is oriented to the adoration of this Creator being and their ancestors. In their prayers, they address Allah, Moussa (Missa?), and Mahomet. Moreover, their rituals take place at two times: dawn or early morning and in the evening. These meetings take place after a member dies, to commemorate the dead. These ceremonies, per Alexis, are called fran-gan-dan-man. 

A Mandingue Muslim wrote the above in 1773 in Leogane.

The leader of the Mandingue community is called mori. According to Alexis's Liberian informant, mori means "patriarch" among in Bambara and Malinke. However, mori is used by the Bambara to refer to Islamic diviners, something closer to the function of the mori among the Haitian Mandingue. By the time Alexis wrote his study, the Mandingue had only 1 mori, Barthelemy Exhalus, son of Exhalus Medard, the previous mori. It is probable that the position of mori was passed down from father to son, though Alexis does not provide evidence to prove it. This would fit, however, Vodou of the past in which the position of houngan was often passed down within the family. As for the Haitian mori, his main function is to communicate with the great Spirit through dreams and serve as a depository of the cult secrets. He understands the messages of the dead, who possess members of the community during ceremonies. Through prayer, song, dance, and sacrifices, to this Great Spirit and ancestors, members can be possessed. Perhaps as a remnant of their Islamic past, offerings excluded pigs (according to the English version). These spirits of ancestors, or zanges (anges) were never called lwa. Much like Haitian Vodou as we commonly know it, the mori used Catholic prayers in ceremonies. Their music, including a dance called Ronde du Mort, featured rhythms familiar to Alexis through other parts of Haitian culture. Unlike other Haitians, the Mandingue mori sang an incantation to Allah. Relying heavily on Balenghien, Alexis interpted one song as a deformation of the Islamic Shahada: Bi si mian y mi alahum- a ki baou Assa dan ila-a ilala. Elsewhere, the mori said Missa, Man-n Ma De, which is interpreted as Missa (Moses, or Musa) and Mamadu (Muhammad). 

To his credit, Alexis consulted specialists of Malian and West African languages and cultures. He relied heavily on a priest, Balenghien, who directed a center for the study of African languages at Taldye, Mali for confirmation of his theories. For instance, the burial practices of the Mandingue of Haiti included placing the corpse in a L-shaped hole, covering the body to prevent contact with the ground. According to Alexis's informant in Mali, the Bambara have similar customs. For identifying the Shahada in the incantations of Barthelemy Exhalus, he also relied on this Mali-based informant. In what may even be a possible reference to past Mandingue kings, Alexis saw a reference to a great Mandingo who introduced Islam when members of the Mandingue society claimed descent from the family of "Popotte Moussa." We, on the other hand, are inclined to think this "Popotte Moussa" may have been a prominent local "Mandingue" in the 19th century. 

Overall, the evidence suggests the persistence and survival of a strong Mandingue identity well into the 20th century in this part of Haiti. That they were influenced by Islam can be seen in the title mori, allusions to Muhammad, and that their religious ceremonies only commemorate the Creator (Allah?) and the souls of ancestors. Since they participated in the everyday rural culture of Morne Rouge, their religious ceremonies unsurprisingly acquired many traits of other contributions to Haitian culture. But Alexis's great contribution is in identifying the survival of one religious community in Haiti that preserved such a distinct, Islamic-influenced tradition. One must assume a sufficient number of Mandingue and West African Muslim captives were in the area so that the community did not die. Unlike, say, the Fulani and Borno Muslims described by Descourtilz, these Mandingue persisted well into the 1900s. Their willingness to accept new members through initiation and veneration of ancestors must have attracted Haitians from other traditions.