Extra, Extra, Read All About It!
Chapter 16
The first salvo in the media campaign appeared in Le Plume, a local rag similar to the National Inquirer, less its ethics and reporting standards. It had a lot of pictures, but little text. Literacy, or the lack thereof, was still a major problem in Haiti and the newspaper with its lurid photos filled an important niche for its readership or viewership in this instance.
“U.S. Embassy Operations Imperiled by Voodoo,” the banner headline screamed. Below the broadsheet fold was a photo of Mama Mambo with her eyes blacked out. I learned this was a common technique to supposedly protect the identities and privacy of ordinary citizens. But government officials and celebrities were fair game.
True to form, no name was attached to the photo, although most readers could readily figure out who it was. And she’d be beside herself with rage and that wasn’t an easy feat! But it was what we hoped for. We were beginning to pay back The Family. More mischief would come.
The sparse story related, through brief blurbs, along with a shot of the chancery building, how the U.S. embassy’s local staffers were being harassed and intimidated by an unknown party or parties, warning them to stay home from work or else. The else part was worrisome. According to its unimpeachable sources, the paper claimed the Haitian government was seriously looking into the matter and the public shouldn’t be alarmed.
The station had done well planting the story so quickly. Money talks and bullshit walks was one of its favorite, unofficial mottos. It had even ordered extra copies to be printed and distributed free of charge. It was a first step in our propaganda scheme and it was a big one. I was pleased.
***
Marie Claire was having great difficulty containing her rage. She’d seen the newspaper article and simply couldn’t understand why it had appeared now, completely unexpected and out of the blue. Who would do such a thing? She wondered. She’d been especially cautious and made regular payments to those who controlled the strings of power in the government. It was good to have friends in high places, she believed. The news media, of course, was more problematic to control and bribe. This was not good news since she was planning to run for public office.
She concluded the “who” part of the question involved the Americans. It was the same for the “why” part. It was an effort to strike back against The Family for what it had done. Well, she wasn’t easily bullied, not by a long shot. She was good at receiving as well as giving in that regard. There would be no quarter given or received in this contest of wills.
The Americans would pay dearly for what they’d done to her. It was time to act again and she had something in mind that would chill them to the bone. Make them reconsider what they were doing to her. Two could play the game of intimidation and she didn’t consider herself a loser. She had Bondye on her side and that was more than enough juju to defeat the American apostates.
***
Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows was the largest, most prominent Catholic Church in the capital with its equally prominent parishioners and one of the most prominent priests in the entire country.
Father Michael stood ramrod straight behind the pulpit. It was Sunday Mass and he looked forward to delivering today’s sermon. The box beneath his feet added more stature and authority to his already six foot frame. He was a Jesuit by training and a fierce soldier for Jesus Christ. He brooked no religions other than Roman Catholicism, most especially voodoo which in his mind wasn’t a bona fide faith, but rather a blight and blasphemy on the Haitian people. It was especially damnable since it had borrowed certain rituals from the Holy Church. He’d been a priest at several parishes in the country before being posted to Our Lady. He was highly respected and admired by his colleagues and parishioners alike. But above all, he was known not to suffer fools or voodooists lightly.
The official stance of the archdiocese was a hands-off one when it came to criticizing other religions, including voodoo. Father Michael strongly disagreed with the church’s position. Voodoo wasn’t a religion, but an insidious cult and nothing more. He believed the archbishop wasn’t infallible. People’s souls were at stake and the good father was ready to take on the hoodoos starting today. And now he had the blessing to do so. It seemed the archbishop had a change of heart and had instructed priests to preach the evils of the so-called faith throughout Haiti. It was time to convert the heathen cultists to faithful Catholics.
The father fully understood it would be an uphill battle to change the hearts and minds of roughly 50 percent of the population. The cult had existed since the first slaves arrived in Hispaniola. Nonetheless, he would do whatever was necessary to achieve the goal. He also understood there was a political dynamic at play, something to do with The Family and the U.S. embassy. There had already been allusions to it in the media, but the situation wasn’t especially clear, at least to him. However, that didn’t matter. He had his marching orders. And he would serve as a fierce Christian soldier marching as to war.
The liturgical portion of the mass was over. Now it was time for his sermon, his admonishment to the parishioners about the evils of voodoo. Moreover, he would urge his flock to go forth and spread the word of the one, true God and covert the miserable bastards once and for all!
Father Michael was about to take off the gloves and throw down the gauntlets. It was to be one helluva sermon, one that would reverberate throughout the city and beyond.