The mysteriousness of obeah in SVG

by Shana Jones

Why is obeah so mysterious in St Vincent and the Grenadines (SVG)? Why do people speak of it in hushed tones, peering anxiously around corners at it, fearfully avoiding it? Where does obeah come from and why is it so frightening? I recently set out on a quest to find some answers.

Obeah originated with the West African Igbo people and came to the Caribbean via the slave trade. Slaves used charms, plants and rituals to ward off evil spirits, exact revenge on enemies, and promote health and prosperity among themselves. Reactions from slave owners evolved from casual dismissal to outright fear, such that the practice was forbidden and criminalized. For them, it represented unknown powers the slaves could harness in their favour; for slaves, it was one aspect of their culture they could retain and pass along, albeit clandestinely.

Today, obeah is still very much alive and powerful in the minds of believers. These people have cultivated a healthy respect for the village obeah worker, the one to whom you turn with issues of any kind. Through training or inheritance, s/he has learned the herbal mixes, rituals, and spirits to use to bring about your desired effect. It is this access to the “other world,” this ability to use it to manipulate real-life events, that frightens people about obeah.

Such anxiety about obeah proved to be an immovable barrier when I started researching it. Curiosity led me into the countryside to speak with a lady knowledgeable about obeah; however, before even beginning my trip, I was strongly warned not to even mention the word (not surprising, since everyone I’d already spoken to had been cautious about it). Disappointed, I settled on discussing evil spirits instead. This proved equally interesting, though: I listened intently as she recounted intriguing tales of spirits presenting themselves as animals and humans and through strange events.

There were stories of animals randomly appearing, such as the time she noticed a rabbit hopping ahead of her wherever she walked. She instantly recognized it as an evil spirit and adamantly told it not to follow her into the house. It hopped away, never to be seen again. She casually told of seeing human figures without feet walking up and down her street and of times when spirits appeared through voices: in one instance, a male relative out on a boat repeatedly heard a voice beckoning to him; in another, while out working in the mountains, she heard some singing. She recognized the voice as that of a woman, recently deceased, who had worked in the area. There were also regular occurrences of people in the mountains being temporarily squeezed or muted by “jumbies”.

Aside from the recognition of spirits, obeah workers draw on knowledge of herbs and plants to cure ailments and promote good health. For example, babies are bathed in hibiscus, bluebell, and kojo root to secure health and wellness. Teas of wall nettle, trumpet bush, and “hand baby” are used by all ages for different health issues. Wall nettle tea helps men to urinate; soursop leaves cleanse the blood; and thick-leaf and fiddlewood provide cold remedies. Of course, this is a small selection of the vast array of plants available to obeah workers.

On the hour-long ride out of the country that evening, my mind twirled with mixed emotions: disappointment at not being able to discuss obeah directly; awe at the reverence with which it is treated; and a new-found respect for people’s intimacy with their belief systems. Having stepped into this forbidden world, I wonder how different it is from any other religion: steeped in history, fearfully respected by its followers, and the source of answers available only from some supernatural power. For believers, obeah’s spirits, rituals, and concoctions represent all this in a very real, present and enduring force in life.

Shana is a Barbados-based travel blogger. Check out her interesting discoveries at roamingaviatrix.com. Leave your comments!