week of 7/16/03
 
 
 

Good mojo/bad mojo
Unexplained forces play central role in Hopkinson’s compilation
By Gary Carden

Whoa! Are you ready for this? Well, if you are one of the strange folk (like me) who love those booga-booga! tales that send those icy fingers up your spine, then this anthology is for you. I first heard about this collection in Locus, the magazine that keeps a finger on the pulse of horror and fantasy literature. These 19 stories (plus an informative little introduction) all fall within the bounds of “mojo,” sometimes called “jubjub.” Be advised. If you read this collection, you enter a dark land where ancient demons and spirits whisper. You may stand at a crossroads in Texas or New Orleans at midnight, watch zombies slink through a lowlands swamp and commune with the ghost of Marie Laveau. Put on your black beads, get a firm grip on your gris-gris bag and let’s begin. Space does not allow me to comment on all of these stories, but let me recommend the following:

In “Lark Till Dawn, Princess,” Barth Anderson takes us on a rollicking journey through the world of Honey Deux, a reigning drag queen who owes her panache and charm to a midnight crossroads pledge to Papa Legma, the shape-changing god (and goddess) of New Orleans mojo. This trek through a world of Carman Miranda dresses, Mercury-Red lipstick, hormone injections and neon strut manages to be hip, funny and eerie as Honey parleys her way through Miss Fire Island, Miss Boston Uncommon and a room full of drag ball trophies. Ah, but now that she is in her 30s and no longer under the protection of Magnifica, the Crimson, a subdued Honey Deux must deal with Legma’s current incarnation — Elvis in a John Deere hat ... or is it Legma’s evil twin brother, Aflekete?

Mojo often brings justice, retribution or provides defense against the forces of evil (somebody else’s mojo). In “Rosamojo,” Kini Ibura Salaam presents a sobering tale of a sexually abused child who casts her own juju curse on her father. In “Trial Day,” Tananarive Due paints a memorable and poignant portrait of Letitia, a child that must sacrifice her beloved cat in order to unleash sufficient jubjub power to save her brother from the electric chair. In “The Skinned” Jarla Tangh creates a chilling tale of an inner city street where crime is virtually unknown — but this blessing involves a terrible price. Once each month, a spectral pack of skinless dogs comes to claim a victim — a young man who is torn to pieces in the street. This one made me a bit anxious.

Of particular interest is the richly textured “The Horsemen of the Morning Star” by Barbara Hambly, which pits the old African gods against Satan, the Prince of the Morning Star. This tale is set in the 18th century on the Louisiana plantation, Bellebleu, where Master Henri has enlisted the powers of the French magician, Leonidas Houbigant. Leonidas has promised Henri that they will acquire wealth and power by black magic and the assistance of the Dark Prince of Lies. Before long, Henri’s African slaves become suspicious as they watch the preparations in Masa’s house — Then, children begin to disappear. Enraged and frightened by the knowledge that Leonidas is conducting black masses and has progressed from animal to human (slave) sacrifices, Mambo Marie, Ajax and Dede summon their own ancient gods, Papa Legba, Ezili and Baron Cemetery. In addition, the Choctaw bear-god Manitou joins their ranks and when Lucifer arrives to claim his victims, a war begins.

Tobias S. Buckell’s “Death’s Dreadlocks” resembles one of those ancient folktales that has been “adapted” to fit the present. The setting is a war-torn African village where each night is filled with gunfire and Toyota mini-trucks with Kalashnikovs welded to their beds race through the darkness. Warring factions are so divided it seems that everyone is the enemy. When the children begin dying of starvation, the last desperate defense is an ancient story that may provide the secret power (mojo) to stop Death — a great ogre who lives in a rock fortress surrounded by hundreds of television sets, which he uses to hypnotize his victims before he destroys them. (Hummm. TV as a drug? Nah.)

Mojo as primal myth shows up repeatedly in this collection. I especially liked “Asuquo, or the Winds of Harmattan” by Nnedima Okorafor which deals with an ancient African tribe called “Windseekers” who could fly. Asuquo, a modern African woman who has inherited this ancient power and lives in anticipation of the coming of her “che,” or mate who will take her away, learns that her neighbors are afraid of her. Although she manages to hide her power to levitate, the people of her village are suspicious and suspect her of being a witch. This story reads like a parable of how the “different” and/or gifted are invariably viewed with hostility and frequently destroyed.

One of the most disquieting tales in Mojo: Conjure Stories is “The Tawny Bitch” by Nisi Shawl. A young black woman, imprisoned by her family and subjected to a series of humiliating “treatments,” writes a letter to her lover in which she attempts to explain what is happening to her. Gradually, she reveals that her captors are determined to cure her of her “unnaturalness” and the only thing that has saved her from being raped and possibly murdered is her “protector” — a mongrel dog that keeps watch outside of her door, snarling and barking at her tormentors. What is the dog then? An alter ego? A protective demon, originating from the woman’s “primitive” past? The letter (written in the young woman’s urine) is concealed under the planks of the prison floor and gradually becomes irrational. When it abruptly ends, it leaves the reader to provide his or her own conclusion.

“White Man’s Trick” by Eliot Fintushel, like Vachel Lindsay’s poem, “The Congo,” conjures up a tale of ultimate retribution — in which all of the ancient gods of the Congo “hoo-doo” America. Oniabe Oduduwa, a noted African magician, “vanishes” on a busy New York street, leaving nothing behind but his leopard cap. Is he gone, or has he merely changed his shape (not to mention his age, sex and race)? In this dark tale, the ultimate “slight-of-hand” asks the question, “What if the slaves were the masters?”

A quick survey of the authors’ names in Mojo: Conjure Tales reveals this anthology’s most appealing quality. The majority of these tales have been created by writers who are either African or have strong cultural ties to traditional folklore. In other words, they know what they are talking about. As a consequence, this entire collection — with the notable exception of writers like Neil Gaiman (who can do anything) — is colored by ethnic origin. The authors have been touched by the past and by stories that their parents and grandparents told them. Perhaps that is what makes these tales shimmer with a kind of numinous light.

(Gary Carden is a writer, storyteller and lecturer whose book, Mason Jars in the Flood, was recently named Book of the Year by the Appalachian Writers Association. He can be reached at gcarden498@aol.com.)