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Chapter 6 - Recovered Artefacts

Soon Bronson came into the mess and the men greeted each other.

“So how did your meeting at the embassy work out? All squared away?” Bronson asked.

“Goddamn, round, oval, rectangle—any shape you want except square—that shape is my head after I keep banging it to be sure I’m not dreaming,” Jonas muttered.

“Shit, is everything okay? I thought that there’d be no trouble.”

“No, sorry to mislead you. I’m still in a daze. Here, the embassy officer gave me a printout of what he found in my DoD file.”

Jonas passed him the copy of the “Alert” message and Bronson read it with wide eyes.

“No effin’ shit! This is ... wow. Hey, no wonder they grilled me a year or two after you left Germany. They must have been vetting you for this.” He shook the paper. “So when are you having the presentation? I’d love to be there if I can.”

“I’d like that too but I need to get the situation with my wife and kid settled.”

“Of course,” Bronson agreed.

“So, for what happened during the rest of the embassy trip, I found out that people are still hunting for Cassandra and Fabienne. It’s fortunate that we never checked into a hospital or got any medical aid in Port-au-Prince, other than from people at the port who didn’t get our names and only saw us briefly, so we didn’t seem to leave any trace of my family. Just some embassy people know and I think that they won’t talk. Long story short, then, for a deception to keep Vanessa away, we’ve pretended that they died in the quake...”

“Yeah, I heard something of that from one of my corpsman who assisted; he said the whole thing was to be kept hush-hush and since I was the NCO in charge, I needed to know what his section was doing. Didn’t know you were involved though.”

“Right. And my friend Henri is setting up the funeral and burial. At least the poor unknown souls whose bodies we’re using will get a proper spiritual sendoff and I hope the lwa will forgive our intervention with the spirits.”

“Say, you’re into the Haitian religion a bit.”

“When your wife—and your mother—both are priestesses, it’s hard to avoid the influence. But the practices and celebrations kind of make sense to me. I was nominally a Catholic and most of the Vodou religion has many Catholic elements. For example, the spirits I referred to—their Catholic counterparts are the saints. I kind of view Vodou as Catholicism with folk overtones. Hey, enough proselytizing. We never got to talk about your life since Germany. Is there a Mrs Bert?”

Bronson laughed. “Yep, and four little Berts too. Three girls, God bless ‘em, and a guy.”

“Let me guess. You kept trying till you made a boy, right?”

“You know me too well, my buddy-in-arms,” he laughed.

“How old are they now?”

“Doris is twelve; Iris and Ivy, twins, they’re nine; and Jonas is six.”

Tears sprang to Jonas’ eyes. “Don’t tell me—your son is named after me?”

“Sure is; he wouldn’t be here if not for you.”

Jonas got up and hugged him.

“Shit,” Jonas muttered, “the honors keep coming.”

Jonas went on to tell him about the Marines at the embassy. They chatted for a while and then Bronson told him that he had to get back to duty. He gave Jonas his shore contact information and waved good bye; then Jonas left the ship’s mess and found his way to an outside deck to relax for an hour or two.

Jonas was about to take a brief nap on a chair there when his phone buzzed. It was Henri. He answered.

“Hi Jonas. Some good news, I guess. We were able to get some personal things out of the ounfò. There was a metal box filled with Cass’ papers; some were a bit singed but only on the edges. Her birth certificate was there, Fabienne’s too, and a marriage document. A lot of important-looking stuff. There was a bunch of photos, too.”

“Wow, that’s excellent!”

“There’s more. A lot of her ceremonial items had been put away in a cabinet in one corner of the room—near where we broke the window out—and the fire didn’t reach there. Most of the wall hangings—the vevé symbols—didn’t burn either, like the Papa Legba one survived, all but one of the others did too. We rolled those up. Everything we found fit in an old duffle bag I had and my son Emanuel has to go to Port-au-Prince to pick up some parts. He can go now or tomorrow and can drop off the duffle. Since my call went through, I guess you haven’t left Haiti and you’re still at the ship?”

“That’s great news, Henri. Yeah, I’m here till noon tomorrow; then the flight leaves. If Emanuel could drop it off today, that would be best. Cass will be so happy. She treasures the relics in that cabinet.”

“Oh, and I found a bunch of books too. They look like college texts. Mostly in English.”

“Oh my. Must be Fabienne’s. I’ll bet they’re from the Universite GOC library. Was the school damaged much?”

“I don’t think so; I haven’t been up that road since the quake, but that area seems not too bad.”

“They’ll be happy to get them back. Fabienne borrowed their books all the time.”

“Okay. I’ll do that. It’s too dangerous to get anywhere into your house other than your bedroom so we need to wait for the front-end loader; that’ll be after the funeral in two days. I’ll send Emanuel with the duffle now. The roads are much better, so he should get there in about an hour.”

“Wonderful. I’ll be at dockside. He’s in the shop van?”

“Right. I never thought how official it looked until we used it after the quake,” he chuckled.

“Thanks again, my friend,” Jonas said.

“Till we speak again,” Henri replied.

Forty minutes later, Jonas went down to the pier and a half hour after that, the shop van drove up and Emanuel hopped out with a battered but serviceable duffle bag. Jonas hugged him.

“Thanks so much, buddy; this is a treasure for Cass,” Jonas said.

“Yeah, Papa told me that. Glad we could pull that stuff out for her.”

“What about anything else left?”

“Zip. Nothing left except what’s in here. The drums didn’t survive. They got crushed when the wall fell on them. That one whole side of the building is gone; just the one corner where the cabinet stood survived. And strangely, almost all of the lwa tapestries survived too. Just one got burned.”

Jonas shrugged. “Maybe that’s a sign?”

Emanuel crossed himself. “The saints sometimes protect their own. I think Cass is blessed.”

The men hugged again and Emanuel left.

Of course Jonas had an interesting time bringing the duffle bag through the ship’s security station and Jonas had to involve Bronson, who involved the ship’s XO, and then, since religious objects were involved, the chaplain had to become involved too. Finally the XO declared that these were personal religious folk objects and not cultural artefacts and therefore not contraband, so they could be allowed.

That got Jonas thinking. What would happen with the duffle bag at the airlift aircraft and how would U.S. Customs react? Instead of boarding the ship with the duffle bag, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Grant at the embassy.

“Mr Grant? It’s Jonas Bernard again.”

“How is your family doing? Everything okay? The medical flight is arriving tomorrow at around 0815 and will unload supplies. It’s still set to leave at 1200.”

“That’s good news. The family’s okay so far. I won’t see them until 1800 today but I need to ask something about bringing our personal effects, what little we have, to the States.”

“There shouldn’t be any problem bringing in personal items.”

“Okay, so the problem is the nature of the personal items.”

Jonas went on to explain what happened with the ship’s security personnel and the XO’s ruling.

“So how can we avoid someone confiscating them as contraband?” he asked.

“Are you on the pier now?” Grant asked. “The cultural attaché’s office is right next door to me and she’s there, as we speak. I’ll send a car now. It should take 20 minutes. Bring your artifacts.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“No problem. See you soon.”

Fifty minutes later, Jonas was in the cultural attaché’s office, being introduced by Grant.

“Mr Bernard, this is Janice Richman, our cultural attaché.”

Jonas shook her hand and began laying out the items from the duffle bag. He began to explain what each item was and how it was used in a Vodou ceremony.

“I haven’t seen some of these items used before,” he told her. “But I know that many of those are folk talismans; these,” he pointed, “are called travay. I think some of them are known as pwen when they become a spiritual or magical focus. And these bunches of wrapped bundles are called pakèt or pakèt kongo and are talismans as well. They’re used in healing rites. This little gourd wrapped in decorated cords with the attached bell is a kind of rattle. It’s called an asson, and it’s a symbol of position that’s given to priests and priestesses by their teacher when they reach the highest level of achievement. It’s a treasure for Cassandra, because having the asson allows the manbo or oungan to invoke and approach the lwa to which they’ve been initiated. Many of these items have been in Cassandra’s family for many generations and these two here, these gris-gris amulets, came from Dahomey in western Africa when slaves first came to Haiti and they’re among Cassandra’s most prized possessions.

“The smaller items are used to prepare herbs for bathing or lotions for massage. The tapestries are vevé symbols of the saints. This one is for Papa Legba; he’s... it’s like Cassandra’s patron. The others, I’m not sure... um... wait, yes, I know their names: this is Ayizan Velekete, Ogou Feray, Azaka Mede, Erzulie Mansur, Baron Samedi, Granne Erzulie, Manman Brigitte, Agwe Tawoyo, Damballah Wedo, and Ayida Wedo. They all correspond to the saints venerated in Catholicism and occupy the same purpose in our observances.”

He looked into the bottom of the duffle bag; there were several other items down there. He reached in and pulled out a doll, two stuffed animals, and a few other little toy girlie figures. He put them on the table and grinned.

“And these are my daughter’s religious and cultural artefacts, also rescued from our burned temple.”

Richman chuckled. “Most important possessions too, I assume.”

“Assuredly, since these must have been found where Fabienne spent most of her free time reading and playing. I’m guessing that these are precious too. She’ll be delighted that they were saved.”

“I’m sure she will. I have a young daughter and artefacts like those are her precious possessions too.”

Jonas nodded and went on with his appeal, smiling. “I’m sure that Cassandra will want to continue to follow in her ancestors’ steps and continue as a Vodou priestess and these, except the last few items I took out, are some of the tools she needs to do that. These aren’t museum artefacts, despite some of them being quite ancient. They are her family’s possessions and heritage. Can you help her keep her possessions?”

Richman nodded her head. “Thanks for that tour of this amazing collection and your explanation of the items. May I photograph them? It would give me a wonderful background in understanding your culture and religious practices.”

“Certainly. I know Cass wouldn’t mind. There’s nothing secret here. These are treasures, but only to her.”

“I can definitely give you an official letter certifying that these are personal possessions of a religious nature, the property of a clergy person, and not cultural artefacts being improperly exported from Haiti. I’ll also explain that with the current emergency, there are no Haitian officials available for the certification. That should satisfy the Customs people. Many times, merely mentioning ‘clergy’ is the key. Let me photograph these and you can pack them as I finish.”

She did the photos and then went off to dictate the authorization letter. A half hour later, she returned with an imposing letter on State Department letterhead with several embossed seals and the ambassador’s signature, followed by the ambassador himself.

“I wanted to stop in, introduce myself, and offer my own congratulations for your honors from the military and Congress. I never had the honor to meet a recipient of the Medal of Honor, so I want to give you and your family the best wishes from the Department of State and thank you for your service and heroism,” Ambassador Molina gushed.

Jonas shook his hand. “Many thanks, sir. I should point out that it hasn’t been presented to me yet.”

“A mere technicality. I spoke to the president yesterday after I heard of your visit here and he is quite looking forward to meeting you and your family for the presentation. I know they’re getting medical treatment so the presentation will need to be deferred a bit, but I trust you will receive your honor soon.”

Just like a diplomat, Jonas thought, grinning to himself.

“Thanks again, sir, and thanks for the wonderful hospitality your embassy staff has shown to me. I couldn’t have received more professional and competent help than they have given me.” Jonas replied as he thought, snickering, Yes! Two can play at that game!

The ambassador glowed at the compliment, shook Jonas’ hand again, wished him and his family good luck, and took his leave.

Richman looked at Jonas and winked.

“Is he always like that?” Jonas asked.

“Pretty much. He lays it on kinda thick, doesn’t he. Anyway, that letter should be your ‘get-out-of-jail-free’ ticket. If there’s any trouble at Customs and Immigration, there’s a contact number on the letter that goes to the deputy secretary of state’s office. I don’t think you’ll need to worry.”

Just then, Mr Grant rushed in. “Good, you’re still here. If we missed you, we would have needed to find you at the airport. I have your passports. Please sign these forms for receiving them, sign your passport here and sign for your daughter here. Cassandra can sign hers when you see her. These are diplomatic passports, so that should take you straight through Immigration Control. Cassandra needs no visa and she’ll be on a fast track for citizenship. Of course Fabienne is automatically a citizen after living one year in the U.S., since you didn’t register her birth at the U.S. embassy at the time. That’s just the rule, but we consider her as a citizen anyway.”

Jonas looked at the passports and the expiration dates. “These are for ten years. I thought they’d be a one-time use.”

“Well, the department, in their wisdom, decided to give you their own honor. Someone from the department will meet you in Miami and tell you more about why you’re getting them. These passports allow travel to most countries without hassles or any costs in getting an entry visa. There’s some other great perks, too. They also allow speeding through Customs and Immigration and avoiding annoying TSA checks. Be careful about not abusing them because they’re not supposed to be used for extensive private travel. It’s a great perk though. You’ll get your standard passport too, after you get to Miami. The others, when their citizenships are confirmed. Again, congrats, and best wishes to your family.”

Jonas shook both officers’ hands and left for his ride back to the ship. He had just enough time to catch a meal before he could get to see his family again.

After dinner, he found his way, after several false turns, to their ward, and no one stopped him this time. He got a huge greeting this time; both Cassandra and Fabienne weren’t groggy this evening. Both had just finished their dinners. Jonas hugged and kissed both and asked how they were doing.

“Papa, they don’t have any books for me!” Fabienne complained. “All they could find were a few magazines and some paperback junk. Ugh! Where are the books I had at home?”

“Sweetie, the earthquake ruined the house and everything around it. Henri found the books but they belong to Universite GOC, right?” She nodded. “So he’ll return them. They’ll be happy to get them back, I’m sure. If you let me know what the books were, when we get to Miami, I’ll find them or something close. Okay?”

She nodded quietly.

“Also, Henri found some things of yours, sweetie.”

Jonas took out the doll and the stuffed animals and handed them to her. Her delighted squeal brought the nurse running.

“What happen... oh!” she said when she saw Fabienne hugging the doll.

“You brought my Emily! And doggy and kitty. Thank you, Papa!” She reached out for a hug. “I was so sad; I thought they were lost when Manman told me our home was gone. Thank you so much!”

Cassandra was watching, her eyes filled with tears.

Jonas turned to her. “And for you, my darling, Papa Legba sent you a special gift.”

He pulled out two of Cassandra’s prized talismans and gave them to her as her tears overflowed and she began to sob.

“Honey, everything that was in your special cabinet is safe right here in the duffel bag. So are the lwa wall hangings—the vevé symbols. It seems Papa Legba stood between the fire and your treasures.”

“I always knew he watched over me. Now I have the proof of his being my personal guide,” she sobbed.

“Your strongbox is safe too, honey. Your papers and pictures are there and they’re okay. Henri said that nothing else of real importance was left in the ounfò. I saved your handbag from the house, which is almost collapsed. I think there’s just one major loss, the drums. They got crushed. Henri’s going to see if he can find anything personal in a few days when he’ll have someone with a machine to move the walls.”

Cassandra was nodding as Jonas spoke; she was hugging the talismans and whispering to them. Then she looked up.

“The drums weren’t special; they can be replaced. And Papa Legba approves everything of what you are doing, Jonas, even of how you are substituting those two unfortunate souls for Fabienne and me. He says they will be honored in the spirit world.”

Jonas’ mind went numb. How in the nine hells did she know that? I never had a chance to tell her of those plans, did I? Well son-of-a-gun, looks like Cass has her own abilities too. I knew she spoke to the lwa, but really? Really speak? I should be a better believer. The thoughts roiled Jonas’ mind.

Cassandra grinned at him. “Yes, but Papa Legba tells me you are becoming a better believer. You also knew what almost all my treasures were used for when you spoke to that nice lady. He only had to help you a little, though—prompting you with the names of the lwa.”

Jonas had to sit down. He was almost in shock. “You... you... actually talk to the lwa? Not figuratively?”

“Darling, I’ve told you. Papa Legba is the Speaker. He speaks to all who would open their hearts to hear him, but he usually speaks to guide to the correct paths. Yes, I can hear him sometimes, like now, because his gifts made me so emotional and filled with love for him. That’s how we connect with the lwa. He spoke to you too—how did you know the names of the lwa on my tapestries?”

“I... damn. Huh. Oh God... sorry, Papa Legba. Wow, you’re right. The names suddenly popped into my head as I looked at each one. And saying each name filled me with a feeling of great contentment.”

“Then you were connecting with each lwa, sweetheart. In saying their names, you gave them reality in the human world, so they rewarded you for that acknowledgment. I know you’re a believer; it’s part of your heritage, but you’ll only get better, according to Papa Legba.”

Jonas was stunned, almost too stunned to reply. He thought he should turn the conversation to a safer topic until he could assimilate what Cassandra had just told him.

“So... um... our flight to the States is tomorrow, noon. We have a tentative appointment at the VA hospital, when we get there, for Fabienne to see the neurosurgeon. Both of you will be at the hospital for your care, actually. I have passports for everyone and everything needed for the government officials—it’s all arranged.

“When we arrive, I’ll find a place to stay near the hospital because Fabienne will need physical therapy after her surgery, I was told. You’ll most likely be an outpatient for the burn treatment. Your leg fracture will need at least six weeks in a cast with putting no weight on that leg.

“When everyone’s well, we’ll look for our new home. Miami has a district called ‘Little Haiti’ and I remember it being very much like Port-au-Prince. They even speak Kreyòl there!” he joked. “There are more Haitians around Miami than anywhere else in the world except Haiti, so we should feel comfortable there.”

Cassandra yawned. “That sounds very nice. Do you think I can be a manbo there too?”

“I’m sure you can. When I lived there, there was an ounfò on every other block.”

The nurse made an appearance to check vitals and then shooed Jonas out. When he walked out of the ward, a corpsman signaled to him.

“You’ll see your family again tomorrow, sir. They’ll get breakfast at 0730. We’ve got nine stretchers going to the airport; two need to be flown down there for their safety. The medevac bird is a C-130 Hercules and there will be 31 medevac patients and I don’t know how many ambulatory U.S. citizens are scheduled to go back on that flight. More and more keep arriving from the countryside and need a flight home. Haiti is closed to domestic flights still.

“Your two gals will be shuttled last for their security. I’m told that the fewer outsiders see them, the better. You should get to the airport by 1130 hours. There will be a shuttle leaving here at 1030 with a fifteen-minute stop at the U.S. embassy. The ambulance with your family will be there no later than 1145.”

“Can I be with them on the flight?” Jonas asked.

“That’s up to the flight crew, but probably yes. The more critical patients will be lying flat in a separate area. Both Cassandra and Fabienne should be on gurneys that can tilt up the backs to sit a bit more upright. I believe there are ambulatory seats in that section of the 130 too.”

Jonas thanked him and went to find his berth. He sacked out after showering but had a hard time falling asleep. He had been shocked to his core by Cassandra’s ability.

Someone must have told her about using those bodies, he mused. But who? Only about three or four people knew the whole story, so that’s not it. He tried to think of other ways she could have learned about the plan and couldn’t come up with anything. And what about my knowledge of the names of those lwa tapestries? he wondered.

He could come to only two conclusions: Cassandra could read his thoughts, or the lwa, and the spirits, really existed. While he was musing about his realization of the reality of the lwa, a feeling of great contentment came over him and thoughts began forming in his mind, unbidden.

Tamara’s spirit calls to Emily.

Huh? Emily? Who’s that? Jonas wondered what thought meant. Then:

Fabienne must become Tamara.

This thought scared Jonas. That was Cassandra’s mom’s name! Then another thought:

Cassandra becomes Nadine.

Now Jonas was really confused; that was his own mother’s name. A feeling of maternal safety and peace filled him, a feeling he hadn’t had since his mom had become ill, and with it came the thought:

Tamara is Ayizan Velekete’s.

Oh, this was something Jonas almost understood now. He recalled that Cassandra would call on Ayizan after invoking Papa Legba in ceremonies and he recalled her to be his consort.

Was this message to mean that Ayizan would be watching over Fabienne? And where did Cass’ mother, Tamara, come in?

The feeling of peacefulness gradually overwhelmed him as he finally fell asleep.

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