"And he was annoyed by the realization that these superstitions were so strongly rooted because those of his own class had taken no serious steps to improve the pitiful living conditions of the Haitian peasant" (50).
La Bête de Musseau, the second novel of the Marcelin brothers, translated by Peter C. Rhodes, is quite similar to their first. The Beast of the Haitian Hills adds the class dynamics of Haitian society with horror, for an engaging story set in the peasant community of Musseau, in the hills outside of Port-au-Prince in the late 1930s. . Like the former work, the focus of the novel is on the community and the effects of intrusion or social disorder inevitably have. Naturally, themes of Vodou, class divisions, familial and community intrigue, and sorcery suffuse the novel, which follows the life of Morin Dutilleul, a mulatto, urban, educated Haitian of the elite. Morin Dutilleul romanticizes rural life in Haiti after spending summers in the hills with his family as a child, and dreams of becoming a planter like his free mulatto ancestors of the colonial era, eventually letting this dream and his amorous affairs cause his wife distress and death. Once free, he settles in Musseau, buys land, disrespects and insults the peasantry, refuses to share his spring, loses his vision of idyllic life, and brings about disorder through his invasive presence (and disrespect for the loas), symbolized by the Cigouave, a mythical beast described as part dog, part man.
What follows in the narrative is harsh social commentary on the Haitian elite (who distance themselves from the peasantry and are ultimately to blame for their ignorance and poverty), numerous instances of humorous dialogue, and division within the family and neighborhood as brothers turn against each other, greedy Vodou priests exploit the faith, and Morin himself never escapes his guilt over his wife's death, plunging into the abyss of alcoholism. Morin is presented as a highly unlikable figure, raping his servant, Sinette, talking down to Desilus, an experienced farmer he hires, insulting the justice of the peace, Delisca, and warring with Bossuet for trying to treat him as an equal. The ultimate sin of Morin is cutting down the mapou tree consecrated to Legba, and the powerful neighbor, Bossuet, a suspected bocor, disappears, and allegedly returns with the mythical Cigouave, a beast from the caves of Forban Gorge, to terrorize the community. As the characters turn on each other (Ti-Charles, brother of Bossuet, is even attacked by the 'beast,' which Morin initially believes to be no more than a dog, but then sees the beast himself), the the 'balance' of the community is thrown asunder as fear, ambition, greed, and violation of tradition leads to the downfall of multiple characters.
Thus, I prefer to see the Cigouave as a metaphor for the destruction of the community's values and traditions, as Ti-Charles wants to marry his godsister (something forbidden in the community) and suffers an attack from the Cigouave, losing his genitalia, Morin is responsible for his wife's death, Horace turns his back on the loas solely for Catholicism (causing his wife to lose the child in her whom, for she does not obey the ancestor's instructions in her dream), and Sinette plotted with Desilus (who believes his own son, sent to Petionville, is a lougawou draining his life) to turn Morin into a lover she could exploit, only to be cursed by Baron Samedi and forced to flee. All suffer the consequences of possession, disfigurement, death, and family dissolution, with loas or 'evil spirits' such as the 'beast' (the Cigouave) representing the conflict of interests, neuroses, and emotional turmoil of the characters.
The conclusion of the novel ends with the community restoring its balance, yet the character blamed for controlling the Cigouave somehow escapes judgment, and actually succeeds in taking on Irma, the young lover of the brother, Charles, he is suspected of killing with the 'beast.' Morin, the invading force of Port-au-Prince in this rural community, is haunted by his actions and meets an ignoble end, with the Cigouave on his trail. In a sense the novel seems to articulate a pro-peasant sensibility, with the urban mulatto, Morin, as nothing more than disruptive, a predator of 'beast' to the Haitian peasantry. Nonetheless, the novel contains so much nuance and personal stories from the residents of Musseau to hastily complicate this narrative, since Rossini, the houngan, is hardly impartial, nor is Delisca initially on the side of justice, but favoring the 'law' (which was made for and by people like Morin, which is why Delisca initially sides with Morin against Musseau when he cuts down Legba's mapou). Last but certainly not least, Bossuet himself exploits his image as a sorcerer to take what he wants, exert influence, and even attain prestige and friendships with members of the Haitian urban elite. Things are not so black and white in rural Haiti, as this author shows (even Delisca, in the end, allegedly sides with Bossuet, who reappears after Morin returns to Port-au-Prince).
Much could be said solely about the approach of the authors to Vodou in this text. Clearly, the worldview of the Vodouissants in this novel is not removed from reality, but part of it for the community, and clearly rooted in the peasantry's sense of self and health. When the loas 'mount,' even Morin is not entirely removed from the experience, and fatalism is not unique to the followers of the loas, but also the 'strict' Catholics, such as Horace and Sinette, who suffer the consequences of not honoring the lwa. Baron Samedi's prominence in this story, as the head of the Gede spirits, is also noteworthy, given how Legba's anger should have been more central because of the mapou tree. Yet, Papa Legba seems conspicuously absent, despite references to the crossroads and his importance in all Vodou ceremonies, maybe symbolizing the lost of harmony and communication in the community, but even Morin comes to see himself as Baron Samedi in the horrific scene of rape and alcoholic excess. 'Ogoun Badagros' also surfaces in the novel's conclusion, as the guardian spirit of the dying Desilus who then mounts the son of Desilus, perhaps appropriate given how Desilus's temperant seems to match this loa. While some may emphasize the 'negative' treatment of the Haitian religion in this text, it reads to me as more nuanced and supportive of the faith, while critical of the Haitian elite and the forces that trap the peasantry in material poverty (which, unfortunately, includes some 'witchcraft' tied to avarice, as in the case of Bossuet or Tonton Bossa in the previous novel).
Here are some of my favorite quotations from the text, which illustrate the richness of proverbs, local wisdom, humor, and social commentary in this novel.
"The painful and savage struggle of the small mountain share-cropper with the elements was a closed book to him" (3).
"His ancestors, like all Haitians of their rank, had been planters long ago, and he remembered his with nostalgia, and considered his present status as a sign of decadence" (4).
"Since he had come into contact with the peasants, he now found them on close inspection, too uncouth and poverty-stricken and, despite this, 'without the slightest respect for well-to-do folk'" (17).
"He even deplored their presence in the countryside, though he knew perfectly well that it belonged more to them than to him and his class" (18).
"And Morin finally understood that, despite the modest air he put on, this peasant intended to deal with him on an equal footing, and this realization did not fail to irritate him" (23).
"Appointed by the central government, the rural police chiefs are empowered with complete authority for the maintenance of order in the communities over which they preside" (30).
"'You also forget many well-to-do people have long ago abandoned faith in their family gods. Just because they sometimes have a lighter skin than ours, they forget that they too are children of Yayoute, our common African ancestor, and assume they have no more obligations toward the gods. But the loas never forget what is their due'" (73).
"The bull shits, thinking he will soil the pasture, but he only dirties his own hind quarters" (142).
"For some time now the atmosphere of this peasant setting―where the natural and the supernatural, far from being dialectically opposed to each other, were bound together in an indivisible whole―had made him extremely sensitive" (178).
"The Cigouave never howled, and the village of Musseau, undisturbed, went on sleeping peacefully" (210).
