As a young girl I carried a ten litre can of water upon my head every morning and evening. It made my bones strong and taught me to walk like a lady. Men cannot carry water. They use donkeys. But Gran Pere did not have a donkey. He had only me.

Morning is the best time in our little village of Ti Soeur. The voudoun—spirits and demons—have fled the light. The air is still night-cool. It is a noisy time. Roosters crow. Baby goats bawl for milk. The chatter of women around the well reminds me of a tree full of happy birds chirping. I used to think that women and birds speak of the same things. When is the next baby coming? Where is the good food today? Who is sick? What can be done?

One morning a stranger was at the well, a very dark man like a farmer with hair white as coconut flesh. I made myself very small behind someone’s skirt and listened. His voice was deep. His laugh could be heard halfway to the village. He was a missionary from Grand Soeur. He was going to plant a church and maybe even have a school one day. Suddenly and to my horror, he looked right at me. Worse yet, he spoke to me. No man other than Gran Pere had ever spoken to me before. "Bonjour child. My name is Claude Robert Avenel. But I am called Mistré Ro-Ro. How are you called?" "Jasmin," I whispered, not taking my eyes off his shoes. I had never seen shiny shoes with laces before. "Jasmin-a good name for a little flower," he laughed. Afterwards, Mistré Ro-Ro always called me Ti Flé which means little flower. Then he said something quite mysterious, "Jezi loves you, Ti Flé." Jezi is how we call Jesus. If all this were not strange enough, the missionary then gave me a small slab of something silver and very shiny. "Merci," said I, very happy to have it. Clearly, it was quite valuable, whatever it was.

Back home, Gran Pere peeled off the silvery skin. Inside was a sweet treat. "It is chiklet. Chew, do not swallow," he said as he handed me the chewing gum. I broke it, half for Gran Pere, half for me. Naturally I kept the chiklet’s shiny peeling. I put it in my treasure box along with my buttons, a copper coin, my hair barrettes and a magazine picture of beautiful lady with golden eyelids whom I thought to be the goddess Erzulie.

The day of chiklet happened in the springtime when many people dance with spirits through the night. I lay in bed listening to voudou drums and horns. The village dogs barked all night. I knew voudoun were cavorting nearby. I hid under my blanket with my treasure box, very afraid. I held the chiklet wrapper to my nose. The minty sweet scent made me remember the words of the man with the big laugh. Why would Jezi love me? And what is Jezi? Surely Jezi is a good voudoun., for everyone says, "Merci Jezi" when good things happen. Maybe Jezi is Erzulie’s husband, or her son. Why should a voudoun love me? And why must you plant a church? Do buildings have roots? Must they have rain to grow? Such were my thoughts listening to the drums alone in the darkness.

In the morning, our yellow she-goat, Blondi, was missing. No doubt a mischievous voudoun had chased her away. "You shall find her in the sugar cane," Gran Pere said knowingly. So I took the road to the cane field. A headless chicken hung from a post at the place where the market path crosses the cane field path. Blood was sprinkled everywhere--an offering to Papa Legba, the all-powerful voudoun of the crossroad. I was in bad trouble. Legba would surely snatch me away when he came for the chicken. Such things truly happen: A little girl goes an errand and is never seen again. But I must find Blondi. Milk goats are more valuable than little girls. There are many more little girls than milk goats in the village. So I ran through the crossroads as fast as ever I could. The voudoun must have been taking a nap. I was not harmed.

I found Blondi happily eating sugar cane just as Gran Pere had said. I put the rope on her neck and led her away. This time I stayed away from the crossroad. I lead Blondi through the field keeping a good distance between me and the headless chicken. The voudoun might be awake and hungry. Suddenly, I heard a booming great voice, "Come here, child!" Papa Legba! I tried to run but Blondi was stubborn. I was doomed, another little girl that never came home.

It was not Legba. "Why do you not use the road, Ti Flé?" Mistré Ro-Ro called out laughing. Then he saw the chicken and the blood. He quit laughing. He knew very well why I did not use the road. "Do not be afraid, Ti Flé. Voudoun need not have power over you. Come walk with me. I will tell you a great truth." Mistré Ro-Ro’s great truth was another mystery. It was a long time before I understood.

Now I am grown. Many people still dance with the spirits in the night, but I am no longer afraid. Gran Pere sleeps beside Mistré Ro-Ro in the mission yard to be awakened on the final day. I still have my treasure box with its chiklet wrapper and buttons and hair barrettes. The picture of Erzulie is gone. From time to time I replace the chiklet skin with a new gum wrapper from to keep the scent fresh. Sometimes, at night, I take chiklet wrapper from my treasure box and inhale its sweet scent. Then I hear again that deep voice saying "Jezi loves you, Ti Flé. " I am a teacher at Claude Robert Avenel Elementary School. The children call me Zel Ti Flé.

Mistré Ro-Ro’s great truth hangs on the wall above the blackboard in the front of my classroom. It is written in red stitches on fine white cloth with a carved wooden frame. I tell my students to remember it when evil spirits worry them, as they do all people from time to time. It says:

"Rejoice not that the spirits are subject unto you; But rather rejoice because your names are written in Heaven.."--Luke 10:20.