Ishmael Reed: Mumbo Jumbo

PaPa LaBas walks into his office. His lamp glows. Incense is burning. Sandalwood, myrrh and many other formulas which survived the ban when the Catholic Church decreed that only frankincense be used in ceremonies. He inspects a rejected manuscript from London, the editor says he liked his article on “lost liturgies in New Orleans” but feels “it doesn’t fit in with our format.” PaPa LaBas reviews the editorial board. Just as he expected. All Atonists. He looks down the hall. Earline is emerging from 1 of the rooms. Strange. He never noticed that before, her walk. She is serpentine and her hips move tantalizingly under the thin, white short dress.

Thanks for inviting me to your party, Earline. I hope I didn’t upset your guests like that, the argument between me and Abdul. It occurred after you left but I’m sure you heard about it.

O we’re accustomed to Abdul’s bunk. He gets on his soapbox and goes on for hours. I have heard that he is receiving money from the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan.

PaPa LaBas reflects. I rather like him though, at least he has his own flag, not like these Black Marxists who merely mimic the words of the “Internationale,” somebody else’s thought, and somebody else’s song. Abdul is just an irritated lyricist who can’t seem to get his music sung. I am eager to read his book when it’s out.

Charlotte wants to see you.

She does? I thought it strange that she wasn’t giving you assistance out there.

I can manage. I think she’s quitting. What’s up?

I don’t know, you’d better ask her.

PaPa LaBas walks into Charlotte’s office and finds her sitting on her desk. She is dressed quite spiffy. A black-felt hat adorned with ostrich feathers. Pearls, a black suit with flapper skirt. She raises her eyes from the magazine Vanity Fair when she sees LaBas. She is inhaling from a Fatima Turkish cigarette held in an ivory holder.

What’s wrong, Charlotte?

O pop, I don’t want to hurt you but I’m leaving. You know Berbelang had some good points; after he left the clientele, his followers dropped off. He influenced your approach, which at 1st I thought was O.K. but, pop, you know you developed a cultish thing about this New HooDoo therapy, I mean, I have learned all of the dances and everything…I feel…

You mean you’ve gotten an offer…

Well yes, I am going on the stage, the Plantation House wants me to star in their new review The Witches’ Pick. I tried out a few months ago and have gone back on amateur nights. Now they want me for a long run. I’m gaining quite a following.

Congratulations. That’s good news.

O you mean you approve? She asks in her characteristically sultry voice.

Yes of course, if you have a break like that, just so you don’t become 1 of those Gold Diggers as Irene did.

She glances at the floor.

There’s more?

The manager wants me to entertain some of the selective clientele. The diamond stickpin trade. You know, teach them diluted versions of the dances I have observed here.

Charlotte, you shouldn’t attempt to use any aspect of The Work for profit.

Why not? I helped translate the French works and took Berbelang’s place when you were short of help, pop. Pop, you can’t keep something as wonderful as your techniques a secret. They will benefit the world.

Charlotte, I think we should be careful. I don’t know the extent to which the Haitian aspects of The Work can be translated here. Suppose the loas have followed the features of their work I have borrowed. This means that they have to be appeased. That’s why I require that the 22 trays be fed just in case. The 22 trays dedicated to the Haitian loa. I know you all think it’s silly but we have to observe these precautions. People didn’t believe me when I warned of the Jes Grew epidemic; but now here it is.

O pop, they just invented that to sell the tabs, you know how outrageous the newspapers are getting to be.

I still think you ought to wait, Charlotte. It might be dangerous. Upset a loa’s Petro and you will be visited by troubles you never could have imagined.

Charlotte rises from the desk, walks over to LaBas and puts her arms around his neck.

Look, pop, I want to take the benefits of all of the beautiful things you and Earline and Berbelang have taught me and give it to everyone.

PaPa LaBas pauses for a moment.

I hate to let you go but I guess you know what you’re doing.

Charlotte picks up her things and walks toward the door. She turns, kisses LaBas goodbye and walks out. LaBas hears her conversing with Earline outside the door.

She had been hired as a translator. Sometimes, the mail being so slow, she would be his messenger. Taking packages to his clients on her way home. He was worried about her. There was always the precaution he had developed because he had “been called” and awarded himself the Asson which was as good as inheriting the ability to Work. But he felt obligated to warn his technicians of malevolent side effects of the field lest they pick up a loa they didn’t want. If this was considered conservatism or orthodoxy then that’s what it would have to be.

He phoned the florist. He would send Charlotte a mixed bunch of roses. She could choose the variety she wanted. She liked to choose.

* The Conquest of Epidemic Disease— Charles Edward Amory.

* No one called him an anti-Negro vulgarian, however.

* Castles in the Air— Irene Castle.

EARLINE IS QUITE CHEERFUL when she arrives home. She has bought this marvelous scarf which bears a design of a stylized heart pierced by a dagger. She amuses herself by thinking this an apt metaphor for her present affair of the heart. She removes the mail from the box. She then picks up the New York Sun which lies on the doormat. The headline is about Haiti. VooDoo generals. Something about Marines. She has heard PaPa LaBas speak of Haiti. He wanted to visit there but wasn’t able to. PaPa LaBas had quipped, If I don’t visit Haiti perhaps Haiti will come to me. Earline enters the apartment and goes into the living room. She undresses for a bath. She takes a luxurious bath in basil leaves and strange aromas. Her black skin glistens like a glazed piece of pottery. It affects the touch like satin. She lies in the tub, the folded newspaper in her hand. What was this about doughboy zombies? The tabs were becoming outrageous; as if the scandals of Hollywood weren’t enough they were playing up this matter on Haiti. Recently 1 of the reporters had sneaked into a big house chamber and emerged with a picture of a woman undergoing execution — ghastly but fun. The picture showed a zombie Marine surrounded by men in white coats. The door opens.

Hi.

Looking through the open bathroom door into the other room, she sees Berbelang. Hi? You’ve been gone for 3 days, all you got to say is hi? Hello.

Berbelang, what is happening to you?

Berbelang opens the refrigerator and takes out a piece of barbecue from a bowl. He removes the wrapping and eats a short rib.

O I’ve been busy, you know, hanging out.

He wears a black hat featuring a white silk headband decorated with black scarabs and a long woolen black frock coat which hugs him about the ankles. He wears these impeccably shined high black boots of blunt-toed Civil War style. A very fat knotted and hand-painted tie under a white vest decorated with black orchid designs. It isn’t new but he’s clean and he wears the stuff well. He is known by the fellows as a Lounge Lizard for his way with women. But he doesn’t pursue it. He isn’t 1 of these Drugstore Cowboys or Creepers who hang out, ogling every Jazz Baby who walks by. Berbelang is serious.

Look baby, soon I will be through and able to tell you everything but now, sugar, you have to trust me.