How Not To Become A Shango Baptist

My friends often wonder why I’m not afraid of bugs, don’t blink at killing a wasp or destroying a nest, and many times I will gently lift a spider and place it outside. I can sit surrounded by lizards and brush fire ants at my feet with ease. I despise water bugs simply because they remind me of roaches and as long as they aren’t flying, I’m not really unnerved. Many mornings in Florida I wake to find a scorpion curled up on my rug in the bathroom, that’s my reminder to always wear slippers or risk a sting. Snakes and a raccoon jumping out of a trash can are about the only way that my nerves can be rattled. If you grew up on an island, especially in what we fondly refer to as “Bush” you shared your space with everything that walks, crawls and flies.

On a warm evening in June, a group of Shango Baptists entered my home in Siparia and rang a bell that welcomed thousands of mosquitoes to swarm the house causing everyone in attendance to swat violently for what seemed like hours. Secretly I laughed hysterically, all these women with heads wrapped, wearing all white, barking orders to children, and now look at them. The prayers that were scheduled were quickly postponed, and many left the house running and swatting trying to avoid the buzz that hummed in the ears and bites to their faces. I had no interest in being forced to become a Shango Baptist or anything else, and this seemed like God himself sent me the confirmation I needed. Nothing more was said about this incident, let’s just say the message was simply divine!

Much love from the brown girl, traveling the world, sharing short stories for blogtober. Keep writing, at least one person is always reading!

Ny~The Unnerved Traveler

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