Getting ready for the Gede (no, it's not the movies)
In about a week our sosyete in Brooklyn celebrates Fèt Gede, and the prep has officially taken over my life. Purple and black fabric on every chair. A shopping list with coffee, peanuts, cassava bread, a frankly irresponsible number of hot peppers, and sunglasses. The Gede like them with one lens popped out. Don't ask me to explain fashion to the dead. Because it's October and everyone is watching horror movies, a gentle bit of myth-busting: Vodou is not pins in dolls. That image comes mostly from Hollywood and tourist shops, not from our temples. The Gede are the spirits of the dead, with Baron and Manman Brigitte at their head, and they are honestly the funniest, most irreverent guests you will ever host. They tease the proud, they comfort the grieving, and they remind everyone that death does not end a family. What I can share of the day itself: a lot of singing, a lot of food, everyone in purple and black, and time set aside to honor the dead of our own families too. My grandmother in Jacmel used to say the Gede make you laugh so you remember you're still alive. That's most of the teaching, really. The rest stays in the peristil, as it should. But if you've only ever met Vodou through a movie screen, I hope this gives you a truer picture. Bon fèt Gede a little early, everyone.