At the height of the British slave plantations in the West Indies, insouciant owners would come home to find a white cockerel with a slit throat hanging and bleeding all over their front door. Voodoo!
Tonight I come home to find strange voodoo dolls placed carefully outside my front door. Oh no! What have I done to anger the eternal spirit of Bondye?
So I guess it must be Ok because someone has spelled out “THANKS” with finger bones.
The charming potters who built their own kiln on the beach, as mentioned in previous post, shipped out very early this morning. They left me a gift of the ritual slaughter figurines they had been so lovingly kilning over the last couple of nights. How sweet.
Tonight however the ladies have left and Nature is at rest.
A couple of birds.