My Christmas On You... A Nine Days of Christmas Inspector Gloria Mystery DAY FOUR
Day Four: Mammy Wata
‘Mammy Wata is the Queen of the underwater kingdom, she rules there and controls the storms and the fishing, she protects some and she takes others. There is no greater...’
Gloria stopped him with a hand raised. ‘I know how the story goes. We all know the story. What does it have to do with this.’ She waved her hand around. ‘Just give me the main details.’
Ismael swallowed nervously. ‘You see this Bathhouse here. Don’t you ever wonder how this huge building got to be built right here in the middle of Westpoint? How it survived wars and coups, corruption, storms, jealousy and greed? How the annual Christmas masque parade got so successful that some people even come from Europe to see it? Didn’t you ever think?’
Gloria shrugged. ‘Sure, but it was here when I was growing up, you don’t question something that’s been there your whole life. I suppose I thought you were just lucky?’
Ismael rolled his eyes. ‘Oh lucky was it, yes we were lucky all right. We were lucky and will continue to be lucky as long as we don’t forget who gives us that luck.’ He turned to the sea and lowered his voice. ‘The Queen of the Sea, Mammy Wata.’
Gloria stared at him and then burst out laughing. ‘Mammy Wata?’
Ismael hushed her. ‘Look, this is serious business eh. When my grandfather started this Bathhouse, everything went wrong. And then one night Mammy Wata came to him in a dream and told him she was angry because he had ignored her.’
Gloria nodded. Dream stories were two a penny here. ‘So, he paid someone money or what?’
Ismael looked grim. ‘What is money to Mammy Wata. She wanted a sacrifice, a serious sacrifice.’
Gloria felt her stomach begin to churn. ‘And your grandfather gave her one?’
‘Well, he arranged for one to be given. Every year for the first five years a child given to the sea.’
Gloria stood up. ‘Your grandfather sacrificed children for the sake of this Bathhouse?’
Ismael looked genuinely puzzled. ‘Of course. How else was he going to do it? But,’ he hurried on, seeing the expression on her face, ‘obviously he couldn’t keep doing that, I mean it was getting dangerous for him.’
Gloria was staring in disbelief at him. ‘I can’t believe what you’re telling me, you...’
‘Wait Gloria, wait. That was years ago and I only know because my grandma told me about it when she was dying. But by that time it had all changed. Five years after the Bathhouse was completed my grandfather introduced the Masque Parade after talking with some sailors from Haiti. The Masque Parade is in honour of Mammy Wata and as long as it takes place every year, with the correct costumes made from some of the material those Haitian sailors had given my grandfather, everything will be fine. If it doesn’t take place or if those materials are missing there will be terrible consequences.’
Gloria stared at him, completely unable to think of anything to say. Children sacrificed to keep this Bathhouse going and a whole muddle of stories around magic cloth and Mammy Wata.
‘Look Gloria, let me tell truth eh?’ Ismael looked at her earnestly. ‘Those sacrifices took place over 40 years ago, if they took place at all.’
‘What do you mean? You just told me they did.’
Ismael shrugged and grimaced at the same time. ‘It’s what my grandma told me, no-one else ever talked about it.’ He paused. ‘How many children are drowned around here every year?’
Gloria nodded. ‘Too many.’
‘And forty years ago, even more. Before Madame Lock-Them-Up came along children drowned or disappeared all the time. You know that.’
Gloria smiled at the reference to a young local activist who was working with local police and coastguards and urging them to jail parents and guardians who allowed their children to go into the sea unsupervised. ‘Okay, so the whole sacrifice thing...’
‘All I’m saying is my grandma was the only one who spoke about it and even then, only at the end when my grandfather had moved in with his new wife.’
Gloria shrugged again. ‘Well, you might have started with that instead of a story I wasn’t going to be able to ignore.’
‘But it’s the parade that’s important, and the costumes. People around here believe if it doesn’t take place with the ancient costumes...’
‘The forty-year-old Haitian cloth?’
‘You know what I mean. Those costumes have survived the civil war, Ebola, Covid... and so has the Bathhouse. They are connected, as far as everyone here is concerned.’
Gloria put her hands up. ‘Okay, I accept that the costumes are very important, in everyone’s mind anyway. But what about the jewellery?’
Ismael shook his head. ‘I don’t know anything about jewellery. The costumes and everything are really important but they are worth nothing in monetary terms. That’s why they are kept in that room near the office most of the year, not locked up in a secure place.’ He looked at her again. ‘Were you here during the war?’
Gloria shook her head and groaned. Were they really going to talk about the war again! ‘I was at the Police Academy and couldn’t get back here.’
‘But you saw those boys running around with their guns and either half-naked or wearing wedding dresses, or the judges gowns or even the priests robes?’ She nodded. ‘Well, when they came here, they did all that except for the Masque costumes. Even those boys respected, or were scared, of how special they were. We need them back Gloria and I can’t go to the police or the story of how they were just lifted from my office will get out and people will lose faith in them, and in me.’
Gloria started to smile but then stopped. Losing faith in people, objects and events was something most Liberians had had to live with for a long time. Gloria reckoned they could cope with the loss of some costumes but they might not be so forgiving towards the man responsible for their safety. ‘Okay I will do my best. But I need help from some of my team but don’t worry,’ she held her hand up again, ‘they can keep a secret better than a secret society.’
Ismael thought for a minute and then nodded. ‘Ok. I can get you some funds for transportation and...’
Gloria shook her head firmly. ‘Even when we’re acting privately we don’t take any money.’ They both stood. ‘But you mun know, my Christmas on you-ooh. Big time!’
Ismael smiled for the first time and nodded. ‘You get those things back and the Christmas will not be easy. I promise!’