Like the ancient Greeks, we too have our mythology! Those were the days of the Loupgaroux or Ligaroo, the Soucoyant and the La Diablesse or female devil. Grenadian folklore speaks of an individual called Doctor Ojas who met a La Diablesse by the Rocks near Tanteen and was captivated by her sweet talk. He began chatting with the woman in the dark, and got the shock of his life when he looked down and saw her cow foot. He took off with such a speed that the wind he broke killed two of Miss Cinty’s chickens. The La Diablesse shouted You lucky, ah wuddah break yuh gadamn neck.” Poor Ojas ended up trembling like a leaf in his house. He was so disoriented that he washed his face with bay rum instead of water. The Loupgaroux was a tough word to say. Grenadians got tired of pronouncing that hard French word so most of them just said Ligaroo. Ligaroos used to suck people’s blood every night. People said that Nahoo and Zoon were notorious Ligaroos. Women used to wake up with big red marks on their skin and knew for sure that a Ligaroo had paid a visit. The marks were more easily seen on light skinned women. There was a notable difference between a Ligaroo and a plane. The Ligaroo did not have to taxi before take off. He took off like a UFO. As time progressed, a few Ligaroos got so lazy they started riding motorbikes or driving cars. They had acquired a level of sophistication and were too lazy to fly. Some Ligaroos even marched each year in the Queen’s Birthday Parade. People started taking action against the Ligaroo. They nailed a horseshoe over the door to keep them out. Some placed a bowl of rice or sand in front the door to force the evil, nocturnal intruder to count every grain before daylight. That was a sure way to trap a Ligaroo. Then there were those who slept with their clothes” before behind.” It was said that doing that kept Ligaroos away. People also placed garlic in front of their doorsteps or placed a cross there. Back then thieves thrived on the superstitious. Every vessel needed a soul and it was believed that little boys were sacrificed to protect the boat. That was not a comforting thought for anyone who passed those boats that were docked on the wharf. Cocoa thieves scared people too. They placed a coffin right in the middle of the road near the cocoa trees. People were terrified to pass in that area so the cocoa thieves stole the cocoa with ease and comfort. In those days we believed all kinda tings. And thats cool. Like the Irish people and their Leprechauns and the Guyanese who spoke of the Oldhigue and Firerass(our Ligaroo), we too, had our myths that sent us scampering into the house on a dark night or just fired our imagination. I still smile when I pass by the Rocks above the Fire Station. I smile because I remember the mythical tales, not only about the Crebo and its crown, but also about Daddy Ojas and the Lajablaisse, La Qua and the sardine can, , dead people walking in Sauteurs and all those stories about Shaverman. I still think about the story of the fowlcock, which stood above the dead mans picture in St. Paul’s. Busloads of people visited the house hoping to see the fowlcock staring at the mans picture. I cannot forget the people who trembled when thoughts of the ghost of Fedon riding his white horse erupted during the nights in Belvedere. I cant recall ever seeing a Crebo, but I used to look for them while I jooked down cocoa from the small cocoa trees in Morne Jaloux. I looked for them to duff out in case I saw one. Remember the words Duff out? That came from the period during the 1970’s when fellas used to look at you and greet you with the term Mankind or simply Maaaan! Everyone knew that the Crebo loved damp spots and it was believed that they used to galavant in the cocoa leaves. As I picked the cocoa, I looked around whenever I heard a rustling of the dried leaves. Sometimes the disturbance was caused by the slither of a small snake, and the snake and I would run from each other. The size of a snake never mattered to me; a snake was a snake! I kept a small dried piece ah wood nearby because they told me that if the Crebo grabbed onto my leg, all I had to do was break the stick and fool the Crebo into thinking it had broken my leg. It was then supposed to release its hold. Yeah right! I also heard the stories about the Crebo nursing the breast of the young mother and of the crowns the Crebos wore on their heads. I had dreams of finding a crown, but I never wanted to find a Crebo. Nah! Like the ancient Greeks, we too have our mythology! Anthony Wendell DeRiggs amazon/Recollections-Island-Man-Anthony-DeRiggs/dp/0977491609
Posted on: Sat, 14 Jun 2014 06:09:19 +0000
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