H I P 2 H I P : E D I T I O N T H R E E :
Sisterhood
l bound together in magic he magic of learning
We mesmerize with our words
We entrance with our calculations
Sisterhood
Our ingenuity is an enchantment
Our creativity is a spell
Our kindness is a charm
Although we are an enigma
Sisterhood
Our bond is fascinating
But they can’t see ou ti ti
Our attachment is
Sisterhood is sup
I was never scared of witches. But my grandmother was scared of sorcery because spells led to the lougawoo. She feared the lougawoo, the were-animals (yes, not just wolves) with Haitian blood and fur and fangs whose only mission is to hunt you down. It was Voudou magic that transformed them. My mother had to grow up without dressing up, without trick-or-treating,without telling those spooky stories around the bonfire, all because of the lougawoo. My grandmother loved her, so she had to protect her. She’s tried to protect me, too.
“They’re magic.”
“They’re scary.”
“They come out at
These lougawoo, t f il t j t t ies. They’re real.
Now, I even hear about the lougawoo. I hear ed cackles whenever she mentions their name. I ea ow, e o e, they came out at night and haunted her. I wonder if some day they’re going to haunt me. They lurked by the river, in the village. Be careful or someone could cast a spell, and the next thing you know, you’re a snake, slithering and slithering and hunting for your next victim.
“Wait until you see the real Halloween,” she says every time October rolls around.
Of course, I always say they’re not real. They’re myths, ghosts, animals that obviously don’t and can’t exist. But I’ve never been there, so how would I know? How would I know the lougawoo didn’t roam her streets? How would I know if the bird resting on my shoulder, the squirrel running across the street, the parrot chirping in the distance, is one of them? I would realize too late if I never saw their piercing red eyes.
