Tales by the Fire
SOUCOUYANT by Paul Hadden
Illustration by A.Codallo Photo: Mark Hardy/Walcott Collection
The art of storytelling is woven deep into the fabric of the Caribbean. So come, let’s listen to an old woman as she sits near the fire on an empty beach, and gives her granddaughter a story. Her tale is sprinkled with Patois; the language spoken by the spirits, themselves a blend of African and European legends. Let us hear what she has to say.
“C
ome child. Come doux-doux and let me tell you a story. Sit still. Pa bwennen twòp, ok? I see a spirit the other night, child, a terrible ball of flame, burning bright and hateful in the dark night sky. I try to warn the others, but the fools laughed and told me that it was just a firefly, that I was just a mad old woman. But I know better than that. It was a Soucouyant. A woman that turned into a ball of fire, burning hot and angry. She soared though the starless sky, looking for one thing and one thing alone: blood. Yes, child, just like a vampire. Inside her flame are teeth; sharp and jagged as anything you’ve ever seen. There is only one thing that Soucouyant wants to do - suck all of the sweet blood that purrs in your veins. You frighten’ yet? That same Soucouyant lives and walks among us. During the day, you might think that she was an old miserable hag, like me. She goes around, pretending to be an old woman. But at night, she does something that you and I could never dream of doing. She peels off her skin, like you would peel a ripe mango, and tosses it to the side. It is then that she sets her true self free, the cage of her skin no longer holding her flame hostage, and takes off into the sky. She flies all over the valleys and mountains of
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the island, hungry for blood. You see these two red dots on my neck here? That is bite from Soucouyant. Oh, no, don’t frighten. Soucouyant can’t hurt us here, child. Here, take this salt. Trust me, this is how we must get rid of her. You must sneak into her house when she gone looking for blood, and sprinkle this salt all over her skin. When she come back home, her belly full of blood, she will try to put back on the wrinkled skin, but the salt will burn her with fires ten times hotter than her own terrible flame, and it will be the end of the Soucouyant. There are more things like this that I must tell you, but you have to listen. You hear the waves, doux-doux? You hear how the ocean breathing and crashing on the shore? She knows the stories, child. Listen to her.” The Soucouyant is one of the most feared characters in Trinbagonian legend. She is an old woman who sheds her skin at night and turns into a giant ball of fire. She preys on the sleeping, sucking their blood as they lay unconscious. The myth is found in tales across the region, including Guyana, where she is known as Ol’ Higue. The Soucouyant is just one of the many frightful tales and legends that abound on the islands, and if you look carefully enough, you might just see one floating menacingly in the night sky.
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