The Loa are not like the Gods of other religions. They take a passionate interest in the ways of the world, and they listen to what we have to say. One day, not many years ago, Damballah, the old snake, was trying to come to terms with his new computer. Try as he might, it would do nothing that he asked, and he was getting cross. Finally, loathe to admit he needed help, but without anywhere else to turn, and refusing to admit that something his houngan could understand could defeat him, he called on his brother Legba, Loa of Communication.
Legba hears everything, for he is behind every door, so when Damballah called for him in a mighty shout of irritation, he knew what was wrong, and arrived. “This is madness,” raved Damballah when his brother turned up. “This machine will do nothing. Can you help me? I’ll repay you later, and we can decide how.” Legba thought for a moment, and agreed. “I have spent many years watching these things develop. They ride the streams, and they have presence. They move information. They communicate. I have some knowledge of them, but I do not truly understand them yet.”
Suddenly, he stopped, and looked slightly surprised. Damballah looked at him expectantly, for everyone knows that Legba knows and hears all, so surely he could puzzle this out. “I think that it is a matter of shape,” said Legba finally. “Like this, I am too old to understand this properly. It is too simple for stone-clad minds. This is a thing of wonder.” So saying, he blinked, and turned into a child. Now the Loa have many shapes, and may walk freely between them, but they do not have so many that they are not known to each other. Damballah recognised his brother, but did not know his form. “What is this?” he asked, surprised. “Playing jokes again, you old trickster?”
Legba grinned, and laughed merrily. “New forms of communication need a new approach, old man.” His voice was high and merry, like the child he looked to be. “It’s high time I picked up a new skin. As I said a moment ago, the shape defines the process. Like this, I understand these computers. Do they not talk my language?” Damballah looked more closely, and saw to his horror that Legba was dressed in the modern fashion, with loose jeans and a big T-shirt, both in black, and a red baseball cap on back to front. “You look like any disrespectful scamp from the streets of Port Au Prince!” he complained. Legba poked his tongue out. “So what? You should relax more. They understand this better than you do… and so do I. I can live in this machine.” He caressed the computer fondly, and it sprang to life.
“Don’t you see, old Snake? This is my crossroads. Every piece within it is connected. Everything leads to everything else. Power flows through it. It shapes force, and changes the world by doing so. This is a gateway, and gates, old Snake, are mine.”
Damballah stopped for a moment, and thought, and saw the truth. “So you can help me with it, then?” he asked in resignation, knowing that the machine belonged truly to his brother. “Of course,” replied Legba. “Ask nicely, and in the proper forms, and I will give you any help you like. Every digit, every pulse, every password and firewall and virus, every piece of software pirate or not, every link, all of it is in my domain. Do I not know everything? I know this, now, and it is good.”
“I shall go and tell all the Loa,” he continued. “I am the gate, and the guardian of the crossroads, and it is my duty to carry messages and pass information, as I always have done. The Houngan call on me to pass their petitions and offerings to you, and I always have, and I always will, providing they ask nicely. In the same way, I shall from now carry emails and faxes, and pings and traces, and everything else from the electronic world, up here, to the rest of you. It’s all part of the job…”
Damballah sighed. “Very well, Legba. If it makes you happy. But do you have to be this child?” Legba grinned again. “It irritates you. So I’ll stay like this, for this role. Legba Bon Machine. You’ll get used to it, old man.” So saying, he was gone.
Still, Damballah reflected, at least the machine now worked, and he found that now he had a basic understanding of what it meant. He looked back at it, and saw that Legba had painted it in black and red, and put a big smiling yellow face on the screen. He sighed again. It was going to be a long day.
(c) Tim Dedopulos 2006
I loved this! It suits Legba perfectly. He is well aware of computers and likes to crash mine for attention. I’ll post you a link so my readers can get an idea of what a savvy loa he is. Love the child aspect as well. He can certainly use it to get everything he wants out of me.
It will be under the Legba thread if you visit. Thank you and lovely story.