August 08, 2008
Connaissez-vous Narcisse?
And then, there was this fellow I met at Nicole’s Gallery in Chicago. The occasion: a showing of the latest works of Haitian artist Frank Louissaint. As always is the case at this kind of gatherings, the atmosphere was warm and informal. This fellow walked up to me, introduced himself as Charlie and, without missing a beat, he said—in French—“Connaissez-vous Narcisse?”(Do you know Narcisse?)
“Narcisse?” I said a bit perplexed. “Is that a first, or a last name?”
“It shouldn’t really matter,” he said. “This guy is famous. You’ve got to know him!”
“Could it be Narcisse Guérin, the neoclassic French artist?” I asked.
“Oh, no,” he said, “I am talking about the zombie Narcisse, not the artist!”
“Oh, you mean the legendary Clairvius Narcisse!” I replied, somewhat amused.
“Yes, that’s it,” he said, excitedly. “Clairvius Narcisse! Isn’t that amazing that a guy who was pronounced dead not by one, but by two physicians, had a City-Hall-issued death certificate, was buried in front of an entire village—how much more dead can you be!—Yet, eighteen years later, out of the blue, the undeniably, certified dead guy shows up alive and well, telling people all about his life before and after his resurrection by Haitian sorcerers! Amazing stuff, isn’t it?”
“You must have read The Serpent and the Rainbow by Wade Davis,” I said.
“As a matter of fact,” he replied “I just finished reading it. What fascinates me the most” he continued, “is the ‘ti-bon-ange/gro-bon-ange’ story, the idea that one can pick the human soul apart, take away the ti-bon-ange and leave the gro-bon-ange intact, thus keeping the body alive while the human element in it is, in fact, gone! Tell me, do you really believe that they messed up this guy’s soul so bad, they turn him into a zombie?”
“I happen to be quite familiar with the Narcisse story,” I said. “Unfortunately, I find Davis’s narrative as well as his speculations about the facts of the case totally lacking in logic and common sense. I have to tell you that I am an ardent critic of his views, including his attempt at portraying Narcisse as the prototypical Haitian zombie. I warn you, then, that I do not share any of his ideas or theories about the Narcisse case. In fact, it is not just Davis’s views on Narcisse that I quarrel with. I totally reject the “real zombie” mantra, and that is the end of it. To me, the Haitian zombie is simply the product of a legend that has evolved to the point of creating a new reality, a new cultural understanding out of ancient, traditional beliefs. It would take too much time to go over the whole issue of real zombies, but we can certainly examine the facts and allegations of the Narcisse case, and show how the proper cultural environment creates reality out of mere appearances which, unfortunately, have been elevated to the rank of scientific facts.
“As reported by Davis, in the spring of 1962 Clairvius Narcisse, then about 40 years old, became ill and was admitted to Haiti’s Albert Schweitzer Hospital. His medical record reveals that he had a high temperature, high blood pressure, respiratory difficulty, hemoptysis (spitting up blood.) and pulmonary edema (water in the lungs). Laboratory tests showed azotemia, which is usually the sign of an impaired kidney function.
“Given this set of findings, any competent and impartial observer would have to reach the same, unavoidable conclusion that at the time of his admission to the hospital, the individual presented as Narcisse was in a very critical condition, and the fact that he died two days later should not have come as much of a surprise to anyone. Two US-trained physicians declared him dead, and he was taken to the Hospital’s morgue where he remained — presumably unclothed — for the next twenty-four (24) hours. Eventually, he was picked up by his relatives and buried in the family plot in the nearby village of L’Estère in accordance with local traditions.
“Eighteen years later, a man approached a woman on the street and told her that he was her long dead brother, Clairvius Narcisse. (The woman, while acknowledging the man as her long-dead biological brother, reportedly told him that he was no longer welcome in the family. In short, she bluntly told him to take a hike, making it quite clear that they did not want to live with a zombie in their midst.) Narcisse insisted then that he was actually never dead, that he was aware of everything that was happening around him during his hospitalization back in 1962, but as much as he tried, he could not manage to utter a single word to let people know that he was in fact alive. He said he watched helplessly as the doctors pronounced him dead, and was terrified when they sent him to the morgue, and then to his grave. He further claimed that he remained buried for three days before a gang of evildoers, the people who supposedly poisoned him, came and took him away. They chanted and danced around his tomb as they dug it open. Eventually they brought him out, gave him something to drink—presumably a concoction of Datura Stramonium, known as zombie-cucumber in the local parlance—then led him away on a leash to a distant location: his transformation into a zombie state was then complete.
“What is wrong with this story? Well, the first part is obviously true in so far as it narrates the well documented case of a man who died in a hospital setting, attended by a competent medical staff. As to the second part dealing with the supposed return of a dead man from the grave, it cannot be anything but a hoax. The man who was pronounced dead and subsequently buried could not have been cured or revived with any kind of antidote as he was not just under the influence of a paralyzing drug or toxin, as Davis contends; he was irreversibly dead. Indeed, if his entire musculature was paralyzed by a curare-like drug or toxin, as David hypothesized, it stands to reason that he would have been in acute respiratory failure due to paralysis of his respiratory muscles, and he would have been unconscious. The fact that the medical record made no mention that the man was comatose on admission is very telling. Moreover, if a patient is admitted to a hospital, and there is not a single entry in his medical record indicating that he was in any way paralyzed, what then authorizes someone who was not at the bedside to argue that said patient was completely paralyzed? If the man was paralyzed, wouldn’t it be the first thing the doctors or nurses would have noted? Clearly, Davis’s contention that the treating physicians were fooled into declaring the man dead when, in fact, he was simply under the influence of a curare-like drug is nothing but a flight of fantasy. The man died of natural causes; it would take a miracle to bring him back.
“But, assuming that he was declared dead by mistake, it is hard to believe that this man could have overcome hypothermia and emerged alive after being exposed — completely naked — to the frigid temperature of the morgue for twenty-four hours! Even harder to believe is the contention that Narcisse miraculously survived in the oxygen-deficient atmosphere of a coffin buried underground for three days, and then came out of his grave, fit as a fiddle, ready to begin the long march to the body-snatchers’ home. One has to wonder whether Davis, an anthropologist, took the trouble of consulting with a physician for medical input.
“Then, there are the contradictions that peppered the narrative. Narcisse or the person posing as Narcisse, fell into the traps of mixing mythical beliefs with reality and, in so doing, he revealed his limitless capacity for mendacity. He claimed, for example, that during his time in captivity, he was kept on a strict salt-free diet. The truth of the matter is that the human organism cannot thrive without a steady supply of salt. Salt is indispensable to humans. Any protracted period of salt deprivation would have resulted in the person’s death within weeks, if not days. The “salt-free diet” story is therefore right out of the traditional zombie legend, according to which zombie and salt are incompatible. The maintenance of the zombie state, people say, is contingent upon a salt-free metabolic state, so that the mere tasting of even a grain of salt would cause the instantaneous reversal of the zombie state back to the normal human state with the zombie instantaneously regaining consciousness. This, of course, is pure nonsense, because it is inconsistent with human biology. Thus, rather than reporting on his own experience as a zombie, Narcisse, or the imposter, was telling a story that is right out of the Haitian mythology.”
“Wait, wait!” Charlie said. “I don’t get it. You said, a moment ago, you are convinced that Narcisse was dead. Really dead! Eighteen years later, he shows up alive. And you are telling me he is not a zombie! What the heck is he then?”
“No!” I said. “You misunderstood me, Charlie. I did not say that Narcisse died. I said, ‘The man who was admitted to the hospital under the name of Clairvius Narcisse died.’ The identity of that man was never scientifically or forensically established, and neither was the identity of the man who claimed to be a zombie. (That’s the big flaw in Davis’s report.) We will therefore never know who is who in this saga. In that case, we can only speculate on the possibilities of which there are only two:
“First possibility: The man who died at the hospital was indeed the real Narcisse.
Second possibility: The man who died at the hospital was not the real Narcisse.
“If the man who died at Albert Schweitzer was really Claivius Narcisse, then, the man who claimed to be the zombie was an imposter. That man could not have been a zombie, and we can be certain of that, because it is simply not in the power of man to resurrect the dead; he cannot, in any way, be Narcisse, the revenant.
“If, on the other hand, the man who died was not Clairvius Narcisse, then both men lied about their identities, each for different reasons. The dead man posed as Narcisse, and Narcisse later posed as a zombie. Davis totally missed the boat on the real story because he devoted his efforts trying to demonstrate that zombies truly exist and attempted to find a scientific explanation for their existence. He began his investigation on a false premise and, inevitably, he was led to the wrong conclusions.”
“Wow!” Charlie said, “You’ve punctured my balloons. I found the Haitian zombie story so riveting! Now, you are telling me, it’s not true at all; it is all nonsense! I won’t buy that unless you can give me a very good reason why these two guys would have lied about their identities, why we have a faux Narcisse and a real Narcisse. Gee! It’s like a detective story.”
“Well, it is, in fact, a detective story,” I said. “Bear with me and I’ll tell you what, in my opinion, is the story behind the story:”
“Albert Schweitzer Hospital is a charitable institution gifted to Haiti by Larimer Mellon and his wife under a grant from the Mellon Foundation. According to its Charter, the hospital was to provide medical services to the poor of the Artibonite Valley exclusively. Gwen and Larry Mellon, the original administrators of the hospital, ran a tight ship. Proof of residency in the region was initially required to have access to medical care, which was delivered at an affordable price to local residents. Hospital stays were billed at the rate of $5 a day for the residents of the district, while outsiders were charged a higher fee, mainly as a deterrent. But since the hospital soon gained the reputation of being the best medical institution in the country, people would come from afar and they would, on occasions, borrow the identity of local residents, both to secure admission and to save money. It is quite possible, then, that the man who was admitted as Narcisse lied about real identity and so, when he died, the real Narcisse was officially declared dead, though, needless to say, he was alive.”
“The real Narcisse, in that case, would be the guy trying to pass for a zombie eighteen years later?” Charlie interrupted.
“Correct!” I said. “But what could be the motive for this deception, and where was Narcisse during all those years?
“These are relevant questions, indeed! You might remember that Davis, himself, reported that Narcisse, before his alleged zombification, was a licentious, irresponsible man who had indiscriminately impregnated countless women in the community and walked away. He was, in other words, an absentee-father who might have felt pressured for money from various corners. Besides, as a Don Juan, he might have seduced the wrong women on a few occasions, thereby attracting the wrath of some powerful men in the community. As a result, his very life could have been in danger. In any case, the official death of the faux Narcisse would have provided him with an excellent opportunity to effectively disappear without a trace, that is to say, to run away and start a new life elsewhere in the tranquility of the oblivion. The real Narcisse would have been, both in the eye of the community and legally, dead.
“Up in age after eighteen years, with his brood now grown men and women, he must have decided to put an end to the self-imposed exile and isolation. But, rather than revealing the true reason for his disappearance, he must have chosen instead to play the ‘zombie card,’ since he was, for all intents and purposes, dead, and the prevailing belief in zombies in the popular culture provided him with a perfect alibi. As a zombie, he would not have to account for his behavior, or make amends; he would be a blank slate, an object of pity, not of scorn. Unfortunately, his family, believing that he was, in fact, dead, refused to live with a zombie among them and abandoned him to the care of the state. He remained a ward of the state until he died — a second time — of old age!”
“Wow!” Charlie exclaimed. “This story is more convoluted than I could have ever imagined! That is truly interesting. Now, assuming the man who died in the hospital was the real Narcisse, what would be the other guy’s motivation for trying to pass for a zombie?”
“If the man who died in hospital was the real Narcisse, then the man trying to pass for a zombie— that is, for the corpse of the real Narcisse— is an imposter. He must have been a poor, destitute soul (no pun intended) in search of an adoptive family. In other words, he must have known about the real Narcisse death and, again, decided to play the “zombie card” for his own benefit, that is, to gain entry in the Narcisse family. I cannot imagine another reason why someone would try to pass for a zombie, because being a zombie is not a badge of honor. Nobody can call himself a zombie and be proud of it. You’ve got to be at the end of your rope to try such a scam!
“Wait!” Charlie said. “What do you mean the guy was in search of an adoptive family?”
“It’s a long story, Charlie; and I don’t think we have time for that now?” I said.
(Suddenly, a female voice resonated across the exhibit hall).
“Mesdames et Messieurs, Ladies and Gentlemen;
Your attention, s’il vous plait...”
(It’s Nicole addressing the patrons.)
“Nice talking to you Charlie. I enjoyed the conversation,” I said.
“Wait!” Charlie said. He pulled a card out of his pocket, gave it to me, and added,
“You’ve got to meet Rachel, my better half. We will be delighted to have you over for dinner, and you will have the opportunity to see our Haitian arts collection. Just give me a call whenever you are ready. And feel free to bring a guess. You have to finish this story...!
“Reynold!” I said as we shook hands and parted company.)
And so began the pause before my next zombie dialogue with another stranger, I suppose. It is beginning to look as if I were on an assignment to change the public perception of the Haitian zombie, redefining it from a historical, cultural and scientific perspective. It's a long overdue patriotic duty!