Guardians of the Spirit World

Zombis: Death is Not An End

Exploring the Bizango Figures (and other Treasures) at the Musée du Quai Branly – Jacques Chirac

Paris, France; October 2024

*Advertisement for the exhibit in a Metro station in Paris*

Zombies: The Undead in Haitian Vodou

When visiting a museum, it’s usually a good idea to ground oneself with a common vocabulary, particularly when the subject is as complex and multifaceted as zombies. Luckily, this exhibit provided some background, which The House will share below so we are all on the same page as we start this exploration.

“The term ‘zombie’ evokes any number of fantastical beliefs and very real fears. In Haiti — home of zombies — the word encompasses a broad spectrum of anthropological and sociological implications. It is a polysemous term, used to social outcasts as well as individuals beset with psychiatric troubles, and even cases of willing misidentification to fill the gap left by lost loved ones. All of which is a far cry from Hollywood Zombie mythology, a horrific embodiment of the dear of death by contagion.

Originally, in the border region spanning modern-day Angola, Gabon and Congo in West Africa, the word zombie (nzambi) was used to refer to refer to the spirit or ghost of a dead person, often a child. This meaning evolved as it crossed the Atlantic aboard the slave ships, becoming caught up in a process of religious syncretism which combined elements of Catholicism with elements of traditional religions from sub-Saharan Africa.

In Haiti, the zombie became a mysterious being, the victim of a curse, an “undead” figure. It is still not entirely clear whether this tradition is a form of anthropological fable (sprung from Haitian folklore), or else influenced by the real physical appearance of victims of drugging or poisoning.”

With that in mind, let us now move on to some of the most striking and enigmatic pieces in the exhibit — the Bizango figures, sculptures that encapsulate the world of Haitian Vodou’s complex relationship with death, power, and the supernatural. These figures evoke a visceral sense of both fear and awe. They are more than just art; they are guardians of the dead, ritual tools that channel spiritual forces, and powerful symbols of protection and authority within the Vodou tradition.

The Bizango figures are linked to a secret society in Haiti—called the Bizango—which plays a crucial role in the island’s Vodou practices, particularly in rural areas and among marginalized communities. Haitian Vodou has about a dozen secret societies, which are said to have played an important role during the Haitian revolution of 1804. According the museum’s notes, each group has its own specific identity and over time they have become specialized, acquiring specific functions and powers. The secret society known as Bizango acts as a sort of judiciary, dispensing preventive and curative justice. Functioning like a spiritual militia, they are tasked with maintaining order, punishing wrongdoers, and protecting against harmful spirits and malevolent forces.

The Bizango figures themselves are imbued with these protective qualities; their features and expressions are meant to both invoke fear and command respect. They are not merely passive representations but active participants in the Vodou ritual landscape. They are spiritual warriors, clad in red and black fabric, an homage to the flag of Jean-Jacques Dessalines.

What sets these figures apart is their deep connection to the realms of the dead and the supernatural. In Vodou, the dead are not truly gone, but exist in a state of limbo, awaiting proper rites or vengeance. The Bizango figures serve as intermediaries between the living and the spirits, particularly those who have been wronged in life and seek justice from the other side. The figures are said to possess the power to communicate with the spirits of the dead and are often used in ceremonies that call upon these spirits for guidance or retribution.

The forms of the Bizango figures themselves tell a story of spiritual transformation and struggle. They are typically carved from wood, though materials can vary, and their faces are often distorted into grimaces or exaggerated features that evoke the otherworldly, marking them as entities that exist outside the realm of human understanding. Their eyes are often hollow, absent or made of mirrors, giving them a haunting, inhuman quality. This absence of the gaze is deliberate—representing a connection to the spirit world rather than the human one.

Their presence in the Zombi exhibit invites us to think about the way Vodou mythology intersects with the broader zombi narrative. In Haitian culture, the zombi is both a symbol of death and a manifestation of the living-dead, a person whose soul has been enslaved or trapped by external forces. The Bizango figures, in their role as protectors of the dead, speak to this duality—the zombi as both a victim and a powerful agent of spiritual control. The Bizango society's rituals, in which these figures play a central role, involve the concept of controlling or mastering death, preventing the dead from returning as zombis to wreak havoc on the living.

What makes the Bizango figures especially significant in the context of the exhibit is the way they challenge the conventional Western understanding of the zombi myth. While Western depictions often focus on the zombi as a passive, reanimated corpse under the control of a malevolent sorcerer, the Bizango figures remind us that in Haitian Vodou, death is not a finality but a dynamic force. The zombi is both a tool and a weapon, a figure caught in a web of spiritual and social forces that are deeply embedded in the complexities of Haitian culture.

As you move through the exhibit, the Bizango figures become more than just objects of folklore—they are reflections of the power dynamics that have shaped Haitian history. These figures invoke the history of slavery, colonial oppression, and the ongoing struggle for autonomy and self-determination in the face of external forces. The Bizango society, with its mysterious rituals and secretive nature, reflects the resilience of the Haitian people, using the power of the dead to protect the living from greater societal harm.

In the quiet of the exhibit, the Bizango figures stand as silent sentinels, their grotesque forms holding the space between the living and the dead. They are not simply relics of a past long gone but active spiritual agents, embodying the complex relationship between death, power, and resistance. As we gaze upon them, we are reminded that in Vodou, the zombi is not just an eerie figure of terror; it is a potent symbol of transformation, resilience, and the struggle for justice in a world where the lines between life and death are never truly clear.

Bonus Content

The Bizango figures were a treat to see, but the true stand-out of the exhibit, in The House’s humble opinion, was this spectacular tapestry by Barbara d’Antuono entitled “Entre deux mondes”:

*Tapestry “Entre deux Mondes” by Barbara d’Antuono*

It’s absolutely incredible. Some close-up photos follow.

Three Wise Monkeys