Sitting on his throne, a tree stump mangled by debris that fell when those walls came down, he watches the blue demon sitting in his castle.
A castle built out of the very ruins that he and his kin folk helped the demon create. A castle atop the tree that’s been a comfort to him and his kind for ions. The maniac sits on his throne of bones sending his parasitic jabs to spread their blue waste destroying any semblance of man in their path. He paces. His bois creating eerie pictures in the dirt as he drags it along at his side. His eyes narrowing as he follows the great shadow as it roams through the castle. He is getting ready to leave. It is time.
Tying his fula on his head gripping his bois tight, he walks towards the illuminated lights of the gayelle. The sounds of drumming and a chantuelle’s lavway wails grow louder as the lights grew brighter. The earth quakes as King Jab touched down. His sadistic piercing eyes following the hairy cloven hoofed figure walking into the gayelle. He snarls “Papa Bois”. Bois looks at the creature who had cast him out and left him for dead.
“Araali” Bois replies as he begins moving back and forth in time with the rhythm of the drums. His stick no longer at his side but mesmerizingly twirling in his hand. Douens and all Bois’ kin appeared out of the darkness wielding their sticks and adorning themselves preparing for Kalinda. King Jab laughed menacingly mimicking the creatures he had enslaved. A sea of blue raged to King Jab’s side. Their horns glowing in the moonlight.
Papa Bois holding his bois with two hands above his head speed towards King Jab crying “ONI VVVAAAYYYY”…..
What are the 12 Ingredients?
J’ouvert morning isn’t J’ouvert morning without some mud. We’re taking you back to your J’ouvert roots. We’re beginning the re-creation of the J’ouvert experience. We gettin’ dutty like long ago when you weren’t old enough to be in J’ouvert at all. So bathe in de mud, doh fraid ah de mud.