In North America or Europe, when most people have an ailment they go to a pharmacy and stock up on whatever brightly packaged synthetic drug is being peddled as the cure. In fact, pharmaceuticals are so rampant, in American society anyway, that they have lost all pretense of being treatments; case in point, ZzzQuil – **won’t cause dependence, unless you enjoy a cough syrup high**. In many parts of West Africa, a large part of the population goes to the voodoo market when they are feeling ill, depressed, down on their luck or just generally unwell. There, a local practitioner will choose the appropriate remedy from the piles of dried heads, make a few cuts on your ailing body and rub the wound with a powder made of ground animal corpses. Words and chants accompany this process, and by all accounts it doesn’t sound like something that will be back-door peddled or abused by teenagers. Plus, it is a fascinating sight – piles upon piles of fearsome, toothsome death grimaces, skulls, hides and figurines. I can only imagine the heat and dust, accentuating what must be a powerful smell. In the west, we like our medicines wrapped in foil and plastic, and made up of multisyllabic chemicals that we don’t understand. In West Africa, medicines are practical and straightforward, but the technique and energies that go into their application are mysterious. Pop a pill, or submit yourself to the mysteries of voodoo – what is stranger? After the jump, watch a couple of short tours through the voodoo markets of Togo and Benin, and check out a gallery of deathly wonders.
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