Tag Archives: Voodoo

Marginalia, no.200

According to a local tradition, an ordinary hen’s egg, if it is kept warm in the human armpit during the whole of Lent, hatches out on Easter Day and reveals a manikin three inches high, who at once prostrates himself before his foster-father and swears eternal obedience to him.

~ Patrick Leigh Fermor, The Traveller’s Tree

He says his name is Himmelfarb, if you can believe it. Endearing at first, the constant bowing is starting to bug. Every time I look at him he falls to his knees and taps his forehead to the table. “Dear God,” he asked me last night, “how should I live? What would you have me do? I only want to be your image and will in everything.” But the thimbleful of scotch I gave him was a mistake, and he was nearly pressed flat when the hardcover Montaigne closed up on him. My armpit is still sore.

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