Black Magic Baby Jezus, Chapter IV
Resurrection
Black Magic Baby Jezus by Ramin Aryaie, Chapter IV
Darkness is falling. People whisper. Every night the people of Vanuatu indulge in a ritual, offering themselves into the hands of a numbing root that grows up in the mountains. Silently they drink their Kava, a grey, sedative juice made from a plant that grows only here. They use it to connect with the spirits of the bush, their ancestors. Colours slowly fade into a deep blue and cover all details from sight. A full moon towers over us. Tonight she makes a theatrical entrance.
The moon waits on the horizon, yellow-tinted, like a golden medal, slowly rising, fading behind swathes of milky clouds and fog.
The singing of the birds and the hoppers quiets down. During sunset they were playing a wild orchestra all around us, dramatically working towards a climax, getting louder until, as if in tune with the light, they suddenly went silent. It’s the hour of the Spirits, slowly entering the Nakamal through cracks in the concrete. They have come from the bush, and fall over the world.
Hushed voices glide into the night.
The silence is deafening. People sit separately and there’s no light except for some phones and a small solar lamp illuminating the space, drawing deep and dark shadows on people’s faces. Kava is served carefully into coconut shells. I take the shell knowing it’s something holy. People spit. The flying foxes are hunting now. One of them spreads its wings wide open and slides over the palm trees. My eyes follow his flight across the sky. The Kava has called for him, until suddenly he disappears back again into the night.
The spirits are here.
This is a place where people meet them.
Where they leave their bodies silently and fade away.
Wash out, become calm and cold and wet.
A quiet place.
A dark place.
A spiritual place.
Ocean Water Earth
Root Kava Pee Wind Trees Shadow
Moon Clouds Howling The stoney road
We watch the black bush. It’s us and the earth now. Juice runs down our throats. The Kava starts to have its effect and the spitting becomes more intense. I can feel the moon, the strongest of all Spirits. She moves my blood like the tides of the ocean, pulling me back and forth, back and forth. With a numb tongue I stare at her, at Luna in all her beauty and strength. She is my mother and sister. I hear the ocean moving, overlaid by the wild barking of the dogs in the village.
All my past, my future and my present are how they should be.
I am here.
Photography & Words by Ramin Aryaie
A Film by Ramin Aryaie
Editor in Chief Vincenzo Angileri
Executive Producers Albert Folch, Rafa Martínez & Guille Cascante
Editor Bernat Granados
Script by Valerie Steenhaut
Voiceover by Mads Vine
Edited by Valerie Steenhaut & Bis Turnor
Artwork by John Zabawa
Reading: Ishmael, Daniel Quinn
Traveller/s
Ramin Aryaie
Experimental visual artist, web designer and film maker
Ramin Aryaie is a german-iranian experimental visual artist, web designer and film maker. His works interweave a variety of mediums and artistic approaches including photography, writing, film, sound, and design.
He explores the material world through journalistic web hybrids, images and books and the human soul through abstract films, AV performances and installations.
He is the founder of VOIIAGE and co-founder of the Liva Collective as well as a member of Justin Vernon's PEOPLE collective. He has worked and collaborated with artists such as Damien Rice, Justin Vernon, Vincent Moon and s t a r g a z e.
@raminaryaie
