The ABC Affair 2019- V is for Voodoo

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Post Mardi Gras was a bit of mess, with literally tons of debris including plastic beads, papers, masks, bottles and so much more scattered everywhere that all needed to be swept up.

Everywhere you went you could see multiple city workers in overalls sweeping human detritus into shovels and depositing it into large rolling trash bins. It would take them days if not a week to clear it all.

Still that didn’t detract from the beauty of those streets and as one person happened to mention, it was always Mardi Gras in New Orleans, as there were those who were still partying in the many bars or in their hotels. Still the feelings that Mardi Gras evoked would eventually ebb and flow just like the tide.

It was now the Lenten season, a time of fasting and avoiding certain foods...at least in the Catholic church.

Fasting was mandatory on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday; all the other days, you are not required to fast. Catholics, which most of the popluation of New Orleans was, meant they were required to abstain from eating meat on ash Wednesday and Fridays during Lent.

Napoleon, though raised Catholic, wasn't always the most devout when it came to giving things up for Lent, especially since it lasted for forty days.

He and Illya took turns showing Mark and April around as it was their first time here. They had time to kill while waiting for Kit Kittredge to arrive. Everything seemed calm enough compared to the excitement of the past few days.

The senior agents had a brief conference with Mister Waverly about the current staff of the field office needing some further training, with the exception of Valerie, but in the end the Old Man decided it would be Kit’s call as to what would be done.

The fleur de lys symbol was everywhere, depicted in artwork, repeated on wallpaper, painted on trash cans. It was easy to discern the influence of the French and understandable that New Orleans chose that very symbol to represent their city.

April was carrying a little guide book with her and made note, “Fun fact, in the late 1800s, the King of Carnival chose the Mardi Gras color scheme because they were the colors of a visiting Russian Grand Duke by the name of Alexis Alexis Alexandrovich Romanoff. Well that’s quite the mouthful! Anyway, the colors do stand for something. Green is for faith. Purple is for justice. Gold is for power.”

She watched as Illya squared his shoulders, looking rather proud. Little did she know that he was related to the Romanoff’s on his mother’s side. It was a secret he’d kept all his life, especially growing up in the Soviet Union where any relation to aristocracy and nobility were treated with disdain and often violence. His grandfather Alexander Sergeyevich Kuryakin was granted the title of Count by the Tsar before the revolution, and the title should have passed down from father to son.

The Bolshevik revolution changed all that...

His grandfather died in a gulag, and his father never used the designation of Count. Illya’s older brother Dimitry would have held the title one day had he survived the war.

By rights, the title now technically fell to Illya as he was as the only living son of Nicholaí Alexandrovich Kuryakin, but it meant nothing to him other than being a thing to be kept secret. His entire family was lost during the war...so what did it matter if he were a member of the nobility and related to royalty.

His demeanor changed and Kuryakin suddenly seemed rather melancholy.

“Illya are you all right?”

“Yes I am fine. Perhaps I am a bit tired.”

“We can stop if you want. I mean we’ve been cramming a lot of sights into a few days.”

“No no, we can go on. Perhaps we could stop for some beignets?”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” she smiled, though she was afraid she’d gained way too much weight eating the incredible food they served here.

Napoleon and Mark appeared, joining them.

“Who is minding the office?” Illya asked.

“Kripke is in charge for a few hours. I think he can handle it. It’s pretty quiet now, and he said other than during Mardi Gras, that’s pretty much the way it is most of the time.

“Should we not be concerned about THRUSH? Perhaps some sort of retaliation?" Illya asked..

“For the moment, no. We destroyed the satrapy, and all its members are in custody. Oh speaking of that, Cassius Pride has been transferred to the custody of UNCLE as well. He’ll be joining Nate and Georgia in Tartarus.”

“Brrrrrr,” April rubbed her arms. That’s a chilly thought. I’ve heard about the place but I’ve never been there.

“We have,” Illya said,”and I will guarantee it is one place where we will never give you a grand tour. There is nothing to see but snow, ice and more snow. Wildlife consists of penguins, whales. seals, albatrosses, other seabirds and a range of invertebrates you may have not heard of such as krill, which form the basis of the Antarctic food chain. Did you know that eight species of penguins inhabit Antarctica and its offshore islands…”

“Illya?” Napoleon interrupted.

“Yes?”

“Enough with the lectures for now, please?”

“Oh sorry. I did it again?”

“Yes you did,” Napoleon clapped his partner on the back with a chuckle. Kuryakin was an endless source of knowledge because of his eidetic memory, but sometimes it could be just a bit too much.

The four agents wandered along, stopping for beignets. It was easy to find where they were sold as all one had to do was follow the trails of powdered sugar on the nearly empty sidewalks. Such tracking would have been impossible during Mardi Gras.

Now that it was quiet the four of them really had the opportunity to admire the colorful buildings that lined every street they walked along.

Each of them was painted a different color, and from their wrought iron railings hung baskets of ferns. One in particular stood out as it was rather Christmassy looking. The building was bright red with its louvered shutters painted green. It was like looking at a picture postcard.

Many of the hand rails were still wrapped with Mardi Gras beads.

“Oh look darlings!” April pointed to a shop.”Let’s go there.”

The sign above the door read, ‘Authentic Witchcraft and Hoodoo Shop!’

“I read that some cultural beliefs and spiritual practices made their way to New Orleans from Western Africa. The most well known practice is voodoo. Marie Laveau, an infamous voodoo practitioner, is responsible for bringing voodoo to the forefront of New Orleans culture in the 1800s, and she's actually buried here right in New Orleans!"

“I think we’ll pass on that,” Napoleon tried to hide his distaste. He’d never told April about his experience of being the victim of a practitioner of voodoo and the doll used against him. * That embarrassment was best left unsaid.

“Yes it is all a bit of commercialized nonsense to prey upon tourists,” Illya lied while eyeing his partner’s discomfort.

He looked at his wristwatch; it was too early for lunch or dinner. Too early to relieve Kripke and the others back at the office.

Napoleon saw his partner checking his watch. “Let’s go find a bar with some Dixieland Jazz and good alcohol.”

“Mate, you read my mind on the drinks that is. I don’t mind jazz but I don’t love it either, “ Mark finally spoke up.

Illya looked at him as if he had two heads. “You do not like jazz?”

“Don’t be so horrified guv, but I just don’t get it. Seems just like a jumble of notes that I can’t follow. Now give me a good rock and roll band with the Mersey Beat any day.”

“Let me explain Dixieland Jazz to you Mark. You see there are a few characteristics that give it its sound and rhythmic feel. Most Dixieland music has a two-beat feel where the musicians tend to feel the rhythm as ‘ONE, two, ONE, two’ rather than ‘ONE, two, three, four, ONE, two, three, four.’ You understand?”

Napoleon and April watched in amusement as their partners had a rather animated music discussion with a lot of hand gestures.”

“Kids,” Napoleon said. “Can’t take them anywhere.”

April insisted upon going into the Voodoo store on her own, just for fun; she was surprised at all the bizarre things for sale there. There were figurines, ointments, sachet powders, spell kits, incense, resin, herbs, beads, amulets, prayer cards and icons, and of course voodoo dolls.

The primitive looking dolls, were all different and hand sewn, and she picked one up that looked like a ginger bread man.

“How much are these?”

A woman dressed in a flowing black skirt, and white peasant top, on her head was a bright yellow scarf looking almost like a turban. Around her neck were long strands of beads and strings with talismans. Even her wrists were adorned by thick wooden bangles, all with symbols painted on them.

“For you ma cherie, une dollar. I give you a pamphlet on ‘ow to use it.” She had a very heavy accent. “You have a lover who do you wrong maybe?”

“No not at all,” April dug a dollar bill from her purse and paid. The woman took it, but also grabbed her hand and looked at her palm.

“Ahhh, I see you live a very dangerous life ma cherie. The doll will ‘elp you I think.”

April didn’t quite know what to say, other than thank you.

The doll and the pamphlet were put in a paper sack.

“Ere, I give you these to start out with the doll. She tossed a couple of long hat pins in the bag as well.

"Bon chance ma cherie."

April smiled to herself as she’d save using her little purchase if a certain platinum blonde showed her face. She wasn’t sure a voodoo doll would really work, as Illya had said it was just a bunch of nonsense. Heck, it was worth the try, and it would be fun seeing the woman squirm just a little if it did work after all.

Angelique had an uncanny ability to appear wherever Napoleon Solo was, most often post mission.  She wouldn’t be surprised if the blonde bitch were here right now even before the satrapy was destroyed and the traitors unmasked.

There was always the distinct possibility that she was somehow involved in the downfall of this Cassius Pride, La Croix and the woman they called Miss Georgia. She wasn't exacly loyal to THRUSH, she was loyal to herself. What was to say she might want New Orleans as her territory?

April have to discuss that little tidbit with Kittredge when he finally arrived.

She returned to the others who had just bought a bagful of pralines along with more beignets, which they immediately offered to her.

“I’m going to lose my girlish figure if I keep eating all these treats.

“Nothing wrong with a woman who’s a little zaftig,” Napoleon smiled.

“What in heaven’s name is that?” She asked.”I’ve never heard that word before.”

“That’s because you haven’t been in New York City long enough, eventually you’ll hear it from someone, especially if you go to Katz’s deli,” Napoleon said.

April huffed,”You still haven’t answered my question.”

Illya just swallowed a bit of a praline, jiggling his index finger to indicate he’d answer her.

“It comes from the Yiddish word zaftik, which means juicy or succulent and which in turn derives from zaft, meaning juice" or sap. It now has a contemporary use as it can be applied to a woman who is...a bit chubby, but it is meant in a most affectionate way.”

“Me chubby,” she quickly took offense. “I’ll have you know that I work very hard at keeping in good shape.”

“And it shows luv,” Mark intervened before April went off on them.

“No one said you were chubby,” Napoleon gave his partner the stink eye.”Illya was merely giving you the definition and usage of zaftig...you know what, just forget the word was ever used. You are a very, very attractive woman April and we all know it."

Illya merely shrugged it all off and started down the sidewalk.  He turned to the others, waving them on.

“I think it best we find that bar; there is a storm coming.”

“What storm?” Mark looked up at the bright blue sky. The sun was shining and there were a few wisps of fluffy white clouds.

“Trust me,” Napoleon said.” When Illya says a storm is coming it’s best to listen to him.”

He leaned over, whispering to Kuryakin. “Is it really going to storm or are you just saying that to change the topic.”

“There is something coming,” the Russian deadpanned. “I can feel it in my bones…”

Napoleon covered his face with his hand, shaking his head. Seems like they just couldn’t catch a break here in the Big Easy...

* ref “That Voodoo that You Do So well”

Comments

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thanks for this enjoyable walk in New Orleans, and the pics. The taste of forecast is done well.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you!!! More to come!