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To them all Granny has a telling argument: "Well, if the gods have taken all you have, why don't you serve the Grand Maitre? He doesn't ask for anything."
In predominantly Roman Catholic Haiti, this is a novel idea, even to many of those who have been exposed to Christianity. To be on the safe side, a Haitian is inclined to bow to both Catholic saints and voodoo gods. Catholic denunciations of this practice seem to him nothing more than natural loyalty to one's own group of interceders. The Baptist missions' 3,000-odd converts tend to make their break with voodoo complete.
In the Brier Patch. Granny has built herself a comfortable house, with a guest room that is almost always occupied by a visiting missionary, and a kitchen that seems crowded day and night by neighbors. She refuses all offers of a vacation in the U.S. simply because she is afraid something will prevent her from getting back.
"I feel just like Brer Rabbit when he reared back in the brier patch. I'm just where I want to be," she explains. "I don't know a woman in the U.S. I'd want to change places with."