Who is papa bois

He is the protector of animals in the forests and can change himself into animal forms to lead hunters away. Firstly, folklore in Trinidad and Tobago and many parts of the Caribbean are inspired by the West African and French Creole peoples who came to the islands centuries ago.

Secondly, many of their spiritual beliefs and practices were incorporated into the stories shared today. Lastly, some characters in our folklore may even be versions of divinities revered by ancient societies. However, there may have also been a fusion of ideas with the Amerindians and the Westerners, resulting in even more complex mythicisms. Businesswoman robbed, assaulted in St Joseph. St Joseph police are investigating a report in which a year-old woman was robbed and assaulted yesterday night.

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Carapo, Longdenville teens go missing. Nothing but a big Morte Bleu, rising in the sun beams. She is the old woman who lives alone at the end of the village road, seldom seen, her house always closed up as she sleeps away the day. As evening draws near, she stirs and sheds her old and wrinkled skin, which she deposits into a mortar that she hides carefully away.

Now, as a glowing ball of flame, she rises up through the roof and with a shrill cry that sets the village dogs to howling, she flies through the night in search of a victim and she would suck his 'life-blood' from him clean. As the blessed day dawns, she makes a beeline through the forest for her home, finds the mortar with her wretched skin and proceeds to put it on, - but something's wrong, it burns like fire, it seems to shrink and slide away, "skin, kin, kin, you na no me, you na no me", she sings, crooning softly, pleading to the wrinkled, dreadful thing.

If you wish to discover who the Soucouyant in your village is empty lbs of rice at the village crossroads where she will be compelled to pick them up, one grain at a time - that is how you'll know the Soucouyant.

Duennes are sexless, their feet are turned backwards and they have no faces although they do have small round mouths. On their rather large heads they wear huge mushroom-shaped straw hats.

To prevent the Duennes from calling your children into the forest at dusk, never shout their names in open places, as the Duennes will take their names, call them and lure them away. A story is told of a man called Lastique who was riding home one night, as he passed the big silk cotton tree at the corner of Belmont Circular Road and the Savannah, he heard a baby crying, so he stopped and picked it up, thinking he would take it home for the night and carry it to the orphanage in the morning.

Cycling along, he was reduced to a state of absolute terror by the time he reached the hospital, when he realized that the child was getting bigger and heavier. Suddenly the child said in a man's voice, "You'd better take me back were you found me", which the terrified Lastique did at once.

As he drew nearer the tree, the 'child' shrank steadily back to its original size and was deposited, once more, a bawling baby at the foot of the giant tree. The moon, a silent witness, hid its face in a cloud as a chill wind blew and an owl flew out of the tree.