Voodoo bitches of Port au prince

Some years ago while attempting to sail from the Ivory coast to Belize in a raft made of coconuts, to prove my theory that African coconut salesmen were the first to discover the Americas, I had the sad misfortune to be washed up on the shores of the foul and evil island known to the civilized world as Haiti.

As I and my faithful black man servant, Gombi, struggled up the beach half mad with thirst and encrusted with sea salt, we were greeted by the most horrifying sight any white man has ever encountered.

Before us, lit only by flickering torchlight and the silvery moon, were the legendary voodoo bitches of Port Au prince.
They were dancing deliriously to savage jungle drums and feverishly chanting evil curses while throwing things into a man size cauldron.
As they saw us the drums fell deathly silent and a heart piercing scream split the night air as the foul savages fell upon us and dragged us before the high priestess.
After we were stripped naked and savagely beaten they threw us into the huge pot and proceeded to throw in some rather delicious looking vegetables.

It was at this point Gombi cracked and began to scream like a young Filipino hooker during a U.S navy gang bang. I of course being British laid back and enjoyed the first decent bath I'd had since leaving Blighty four months previously.
As I wallowed there among the vegetables listening to my dark skinned companion scream for mercy, I suddenly realised it was June the twenty eighth and that by my rudimentary astronomical calculations Haiti was due to experience Its first total lunar eclipse in more than two centuries.

As the foul ceremony began to reach it's filthy savage height I jumped to my feet and reached my arms up to the waning moon and started to furiously chant my old school song "Eton uber alles"
The natives were at first bemused that their dinner had begun to chant, then as the moon slipped from view they fell to their knees in sheer terror and began to shake like the non english men they were.
I took this opportunity to jump from the pot and run naked into the nearby forest thus evading becoming dinner for the foul voodoo bitches of Port au prince.

After three weeks in the jungle naked, surviving on leaves and my own toe nails, I managed to stumble upon a Christian church and to my utter relief saw the first white faces I had seen since leaving Britain.
Never did find out what happened to poor old Gombi, but I did send his widow and her six children a brand new twenty pound note and my best wishes for the future.