The Two Orders: Zion and Pocomania

From its earliest days, Jamaican Revivalism was never a monolith but a faith with two intertwined branches, popularly known by numbers: the “60 Order” (Revival Zion) and the “61 Order” (Pocomania or Pukkumina). Both arose from the Great Revival of 1860–61 and share core features of spirit-centered worship, yet they differ in emphasis and reputation.

Zion Revival (the 60 Order) leans more toward the Christian side of the syncretism, whereas Pocomania (the 61 Order) preserves stronger African-derived elements. In Jamaican parlance, Zion was long seen as the more “respectable” revival—heaven-oriented and Bible-grounded—while Pukkumina (often dubbed “poco mania,” meaning “a little madness”) was stigmatized as the wilder, more “African” strain. Although these labels oversimplify a complex reality, they point to real distinctions in practice.

Zion Revival (60) focuses on the “things of the sky”—it exalts the Holy Spirit, angels, and saints, and its rituals reflect a quest for purity and light. Zion Revivalists typically hold worship on Saturdays (influenced perhaps by Baptist or Adventist custom) and favor the color white or light pastels in their attire to signify holiness. A Zion assembly is usually led by a “Mother” (if female) or “Captain” (if male), titles that underscore leadership through spiritual authority rather than formal ordination. They often establish small church-like chapels or “mission” halls for worship, complete with altars and communion rituals adapted from mainstream Christianity. In Zion services, African drum beats and spirit possessions are present but somewhat moderated by hymn singing and formal prayers. Worshippers in Zion pride themselves on being “clean” and holy in their conduct. They emphasize healing, charity, and moral living; many Zion Revivalists see themselves as spiritual warriors against evil, in the tradition of the old Myal healers who fought Obeah. The Zion branch, in essence, stresses the Christian message of salvation and the guidance of the Holy Spirit, positioning itself as a true (if unorthodox) Christian church, enriched with African-inspired fervor.

Pocomania (61), by contrast, is often described as the “earthy” side of Revival—concerned with ancestral spirits, nature forces, and more ecstatic expressions of African spirituality. The term “Pukkumina” may derive from an African word meaning “finding little,” though this etymology is debated; the more commonly accepted origin is the colonial slur “poco mania,” meaning “a little madness.” Pocomania meetings usually take place not in formal churches but in outdoor yards or temporary sheds known as “grounds.” Here, the leader (often called a “Shepherd” or “Shepherdess”) plants a ceremonial pole draped with colorful flags at the center of the yard. These fluttering banners of red, yellow, green, and other hues are believed to attract roaming spirits.

Pocomania worship tends to unfold in the deep hours of the night, with bonfires or kerosene lamps casting shadows as drummers pound out feverish Kongo-derived rhythms. The proceedings are highly ecstatic: spirit possession is not only welcomed but deliberately induced as the means to commune with both heavenly angels and “ground spirits”—the latter a term that can include ancestors or lesser entities sometimes called “fallen angels.” A Pocomania band (congregation) often organizes itself into hierarchies of “workers”: seal-keepers (who tend the ritual ground markings), musicians, and “trumpeters” (those who lead the spirit-invoking chants and breathing). When the spirits seize a worshipper, it is said their soul goes on a “travel” into the spirit world, seeking wisdom or remedies which they bring back upon “landing” out of the trance. These journeys can be intense, and observers have reported possessed Revivalists performing extraordinary feats—climbing tall trees or walking on embers unscathed—akin to trance practices in African traditions. Pocomania rites may also include more openly African features such as libations of rum, ritual baths with herbs, and invocations of ancestral names, which in colonial times drew heavy criticism from the Christian establishment.

Indeed, Pocomania faced severe stigma: the very word “poco mania” was a colonial slur implying its worshippers were insane. Many Revivalists today avoid using the term, calling themselves simply “Revival” or “Zion” churches to escape the old taint of backwardness. Yet, those who practice the 61 Order proudly maintain that their African-flavored worship connects them to the root power of their forefathers.

In the end, Zion and Pocomania are two sides of the same coin—one looking toward Heaven’s light, the other delving into Earth’s spiritual depths—together completing the cosmology of Jamaican Revivalism. Both orders, despite outward differences, join in declaring the sovereignty of God and the reality of spirits, providing believers with community, identity, and a direct line to the divine.

Differences at a Glance

Rivivalism in Comparison to Obeah, Myal, and Kumina

Revivalism occupies a unique place among Jamaica’s Afro-derived traditions, distinct in its communal, church-like character and worship-centered approach. It is instructive to compare Revivalism with three related spiritual practices—Obeah, Myal, and Kumina—to highlight how each serves a different role in Jamaican culture.

Obeah, often dramatized in folklore, is fundamentally unlike Revivalism in form and intent. Whereas Revivalism functions as a religion with congregations, regular services, and a moral ethos, Obeah is not a congregational religion at all, but rather a system of folk magic and sorcery practiced by individuals in secret. An Obeah practitioner (Obeah-man or -woman) typically works alone, offering services to clients—spells for protection, charms to heal or harm—operating clandestinely due to centuries of persecution and legal bans. During slavery and long after, Obeah was feared by the authorities as a form of spiritual rebellion; colonial law outlawed it as early as 1760 and again in 1898, driving it underground. Obeah lacks the communal worship and open rituals that define Revivalism. There are no Obeah “churches”—instead, a practitioner might furtively bury ingredients by a silk-cotton tree or murmur incantations in a back room. Its secrecy and individualism give Obeah a fluid, malleable nature, but also a dark mystique in the public mind.

Revivalism, by contrast, despite once being disparaged by elites, has a clear collective structure and a redemptive focus. In fact, historically Revivalism (and before it, Myal) set itself against Obeah, seeing Obeah as the work of evil that needed to be nullified. Early Myal men and Revival prophets often took on the role of folk healers and “spiritual police,” rooting out Obeah charms from homes and countermanding curses through prayer and ritual. While an Obeahman might be likened to a sorcerer-for-hire, a Revival leader is more akin to a pastor or shaman leading a flock. Thus, Revivalism’s relationship to Obeah has traditionally been adversarial; Revivalists draw on spiritual power for communal uplift and protection, as opposed to the clandestine, sometimes malevolent reputation of Obeah. Both are products of the Afro-Caribbean worldview of pervasive spiritual forces, but one is a public faith and the other a private craft.

Myal is, in a sense, Revivalism’s direct ancestor—a precursor from which Revivalism evolved. In the 18th and early 19th centuries, Myal was an Afro-Jamaican religious movement that emphasized spirit possession, healing rituals, and community dances. Notably, Myal was the mirror image of Obeah in practice: while Obeah was associated with dark magic, Myal was viewed as a positive force to combat that darkness. Myal groups would hold ceremonies (often at night and accompanied by drumming) where participants became possessed by benign spirits and were thought to gain the power to detect and nullify Obeah spells. This practice of “catching Myal”—essentially inviting spirits to take over one’s body—survives in Revivalism’s possession dances.

Over time, Myal melded with Christianity as conversion spread among the slave population. Myal leaders entered Native Baptist churches and adapted their spirit practices to a loose Christian framework, setting the stage for Revivalism. By the 1860s, the lines had blurred: what were once called Myal gatherings were now being called “Revival” meetings, with preachers invoking the Holy Ghost alongside African spirits. As a separate institution, Myal faded away, but its legacy lives on strongly within Revivalism. The Revivalist emphasis on healing the sick, prophesying, and purging evil influences is a direct inheritance from Myal. In essence, Revivalism formalized Myalist practices into a semi-Christian church, sustaining the communal, benevolent aims of Myal while shedding its more clandestine aspects. Today, scholars note that Myal’s rituals can be found not only in Revivalism but also in ceremonies of Kumina and even Rastafari drumming sessions, showing how foundational that Myal worldview was to Afro-Jamaican spirituality.

Kumina represents another branch of African continuity in Jamaica, one that developed parallel to Revivalism. Kumina is a form of worship and music brought by Central African (primarily Kongo) people, especially those who arrived as indentured laborers in the post-Emancipation period. Centered in the eastern parishes (like St. Thomas and Portland), Kumina is highly African in form—featuring polyphonic drumming, call-and-response chants in Kikongo or Creole, and intense ancestral spirit possession. Unlike Revivalism, Kumina is not syncretized with Christianity; its songs and invocations often explicitly call on African gods or the spirits of specific ancestors, without reference to the Bible. A Kumina ceremony (a “play”) is typically held to mark events like funerals, memorials, or to seek healing and guidance from the foreparents. The dancers move in a circle to the driving beat of Kbandu and Playin’ Kyas drums, and the aim is to invite the “powers” (spirits) to descend. When the spirit comes, it mounts a person (similar to Revival possession) and speaks or dances through them, often in an African language or in stylized behavior that identifies which ancestor or deity is present.

In many ways, Kumina’s trance states are akin to Revivalism’s, but Kumina does not incorporate Christian saints or angels—its framework is entirely African ancestral veneration. Over the decades, there has been some exchange between Revivalism and Kumina: for instance, Revival groups in eastern Jamaica might use Kumina drums or tunes, and Kumina sessions sometimes include a biblical prayer to open or close, reflecting Jamaica’s fluid spiritual culture. However, the two remain distinct traditions. Kumina, like Revival, was long looked down upon by elites—even more so, perhaps, because of its unapologetically African style (including the use of patois-spoken invocations and sometimes animal sacrifices). Both Kumina and Revivalism have endured stigma under Jamaica’s historically Eurocentric gaze (they were seen as “pagan” or “Backward Africa”), yet both have also shown remarkable resilience. One key difference is that Kumina is usually a family or communal lineage practice, passed down in certain villages, whereas Revivalism became a broader mass movement with formal organizations and missionary efforts.

In summary, Revivalism versus Kumina can be seen as syncretic Afro-Christian church versus preserved Afro-Kongo ritual. Each in its own way has enriched Jamaica’s cultural landscape: Revivalism contributed spiritual songs and a distinctive worship style that even influences reggae music, while Kumina gave Jamaica some of its most complex drumming rhythms and dances. Both share the common ground of spirit possession and a worldview in which the departed actively influence the living, but they differ in theology and social role. Revivalism offers a more structured congregational life, whereas Kumina remains a more esoteric heritage practice, often kept alive by specific communities (especially for ceremonies like “nine-nights” wakes where Kumina songs may be performed to honor the dead).