Our parents ignored my brother’s and sister’s growing problems. They pretended that my brother’s inability to hold a job was not his fault. According to my father, my sister’s increasing moodiness was an “attitude problem” that could be straightened out with a good slap. To protect my mother from dealing with problems that could affect her heart condition, my father would use his domineering behavior to block questions or discussion on these issues. When my sister asked my mother for permission to register for college, she was directed to my father. My father’s response was, “What a waste of money.” When my sister responded that my brother was going to college, my father angrily said, “He is a man; he needs an education.” Finally, relenting to my mother’s pleading, my father allowed my sister to register, while he openly bemoaned the waste of her time and his hard-earned money.
As our thoughts mingled during the misa, my mother assured me that love required a healthy, forgiving, healing environment to grow. In order for resolution to flourish, she said, my desire for vengeance had to be left behind. Gently, she implored me to allow my spirituality to grow and my emotional recuperation to start. My presence in the misa was a beginning step, and her warmth melted away my hurt. The glow in her hands became a brilliant yellow beam that she spread over my body, cleansing my aura. She looked into my eyes, read my thoughts, and said, “I brought you here. Let your spiritual guides lead you now. Don’t be afraid; you have found a spiritual home.”
My mother’s image then began to disappear, slowly fading into the glow that outlined her body. Mama’s final words lifted the resentful feelings I held toward my brother and sister, creating a space to be filled by the warmth she radiated over and within me. I learned not to nurture pain, but to find a way of actively healing by seeking spiritual health.
The misa began my spiritual journey into the teaching of the spirits and Santería. My memory of the first encounter with my mother’s spirit deepened with time, and the lessons she shared became clearer as I learned more about the power of the spirit world. I have learned, for example, that spiritual energy can be inherited; therefore, it is important that we learn as much as possible about our ancestral history. I also learned not to dwell in the past. In order to heal, it was necessary to accept and leave the pain behind me. The deep love I held for my childhood family was to be cherished forever; however, I had to accept that it no longer existed in the same form. It was necessary for me to help re-create a new, healthy family that would assist in healing and nurturing the future generations that would be born into our family.
The need to move on, to re-create and transform our reality, does not disrespect our past but rather honors it. Too many of our people have suffered and withstood pain so we could inherit their spiritual guidance and create a better world for our children. Every time we allow negative energy to interrupt us or distract us from a positive path, we dishonor our ancestors and the sacred powers. To grow spiritually, we must work with our guardian angels to build positive, functional lives. Part of the process is understanding the dynamic and ever-changing forces in our lives. Change is a symbolic form of dying; it is the elimination of the dysfunctional parts of our lives through acceptance. Acceptance spawns invigorating ideas that encourage new behavioral patterns, creating an environment of spiritual renewal. Renewal requires letting go of unnecessary grief so that space is free for nurturing new, exhilarating thoughts.
Mother’s spirit helped me to understand that sometimes we must experience physical pain to appreciate better and make full use of the limited gift of life we have on Earth. She explained it is through identifying our guardian angels that we learn to better comprehend our behavior.
Before I was initiated into Santería, my godmother, Zenaida, held a misa to identify my spirit guides. When I asked why this was necessary, my godmother explained, “We all have spirits who protect and guide us. They present themselves to the living in many forms. Sometimes you hear an invisible inner voice guiding you; other times an intuitive feeling protects you from harm. There are times when you are alone in a room and feel that someone is there. In spiritual sessions, misas, the spirits have the opportunity to speak through a medium and give direct advice to the living. Spirits that are enlightened led a healthy life on Earth. These are spirits that are honored by the family and friends and through prayers and rituals; these spirits gain enlightenment and are in turn helpful to the living. Those spirits who have led unhealthy lives often have family and friends who ignore them in their prayers and do not place candles in their honor. These spirits are confused and afflicted in the afterlife. They bring chaos into the lives of the living.
“Each of your guardian angels, cuadro espiritual, is made known to you in a special misa. If one of your spirits was a professor in life, in the afterlife that spirit will help you with your studies. It could be that one of your spirits was initiated into the Santería religion. That spirit will encourage and help initiate you into the religion and share the knowledge that it possesses with you. Perhaps one of your guardian angels was an artist, and now the spirit is sharing this talent with you. We will determine this in the misa.”
My godmother urged me to do my part to create a positive spiritual future for my family by nurturing my guardian angels while on Earth. She told me that we must all live actively, fulfilling our earthly and spiritual obligations, because this is what prepares us for our afterlife. Like the spirits, we have many roads that we travel simultaneously, and these paths eventually converge into the totality of our complex identities.
Back in Olga’s sacred space in Havana, I gradually began to feel part of the misa, surrounded by the initiates praying and singing the songs that call the spirits. During the misa, Javier’s spirits came forward and blessed his plans for initiation into the Ifá priesthood. No longer was I simply an observer; my newfound spiritual connection made me feel part of the group. My mother’s visit had changed me. A destructive emotional weight had been lifted, and I felt embraced within a healing warmth. It was on July 18, 1979—when the spirit of my mother spoke to me—that my journey into the religion of Santería actually began.
The other participants remained focused on the misa. They seemed unaware of what had just happened to me. I had been completely unprepared for the revelations of the misa and found myself pleasantly shocked, confused, and filled with a myriad of questions. Glancing at my watch, I realized only a few minutes had passed, although it seemed as if I had spent hours with my mother. As I sat in perplexed wonder, I made eye contact with Zenaida, and her gentle smile assured me that everything was all right. When the misa ended, the participants again filled the room with chatter. As they left the apartment, everyone enthusiastically assured Javier that they would attend the celebration of his initiation the following week.
Seated at the far end of the room next to Javier, the revered elder, Ma Mina, shared her wise thoughts with the santeras and santeros, who respectfully asked for her blessing before they left. With a gentle yet firm glance, she addressed the gathering: “Open your hearts; remember that the world needs kindness. If not, we will destroy ourselves. In Cuba, we may lack many things, but we have each other. Bring a little honey into your life,” she advised. “Remember that you can attract more bees with honey than with vinegar. Be more flexible, less rigid in your ways. A tree that doesn’t bend with the wind cannot survive.” Her message was comforting as I continued to rejoice in the advice from my mother’s spirit.
To Javier, she said, “You needed to come home to initiate. The aché of your ancestors is in the earth here in Cuba. Here is where the orishas of your mother were born and remained awaiting your return.”
Ma Mina’s wise, aging eyes guided me silently to her side. Embracing me with delicate arms, she whispered in my ear, “Don’t be afraid; your spirits will protect and guide you. You are home. I know the spirit of your mother spoke with you. In your heart, you know it was she. Trust your inner spirit.” Pointing to my head, she said, “There is where your wisdom lives. Tr
ust it.” Warm tears of happiness filled my eyes and trickled down my face, and Ma Mina, with her slender fingers, tried to wipe them away.
Zenaida soon joined us, indicating that our car was waiting and that it was time to leave. Zenaida’s joyous expression complemented her bouncy, abundant body. She had large, flirtatious eyes and mahogany-colored skin. Her short Afro was covered with a creatively wrapped white scarf that danced on her head, adding inches to her tall frame. About thirty-five years old, she projected a youthful essence that rubbed off on all around her. Yet Zenaida also had a commanding, no-nonsense quality that made people follow her directions without hesitation. Together, Ma Mina and Zenaida created a beautiful portrait of the inheritance of African spirituality across generations.
In later years I would recall this moment, while witnessing the respect granted to elders in Brazil, where the priestesses and priests are highly honored and protected by the younger members of the community. Throughout the Brazilian community, elders sit in regal magnificence, on thrones in the ritual houses. They are clothed in exquisitely handcrafted dresses with delicate layers of lace and satin petticoats. Their heads, covered in carefully wrapped cloth, create indescribable visions of goddesslike dignity. The younger initiates approach them with respect and love, prostrating themselves in honor of the orisha’s aché that the priestesses possess, and wait for a blessing. The attention to detail and proper conduct reflects the importance placed upon passing tradition down through the ages. Practitioners learn through a system of mentorship, since the rituals, dances, chants, and music are not generally written down.
The sisterhood and brotherhood societies—the irmandades— are examples of the protective systems developed to pass on African beliefs and to re-create a sense of family and community. Within these communities elders hold a privileged position, in acknowledgment of their wisdom and age. The noble spiritual strengths of these women radiate an empowering energy field that touches everyone around them.
The elders are like guardian angels living on Earth. They are teachers, mothers, fathers, friends, and doctors. Like the orishas, they possess many skills to protect their children. They take great pride in their roles as sages, exercising extreme caution in sharing information. The high level of spiritual knowledge they have acquired through the years has cultivated their divine essence, making their very breath a medium for aché. Elders speak only when necessary. The moments when individuals like Ma Mina choose to give advice are seen as wondrous gifts that must be cherished.
Elders like Ma Mina are protected and cared for by both their families and religious godchildren. On the night that my mother spoke to me, Zenaida assumed the responsibility for making certain that Ma Mina returned safely to her apartment. She gently helped Ma Mina to her feet with tremendous adoration and respect, honoring the ancient aché she possessed.
Before leaving, we thanked Olga for conducting the misa. Smiling shyly, she asked whether the session had accomplished its mission: to inform Javier’s spirits of his initiation.
It was at that moment I fully understood that, as a trance medium, Olga did not remember what occurred during the times when various spirits claimed her body. Olga asked for a detailed explanation of what had occurred during the session. The exchange between Ma Mina, Zenaida, and Olga held my rapt attention. They talked about the spirits who had manifested during the session as if they were talking about old friends they held in common.
Zenaida, swinging her head from side to side as if she were preparing to testify before a congregation, raised her hands to the sky and then dramatically placed her hands on her broad hips. Her eyes conveyed an abounding enthusiasm for the splendid misa she had just witnessed. She complimented Olga upon having the spiritual authority to call on the spirit of my mother.
“You started foaming at the mouth and rubbing the left side of your chest, calling out Marta’s name,” Zenaida explained.
“When she did this, I knew it was my mother,” I added.
Then Olga asked me to confirm the accuracy of the information the spirit of my mother communicated. When I did so, their excitement was overwhelming. Ma Mina and Zenaida agreed that Olga had an extraordinary gift, as verified by her ability to be the conduit for my mother’s spirit. Olga modestly responded that my mother’s spirit had been eagerly awaiting the opportunity to communicate with me. Beaming with pride, Olga simply stated, “It is my duty to heed the call of the spirits.” Suddenly she appeared exhausted; she raised both hands to the heavens and candidly thanked her guardian angels for giving her the powers to work on their behalf.
Like many other gifted espiritistas, Olga had at first attempted to avoid the responsibility of mediumship. However, the spirits eventually have their way. Olga explained that before she accepted the call, she was continuously ill and often disoriented, because the spirits would possess her in public places. “Imagine going to the grocery store and waking up by a lake. The nearest lake is a two-hour bus ride. The orisha Ochun kept taking me to the lake, her home, asking me to initiate for health reasons.” Zenaida, understanding that I needed an explanation, added, “Often the orishas claim you as their child because they want to give you health. To gain their protection, you are crowned with their aché. In these cases, the orisha is in your home to safeguard your well-being. The orisha understands that your gift is in the spiritual realm of mediumship.”
Laughing to herself, Ma Mina mused, “The ancestors, the eguns, are all-knowing; they understand what their children need. The ancestor spirits and the orishas work together; they are all members of the same family. Like the branches of a tree, they are separate, yet they belong to the same trunk. There is little difference between the orishas and ancestors. The orishas once lived on the Earth, and now they are ancestors as well.”
Their intriguing conversation was so inviting that I was quickly drawn into the fascinating world of spirits—the very same world I had shunned and refused to acknowledge as a younger woman.
During the misa, five different spirits had possessed Olga’s body. Javier’s guardian angels each appeared, giving their consent and showing their support for his initiation rites. Javier was especially delighted when the spirit of his mother—a renowned santera who had been initiated as a child by a Yoruba ex-slave woman—also possessed Olga’s body. Her spirit tenderly expressed her satisfaction that he had returned home to meet his spiritual obligations. The appearance of this spirit confirmed that the initiation ceremony would proceed smoothly and with her blessings. The spirit of Javier’s mother gathered the skirt of her dress and cleansed her son from head to foot, and then lit a cigar and cleansed him with puffs of smoke that covered his body. Finally, she sprayed him with three mouthfuls of strong rum.
After her spirit left, a succession of other spirits came through Olga’s body. Each time a different spirit manifested, they gave their names, greeted the gathering, acknowledged Olga’s guardian angels, and thanked her for allowing them to materialize through her body.
One of Javier’s spirits stormed through Olga’s body, making her eyes open wide and bulge as if they were going to spring out of her head. The spirit then picked up a bottle of rum and drank generously, gulping down the liquor as if it were water. Then the spirit lit a cigar and leisurely puffed away for several minutes. Complaining that he was not a woman, the spirit gathered Olga’s wide skirt from back to front, creating a trouserlike effect. He flirted with some of the women and competitively challenged the men present, prancing around the room like a proud stallion. The spirit then turned to Javier, covered his head with the smoke of his cigar, and said, “My son, I am your father, the orisha Shangó. You are strong and brave like me. You have nothing to fear as long as you respect me.” Embracing Javier tightly, the spirit then sat at the table, took another thirsty mouthful of rum, and left Olga’s body.
Javier had been initiated with his patron, Orisha Shangó, in New York. When I asked Zenaida how Shangó had claimed him, she smiled and said, “Unlike the spirits, we identify the
orisha through the process of divination with palm nuts. It is a priest of Ifá, babalawo, who, through his consultation with the oracle orisha, Orula, identifies the orisha. The purpose of today’s misa is to inform Javier’s guardian angels of his initiation as a priest of Ifá.”
I was fortunate that my mother made her appearance in the body of someone so skilled, someone who could sustain the energy drain without causing any harm to herself. Olga gave each of us a heartfelt hug as we said our good-byes. The feeling of pride and satisfaction was evident in her face as she closed the door behind us.
A Message from My Elders
My madrina, Zenaida, always reminds me of the importance of attracting the energy of the orisha Ochun. As she is the divinity of love, harmony, and community, Ochun’s delicate symbols generate and attract sweetness and happiness. To enhance the energy of Ochun, Zenaida suggested that I take five consecutive baths—with perfume, shredded sunflowers, a little honey, and cascarilla (powdered eggshell).
Ochun’s color and symbols are shades of golden yellow, the perfect color to activate a joyful environment. Surround yourself with yellow, wear her colors, place sunflowers around the house to remind you of the power of sweetness. Her energy is present wherever there is sweet water; lakes are the home of Ochun. Zenaida advises that to fill yourself with Ochun’s energy, you should take a moment to sit by a lake and meditate. If you can, she recommends that you settle into the water and enjoy the cool gentle spray of Ochun’s sweet water.
The Altar of My Soul Page 10
