The Altar of My Soul

by Marta Moreno Vega

  The slow, halting steps of the older Mari were soon transformed into the youthful, explosive steps of the whirlwind that signified the presence of Oyá. The arpon came closer to sing into Mari’s ear. Shaking her head as she covered her ears tightly with her hands, Mari began to twist and strain, fighting to regain control. The orisha could no longer be resisted, and suddenly Mari’s soul was set aside and Oyá joined the ceremony. This time, women attendants gently guided the orisha to the back room to prepare her ritual dress.

  Oyá soon reappeared, resplendent in her multicolored colonial-style gown, whirling a fly whisk of dark brown horse hair around her head. She stopped at the door and looked at those gathered with fire shooting from her eyes. As she walked into the room, it seemed to shake with the strength of her divine power. Her bare feet hit the decorative tile floor like the beat of the drums and resonated throughout the apartment. Oyá’s voice burst out over the room from her deeply heaving chest, announcing that the purpose of her visit was to clean the environment with the windstorm power that was her particular aché. She indicated that death was circling the house and explained that she wanted to cleanse the environment and that we would be protected. Greeting Obatalá, she asked his permission to perform the ritual. As in the calm before the storm, the room fell silent. Obatalá nodded his approval. Then Oyá danced, gathering the negative energy of death until she swept into the back room like a cyclone. The room quickly became animated as the fear of death was appeased.

  Obatalá asked the drummers to play his sacred rhythms to guide him back into the spirit world. Slowly the batá drums began to play. The room of initiates began to move in unison to help build the sacred intensity Obatalá and the spirits needed to ascend back into the spirit world. Then the energy in the room began to quiet down. The ceremony had been successful, and the room was now filled with chitchat and excitement. With a slow, deliberate beat, the batá drums started to announce the closing of the ceremony. As I watched a daughter of Yemayá dance around the room with a pail of clear water, I felt the intensity in the room lessen.

  Even before the tambor ended, the practitioners began to discuss the advice of the orishas, interpreting how they would apply Obatalá’s warnings to their lives. Yemayá’s daughter continued her circular dance with the pail of cool water as she worked her way to the door, cleansing the environment. When she threw the water into the street, the other practitioners cleared the way, not wanting to be splashed with the negative energy that Yemayá had gathered in the bucket of water. Once the water splashed onto the sidewalk, everyone relaxed and turned their attention to their hunger.

  Although others lingered, Zenaida suggested that we return to the apartment to wait for Elpidio. Walking into the cool evening breeze, we felt invigorated. Zenaida was delighted; Obatalá had spoken to her, and she vowed to obey his instructions. Overwhelmed by his affirmation, she rejoiced in the knowledge that she would eventually have a large religious family. “My daughter, do you realize that I’ve never met the dancer who was possessed by Obatalá? There was no way he could have known that you are my goddaughter.” Shaking her head, she chattered on about the power of the orisha. “We must believe; we must believe,”she kept repeating as we walked to her apartment.

  Elpidio was already waiting for us when we arrived. Anxious to get to Javier’s initiation site, he seemed agitated. Tired of waiting for Zenaida to bring food, he was munching on an old piece of bread. Zenaida quickly opened her bag, filled with an assortment of food from the ceremony, and spread it out on the table. Realizing that this was his only meal for the day, she encouraged him to eat. Planning to stay at the initiation site for the evening, he packed clothing while he intermittently took bites of food.

  “The ceremony ends in three days, and there is much to do,” he said absentmindedly as he picked at the food. Zenaida quickly joined in, reminding him to make time for my divination session. Since two babalawos were coming to the apartment, she concluded that the session should take place as soon as they arrived. Elpidio then finished his meal and went into the living room to prepare. Smiling at no one in particular, he commented, “The work of orisha is never done.”

  When his godsons Chino and Eddie arrived, Elpidio instructed them to complete setting up the consultation area. When they finished, they called Zenaida and me into the room. Elpidio and his godsons were dressed in white. On their heads were yellow and green caps, the colors of Orula. Elpidio, sitting on a straw mat on the floor, was flanked on either side by his godsons. His legs surrounded the opon Ifá, which was covered with a fine dust of pounded yam, yefa, aché of Orula. Elpidio held a deer horn in his hand, an idrofa, that he used to tap on the board as he said his sacred prayers.

  I was instructed to sit on a low wooden stool before him, and Zenaida covered my knees with a white towel. Then I placed my bare feet on the straw mat. Elpidio proceeded to guide me through the steps of the session, explaining that I was to let my breath and thoughts fuse with my energy once he gave me the objects I was to hold. In preparation for the session, Elpidio poured libation on the space, thereby sanctifying it. Holding a small gourd filled with cold water in his left hand, he put his right index finger into the water and let a few drops fall to the floor. Then he prayed to the ancestors, calling the names of his blood and religious family.

  He placed a small stone and tiny bone in my hands and asked me to shake them as he gathered the ikins in his hands. Elpidio gathered the sixteen ikins, which represented the major odu symbols, and, after manipulating them between his hands, he asked that I shake the small rock and bone again in my hands. Then he asked that I separate my hands, making certain that I had one of the objects in each hand. He asked that I repeat the process each time he shook the ikins. Sometimes he asked for my right hand other times for my left, depending on the odu pattern that determined which hand he should select. The stone represented positive energy while the bone represented negative energy. A pattern developed in the dust that defined the symbol that would begin to explain my destiny. Finally the process ended, and the three babalawos started reading the sign that had emerged on the board.

  Elpidio cautioned me before he started reading the odu. “Orula tells you what you need to know, not necessarily what you want to hear.” Pausing for a moment, he continued, “Sometimes people have a problem that they think is important. But since Orula sees everything, he will address the problem that he deems crucial to your life.” Apprehensive, I listened, wondering what he would say. “My daughter,” Elpidio began, “Orula says that you were born into this religion. You have a long family history of practitioners. Did you know this?” I responded that this information was beginning to surface in my dreams.

  Elpidio continued, “Orula says that you have had many problems with your family. Don’t worry. Your family’s problems will be solved. Orula says you will be very successful. He is not talking about money. He says your future success is directly tied to understanding and learning about the religion. Orula is telling you that you will be respected because of the important work you will achieve in spreading information on this religion. Respect is something that money cannot buy, and this is why it is important. In fact, Orula says that you will travel internationally, spreading the word of Santería. Orula states that it is necessary that you initiate for your health, and for the stability of your family and your future.” Elpidio provided details that were impossible for anyone to know. He spoke about my failed marriage. My growing interest in African culture. The need for me to research my family’s history. I was surprised and startled by the accuracy of the information he revealed about my family, friends, and my personal life. Orula talked about the organization I had recently created, the Caribbean Cultural Center. Orula said that this organization would grow into an international institution. This was hard for me to believe, given that our budget was so small that we had a staff of only two, a secretary and myself.

  “This odu states that you have spiritual gifts that must be developed for your own heal
th. Like your godmother, you will be an espiritista and a santera. You must learn and practice both systems. Godchildren will come to your door, and you cannot turn them away, because you will lose your aché. It is important for you to begin this process as soon as possible because eventually you will have many godchildren,” he explained. Surprised at Orula’s prediction, I frowned and looked inquisitively at Elpidio.

  Although I did not want to offend him, I asked questions to clarify my understanding of Orula’s predictions. How could I spread the teachings of Santería when I knew nothing? Patiently, my padrino explained that time would confirm the words of Orula. Elpidio and his godsons said that they had spoken the words of Orula. Then I asked about my work.

  “The center is a small organization with little money; we cannot assume the cost of international work,” I said.

  They all agreed that Orula never makes a mistake. Padrino added that I should write down all that was said to me. He wanted me to remember word for word what had been divined. “A few years from now, you will come to Orula and thank him for the words that have been said to you today,” Elpidio prophesied. “Orula has spoken. It is by your initiation that your aché will grow and bring your success,” Elpidio said as he began to gather the ikins. I tried to hide my disappointment as the session ended. However, my spiritual awakening of the past week made it clear to me that I should begin my involvement in Santería.

  Surrounded by spiritual energy, I asked if it was possible to receive my elekes, Kofa, guerreros, and Olokun before I left Cuba. Both Zenaida and Elpidio agreed that if it was my desire to follow Orula’s words, they would prepare the ceremonies enabling me to begin the first stages of initiation.

  The following day Zenaida arranged for Virginia, her godmother, and Justina to be part of the ceremony that would place the sacred beads around my neck. They prepared my spiritual bath, and the rogation for my head, rogación de cabeza, and then completed the ceremony before Zenaida’s shrine for Obatalá. My old clothing was torn from my body, and I was given a spiritual cleansing bath. Dressed in completely white clothing, we went before Zenaida’s orisha altar. The placing of the elekes was a private ceremony, which included my madrina, Virginia, and her godsister and godmother.

  As I knelt before my godmother, each necklace with the colors of the orishas was placed carefully by the three santeras. Each eleke was handed to Zenaida by her godmother, and she placed it on my outstretched hands, explaining the colors and powers of the orisha.

  This ceremony helped me understand the importance of the ancestral legacy of Santería. When Zenaida assumed the responsibility of being my godmother, Zenaida’s godmother became my grandmother in the religion. As the protective powers of each eleke touched my neck, the memory of the beads that surrounded my abuela’s neck filled my thoughts. I relished the spiritual comfort that now I, too, was protected by the elekes of Ochun, Yemayá, Shangó, Ellegua, and Obatalá.

  Elpidio and his godsons moved quickly to prepare the sacred symbols of the warriors. They planned that the following evening I would receive the warrior orishas. Then the receiving of Orisha Olokun and my Kofa were planned for the end of the week. My Olokun, a road of Yemayá, would be born from Zenaida’s Olokun. My godmother explained that Olokun is the orisha that brings health to the initiate. Elpidio made it clear that my Kofa, the facet of Orula that females receive from a babalawo, would be born at Javier’s Ifá initiation ceremony. He added, “Javier’s Orula will be born from my Orula at the same time yours is born.” Explaining the importance of receiving Kofa, he noted that the oracle orisha holds women in high regard and actively protects them. He added that receiving Kofa required an added divination session that would determine which one of the odus would guide my life. Elpidio added, “Once you receive Kofa you will know what saves and what harms you. Also we will know the orisha that claims you.”

  These introductory ceremonies were the first steps of my growth into Santería. My godparents were my mentors and guides into the sacred world of the orishas. The relationship that unites the novice, godparents, and spirits begins with these ceremonies.

  When Elpidio and his godsons presented me with the guerreros, they explained that increasingly I would notice a growing stability in my life, that the warriors would help me center my thoughts and, therefore, my direction in life. Also the warriors would protect my home from negative energy. As I held the implements of the orishas in my hands, childhood memories once again emerged. I remembered my grandmother’s apartment with love and a newfound understanding of the sacred beliefs she practiced. I could feel her presence enjoying the moment alongside me.

  When Elpidio divined for me the second time, he teasingly asked if I wanted him to identify the orisha who would claim me. I agreed, curious to know if the messages in my dreams conveyed by my spirits were correct. Elpidio asked me to concentrate silently and name the orisha who would claim me. Then he turned to Zenaida and asked her to call out the name of the orisha she thought would call for me.

  I felt my heart pounding as my dreams filtered through my thoughts. The image of my abuela appeared before me, tenderly transmitting her love. I felt a soft breeze waft across my body as the fragrance of Maderas de Oriente filled the air. My mother was also present. Growing light-headed, I began to hear the rhythms of the batá drums echoing distantly in my mind. My inner voice spoke.

  Next I heard the snapping sound of the divining chain moving in Elpidio’s hands. When I looked at the chain, it seemed as if it were moving in slow motion, as if suspended in midair, deciding in which pattern it would fall. Elpidio looked at the pattern and asked for my right hand. I held my breath as my hand slowly opened. The small stone was comfortably nestled in the palm of my hand.

  Elpidio was overjoyed and Zenaida jumped excitedly out of her seat laughing. “My first child will have the same orisha as her godmother and godfather.”

  Obatalá had claimed me. I was elated, for here, at last, was the confirmation I sought. Elpidio, glancing at his notes, indicated that Orula had more to say. Concerned with the late hour, he explained that it was best to discuss the reading in full the following morning. As I was very tired myself, I quickly agreed.

  “Do you have any pressing questions, my child?” Elpidio asked before closing the session.

  A Message from My Godparents

  My godparents explained that each and every one of us has the orisha Orí. We all have a destiny. Practitioners seek to enhance the positive energy of Orí by periodically having a rogación. The rogación includes grated coconut, powered eggshells, cocoa butter, and cotton. All these objects are the spiritually cooling color of white, sacred to Obatalá. The mixture is ceremonially placed on the energy points of the body, which include the top of the head, front and back of the neck, arm creases, knees, and feet. The priest who is performing the ceremony then divines with obi in order to determine if the Orí has positively accepted the rogación, which is designed to attract cool, positive energy. This ceremony brings peace, which allows the practitioner to perform his or her daily functions without turmoil. For noninitiates, my godparents recommend periodically taking a spiritual bath with cocoa butter, milk, powered eggshells, a favorite perfume, and petals of white flowers. They also recommend using coconut shampoo or coconut oil in one’s hair following a spiritual bath.

  One morning, the orisha Ochosi, the hunter, set out early to go hunting. When he went into the forest, the foliage was so dense it took him a long time to reach the clearing where he could hunt animals. By the time he got to the clearing, the animals had left. In days that followed, no matter when he set out, he was unable to get through the forest in time to catch his prey. So he went to Orula, the oracle orisha of divination, to ask for help. Orula divined and told Ochosi to make an ebó, a sacrifice, with a plant at the entrance to the forest.

  In another part of the forest, the orisha Oggun, the god of iron, was clearing a path through the trees. He was also trying to hunt for his food. He, too, was unsuccessful, because by
the time he got to the clearing where the animals grazed, they had left.

  He then decided to consult with Orula. Orula told Oggun to make an ebó at the edge of the forest with a plant, assuring him that his problem would be resolved.

  The next day, when Oggun was clearing a path, he came upon Ochosi. They started fighting, each claiming the spot in the forest as his own.

  But then along came Ellegua, inquiring why they were fighting. Ochosi shouted furiously that Oggun was interfering with his hunting. Oggun argued that Ochosi was the one interfering. Ellegua then asked how many animals they had captured. Both shrugged and said, “None.” Ellegua wisely advised them to work together—Oggun could clear the path and Ochosi could use his bow and arrow to capture their prey. Oggun and Ochosi followed Ellegua’s suggestion; as a result, they caught many animals, which they shared with the people of their villages.

  While Doña Rosa busied herself organizing the plates on the kitchen table, she paused and said, “Marta, soon you will start another branch of our religious family. Being a madrina is an important responsibility and must be taken seriously. Your godchildren will come seeking advice, information, and solutions to their problems; you must be prepared to share your knowledge with a pure heart, always making certain you have no hidden motives. When we try to fool others, we are only fooling ourselves. The unselfish guidance you have received from your godparents is an example you should follow. It is important to nurture a loving unified family.” It was a lesson I had learned from my own godparents, over eighteen years before on my first trip to Cuba.

  The evening of the ninth day of my first trip to Cuba, I stayed in Zenaida and Elpidio’s apartment once again. I was so energized by the day’s activities, sleep would not come to me, no matter how many incense sticks and candles I burned into the night. Writing about the day’s events in my journal, I connected the messages of Orula and my dream. My spiritual path was unfolding before me. I knew now there was no turning back.