The Altar of My Soul

by Marta Moreno Vega

  Elpidio left to complete a series of last-minute errands for Zenaida, as she carefully explained the importance of the misa before we began. “In some religious houses they do not hold a misa for the initiates. In our house we do. In this way, you are protected by both the spirits, who are closer to Earth, and the orishas, who live in the higher levels of heaven. This is the way it should be,”she explained as she placed nine chairs in a semicircle around her bóveda.

  Once the ceremony began, she placed another chair in the center, where I was asked to sit among the elders. Zenaida brought a white enameled bowl filled with water and placed it before the bóveda. She poured Florida water, petals of tuberoses, red roses, and cascarilla into the bowl, as the mediums and I spoke of my initiation. They took great pleasure in sharing the importance of being a child of an orisha. Ma Mina, the eldest, reminded me that during my first visit to Cuba she predicted that I would initiate. She laughed, claiming that the spirits and orishas work in mysterious ways.

  Zenaida then lit a white candle and placed burning sandalwood incense on the ancestor table. Lighting a cigar, she blew a cloud of smoke over Mama Chola, the small doll placed on the altar that represented Zenaida’s primary guardian spirit. Dressed in a bright yellow and white dress, the doll was sitting on a small wooden chair and looked out at us with a shy grin. Zenaida asked me to stand next to her, then knocked three times on the ancestor table.

  Looking at the image of Mama Chola, and then toward heaven, she prayed, “Mama Chola, my special angel, and my cuadro espiritual, my guardian angels, I come before you to ask, just as my godmother shared her sacred knowledge and spirituality with me, bringing me health, peace of mind, and family stability, that you give me the ability to pass on my spiritual gifts to my goddaughter, Marta Moreno Vega. As my godmother’s hands have brought me sacred blessings, let my hands also pass on divine blessings.”

  In the tranquillity of the morning, the light of the candle seemed to jump higher; the fragrance of the tuberoses and incense grew stronger, as the aura of the room became spiritually charged. We stood before the bóveda in silence, receiving a sanctified clarity that let us know the words of Zenaida had been accepted by her spirits. The atmosphere in the room changed as it was touched by spirit energy. Again, I sat, meditating and waiting for the misa to begin.

  Ma Mina, fidgeting in her chair, said in her amusing, fragile voice, “Imagine, this young woman coming from so far to receive orisha in Cuba. I’m so proud that our religion is touching the lives of teachers, lawyers, government officials, and the common people. Orisha is for people from all walks of life; neither their class nor money matter. The spread of the religion will change the public’s misconception that this religion is for the illiterate. This religion is for everyone.”

  All nodded in agreement, commenting that divine knowledge and power are available to all who knock on the door of the divinities’ sacred houses. The head medium, Doña Melissa, sat with Zenaida near the bóveda, facing the center chair where I was seated. Slowly rocking back and forth as if she were sitting in her rocking chair, Doña Melissa said, “There is nothing more important in life than to have the spirits and orishas with you. When you walk with the divine, you know that your life is forever blessed.”

  One by one the mediums slowly walked to the bóveda and cleansed themselves. I was the last one to go before the bóveda, then I returned to my chair. Doña Melissa lit her cigar, gently blowing a cloud of bluish smoke into the room. Concentrating, she remained silently swaying. In a gradual, smooth whisper she began to recite the prayers that would attract my spirits to the misa.

  “Our Father who art in heaven …”Her voice filled the room with a gentle murmur, as the other mediums joined in with their hypnotic, soothing voices. As veterans of many misas, they had all memorized the long prayers. I sat in the center, and the gathering’s energy wrapped me in a warm blanket of words and songs as the spirits began to appear. At the beginning of the session, Doña Melissa implored the good spirits to instruct the gathering, to deflect selfishness, pride, and jealousy. She asked those mediums present to have clear hearts and humility in order to attract the positive spirits. She then asked that any medium who had not come to share holy teachings leave the gathering, for our spiritual guides would not permit people of ill will to remain.

  Doña Melissa implored the spirits of goodwill to visit, to open our minds with good intentions. Then she asked that my spirits acknowledge that this misa was in their honor to inform them of my impending Santería initiation. She asked that they visit the misa, identifying themselves as the guardian angels in charge of guiding, teaching, and protecting me along my spiritual journey.

  As Doña Melissa continued the prayers in her peaceful voice, Zenaida began to sway back and forth in a gentle flowing motion. Zenaida’s eyes closed as her swaying picked up momentum. Suddenly, she paused and slowly opened her eyes wide. She had a faraway gaze that signaled the presence of a spirit. “Good day, if it is day; good evening, if it is evening,” the spirit said in a melodious high-pitched voice as she stood up to greet the gathering.

  Doña Melissa returned the salutation, welcoming the spirit to the humble meeting. She then asked, “Please let us know your name, Good Spirit.”

  The spirit turned to Doña Melissa and said lovingly, “Vieja, old woman, I am Mama Chola, the guardian angel of Zenaida. I’ve come to bless my daughter and all the mediums gathered. Tell her not to worry, that the ceremony will be successful.”

  Turning to me, the spirit welcomed me to the family. She smiled warmly and continued her dancelike motion. “Don’t be frightened, my child; you are loved. As I protect your godmother, I will also protect you,” said Mama Chola, and her glazed stare reached into my inner soul.

  Leaving almost as quickly as she appeared, Mama Chola said her task was done. She wanted to assure my godmother that the ceremony would proceed without interruption. Zenaida swayed back and forth until she gradually slowed down and then settled back into her seat as the spirit left her body. She returned to the session as if nothing had happened and continued to pray.

  Then, on my right side, groaning sounds began to build up gradually in the body of Ma Estela. I felt a shiver climbing up my spine as her voice rose and the presence of the emerging spirit filled the room. Simultaneously, on my left side, I heard coming from Doña Bárbara a heaving sound, which soon exploded into a loud shout.

  Both spirits emerged at almost the same time, surrounding me with their energy. Walking around me, they looked in my direction, smiling, with familiar love in their eyes. Although we could not touch, their comforting vibrations encircled me before they spoke. In the presence of my elders and mentors, I felt protected and safe. I was prepared to meet my spiritual guides and guardians.

  My grandmother was the first to speak, through the medium Ma Estela. Walking with the halting small steps of age, chewing tobacco as my grandmother once had done, the spirit faced me with a wide grin. “Mi negrita, my little black one, finally you come to me,” she said as she continued to walk with her slow, halting steps. Then the spirit removed the scarf from Ma Estela’s head and retied it in the same fashion my grandmother once had. She was looking at me as she performed this task, and the glazed twinkle in her eyes revealed my grandmother’s spirit.

  Doña Bárbara, also in trance, came to her side and intertwined her arm with my grandmother’s arm, leaning heavily for support. Immediately, the dream with my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother came to mind. I knew then that the spirit of my great-grandmother was present in the room. With her bent finger she made imaginary markings on her face. Unable to move, I watched my dreams come to life. “I am María de la O. Blessings to all the mediums present, and thank you for bringing me here.” Turning to me, she said in a whisper, “Daughter, I am always with you, do not despair. Although many of us have left you, we are with you in spirit.”

  I remembered the feeling of increasing loneliness, and how much I missed my mother and grandmother and my
other family members. Not wanting to share this feeling of loss with anyone, I had felt a sense of despair growing within me. Her words reached deep into my soul and started a fountain of tears rolling down my face. When I tried to stop crying, the tears only came faster.

  Then I heard another familiar voice, “Thank you, my daughter, for completing the spiritual journey for our family.” It was my mother speaking through the body of Doña Melissa. As she moved from the chair to join the other spirits, her right hand lightly rubbed the left side of her chest.

  Before me stood a re-creation of my dreams. Slowly, they formed a circle and danced together. When they finished, they opened the circle and welcomed me in. And it was at that moment that my inner spirit took flight, leaving my body. I was transported into another reality, joining my maternal spirit guides in their sacred circle. As their spirits began to fade, they gave me their blessings. When I regained consciousness, I was still seated on the chair. I was elated that my spirit mothers had appeared. Not having shared this particular dream with anyone, it was a confirmation, a prueba, of the existence of my spirits.

  Looking around, I saw that the mediums had also returned to their own bodies and were softly reciting their prayers. My feelings of despair had disappeared, healed by the mystical powers of my ancestors. The inner feeling of weakness had been replaced by strength and the power of spiritual elation.

  Then the mediums began to identify the spirits they saw standing next to me. Ma Mina looked to the side of me and asked, “Do you have knowledge of a large, strong, black woman dressed in red and white? She wears a red scarf around her head; her long red dress has a large white collar.” “Yes,” I responded. “She is standing next to you and acknowledges that she is part of your cuadro espiritual. To your other side is a strong, bronze-skinned, Native Indian warrior, wearing a headdress with beautiful plumage, holding a bow and arrow. Do you have knowledge of this spirit?” “Yes.” I nodded.

  Ma Mina then explained again that my guardian angels were making their presence known. Ma Estela, in conversation with Ma Mina, added that there was a messenger of Obatalá standing behind me, who was also one of my guardian angels. “He is tall, covered in shimmering white cloth. He is intelligent, maybe a lawyer or a teacher, a well-educated man who gives her clarity and brings her peace. This spirit advises her to be cautious and think carefully before she makes a decision. He says that she is too impulsive and gets angry too quickly. His presence will always remind her to be ruled by reason and not by impulse,” Ma Estela concluded.

  Surrounded by familiar childhood energies and other spiritual forces, I felt a path opening up for me that would protect and guide me and my family as well. The spirits I had seen on my abuela’s altar were protecting me. The guardian angels were now connected to me and I to them forever. Now I could talk to them.

  Zenaida then confirmed the message of the spirits. With four pieces of coconut she asked for verification that the spirits that came forward were, indeed, my guardian angels. When the obi fell in the Eyife, the affirmative pattern with two white sides and two dark sides facing up, it was clear that the misa was a success. Everyone rejoiced in the visit of the spirits and the feeling of enlightenment they left behind.

  Slowly the mediums stood up, helping to spread a white sheet over my head. Each medium held a section of the sheet, and they danced slowly in a circle around me. Surrounding me, they praised my angels by singing, “En coronación, en coronación bajan los seres, en coronación, en coronación bajan los seres. The spirits come down with the purpose of mounting their initiates, the spirits come down with the purpose of mounting their initiates.”

  As the spirits left, the mystical cloud that had filled the room disappeared. The mediums then recited the final prayers to end the session.

  “ We thank the good spirits who came to communicate with us. We ask them to help us practice the instructions they have given us.” Words were unnecessary at this point as joy radiated in the faces of the mediums. Clearly, they were all pleased and proud to have contributed their sacred skills in the creation of another member of their religious family. The success of the misa brought us all continued blessings. As the mediums left the session, they embraced and blessed me. They let me know that they would be present the next day for the beginning of my initiation rituals.

  Zenaida, buoyant from the success of the misa, started packing the bags of rice, frijoles, garlic, onions, and other food items for the dinners that would be served during the weeklong ceremony. The kitchen looked like a grocery store, filled with overstuffed burlap bags of food. She suggested that I check my suitcase to make certain that my clothing and toiletries were packed for the following day. According to her time schedule, as soon as my sister-in-law Laura arrived, we should be ready to leave the apartment for the country.

  When Elpidio returned home, I expressed my joy to him over the success of my misa, but also my remaining concern that my initiation might bring us serious problems. Rather than cause difficulties, I told them it might be better to delay the initiation until the Cuban government’s policies toward Afro-Cuban religions became more tolerant. In his pensive slow manner Elpidio predicted, “The government will eventually establish a more lenient policy toward Santería and other African religions.”

  And indeed, over the past ten years there has been a resurgence of public celebration of African religions, particularly through the arts sanctioned by the government. The government has even sponsored scholarly conferences and training workshops that promote the diverse African religions of Cuba, and with the lifting of restrictions, the religious community has benefited.

  “There are too many officials high up in the administration who are initiates and practitioners of Santería,” Elpidio explained. “They would have to get rid of more than ninety-nine percent of their officials, and still no one could guarantee that the remaining one percent were not supporters of the religion. It is even rumored that Fidel initiated in Africa and seeks the advice of the orishas.”

  Elpidio firmly believed, and time has proven him right, that the spirits and the orishas could not be stopped. “Can they get rid of the ocean? Will they destroy the Earth? Can they stop breathing? No, my daughter, the orishas cannot be stopped,” he explained as we prepared for the ceremony.

  Elpidio was deep in thought, lost in his own world, as he slowly settled onto the sofa. Finally, as if each word were being pulled out of him, he slowly continued, “It is your orisha that has brought you back to Cuba, and he will protect us. I have consulted with Orula, and we have nothing to fear.”

  While Zenaida and Elpidio planned my ceremonies with extreme watchfulness, neither showed any signs of being frightened or having second thoughts. Their itutu, their cool restraint, lifted them above the fray, above fear. The cultivation of itutu and iwa, exemplary behavior, are the desired qualities of initiates, and I could see them radiating through the actions of my godparents. Watching them move in times of crisis was like viewing a slow-moving motion picture. Rather than be ruled by their anxiety, they were guided by the words of Orula.

  With focused concentration, they moved as one in their own sacred dream space, checking and rechecking their thoughts and actions. They understood the need to follow tradition, as well as the need for flexibility when necessary, to protect the integrity of their ancestral beliefs.

  Usually, the Santería community is informed of a pending initiation. In my case, care was taken not to inform the public until after initiation had taken place. Although my godparents anticipated public criticism, they decided that secrecy was a necessary precaution. Zenaida and Elpidio, with the guidance of the elders, relished the prueba, the test the orishas had placed before them. They saw adversity as a test the spirits and orishas were placing in their path.

  As I watched my godparents, it was clear that they fully functioned within the cycle of divine give and take. Their strength instilled in me a sense of courage as they prepared for my ceremony with utter devotion and love. It was cl
ear that the sacrifices being made for my initiation would have been made for any of their godchildren. At all costs, my padrino and madrina understood that the family had to be protected. That night, I rested peacefully, so tired from all the preparations for the ceremony that I quickly fell fast asleep.

  The next day, the rays of the morning sun peeking through the shutters woke me. In the silence of the morning, I took a bath of tuberoses, Florida water, cascarilla, and Maderas de Oriente perfume to spiritually cleanse myself and to attract positive spiritual energy. Afterward, I put on a light yellow cotton dress and immediately felt an unusual stillness overcome me. It was as if I blended into the morning silence.

  Zenaida was busy in the kitchen collecting the plates, pots, and utensils needed for the ceremony. Casually, she called out, “My goddaughter, don’t wear any makeup. In your first year of initiation, you cannot wear makeup, so you better start getting used to it. Oh, did I tell you that you can’t look into a mirror the first three months?”

  “No, you didn’t,” I said, surprised that she had waited till the last minute to add this detail.

  I quietly walked into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. What is the point of this? I thought as I tried to hold back my anger.

  My hands, like an artist’s paintbrush, carefully moved over my eyebrows, nose, mouth, and cheeks as I drew a mental picture of myself. In the mirror, I saw reflected the stages of my life. I saw myself as a child, in my abuela’s house hiding behind her skirt, afraid to look at the mural of Saint Michael, the archangel. I felt her hands on my arms as she tried to pull me from behind her. I remembered her letting me hold the fan of the gypsy and how we danced our own style of flamenco. I could hear the clicking of my heels against the linoleum floor when we danced to the orisha music of Celia Cruz.