Monthly Archives: November 2017

Changó’s Thunderstone and Santería Altars

Walking through “Spirited Things” exhibition in the Flemming museum, one object in particular caught my eye. It was a small cylindrical object with rings of red beads and grey putty. As I approached it, I learned it was called the “Beaded Thunderstone for God Changó Macho”. Examining it closely, I noticed how its base was a stone, and that the beads and putty were made around it. Next I looked at how the putty had gems pushed into it, and that there was figure in the center that began on a ring of putty and eclipsed through a band of red beads. This body sat with its legs crossed wearing red and gold pants. It had a small gold garment cloaked around his top, with a green gem on the chest, and a red one on the stomach. Finally, above this figure’s head was a plastic eye, and just above that was small crystal, sticking out of the top of the stone. After observing it, I thought about what its purpose was. More specifically, How is this intricate rock connected to both specific and general aspects of an entire culture? In this essay, I will examine the meaning of the Thunderstone, and how this meaning ties into the African Diaspora.

First of all, the African Diaspora is the culture from the Yoruba people in Africa that has been scattered through the americas predominantly through the slave trade. Along with being forced across the ocean, the Africans were forced to adapt their religion because slave owners wouldn’t allow them to practice it. Each different region of slaves adapted differently, creating a variety beliefs that root from the original Yoruba religion. In the Cuba, Venezuala, and all around Central America, the slaves were forced to adapt, and Santería emerged as their religion. Santería is the fusion between Christianity and the religion of the Yoruba people. The god or orişa Changó is a major god in both the Santería and Yoruba religion. He is the god of lightning and thunder and is very powerful and fierce. In Santería, he was represented as Santa Barbara because she had the same colors as Changó and was thought to be in many ways like the god himself. The Roman Catholic influence on the Yoruba religion through the means of slaves altering the Christian religion to be able to worship their own, is what lead to the popularity of Santería.

Changó Macho is one of the gods in Cuban Santería, along with Oşún, Obatalá and Yemaya. His colors are red and white, and he represents drumming, thunder and masculinity. During his life as a man, Changó was a mediocre king, but after death he achieved many great feats and became an orişa. Along with sharing the same colors, Changó and Santa Barbara share a fierce, tough and determined attitude. These aspects and colors can also be found in the thunderstone, except the symbolism is in the rocks physical properties.(Santeria Church of the Orisha, n.d.)

The first aspect of the Thunderstone that I wanted to look into, was its purpose. I wanted to know what its function was in the life of those who used it. After researching this question, I found that “Changó’s sacred thunderstones are stored in a ‘batea’ (wooden vessel) on top of a ‘pílon’ (upturned mortar)” (Ayorinde 2004, 212). In learning this, I figured out that the Thunderstones were most likely used as holy objects on altars.

In the original Yoruba religion from Africa, altars were set up by individuals to connect with the orişa that the altar is dedicated to. There is no one way to set up an altar according to the religion, but rather each altar contains objects significant to both the orişa and the individual making the altar. The altar by itself does not have any spiritual connection to the gods until it is activated in ritual. The rituals contain song and dance which empowers it with spiritual energy of Ashé, which is believed to flow through all living things in the Yoruba religion. Once the altar has been activated, the practitioner is then spiritually connected to the god and can even communicate with the orişa. During the slave trade, Santería would still have altars, but they would be disguised for Christian saints, but overtime the need to worship in secrecy has been diminished.

Since the thunderstone belonged on an altar, it must have been significant to Changó. With my previous knowledge, I knew that Changó was the god of lightning and that he was huge in war, and manly power. I was curious about why the thunderstone was significant to Changó. Going deeper in research, I found that the thunderstones were significant because it resembled Changó. The thunderstone is symbolic of Changó because its “(a) tough to crack; (b) a rigid frame not easily disintegrated by reality; (c) highly adaptable; (d) and sanctity/morality/truth, or re-affirmed action of the social order”(Lawuyi 1988, 136). Each of these reasons connect the physical aspects of the rock to the characteristics of Changó. For example, the rock itself is tough to crack, but that does not mean Changó is made of steel. Changó’s personality and honor is what does not crack.

Along with the toughness of the rock, the artistic side also has a tremendous connection with Changó. The red beads and the white gems, crystals and cowrie beads are symbolic of his favorite colors. Another aspect of the art is the black and gold figure on the front. This is a representation of the very masculine side of Changó, Changó Macho. The museum describes Changó Macho as, “to have dressed like a women in order to gain access to normal female spaces… The sculptural representations of Changó that are distinctly male are called ‘Changó Macho’”(SABA). The duality in how Changó shows how gender is both important and equal. This is because Changó, one of the most important Cuban Santería orişa, is portrayed equally important as both man and women, not more important as one gender. These aspects of the thunderstone that relate to Changó give an insight to the beliefs of the practitioners and what values of their god is important to them.

The thunderstone is a sacred object used on altar for Changó, because it resembles and is significant of Changó. This is the specific purpose of the thunderstone to the god Changó, but I am also interested in the general purpose of thunderstone as it plays a part in ritual along with the religion. In order to dissect the general purpose of the thunderstone, I examined altars as a whole. As stated previously, the objects on altars are supposed to be significant to the god the altar is devoted to, and the individual. Since practitioner is worshipping the god, what is important to the god should be what is important to the individual. In realizing this, I see now that altars are how the practitioners interpret the gods, and that the objects on the altar represent the values that the practitioner worships in the god.

As I considered this idea, I thought about other places in the religion where notions similar to this one come up. As I looked into it, I saw that the syncretization of Changó shows what values of the god was important to the slaves. Instead of representing Changó as a strong male saint, they chose Santa Barbara. The tough and fierce persona of Santa Barbara along with correlation of personal taste(color preference) show how the saint and the god both represent similar values to those that had to adapt the religion. It is also important to note that the misconceptions of men being greater than women was pretty much non-existent among the Yoruba at the time of the slave trade, because men and women both had equally important roles in the religion(Castillo and Mederos 2007, 151-157). This shows that gender was an important value to the people of both Santería and Yoruba, each gender being just as important as the other.

Through analysing both the general and specific purpose of Changó’s a better understanding of how each part of the religion connects to each other can be drawn out. The altar holds all these items which represent the god to the individual. Collectively, the altar is the is the god in the sense that it has all that values and representations of the orişa, but without life. Then it is up to the individual to bring life into the altar with song and dance, and bring life into the god that they are worshipping.

In conclusion, the purpose of the thunderstone is that it is a sacred object for an altar. By analysing this purpose, so much more information about Changó and Santería can be drawn out. The reason the thunderstone is a sacred object to Changó is because physical properties of the thunderstone represent the spiritual values of Changó. These values are then interpreted by the individual and worshipped in the form of an altar, specific to the practitioner. The accumulation of the symbolic objects along with the activation of the altar bring life to the values, turning the altar into a spiritual form of the god.

Ayorinde, Christine. 2004. “Santería in Cuba: Tradition and Transformation.” In The Yoruba Diaspora in the Atlantic World edited by Toyin Falola and Matt D. Childs, pp. 209-225. Indiana University Press, 2004.

Castillo, Daisy R., and Mederos, Aníbal A. 2007. “Lo femenino y lo masculino en la Regla Congo o Palo Monte”. In Afro-Hispanic Review, Vol. 26, No. 1, African Religions in the New World, pp. 151-157. William Luis, 2007.

Lawuyi, Olatunde B. 1988. “Ogun: Diffusion across Boundaries and Identity Constructions.”African Studies Review Vol. 31, No. 2 (Sep., 1988):pp.127-139, http://www.jstor.org/stable/524422?Search=yes&resultItemClick=true&searchText=((thunderstone)&searchText=AND&searchText=(shango))&searchUri=%2Faction%2FdoBasicSearch%3FQuery%3D%2528%2528thunderstone%2529%2BAND%2B%2528shango%2529%2529&refreqid=search%3A8cc1dc2eadc54a0d174b8cc014501bfb&seq=10#page_scan_tab_contents.

Santeria Church of Orishas. N.d. “Chango.” Accessed November 4, 2017. http://santeriachurch.org/the-orishas/chango/

The Narcissist’s Altar

 

Eli Van Buren

 

Cast to the back and to the side edge of the altar it appeared largely unimpressive standing next to the other, more flashy and colorful objects upon the altar to Yemaya. I think that is why it initially caught my eye. It appeared to be some sort of shell-covered model house, dust covered and a dull gray color from age. I’ve found that for the most part, some of the most discrete things turn out to be the most interesting. Naturally, I had to get closer to this dusty old box and as I did I realized it was quite a bit larger than I had first thought, about fourteen inches in diameter. It was almost totally covered in cowrie shells with a curious bird figure perched at the object’s crown. This was an Ile Ori, or House of the Head, a personal shrine dedicated to one’s own spiritual essence, individuality, and chosen destiny.

Ile Ori are hollow containers, usually with a cylindrical base and a conical lid. The Ile Ori wears scales of cowrie shells (an ancient currency among Yoruba peoples) which are symbols of great importance. The shells represent a triple meaning, as traditional currency they symbolize the riches of one’s good character; the overlaying cowrie shells allude to the feathers of a white bird; and the color of the shells, white, is the color of purity of character: iwa (Thompson 11). Commonly Ile Ori will even have a sculpture of a bird at the container’s apex. This bird is the eiye ororo or “bird of the head”

It is the bird which, according to the Yoruba, God places in the head of man or woman at birth as the emblem of the mind. The image of the descent of the bird of mind fuses with the image of the coming down of God’s ashe[spiritual essence that which embodies all things] in feathered form.

Thompson, 11

Moving on from the eiye ororo to other aspects of the lid, this particular Ile Ori has panels of alternating canvas, leather, and mirrors. Paired with the Ile Ori being specific to only one person, the mirror panels on two of the lid’s sides compound themes of individuality. Other materials were included in making the Ile Ori. Possibly the person’s placenta in addition to certain symbolic materials, such as clay, stone, or water (Drewal, Pemberton, Abiodun, 27). Some objects represent different gods or oriṣa, depending on which oriṣa the person worshiped those materials would go into making the Ile Ori. Symbols appear to be an ongoing theme in Ile Ori and even the shape of the lid itself is of great importance. The cone has long been a symbol of humans and their place in the universe (Drewal, Pemberton, Abiodun, 27).

Despite commonplace first appearances, this object has a hidden symbolism that transcends time to still be relevant today. Thinking of the Ile Ori as a personal altar will help understand exactly what the Ile Ori is. There is a common western idea of altars being entirely a raised platform upon which holy objects are placed. In understanding the Ile Ori, the concept of altars will expand to something greater. The Yoruba use altars in many things, and their altars come in many shapes and sizes. The Ile Ori is one such example, as the altar to oneself, celebrating individuality.

 

How can I begin to describe Ile Ori, the House of the Head, without first explaining the meaning of the head within a Yoruba context? Yoruba peoples, and those following Yoruba traditions, believe that one has two heads: an outer spiritual head (Ori Ode), and an inner spiritual head (Ori Inu). One’s outer head is physical, it was created with the body at birth. One’s inner spiritual head is much more complex, it contains a person’s iwa: their good (or in some cases bad) character, as well as the destiny they chose in heaven before descending to Aye: the world of the living (Thompson 11). The ori inu is also the site of one’s aṣe/ashe or life force. It is for this reason the Yoruba believe that inner qualities have a direct impact on the outer ones. This concept has been compared to a smoky flame: no matter how beautiful the smoke, inner ugliness will burn through, and vice versa (Thompson 11). In worshiping the head, heavy values are placed on one’s character. As an altar the Ile Ori functions differently in how it has a highly individualistic focus (Drewal, Pemberton, Abiodun, 27). Centering around one person, each Ile Ori is only the shrine to one Ori.

There is no direct english translation for the word Ori. Ori can mean ‘head’, but it also means ‘destiny’, the two are interchangeable. The Yoruba have a strong belief in the concept of predestination and there are many words it is known by (Thompson 11). Though no matter the word used to describe predestination, it always comes back to be associated with Ori (Abimbola 115). People will visit a babalawo (diviner/fortune teller) to understand their chosen path in life through consulting their Ori and determine what it wishes of them. This practice is so universal that even the gods themselves have Ori guiding day-to-day life and will consult them from time to time for the same purpose (Abimbola 115). While the Yoruba believe in predestiny they also believe that each and every person chose that destiny. If someone is unsuccessful in life, it is largely due to the fact that they chose a poor head in heaven. So the head is a peculiar symbol of both free choice and predeterminism. The Yoruba even have proverbs describing the concept of Ori in this context:

Eni t’o gbon,

Ori e l’o ni o gbon.

Eeyan ti o gbon,

Orii re l’o ni o go j’usu lo

 

He who is wise,

Is made wise by his Ori.

He who is not wise,

Is made more foolish than a piece of yam by his Ori.

(Abimbola 114)

This sheds some light on how much impact Ori has on an individual. One of the worst insults one can be called is oloriburuku, which translates to “owner of a bad head”. To be called this is so offensive I probably should not have included it in this essay. It basically means that the offended is going nowhere in life and they chose to live a life of absolutely no worth. With such significance placed on symbols of the head, it really is no wonder this culture constructs altars dedicated to them. The Ile Ori is a way of prayer to appease their personal spirits as well as connecting with one’s inner spiritual self and their destiny (Drewal, Pemberton, Abiodun, 27).

Nothing on or in an Ile Ori is there for no reason. Think about a modern western conception of an altar, each object or color has its specific symbolism or meaning. The Ile Ori is an altar, a shrine to a god named Ori. Ori is the god of the self. In some ways, Ori is the most important deity in the Yoruba pantheon (Abimbola 114) for it is respected as a personal god, and owned by a single person. Each person’s Ori belongs to them and it is understood that they will be more interested in personal affairs than the other gods, who are owned by all people (Abimbola 114). In worshiping their Ori people will place objects within the Ile Ori in order to please their Ori. It is in this manner the Ile Ori is given life, it becomes an aṣe-infused object with a very active role in a person’s life.

Opposed to other Yoruba, Vodou, Santeria, or Christian altars where everything is clearly visible and open to all people, the Ile Ori is a private altar. It is very unique and personal to a single individual, and so it is an altar closed to the prying eyes of others. Objects are placed inside the altar instead of upon it. The object placed within is called iponri. Iponri is a vital figure containing elements of one’s ancestor spirits, potential restrictions in life, and the oriṣa. This iponri is “everything that plays a significant role in the life of the person.” (Drewal, Pemberton, Abiodun, 27) This proposes a new definition of what an altar is. Objects and offerings are placed within, not only to appease their Ori, but to improve their own destiny. A Yoruba proverb speaks of the constant human struggle on earth, stating that most humans chose poor Ori, poor destinies, in heaven. Through life people struggle to achieve the impossible goal of improving their predetermined bad destiny (Abimbola 146).

As a personal shrine, the Ile Ori challenges what I previously thought of as classified as an altar. Altars need not be dedicated to gods, oriṣa or spirits. The Ile Ori has shown me worship is dynamic and unconfined to being directed towards higher beings. As an altar, this object channels aṣe/energy towards the self. It beautifully balances self-love with self-improvement within a spiritual symbol. The Ile Ori tells us to purge bad character yet still appreciate yourself, to be happy with you lot in life yet still work to improve it. Through studying this Ile Ori my concept of altars has expanded. As an altar so centralized around individuality, it is very different than other altars, which have the effect of bringing people together. The Ile Ori introduces a rarely seen, yet vastly important, spiritual form; that of self worship.

 

“Òwèrè là ńjà”: we are only struggling

Abimbola 146

 

Drewal, Pemberton & Abiodun, The Yoruba World. Harry N. Abrams, Inc., Publishers, New

York, (date needed), pp. 26-33

 

Abimbola, ‘Wande Ifa: An Exposition of Ifa Literary Corpus. Oxford University Press Nigeria,

Ibadan, 1976, pp. 113-147

 

Thompson, Robert F., Flash of the Spirit. Random House, Inc., New York, 1983, pp. 11

 

Scepter for Hevioso

Seth Epling

The object was stuck in a falling state, suspended in mid air.  A weapon among an altars, a scepter surrounded by crowns. I wanted to know why there was such a violent looking object in a place where everything else is full of color and life. The scepter does not stand out. It has little color and small designs that are worn away. The handle is a simple, wooden staff. The kind of wood that if you held it, it would give you splinters. There are three brass segments on staff. Above the one at the top, there is a catlike creature. It is a very interesting creature with a big cat body and long ears or horns. The shadow this creature cast upon the wall intrigued me and prompted me to chose this object. Right before the axe head, two horns protrude out of the wood. There is the blade that is made of metal with a tidal wave design throughout the edge. There are two metal pieces that hold down the blade, an S shaped piece and a spring piece. The last thing on the scepter is a flower with 6 petals right below the horns. On every other petal there are bumps that seem to make a simple pattern. Why is this deadly object in a place of surrounded by objects of worship? This question even relates to the scepter itself. The flower on the staff begs the same question. I wanted to learn everything about this scepter and the god it represented, Hevioso. Contrary to its looks, it is not a weapon, it a tool used for religious and political festivals. Why use a violent looking object to demonstrate religious and political power. The answer lies in the god Hevioso. As a hot god, Hevioso does things quickly and people who have him as a deity are usually in power. This leads me to argue that this scepter was used to show power over the king’

 

s followers. In the rest of the paper, I will first explain how ase (às̩e̩ or ashe) plays an important part in understanding this object. Then I will explain the cat creature on top of the staff and the significance it has towards the scepter. I will then give background on the implications of ase, Hevioso and how King Glele praises Hevioso and basic information on vodou and Yoruba tradition. Next, I will talk about a king who was represented by the same god, Hevioso, King Glele and will then show how the scepter would be used in a festival based on first hand basis of people who research the religion.  

For any object in the religion of vodou to have any significance, it needs to have ase. Ase is a word that most closely means it has power and meaning. According to Professor Abiodun, a Black Studies professor at Amherst college, for any object to have ase, it needs be be activated and be in context. An object has to be active in order for the real meaning to be found. Activation means that there is a deity that is apart of the object. This deity gives the object power and context. I use context because art and parts of festivals can not be taken out. There are no art exhibits in the yoruba and haitian land because those people are living in parallel with their art. What we would put on display they use in their everyday life and it has way more meaning with them using it. This is one reason why looking at this scepter as it is hard to understand. It is being taken out of the ritual which it was crucial in.

Ase would be present in the scepter as a whole but many of the small parts also would have contained ase. One of the smaller parts that would have had lots of ase was the creature. The cat creature on the scepter is a symbol for both the king and Hevioso. In the picture of the Nesuhwe shrine house in Abomey from the book Asen, Ancestors, and Vodun there are two animals. There is a lion with a name above that say “Glele” and on the right side, there is an animal for “Ghezo”. Ghezo is the predecessor to Glele and his father. King Glele will be discussed later in much more depth. This animal is thought to be a buffalo because one part of his symbol is a buffalo, according to the new world encyclopedia. These two animals have something in common. They both have incredible brute strength, are insanely fast, and are fear in the animal kingdom and by humans. This is important later when I discuss Hevioso.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by E. Bay

In what is now the country of Benin, there was a kingdom named the Dahomey kingdom which ruled for around 300 years from 1600s-1900s. This kingdom was ruled by many kings who passed along their status to their children. The main religion was Vodou, a religion based of the following of spirits. Some of these spirits are ancestral, but every person has a deity that guides their journey. This is very similar to the religion of Yoruba, many of the gods between these two religions have the same duties but have different names. Yoruba is a major religion in West Africa, including Nigeria, Benin, and Togo. Yoruba was the precursor to many other religions, including vodou, that now span the world. This fits in the category of diaspora religions, or religions that were spread because the atlantic slave trade.

Every king had their own scepter to show power and royalty. Each scepter also was a symbol for the god that the king represented. One god that many kings represented was Hevioso, the god of thunder for Vodou, whom is similar to Shogun, the god of thunder for Yoruba religion. “Hevioso is associated with the lightning-like gunfire and cannon during battle… Hevioso played an important role in war.” (Blier, 51)..Hevioso is a god that likes to accomplish things quickly and effectively which is why many kings felt empowered by him. Hevioso is considered to be a hot god or petwo which  is misconceived as an angry god. This is a misconception because Hevioso was helpful to the king and did what the king requested but his style of actions was perceived as angry.  Often, Hevioso is represented as a lion or an animal that is both mentally and physically strong because of his pride and his intensity. Hevioso by The 69 Eyes. This is a song where Hevioso is praised. In the song, the beat is made to sound like thunder, there is a lot of bass which emulates the feeling of when thunder rumbles throughout the land. Looking back at the two animals that represented two kings, the lion and buffalo, it is easy to see how they relate to Hevioso. They are both fierce and strong. They both do things that the believe are right for themselves and who they take care of. The kings who felt empowered by the animals and Hevioso wanted and needed to have these traits in order to be a leader for Dahomey.  

King Glele was the king of Dahomey for many years, had Hevioso guiding him. He was a military genius and spent many of years of reigning on the people he conquered. He earned the nickname of “Lion King” and “Lion of Lions” because of his ruling style. Below is a court song about his reign.

“King Glele,

the one who cannot be taken

Lion of lions

The Animal grew teeth

and all the forest trembled

The animal that eats

the other animal with bones

The lion is afraid of no animal” (Blier, 52)

This court song is saying that King Glele is one to be reckoned with. The people did not literally see him as an animal, but they believed the lion was apart of him.  Fon people, the people who follow vodou in Benin, admired him as their superior. He was a fearsome ruler and stayed in power because of the fear he inflicted on people. He would not go around hurting his own people, but because of the vodou religion and the implication of him having Hevioso as his deity, he was able to keep the people below them in their place.

The scepter was an violent looking object and King Glele had a similar procession. He commissioned the making knives of abnormal sizes. According to Adjaho in Bliers writing, the making of the knives is to show great amount of force and that there would always vengeance. These knives made for King Glele and the scepter that I am examining were used in the same festivals and courts. These knives were used to punish criminals, promote and pay court officials, celebrate military victory, display wealth of the royal family, and as a tribute to the royal dead. according to Blier. These weapons were used as a way to show both physical strength and political clout. Also, kings used these armaments to show how much power and money they had as well as to demonstrate the greatness of their armies.

Looking at this object again, it might look quite simple. It is just an axe with simple designs, but it is way more then it seems. Although we do not know what king this specific scepter represented, it is easy to draw connections from King Glele and the vodou tradition to show how and what this scepter was. The axe-like head was a sign of power and ferocity, this king was a strong and frightening. It was used in many festivals, just like the knives, to honor royalty, military victories, and deaths of important figures. It was also used in courts to punish criminals and force the payment of court officials. It is hard to see the significance of this object because it has no ase while in the museum, but it gives enough background and explains enough to understand the impact this scepter had on people. So there is a reason that such a dull, deadly looking weapon is in this museum. It is a work of art. Although it is not as colorful as the other objects it has just enough significance if not more.

Bibliography

Bay, Edna G. Asen, Ancestors, and Vodun. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2008.

 

Blier, Suzanne P. “King Glele of Danhomè, Part One: Divination Portraits of a Lion King and

Man of Iron.” African Art 23, no. 4 (October 1990): 42-53. JSTOR (3336943).

 

Brown, Karen M. Vodou in Haitian Life and Culture. Basingstoke, United Kingdom: Palgrave Macmillan  

Accessed October 30, 2017.

 

“Kingdom of Dahomey.” New World Encyclopedia , Edited by Frank Kaufmann, 11 May 2015,  

www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Kingdom_of_Dahomey.

Syncretism, Hybridity, The African Diaspora, and an Altar Crown For Yemaya

Walking into the Fleming Museum’s Spirited Things: Sacred Arts of the Black Atlantic Exhibit, you’ll see everything from emptied rum bottles that have been transformed with beads and other materials into representations of the gods, to small statues that are meant to control the spirits of the dead allowing them to be used by the living. What caught my attention though was a glimmer a blue from the corner of my eye. Looking to my left there is a glass container containing various objects that are dedicated to the goddess Yemaya, the goddess of the sea who is often perceived as a mother to all, from Cuban Santeriá, or as it is more commonly known in Cuba, as Regla de Ocha, though there were three other objects what draws the eye most is the most delicate. A small crown of silver, comprised of 7 smaller crowns, each of which has two blue gems catching the light that showcases the object draws the eye of the viewer. Silver chains hang from the crown, each with their own unique metal object which represent the goddess or one of her allies, drawing the viewer deeper into the story behind the crown. In this analysis I’m going to describe the meaning of the crown and the various parts that comprise it, and then I’m going to discuss how the crown is a representation of both the African Diasporic religions and how syncretism and hybridity play a role in the creation and the design of the crown as well.

Altar crowns are a central part on many personal altars found in the homes of worshipers. Altars crowns are placed on top of soup tureens, which we learned in class, are decorated to match the orisha being worshipped, in the case of the altar crown that was made for Yemaya, the colors would be blue and white. Within these tureens symbols to the gods or objects that please the gods can be found, making the gods present on the altar. The altars and the objects that are placed on them are embodiments of the gods which means they are given the same respect. This means that the people who worship them wish to provide them with the best and most beautiful objects, and we can see that with the delicate beauty of the altar crown. By making sure that the objects are regularly cleaned and maintained as well as giving them offerings of food and drink they make sure that their gods on the altar are happy and well maintained. This crown specifically, is used on altars of Cuban Santería/Regla de Ocha altars for the goddess Yemaya. Each piece of the crown can clearly be linked back to Yemaya or some other god or goddess of the Santeriá religion. It doesn’t just do this though, the object is able to link Santeriá back to its religious origins in the Yoruba religion with the chains that hang down off the crown. The chains that hang down create a veil, similar to those that are found on the crowns of the African Yoruba monarchs, connecting the current practices to those of its past.

To understand how the crown is made and the reasoning behind each portion of the crown we must first understand the goddess whom the crown is made for. According the the website for the Santeria Church of the Orishas,Yemaya’s most sacred places in nature are those associated with water, the oceans, lakes, and lagoons, the color that represents Yemaya or her caminos (avatars or “roads”, which essentially are different versions of herself) are the colors blue and white, since she is the goddess of the sea. Her sacred number is 7, for her 7 caminos, and representative of the 7 seas. Yemaya influences more than just the sea though, as she is seen and known as a mother to all, she also influences family and women’s issues, pregnancy, children, and she is also associated with healing. Our ability to understand the goddess that the crown is made for will allow us to create the connections to understand the creation of the crown as a whole.

The crown contains many parts that we can link back to the goddess Yemaya, the 7 smaller crowns, 7 blue gems found in between each of the crowns all connect back to her sacred number. As well as this there are 21 chains that hang down from the crown, each of these chains have small silver charm that represents either yemaya or one of her many allies, as well as her sacred number since 21 is a multiple of 7. The key is associated with Elegguá, which according the the website for the Santeria Church of the Orishas, is the god of all roads, cross roads and doors, without his blessings nothing can get done as he allows the prayers of those who practice Santeriá to reach the intended orisha. The horseshoe, the hammer, the hatchet, the sickle and the scythe, the anvil, the sledgehammer, the knife, the saw and the machete all represent Yemaya’s husband Ogún, who is a powerful warrior, who defends those who worship him. The snake represents her other husband Obatalá, who is the eldest and most powerful of all the orisha, he is said to be the father of many of the other orisha and is said to be the owner of all heads, both spiritual and outer. The lightning bolt and the sword represent her son Chango, who is the god of thunder, lightning, and leadership. The 3 quills to represent her daughter-in-law Obba, who is considered to be the goddess of marriage and home, who waits for her husband Chango even though he cheats on her with the other goddesses. The sun, moon, ship’s wheel and the anchor embody Olokun, who is the goddess of the deep sea, some of the same charms are also sometimes associated with Yemaya. The charms that remain represent Yemaya and her own powers.

This object relates directly to the readings that we do in class as it demonstrates both a direct example of how the african diaspora works as is demonstrated throughout the religions as well as demonstrating the theories of hybridity and syncretism in a way that we can look at and see with our own eyes.  To understand though how the object demonstrates how Santeriá is a diasporic religion of how it demonstrates syncretism, we first need to define both of the terms to truly understand and see the connection between the object and these topics.

Diaspora can be defined as a scattered population who originated from one location or as a population that has migrated from one location to another. Diasporic religions though are composed of memories of its place of origins and how it has changed since moving on. I believe the best description of a Diasporic religion though comes from Paul Johnson’s chapter Religions of the African Diaspora when he says, “African diasporic religions are transformed as they are accommodated in new sites and populations” (Johnson, 2013, 516). I think that this is the best definition because it relates to how the religions came over, and how they have changed. These Afro-Caribbean religions were brought over by the slaves taken out of their native countries during the Transatlantic Slave Trade, they brought their religions over, but because they were forced to hide their religion some of the aspects changed, transforming the religion into something new. This is clearly demonstrated in certain aspects of the crown, specifically with the chains that hang down with the small charms, the chains resemble the veil found on the on the African Yoruba monarchs, the classic traditions of the religion showing through despite the oppression of the religion, traditionally the objects that are attached to the chains would be found inside of the soup tureen. As well as the connecting the crown to its Yoruba traditions we can connect the goddess herself back, in Yoruba tradition the oriṣa would be known as Yemọja but she has become Yemaya in Cuban Santeriá through the African Diaspora. This is a demonstration of the african diaspora because there is a clear connection to Santeriá and its Yoruba roots.

Syncretism is the most commonly used word when it comes down to the mixing of different aspects of a religion into one, or when one aspect of a religion is influenced by another religion or culture. Though syncretism is used most commonly used when dealing with topics of religions, the word hybridity is used when dealing with the combination of different organisms, the two words are usually a package deal though, when you hear one, you will most likely hear the other, because they deal with similar topics. In Johnson’s chapter Syncretism and Hybridization, he says “Syncretism and hybridity require ‘worlds’ of parallel entities that can it could be juxtaposed or joined. We don’t usually imagine or posit the creole, hybrid or syncretic possibilities of, say, dogs and plants, or Augustinian theodicy and snow tires, because such entities occupy different worlds.” (Johnson, 2016, 766). This shows us the link between hybridity and syncretism because it explains that to be used the religions, or organisms that they are combining need to be that of the same “world”, which just means that they need to have something in common, in this situation we are talking about religion. The altar crown demonstrates syncretism through how the altar crown for yemaya shares certain aspects with the traditional styles of European crowns. This is a demonstrates of syncretism because of the roles that crowns play in Europe and in aspects of christianity. The crown is a symbol of royalty and the monarchy, this is a shared feature in both altar crowns, as altar crowns also symbolize royalty among the oriṣa, and the European crowns so the integration of European styles in with the traditional Yoruba style of crowns is a demonstration of hybridity. Crowns do more than just represent royalty though, in the Catholic religion it is believed that those who go above average in certain aspects of the religion will receive a crown when they enter in the kingdom of heaven, the crown of righteousness for example,  or the crowns that were worn by the monarchs as they traditionally had a role in the church. This is an example of how the European crowns play a role in the religion which makes the combination of the European styled crown and the Yoruba style crown an example of both hybridity and syncretism.

The altar crown for Yemaya in Cuban Santeriá is a clear demonstration the definitions of syncretism/hybridity and the African Diaspora. Examples that prove this can all be found in the crown and in the reasons behind the various pieces that come together to form the finished product. From the 7 blue gemstones meant to represent Yemaya, to the charms hanging off the chains which represent Yemaya and her allies. The 7 small european looking crowns that bring back the memories of when they had to incorporate catholic traditions into their religion so that they could practice it in secret, and the chains that hang down off the crown connecting it back to the traditional crowns of the religion it was based off of. Each of the aspects of the crown demonstrate how the crown and Santeriá as a whole is a diasporic religion and the aspects that it took in through syncretism.

Bibliography

Matory, J. Lorand. ms. The Fetish Revisited: Marx, Freud, and the Gods Black People Make.

 

Flores-Peña, Ysamur, and Roberta J. Evanchuk. 2011. Santería garments and altars: speaking without a voice. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi.

 

Matory, J. Lorand “Artifacts.” Artifacts | The Sacred Arts of the Black Atlantic. Accessed October 30, 2017. http://sacredart.caaar.duke.edu/artifacts/1283#.

 

“Yemaya.” Santeria Church of the Orishas. Accessed October 30, 2017. http://santeriachurch.org/the-orishas/yemaya/.

 

Johnson, Paul Christopher. 2016. “Syncretism and Hybridization.” In The Oxford Handbook in The Study of Religion. Edited by Michael Stausberg and Steven Engler, 754-69. Oxford University Press.

 

Johnson, Paul Christopher. 2013. “Religions of the African Diaspora.” In A Companion to Diaspora and Transnationalism. Edited by Ato Quayson and Girish Daswani, 509-20. Blackwell Publishing

 

Understanding African Art: Gender Conceptions in the Gelede Mask

 

 

 

The Spirited Things exhibit in the Fleming Museum is a lively display of  altars and artworks from various Caribbean religions. The exhibit is erupting with color, wonder, magic, history, and life. Each piece was curiously unfamiliar to me, some more than others. It was difficult to identify the piece I was most interested in–there were dangling tassels, glittery fabrics, and bright colors at every turn. I was drawn to the Gelede Mask because of it’s quiet, powerful appearance. It contrasted with other objects in the exhibit in that it was not decorated in a particularly eye-catching way–it was composed of primarily earth tones, and its display was  simple and uncomplicated. It was standing alone in a minimalistic glass case, located in a section of the museum dedicated to items related to gender–a topic I take a special interest in. The mask displays a woman’s face, decorated with a snake wrapped around her head, and a warthog and hunter on the back side. This first section of this essay will discuss and raise questions about the gender dynamics within the history of the Gelede mask–while the second section will explore the implications of African art, such as the mask, on display in Western museums, and the limited possibility of translation of meaning between these two cultures.

The gender dynamics at play in the Gelede ritual illustrate the limited, yet paramount role of women in Yoruba rituals. The Gelede mask was created in July of 1983 for use within the Gelede festival in Nigeria–a spectacular ritual that pays homage to the spiritual powers of women. The powers possessed by such women are believed to influence the flow of good and bad events in practitioners’ lives, and can be used for the benefit/destruction of society. These powers are comparable to those of gods, spirits, and ancient ancestors of Yoruba peoples. Women (usually elders) who use their spiritual powers for destructive purposes are deemed witches in Yoruba culture. The Gelede ritual’s aim is to influence the witches to use their powers for good versus evil. Interestingly, men perform this ritual wearing masks that depict the faces of beautiful women, and extravagant dresses and skirts to complete the imitation and performance. In a ritual dedicated to women and their power over society, only men are allowed to participate. Women observe from the sidelines of the ritual, watching and judging the men’s imitation of their own gender. In Men Portraying Women: Representations in African Masks, an article by Elisabeth Cameron, professor of history, art, and visual culture at the University of California Santa Cruz, the woman’s take on the Gelede ritual is perfectly captured:

The mask itself, then, is not the only element in these portrayals: in performance the male dancer imitates the movements of a woman. The young girls and women watch these embodiments of the feminine ideal, understanding that the conduct of the masquerade is what men desire of them. As Manuel Jordan suggests, however, “Women are willing to accept the female model presented to them by men if they agree that it represents them appropriately (Cameron 1998, 72).

Cameron provides helpful insights into the woman’s perspective of the Gelede festival. In a ritual dedicated to the worship of women, not being able to perform it themselves must raise questions as to what the woman’s role in Yoruba ritual really is. Instead of participating, women observe the embodiments of the feminine ideal, as Cameron states, and agree to accept this uneven distribution of power within the ritual if the men’s representation of them seems accurate and fair. Is it not strangely hypocritical to celebrate the power and importance of women within society, without including them in the process? The design of the mask brings about similar questions–the mask depicts a hunter on the back of the woman’s head, as if he was controlling her. The hunter’s placement brings about some questions related to gender relations both in Yoruba culture and in the Gelede festival. Does the hunter also convey the idea that men are ultimately in control of these traditions? If the powers of women are as feared and worshiped as the Gelede ritual ritual suggests, it seems risky to exclude women from such important practices that could affect the wellbeing of Yoruba society as a whole. As seen in the photos attached, this mask is a beautiful and culturally charged piece of artwork–but the Gelede mask also functions as a spiritual altar, due to its use in ritual practice.

Spiritual altars in Yoruba cultures provide ways to call spirits, ancestors, gods, or other symbolic beings (such as witches) to a specific place. Altars are often adorned with beautiful decorations and offerings to various orisha (gods). Most often, altars are long tables or displays full of spiritual objects and vessels, some containing the essence of different orisha. The Gelede mask on display in the Fleming museum does not appear to be an altar in the traditional sense of the word–however, the Gelede mask functions as an active spiritual altar among Yoruba people who practice Gelede tradition. It’s purpose is, indeed, to call upon spirits of witches and attempt to guide or influence what they use their powers for. This type of altar is different than a traditional table altar, in that it is actively used in rituals rather than observed and simply used as a place to leave offerings and extend worship to the different orisha. The Gelede mask can be described as art with a purpose.

All African art is created with the idea that it must have a source of life to hold meaning. In Professor Rowland Abiodun’s book, Yoruba Art and Language: Seeking the African in African Art, he discusses the idea that artworks in Africa need to be ”activated” by some form of energy or life in order for the art to reach its full potential, along with the doubt and skepticism that Westerns have shown towards this idea. Such is the case with the Gelede mask: until it is activated by using it in symbolic rituals, the mask does not hold nearly as much meaning as it would after it’s been infused with life and energy from the Gelede festival. This source of life is called așe, and is used throughout Yoruba culture to describe the life force that is within people, artwork, animals, etc. This idea of aşe does not lend itself easily to straightforward description, translation, and analysis using Western terminologies present in the humanities (Abiodun 2014, 56). Aşe is not something that we, in the West, use to classify and qualify objects and people–however, in Yoruba culture, aşe describes a desirable force that, if present in a person or object, gives divine meaning and essence to said person/object. As the Gelede mask is used and therefore activated in the Gelede festival, its aşe increases as practitioners “breathe” life into the mask by using it in such a way that infuses it with energy from the spirits and witches it calls upon.

It is this concept of așe that creates a cloudy barrier between African art and the Western understanding of it. Abiodun states in his book that “African art was not even considered art with a capital “A” until relatively recent times, mainly because art was defined entirely by modernist Western scholars for whom art was ‘for art’s sake’” (Abiodun 2014, 2). In the West, the idea of așe simply does not exist. As Abiodun stated, art is created “for art’s sake,” with no such energy requirement as așe. This divide between the fundamental ideas of art causes me to wonder if the paramount gender conceptions present in Yoruba cultures that are represented by this mask can be translated in a way that will make sense to Westerners not familiar with the idea of așe. In Yoruba scholar Babatunde Lawal’s book, The Gẹ̀lẹ̀dé Spectacle : Art, Gender, and Social Harmony in an African Culture, the necessity of așe in African art is discussed: “. . . the human image, a masterpiece by Obatala, embodies a special power (așe), inspiring and sustaining the creativity manifest in the visual, performing, and applied arts . . .” (Lawal 1996, 24). Lawal’s comments can be analyzed to infer that it is necessary to maintain the așe in the Gelede mask in order to preserve and translate the conceptions of women’s roles in ritual practice within the Gelede tradition.

The așe of the Gelede mask is vital to the understanding of the tradition itself, along with the complex gender dynamics involved. However, one must question whether așe is now present in the mask at all, as it is currently on display in a glass case in the Fleming museum instead of being used in ritual practice. I believe that the Gelede mask is one of the most interesting items in the Spirited Things exhibit–it carries such complex connotations and ideas related to gender and the dynamics involved in the Gelede festival. It delves into the way women are perceived by both themselves and men, as depicted in the Gelede festival. but unfortunately, I believe that a lot of that is lost without the aşe normally present in the mask. The Gelede mask is a physical representation of the idea that African art must be alive in some way in order to reveal its purpose. This mask, and exhibit as a whole, demonstrates that African art is not created to simply sit in a case and be observed–although in the West, this is the first step to introducing such concepts as aşe to the art world. I believe the lack of understanding of aşe is why Western scholars took/are taking such a long time to validate African art. The idea that art isn’t meant to be still or on display is unfamiliar to these scholars, and unfamiliarity, in many cases, precedes dissent.

 

Bibliography

Abiodun. Yoruba Art and Language: Seeking the African in African Art. Cambridge University Press, 2014.

 

Cameron, Elisabeth L. “Men Portraying Women: Representations in African Masks.” African Arts 31, no. 2 (1998): 72-94. doi:10.2307/3337523.

 

Lawal, Babatunde. The Gẹ̀lẹ̀dé Spectacle : Art, Gender, and Social Harmony in an African Culture / Babatunde Lawal. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1996.

 

Syncretism in Cuban Santeria: The Activation of Obba’s Soup Tureen

Noah Stommel

Obba Soup Tureen

Santeria Birthday Altar

In a corner dedicated to gender representation in Yoruba religion at the Fleming Museum’s Spirited Things exhibit, alone sits a highly decorative Cuban Santeria soup tureen dedicated to the goddess Obba. As the plaque next to the tureen states, legend has it that this Orisha, the goddess of domestic duty and marriage, was tricked by her co-wife to Shango, the Orisha of thunder, to cut off her ear and serve it to him in a stew to win his affection. The soup tureen as an object of worship therefore seems ironically fitting. From an aesthetic standpoint, the tureen appears to be made out of a shiny ceramic material, and is painted bright pink. Both side handles and the single handle on the lid are embellished with gold paint. Strings of threaded golden beads adorn the tureen’s sides, and on opposing sides, as well as around the top handle, cowrie shells are glued to form stars. At the center of the opposing stars lie even more threaded beads.

Cuban Santeria is a religion syncretized between Catholicism brought to Cuba by Spanish colonists, and African-diasporic religion, introduced to the island through the African slave trade (Clark 2001, 21-22). The use of the soup tureen in Santeria has adapted from its origins in West Africa due to the influence of this religious syncretism, which is the fusing of religions to form a new one (Johnson 2016, 760-761). However, through further examination of this tureen, it becomes apparent to me that its use is more so influenced by Yoruba-derived practices than by Catholicism.

The Catholic and Yoruba influences that both play at shaping this object’s purpose and activation methods was part of what captured my interest in this object. I believe that due to cultural mixing on the island of Cuba, there is much to be understood about the true purpose and meaning behind such a soup tureen. Aside from the tureen’s beauty, its lack of ritualistic context in the museum drew me in further. Obba’s tureen was placed closely to the Santeria birthday altar (also pictured), which, as the museum plaque indicates, includes several soup tureens or “soperas” richly decorated with objects made to invoke the presence of other Orisha, or gods, in Yoruba religion. Crucial factors of this altar are varying elevations of the soperas as well as color and the use of other objects with symbolic meaning. Obba’s tureen had a contrasting lack of context. Simply sitting in a display case, I wanted to learn more about the potential for forces to be activated within it, stimulating the presence of Obba, and fulfilling its use as a ritualistic object. In my essay, I will first explain the origins of such an object as seen in West Africa, the homeland of Yoruba religion. Then I will go into depth on how Yoruba religion has combined Catholic traditions to form the practices we see in relation to this object in Cuban Santeria today. Ultimately, I hope to prove that although Catholicism does play a role in Santeria, Yoruba religion continues to be the chief influence in Santeria and the use of that religion’s divining objects.

On their forced journey across the Atlantic, Yoruba people encountered a huge change in setting that required their religion to adapt. This adaptation meant that although much of the basis of the religion stayed the same, certain rituals had to be altered to better fit their new environments. This theory applies to Obba’s soup tureen, not just with the exterior aesthetic, but also with what lies within; consecrated shells or stones “fed” animal blood and herbs (Martin & Luis 2012, 164). The significance of these stones is that they “represent the living presence of the Orisha on the Santeria altar. Like the consecrated host that Catholic doctrine deems the actual body of Christ, these ‘stones’ are the Orisha” (Clark 2001, 37). This parallel seen between Santeria and Catholicism is a prime example of European influence in Cuba. However, while we see Catholicism affecting the contents of the tureen, the overall purpose and idea of spirit activation associated with such an object is still largely a product of Yoruba religion (Bascom 1950, 66-67). In fact, practitioners of Yoruba religion use containers and vessels in their faith as symbols of generosity, respect, and honor to the Orisha (Thompson 1983, 13). Furthermore, it is important to note the orientation of Santeria around African-inspired Orisha (Bascom 1950, 64), and not one central Christian God. The fact that Yoruba customs live on in Santeria, despite competing Catholic contribution, indicates the preservation of native African culture.

Further important to Santeria rituals are palm nuts, cowrie shells, and water. This can therefore account for aspects of the decorum present on the outside of the tureen. These elemental factors, in combination with herbs, blood, and stones breathe a life force, known to Yoruba practitioners as “Ase,” into the tureen, which is necessary both for life and for performing religious rituals (Brown 79). A byproduct of Yoruba religion seen in Santeria is the requirement of Orisha to manifest themselves on Earth in containers or vessels, where they can reside. Human bodies and drums can also serve as a vessel for Orisha habitation (Murphy 2012, 79-80). The color aesthetics of the Orisha’s containers is also highly meaningful in Santeria.

The color scheme of Obba’s soup tureen is explained as being highly dependent on the individual beliefs that Santeria practitioners have on the color preferences of the Orisha themselves. One practitioner explained that for her, “Obba wears yellow and white beads for no other reason than ‘that’s the way I received it’” (Brown 1996, 99). Granted that there are some guidelines to color representation of the Orisha, this is a mentality held greatly by Yoruba practitioners, for whom there is not a particularly dictating religious code of worship that must be followed (Brown 1996, 100). Of course, Christianity also allows for a level of interpretation of religion among its followers, so while the colors representative of Obba are heavily influenced by Yoruba, the basis of individual interpretation could find itself in either religion.

A highly possible explanation for syncretic imbalances associated with Obba’s tureen is that throughout the colonial era, there were many instances of Santeria being oppressed by the dominant European society. This theme is seen “everywhere across the early black Americas [because] covert altars encoded the richness of sacred memory to unite servitors in sustaining faiths” (Thompson 1993, 21). By veiling one’s African-derived religious practices behind a Catholic pretense, Santeria worshippers were able to preserve their rituals and beliefs, even while under the watchful eyes of the Catholic Church.

Some scholars on African-diasporic religions argue that there is a scholarly bias in classifying Santeria as a byproduct of Catholic syncretism. They state that “the origin of this religion is in the forests of the country previously called Yorubaland, better known today as Nigeria. From there comes what we today know as Santeria” (Fardon 1995, 83). Adding to this belief is the fact that “Spanish law insisted that slaves be baptized as Roman Catholics as a condition of their legal entry into the Indies” (Murphy 1988, 27). The forceful integration of Yoruba people in a Catholic-dominated society, although influential on the resultant Santeria, would not have created the desire to assume the practices and values held by oppressors. It is more plausible to argue that “Caribbean religions such as Santeria… are often cited as examples of syncretism because the religions involved have such different histories and because the historical materials about them are relatively recent and full” (Murphy 1988, 120). There is no avoiding the fact that Catholicism and Yoruba religion mixed to produce Santeria, but it is reasonable to suggest that given the belief systems held by a vast majority of those enslaved in Cuba, an emphasis on Yoruba religion was preserved in the island’s Afro-Caribbean culture.

As I came to learn through my research of Obba’s tureen, there is a definite degree to which syncretism of Catholicism and Yoruba religion has had on the overall use of the Obba’s tureen, as well as Santeria itself. However, I would assert that there is still more of a Yoruba emphasis in the aesthetics of Santeria soperas, an essential counterpart of the greater religion. Through information provided on how Yoruba beliefs maintained a tight grip over incoming slaves transported from Africa, and how European-enforced Catholicism influenced Santeria practice, the predominant influences on modern usage of Obba’s soup tureen have become clearer. This syncretized religion shows its true colors in both the objects that it so highly regards in worshipping the Orisha, and in aspects of the theological belief system. I believe that this trend of religious mixture makes itself apparent not only in Santeria, but in all other New World African religions, or on a larger scale, any religion whose followers have undergone voluntary or forced cultural coalescence.

Now that I have come to understand the context of the animation and aesthetics of the tureen, I am more interested than ever to witness the process of stone consecration and the subsequent activation of Obba. When first viewing this object, my interest was sparked by its placement in the museum, relatively isolated from others that serve a similar purpose. I believe that this therefore served as a basis to learn more about other objects of its like, and the human history that has forced its adaptation.

 

Bibliography

Bascom, William R. “The Focus of Cuban Santeria.” Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 6, no. 1 (1950): 64-68.

Brown, David H. “Toward an Ethnoaesthetics of Santeria Ritual Art: The Practice of Altar-Making and Gift Exchange.” Santeria Aesthetics in Contemporary Latin American Art (1996).

Clark, Mary A. “”¡No Hay Ningún Santo Aqui!” (There Are No Saints Here!): Symbolic Language Within Santeria.” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 69, no. 1 (2001): 21-41.

Duke University . “Soup-Tureen Altar Vessel (Sopera) for the Santeria/Ocha Goddess Obba.” Accessed November 5, 2017.

Fardon, Richard, ed. Counterworks: Managing the Diversity of Knowledge. New York: Routledge, 1995.

Johnson, Paul C. “Syncretism and Hybridization.” In The Oxford Handbook of the Study of Religion, edited by Michael Stausberg and Steven Engler, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016.

Jones, Rachel E. “Art Review: ‘Spirited Things: Sacred Arts of the Black Atlantic,’  Fleming Museum.” Seven Days, October 4, 2017.

Martin, Oba F., and William Luis. “Palo and Paleros: An Interview With Oba Frank Martin.” Afro-Hispanic Review 31, no. 1 (2012): 159-68.

Murphy, Joseph M. “Chango ‘ta vein’/ Chango has come”: Spiritual Embodiment in the Afro-Cuban Ceremony, Bembé.” Black Music Research Journal 32, no. 1 (2012): 69-94.

Murphy, Joseph M. Santeria: An African Religion in America. Boston: Beacon Press, 1988.

Thompson, Robert F. Flash of the Spirit: African & Afro-American Art & Philosophy.   New York: Random House, Inc., 1983.

Thompson, Robert F. “Overture: The Concept “Altar”.” Face of the Gods: Art and Altars of Africa and the African Americas (1993).

 

 

Eleggua: Friend or Foe?

Jack Bechtold

10/30/17

TAP: Religions of the Black Atlantic

Professor Brennan

Object analysis

Eleggua: Friend or Foe?

I will be talking about the Cuban Santería and the god Eleggua; specifically, an artifact of the Eleggua exhibit in the Robert Hull Flemming Museum, in Burlington VT. This artifact is the house of Eleggua. Eleggua is the Cuban god of the crossroads and of entrances. I chose Eleggua and his house because of its strategic placement in the exhibit, and because of the detailed craftsmanship that caught my eye. This object is a Cuban style house ornately decorated with beautiful red and black beads these beads. These have been arranged in patterns that add something to the house called ashe -the life force surrounding all beings. The entryway of this house is a stone face of Eleggua. His eyes, nose, and mouth are made from cowry shells. This house is dominated by the colors red, white, and black making the piece a unique artifact and shrine to Eleggua. This house’s structure was built with wooden walls and ceilings; each section is painted a specific color depending on the part of the structure. The walls and ceiling of this house are painted red. The house itself sits on a dual-layered base. This base consists of two boards that have been glued together. The top board has a cut out in it for the dimensions of the house and is painted the same red as the house.  The bottom board is painted entirely black, making the floor and shadows in the house black.  The house is then outlined in cowry shells which used to be a form of currency in Nigeria and other Yoruba dominated lands. This use of shells is supposed to show wealth, status, andpower. It is Eleggua and it is a symbol of the crossroads themselves.  The artifact is strategically placed at the beginning of the exhibit –  you are supposed to pray to Eleggua before you enter a house, and in the setting of an exhibit of African religions, you need to pray to Eleggua so that he may open the door to allow you to enter and see all the secrets of his world.  Eleggua was demonized due to poor understanding of indigenous concepts of power during syncretism between Christianity and the religions of the African diaspora.

Cuban Santería originated from the African diaspora and is one of the most popular religions in the “Black Atlantic”. Many of the Africans taken to the colonized islands of South America during the slave trade were people of the Yoruba faith. There were Africans from all over the western shore of their homeland continent in Cuba and these people had a multitude of versions of faith. While under the constant oppression of slavery these people came up with Cuban Santería. Cuban Santeria is a religion based on indigenous power concepts. There is a multitude of different gods with different specialties. Eleggua is the god of the crossroads and entrances. He holds the ability to open and close the doorways to our destiny.  Worshipers need to appease Eleggua through ceremonies, songs, and rituals to make him inclined to help you.  A frantic parent with a sick child would pray to Babalú Ayé, the god of disease and epidemics for healing. But, if you do not appease Eleggua, he might not be inclined to open the doorway for communication between you and Babalú Ayé. This creates an interesting relationship between the worshiper and the gods. The worshiper has the ability to harness each god to ask for help, but if Eleggua doesn’t want to help then there is nothing to be done.

    This mischievous nature has given Eleggua a bad name. In ‘Flash of the Spirit’ by Robert Thompson, Mr. Thompson talks about Eshu who is the Yoruba version of Eleggua is characterized as “ ‘The devil’ ”(Flash of the spirit page 19) by missionaries.  Thompson then continued to describe Eshu and show the reader that he in fact isn’t “The Devil” but is “Outwardly mischievous but inwardly full of overflowing grace” (Flash of the Spirit, page 19). Mr. Thompson notes that he cannot be characterized even by his own people due to the fact that Eshu has many different names such as Eshu, Elegbara, Elegguá, and Elegba. “Even his names compound his mystery” (Flash of the spirit page 19).  Eshu is known as “owner of power” (Flash of the Spirit, page 19). It is incredibly interesting how Eleggua has this power that connects all of these followers with their gods and for the most part binds their society together.

   

    Eleggua has been mischaracterized as the devil by Christians because of a lack of understanding of indigenous concepts of power that is a crucial aspect, not just of Cuban Santería, but of all Afro- Atlantic religions. According to Mr. Falola and Ms. Genova and their work on ‘Orisa -Yoruba Gods and Spiritual Identity in Africa and the Diaspora’. In the Yoruba religion, Eshu was one of, if not the first, divinities created by Olodumare who is “(The supreme being) the source, origin, and creator of all beings, including divinities,” (Orisa Yoruba Gods and Spiritual Identity in Africa and the Diaspora, page 129).  If this is true, then Eleggua may have had a hand in creating the world and man. Taking this belief into consideration,  Eleggua cannot be the devil because he is both benevolent and malevolent, while the devil is only malevolent.  If Eleggua really was the devil, antichrist, Apollyon, Beelzebub, etc. Then do you think he would have helped Olodumare create the world, the other divinities, or answer the prayers of the people?  The paradox in this idea is “that can a creature be more powerful than his creator,” (‘Yoruba Gods and Spiritual Identity in Africa and the Diaspora’,  page 131). Olodumare gave Eleggua the power of complete control over the communications sector of religious communication, which makes him so powerful that he has some sort of free will that he likes to exercise by being both benevolent and malevolent.

    Santería offers variations to that story, keeping the message is the same. According to David H. Brown, ‘Santería Enthroned’ ,  Eleggua was created by the all-powerful God Obatala who is the “Owner of all heads” (Santería Enthroned page 126) or the owner of all destinies. In the Santería religion, you are thought to have an inner head which is your destiny. Eleggua’s job is to open the doorways to help you find your inner destiny. But, can the creature be more powerful than his creator? if Eleggua is truly in control of all religious communications and he is a “trickster” then he is going to want to use his powers for benevolent and malevolent things, but that doesn’t make him the devil because he isn’t pure evil. He is as imperfect as the humans he is scribe for.

Eleggua was demonized due to a misunderstanding of indigenous conceptions of power. The key to understanding religions like these are looking at the gods and the power structure while separating your own concepts of religion. Once you have separated your own concepts of religion from the religion at hand you can analyze everything through a scientific lens. What makes a scientific lens so important is it filters out the bias from the fact.  This ability is the defining difference between the way of thinking that leads you to  Eleggua being synonymous with the devil, and seeing his true place as the  “owner of power” (Flash of the Spirit, page 19).

Bibliography:

Brown, D. (2003). Santería enthroned. Chicago (Ill.): University of Chicago Press. pp. 126

Mason, M. (2004). Living Santería: Rituals and Experiences in an Afro-Cuban Religion. pp.7, 95, 96.

Falola, T. and Genova, A. (2005). Orisa Yoruba Gods and Spiritual Identity in Africa and the Diaspora. 1st ed. Trenton, NJ 08607: Africa World Press, Inc., pp.129-139.

Thompson, Robert Farris. 1984. Flash of the Spirit. New York City, New York: vintage books.

Oya: Bringer of change

Scarlet Shifflett

When I walked into the museum I expected to see dusty objects with no personality on a shelf. I wondered how I would be interested enough to write a paper on an object that had nothing to do with my culture, but then I stepped into the exhibit. Each room had significantly changed from its original state just a week before, there was suddenly life in each object. I walked the designated path looking at the altars with awe, everything fit together perfectly, but one room was so beautiful I had to stop.

The first thing I noticed were the walls. Where there was once plain white was now covered in blue cloth. Nothing was left uncovered by extravagant blue patterns, from flowers to sparkles. The cloth surrounded fourteen altars, each with their own personality shown with colors and objects. Every altar was unique in its own way, but I was drawn to one in particular, Oya. I did not know who this Orisha was at the time, I only knew her altar was the most beautiful and gave off a power none of the other surrounding altars did.

A copper crown with dangling charms sat on top of a soup tureen with bird handles. The first set of charms were all the same, a copper mask, while the second set contained a lighting bolt and a variety of farming tools, picks, hoes, and a machete. The porcelain soup tureen gave the altar a hint of cream color, allowing the red and maroon to really pop, while the birds added beauty with their carefully painted patterns. A horsetail whip was front and center, the long, silky black hair showed the elegance of the Orisha, while, along with the crown, also captured the royalty of Oya. Lying behind the whip was a wooden sword, covered with colorful beads that lead to another beaded handle with a mask dangling off. This handle was not as sturdy as the one on the whip, allowing me to assume this weapon could only be used by someone skilled enough to understand the delicate motions needed to swing the sword. This altar was the only one out of fourteen to have a picture of a catholic saint, which was shown on a red cloth accented with colorful beads. The entire altar was decorated with green, orange, purple, blue, brown, pink, and yellow beads, giving the red cloth more color and character.

I was drawn to Oya’s altar based on the beauty and power it gave off. The crown and whip told me the importance of this Orisha and the royalty she held, while the sword represented a worrier. I have never heard of someone of royalty fighting their own battles, and it was this reason why I chose Oya’s altar to be my object of interest.

My interest in the altar did not stop there, I wanted to know why someone would honor Oya, the goddess of storms and change, and how the objects on the altar embodied the orisha. In this essay I will give background information on the goddess Oya to show why people choose to honor this Orisha and the effects it will have on their lives. I will also discuss why this pedestal with objects on it is an altar.

The Oya altar is a part of a birthday altar. This altar comes from the Cuban religion Santeria and is an important part of a Santeria priest’s life. In Orisha Worship Communities: A Reconsideration of Organisational Structure Mary Clark describes what the typical birthday altar would look like on page 103, “The ceiling and walls of the designated space are covered with panels of fabric… the cloths form walls and a canopy that encloses the entire area.” This description accurately represents the altar that is housed in the Fleming museum. Another important aspect of a birthday altar is making sure each Orisha is being honored in their own way, as seen with the maroon and multi colored beads and the sword on Oya’s altar, page 104 states, “…small splash of color are incorporated into the pedestals and stands holding the pots and accouterments of the Orisha so each deity is represented by a cloth… each Orisha is surrounded by their particular tools and symbols.” This altar is meant to honor the priest’s Orisha, which they have chosen in previous ceremonies. If this altar was not in a museum then multiple rituals would occur to celebrate the priest’s birthday into the religion, “On the first day of the celebration… Each guest first greets the Orisha by prostrating herself on the mat placed in front of the throne… Godchildren of the hostess generally leave the ritually prescribed gift… Entertainment may include live drumming or recorded music…”, as described by Clark on page 105.

While the altar I am studying is only a small part of a bigger altar, the pedestal supporting the objects portraying Oya is considered an altar because it is a form of communication to the Orisha and a way to worship the goddess. “Altars everywhere are sites of ritual communication…” this is stated by Robert Farris Thompson on the first page of Face of the Gods: The Artists and Their Altars. I saw a form of communication in the altar with the farming charms on the crown. If the altar was in its ritual context than those charms could represent a farmer in need of change with his crops. If the crop season had a lack of rain, the farmer would call upon the goddess of storms and change. Worshipping Oya on her altar would allow the farmer to ask for storms to come to water his crops, giving him the yield he needs. In another part of the book, Face of the Gods: Arts and Altars of Africa and the African Americans, Thompson says, “a place [altar] consecrated to devotional exercises. Altars, then, encompass sacrifice, prayer, and devotion.” The sword, crown, and whip, show devotion to Oya by representing her power and strength as a royal warrior. In a traditional setting food would be placed on the pedestal as a sacrifice to the the Orisha, and one would kneel on the mat under the altar to pray to the goddess. With objects communicating to Oya and food and prayer showing devotion, this pedestal representing Oya is an altar.

One website was useful when collecting information on the goddess Oya, www.orderwhitemoon.org, this source was able to give me a perspective from someone who actively worships Oya while most scholarly sources only gave an outside perspective. The website stated, “Oya is one of the most powerful African Goddesses (Orishas). A Warrior-Queen…She is the Goddess of thunder, lightning, tornadoes, winds, rainstorms and hurricanes. A Fire Goddess, it is Oya who brings rapid change and aids us in both inner and outer transformation.” Other information included the Orisha’s number, nine, her colors are maroon, dark red, purple, orange, brown and multiple other colors, and icons that represent the goddess include, whips, masks, and swords. All these representations can be seen on the altar present in the museum; maroon and dark red cloth cover the podium the objects rest on, beaded accents throughout the objects incorporate the other colors, purple, orange, and brown. There is a horsetail whip, sword, mask, and a crown made out of copper with mask charms and one lightning bolt all represented the icons associated with the Orisha. This website also includes the foods that should be given to Oya on the altar, eggplants, grape wine, kola nuts, and fish.

One would honor Oya if they want a change in their life and would do so through the altar. The previously mentioned website tells how someone would call upon Oya when that person’s desire for change needs to be heard. First a person would light the candles present on the altar. Before I continue I want to say that the altar in the museum does not have candles because it is not an active altar dedicated to Oya, it is simply an altar meant to be viewed in a museum. This is a key difference between objects present in a museum and those that reside in the context they were meant to be in. After that person has lit the candles they will resite a passage that according to the writer of this website will invoke the presence of Oya; the passage is the following,

“Oya, Lady of Storms,

Oya, Bringer of Change,

Oya, Warrior of Women,

You who command the winds

And protect the souls of the dead

You whose domain is the tornado, the storm, the thunder,

I ask for you to join me here tonight

And help me bring positive change and action into my life

Hail, Oya, Lady of Storms!”

Once Oya is invoked you should talk to the goddess about the changes you want to make in your life and how you will get there. The most important change that you want to make should be written down and left on the altar as a reminder. Thanking Oya, place offerings on the altar, these can consist of any of the foods listed above, and the once again recite the passage as a goodbye to the Orisha.

Even with thirteen altars surrounding Oya’s it is clear she is a powerful Orisha capable of great things. These great things involve controlling wind and storms and bringing change to those who honor her appropriately. Oya can be honored through an altar where food will be given to the goddess and devotion is shown through objects. As long as there is a form of communication and a way to worship the Orisha than that object will be considered an altar. In conclusion, if someone is in need of change in their lives than they should strongly consider building an altar to the Orisha Oya.

Order of The White Moon. Oya: Lady of Storms. http://www.orderwhitemoon.org/goddess/oya-storms/Oya.html.

 

Thompson, Robert. Face of the Gods: The Artists and Their Altars. UCLA James S. Coleman African Studies Center, 1995.

 

Thompson, Robert. Face of the Gods: Art and Altars of Africa and the African Americas. The museum for African Art, New York, 1993.

 

Mary, Clark, Orisha Worship Communities: A Reconsideration of Organisational Structure. United States of America: Routledge, Taylor & Francis Group, 2011.

 

The Outfit of Sango’s bride: An Important component of Spirit Possession

On September 26, I walked into the Spirited Things Exhibition at the Fleming Museum for an exclusive look at the unfinished exhibit. Greeting the class at the doorway was Eshu-Elegbara, an Orisa who specializes in spiritual communication. As the class was set free to roam, I moved past Eshu where a flash of tiger print caught my eye.  Looking at the object, front to back, I realized it was an outfit composed of an intricately woven maroon shawl and a vibrant synthetic tiger print skirt. The shawl, which was separate strips of cloth woven together and decorated with cowry shells, was accompanied by an undershirt, also riddled with hundreds of shells stitched in parallel lines along the seams. There were so many shells stitched into the outfit that the wearer would likely experience a small party with each step, hundreds of jingling shells clacking together. The skirt however, was made of a synthetic cloth, patterned with tiger stripes. The skirt itself was an unnatural, but striking orange color which had purple cloth framing around the seams. As my gaze was drawn up to the head of the mannequin, I noticed it had intricately woven braids as well. After this observation, I realized I had yet to look at the actual title of the artifact, it read “Attire of the Manifest God Ṣango.” The description informed me that this outfit is worn by devotees who are preparing to be “mounted” or in other words, spiritually possessed by the Yoruba god Ṣango.

I noticed in the description that all devotees wear this outfit while worshiping, and I wondered how this outfit contributed to spirit possession among those individuals. With this I began to investigate why the outfit worn by a bride was essential for spirit possession. In this essay I will provide background on Yoruba cultures and customs, and explain how this outfit contributes to spirit possession in ritual. A crucial key to understanding this contribution, is getting to know the Orisa Ṣango himself.

Ṣango is the Yoruba god of thunder, who yields his Thunder Axe, Oshe, and now represents the powers of the Oyo kings. Glazier, author of “If Old Heads Could Talk” writes, ”Ṣango is the most powerful and the most feared Yoruba deity both in Africa and in the Diaspora.”(Glazier, 2012, 199) It is in his reputation that one can can really understand his power. Like previously mentioned, Ṣango takes many brides, as he manifests his soul in the body of his devotees. Miles Richardson, author of “Beyond Conversion and Syncretism” illustrates that wives of Ṣango constantly bring about the presence of the Orisa. This honors the god and creates an incentive for him to bless and protect those who worship him. (Richardson, 2011, 146-156) He is worshipped all over the world for this reason, ranging from Africa itself, to South America and the Atlantic. Do to his position in the Orisa hierarchy, Ṣango is hugely worshiped for power and protection. However, hundreds of other Orisa are worshiped by Yoruba culture, particularly through the use of structures called altars and different objects which are placed on the altar.

An altar is device used to communicate with the spirits or the Orisa living among the Spirit world. They are stages for worship which are uniquely designed to communicate with different spirits. Altars are a place to generate energy for spiritual communication, this is done in many ways. The most frequently seen is the use of objects on an altar. These objects are set in a particular spacial arrangement which generates áse, the primordial life force residing within all beings. Rowland Abiodun, professor of The History of Art and Black Studies at Amherst College, explained the concept of áse as being the life force which resides within all of us. Professor Abiodun explained how áse, despite abundant, has to be drawn from any environment to be presented to an Orisa, and this ultimately happens through art, music, and dance. He accompanied this statement with an anecdote about objects on an altar. He said, an object is only an object until it is charged with áse, after an object is charged it has the power to do work.

Áse is essential to all Yoruba worship, conceptually it can be considered fuel, like gasoline powering a car. It is áse that charges objects on an altar, giving them energy and turning them into more than just pieces of material. After objects are used or prepared in particular ways, áse can be generated and used to call spirits before those who have summoned them. Objects are charged with áse in many ways. For instance, J. Lorand Matory found himself stepping outside the Fleming Museum nearing the opening of the Spirited Things exhibition to puff cigar smoke on his personal altar object. The smoke charged the object, giving the corresponding Orisa what it likes and prefers. These methods of preparation charge objects with the energy required for spiritual connection. Just as important as áse, are the physical objects on the altar which is being worshiped. Particular items can symbolize a broad range of things which summon and worship particular Orisa. Each object can be a particular offering to an Orisa, as they are things that the Orisa specifically prefers. For instance money or liquors are offerings which bring about áse and strive to enrich and nourish that Orisa, but an Orisa may prefer a certain food or liquor. With this being said, every object is specific to the preferences of the Orisa.

Those who worship the Orisa Ṣango specifically undergo spirit possession during ritual, where the soul or energy of a particular Orisa enters your body. Ṣango possession is a particular form of spirit possession where the bride can be either male or female. The term bride is gender inclusive of those devoted to Ṣango. Spirit possession in general has been typical of Yoruba ritual ceremonies and is a means of communication with spirits. It is in the crossover to a parallel reality where those undergoing possession can find solutions to problems, see future events, and communicate with their Orisa. It is a process that is deeply important, yet deeply hard to understand. In Yoruba culture they do not have the same notion that death means one is completely gone, but spiritually transferred to a different world, the world of  the spirits. Through this world Yoruba people connect to the spirits. However, spirit possession can not occur without the presence of áse.(Glazier, 2012, 204)

With this being said, the outfit worn by a bride of Ṣango must link a devotee to the spirit of Ṣango himself. Previously stated, Yoruba culture primarily uses altars with many objects to bring about áse, which can summon different Orisa. However, in this worship there is no apparent altar. It was at this point in my research where I looked to a reading by Thompson where he states the altar of River goddess, Oṣun, is not a tangible altar, but instead the holy river she once touched. (Thompson, 1993, 270)  From this I could conclude that the body of a Ṣango devotee serves as the altar which calls to Ṣango. An altar does not have to be a physical structure, but anything decorated with objects to worship an Orisa. Just as a Santeria altar would be decorated with offerings to bring about áse, the human body is decorated for the same purpose, but on a different form of altar. Each aspect of the outfit is a different offering, and also a method of drawing áse to charge the body itself.

If the body of a mount serves as the altar which worships Ṣango during ritual, then the outfit which they wear must consist of various artifacts which can charge them with áse, enabling them to connect with Ṣango. Glazier writes, “Ṣango devotees belief that illness and misfortune result from a lack of attention to the Orisa, and a belief that when properly attended to, will help them in their daily lives.”(Glazier, 2012, 193) This serves as evidence to support why brides wear this outfit during rituals to communicate with Ṣango. By wearing the outfit, brides are decorating their altars with power objects which generates áse within them, summoning Ṣango to possess those who worship. From here, Ṣango can help them in their struggles. In the same article by Glazier, he states that devotees attempt to establish binding contracts with Ṣango by wearing this outfit, however Orisa are fluid and characterized by a large degree of uncertainty. It is by wearing this outfit brides try to solidify their commitment to Ṣango, constantly worshiping him throughout the ritual.(Glazier, 2012, 193)

Each article of clothing represents something different, much like how individual altar objects represent different symbols as well. The synthetic tiger pelt worn by devotees represent Ṣango’s ferocity and power. The tiger is a jungle cat with a high social status on the food chain, Ṣango is similar to this in a lot of ways. He is a highly respected god who resides near the top of the Orisa hierarchy, containing the ferocity of a wild tiger. This pelt is used to symbolize those qualities on the altar, paying tribute to Ṣango’s strength. Also, when Ṣango does possess, he wants to be bold and noticed. This eye catching garment is bright and resonates confidence for the Orisa. The skirt is also red and orange, Ṣango’s own colors.

Equally as important is the cowry covered shirt and shawl. First off, cowries were a form of West African currency. With this being said, the cowries are meant to enrich Ṣango with offerings of money. Also, the noise in which the shells make generate áse by the jingling they make. Often noise, particularly drums, are used in Yoruba ritual to bring about áse and coerce spirits to visit altars. The cowries can function as their own device, generating noise and drawing áse into the altar through movement and dance.

The braids worn by Ṣango brides are also an important object on the altar. The braids which mounts of Ṣango wear in their hair symbolizes their marriage to Ṣango. This style is called agogo and is taken very seriously, as different braiding patterns all symbolize different things. In Justine M. Cordwell’s “The Fabric of Culture,” he states “Devotees of Ṣango don’t shave their head after initiation…head shaving upon death marks passage from life and membership, to death and nonmembership.” This specific pattern of braiding is thus an altar object which broadcasts ones devotion to Ṣango and his worship on a permanent basis.(Cordwell, 385) The braiding is a life long commitment, much like the devotion to Ṣango.

By devotees wearing this particular outfit, they can transform themselves into a fully charged altar. The different elements of the costume embody Ṣango and deliver áse to the body, inviting him to reside within his altar during ritual. By wearing the outfit the mount creates a particular spacial arrangement of objects, noises, and practices which act as any regular altar to draw Ṣango from the spirit world into the vessel of the human body. With this being said, the outfit worn by a bride of Ṣango is meant to generate the continuous presence of áse and charge the body with energy to attract Ṣango. The outfit is crucial in the physical spirit possession of a mount as it is the synthesis of áse, the power which drives the ritual to success. From the hundreds of cowries, to the furious tiger pelt, each piece of the outfit serves as an altar symbol, an effort to communicate with Ṣango, the mighty god of thunder.

Bibliography of sources which relate spirit possession among African Diaspora religions.

Cordwell, Justin M. The Fabric of Culture. Paris: Mouton Publishersn.d

Glazier, Stephen. If Old Heads Could Talk. Vol. 54, Canadian Anthropology society, 2012.

Matory, J. L. Sex and the empire that is no more : gender and the politics of metaphor in Oyo Yoruba religion. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1994.

Richardson, Miles. Beyond Conversion and Syncretism: Indigenous Encounters with Missionary Christianity. N.p.: Berghahn Books, 2011.

Thompson, Robert F. Face of The Gods. New York City: The Museum of African Arts, 1993.

An Altar to Ochosi – The Godly Hunter in Our World

Stepping into the Fleming Museum’s Santería birthday throne, your eyes are overwhelmed with bright colors, sparkling fabrics, beaded objects, shiny crowns. Closest to the viewer, perched on the ground, the simple altar of Ochosi sits. This altar somewhat contrasts all of the elegant and elaborately decorated altars that are raised up high in the air; Ochosi’s altar is rather plain, save for his signature blue, gold, and coral beads.

Ochosi’s shrine, while simple, is also beautiful. A grey ceramic bowl sits on the ground, but holds inside a bow and arrow, and a spear adorned with those blue, golden, and coral beads that seem to draw light to them. A string of these beads of all different shapes and sizes circle the bowl, bringing dimension to the simple ceramic shape. Beside the bow and arrow, a pair of metal black manacles sit menacingly, as if daring its audience to challenge the forces of justice. A pear-shaped calabash, adorned with beads, shells, and blue ribbons rests on the floor next to the ceramic bowl: hollow, with only secrets inside. A simple silk rug sits underneath the bowl and and the calabash, half a deep blue, and half golden. Next to the altar is also a horsehair whip, the handle embedded with Ochosi’s beads. This whip is unusual, as it is usually only given to orisha, or gods, of higher status, such as Obatala, Yemaya, Oya, and other royalty. Normally, Ochosi isn’t considered royalty at all, which makes this whip an abnormality. Although the altar of Ochosi has all of these beautiful and intricate details, it’s not particularly eye-catching, especially compared to the loud and embellished altars on display in the birthday throne.

I chose to study the altar of Ochosi because it called out to me. It’s the altar closest to its audience, yet it seems barren and small compared to other altars. This was what intrigued me most as I studied the altars in the Santería birthday throne. As I learned more about Ochosi, I became interested in studying how he is worshipped – what his altars look like, how his rituals are performed. In this essay I will first provide some background on Ochosi, then I will explain briefly how Santería altars are made and how they function, and what is known about altars to Ochosi.

Ochosi, sometimes spelled Oshossi or Oxossi, is the Yoruba orisha of hunting and justice. With the passage of time and with the slave trade bringing practitioners to and from other countries, Yoruba religion has spread to different cultures to form religions such as Santería, Vodou, and Candomble. This is the African diaspora, and it refers to the spread of new religions formed by followers of Yoruba adapting to and including new cultures in their worship. Ochosi isn’t an orisha easily found – his name appears in many books, but only to mention him in passing as one of the great warrior orisha. The main legend known about Ochosi is one in which he hunts a quail to present to the gods, but his mother cooks it and eats it instead. Ochosi catches another quail, and asks for his arrow to pierce the heart of the thief who stole the first quail, and is distraught when he sees his own arrow land in the chest of his mother (Sandoval 2006, 286) (González-Wippler 2004,50-51). This tale demonstrates Ochosi’s talent at hunting and his passion for justice – two of the main attributes that he exemplifies.

The birthday throne found in the Fleming Museum is dedicated to a man named Dr. J Lorand Matory, a practitioner of Santería, and a professor of cultural anthropology, African studies, and African American studies at Duke University. Birthdays are very important in Santería, and this throne is a collection of altars dedicated to orisha such as Yemaya or Ochosi. Orisha are placed in order of importance in general, but also of importance to the practitioner. Often, importance is shown in height – Obatala, the father of all orisha, has his altar on the tallest pillar. While all altars to a certain orisha have some aspects in common, small details will always differ based on who the throne is dedicated to. We’ve already seen this in how Dr. Matory chose to give Ochosi, who is often seen as lower class, a horsehair whip, which is normally only given to orisha that are considered royalty. Altars provide a significant view not only into how religion is practiced – but also into the details and intricacies that can make an altar or a birthday throne unique to a single practitioner.

Dr. Matory’s altar to Ochosi is also unique in that it’s touching the altar of Ogun – no other altars are touching in this way. Ochosi is known for his relationship and ability to get along with other orisha, particularly Ogun, the orisha of iron and the forge. Mythology about Ochosi and Ogun varies – many stories say that they’re brothers, but some maintain that they are simply very close friends. Regardless of the details, all stories place significance on the fact that these orisha are very close. The legendary blacksmith Ogun forges weapons such as bows, swords, and spears, and the great hunter Ochosi uses them. Dr. Matory’s birthday throne provides a perfect example of how altars can embody their orisha – the closeness of Ochosi and Ogun’s altars illustrates the closeness of their relationship.

Altars are very sacred in many religions, and Santería is no exception.`Altars, when activated, can channel orisha. Altars are activated through ashe – the Yoruba word for life, destiny, and power, which flows through everything. Ashe is activated through song, dance, smells, foods, and more, which is why it is very important that an altar has all of the correct objects, foods, beads, etc. When an altar is prepared correctly, it is able to channel ashe, which is what activates it, giving the gods the power to come into the altar, and into the bodies of participants in a ritual. The sound of singing, the feeling of dancing, the smells of foods, and the sights of traditional ritualistic outfits all contribute and activate the ashe of an altar. People performing rituals can also become “spirit possessed”, a state in which the spirit of the orisha summoned enters the body of a practitioner. When an altar is activated, the gods have the power to come into the altar, and into the bodies of the participants of the ritual. Altar making is such a specific and valued skill in Yoruba and Santería because it is very difficult to know what, where, and how to place objects on an altar to allow it to channel an orisha.

While there aren’t many recorded altars to Ochosi, I’ve been able to uncover several accounts of what an altar might look like, or what it might have on it. One source maintains “Ochosi resides in a frying pan”, that his altar should have “deer antlers, three arrows, three dog figurines, and a small mirror”, and should be offered “smoked fish, deer, and game birds” (Núñez, 2006, 374-375).  In a conversation with Dr. Matory, he informed me that his experience was that altars to Ochosi are located low to the ground, and are often made with brambles. In this same fashion, another source describes an altar to Ochosi as a “bramblelike sacrificial shrine – dry leafless branches placed in a careful pile on the earth” (Thompson 1983, 58). While some of these reports differ, many have very similar aspects in them that can lead to a general idea of what’s expected in an altar to Ochosi – low to the ground, brambles, a bow and arrow, and smoked game.

In modern times, Ochosi has lost significance to many people. In our discussion of Ochosi, Dr. Matory also explained that hunting has become much rarer as a form of work, and is also known as work for people of lower class, who aren’t often represented as much as people of upper classes. These factors may have contributed to why worship and altars devoted to Ochosi have become much harder to find. Many scholars support this claim, suggesting that: “undoubtedly, Ochosi lost importance in Cuba because hunting as a profession lost importance” (Sandoval 2006, 288). In a world run by modern agriculture and trade, not many people earn a living through hunting anymore, and not many people build altars specifically dedicated to Ochosi anymore.

My goal in this analysis was to discuss background on Ochosi, the work that goes into creating altars in Santería, and altars to Ochosi. Discussion of Ochosi opens up even more questions – what about the rest of the orisha? What happens when altars are activated? How has the spread of Yoruba through the slave trade affected its influence in Santería? Even this small altar to a minor orisha found in the Fleming Museum can open up a whole new world of information and discovery about a religion with incredibly far reaching roots – a religion that many people aren’t even aware exists.

 

 

Bibliography:

Ayorinde, Christine. Afro-Cuban Religiosity, Revolution, and National Identity. Gainsville: University Press of Florida, 2004.

González-Wippler, Migene. Santería The Religion. New York: Harmony Books, 1989.

Manuel-Núñez, Luis. Santería Stories. New York: Spring Publications, 2006.

Matory, J. Lorand (Professor at Duke University) in discussion with the author, October 2017.

Sandoval, Mercedes Cros. Worldview, the Orichas, and Santería. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2006.

Thompson, Robert Farris. Flash of the Spirit. New York: Random House, 1983.

Wirtz, Kristina. Ritual, Discourse, and Community in Cuban Santería. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2007.