One of the most striking pieces displayed at the Spirited Things: Sacred Arts of the Black Atlantic exhibit is the statue of Esu found at the front of the exhibition.  A picture of the object is found at the bottom of this essay.  The sculpture is carved from wood, measures twenty-two inches tall, and rests on a circular base with a diameter of about ten inches. Esu, known to many as the messenger orisha, is depicted on horseback, surrounded by ritual assistants. The figures surrounding Esu are far less intricate than the orisha himself, who is flush with detail and variety.

The purpose of this essay is to examine the details of this representation of Esu, provide analysis of the individual components of the statue, compare this Esu to other representations of the orisha, and to examine how Esu corresponds with the African Diaspora. The significance of Esu’s position, possessions, and ritual assistants will be examined. Another focus of this essay will be the physical depiction of Esu and its deeper meanings.

Esu is one of the most important of the Yoruba orishas. He is not, as previously thought, only associated with decisions and not a part of daily human life. On the contrary, “Almost every traditional household, clan or village, every devotee (irrespective of the cult to which he or she belongs) has the symbol and worship of Esu,” (Awolalu 29).

It is through Esu that people can contact and request assistance from the other orishas. Esu carries messages between the orishas and humans. However, Esu is often referred to as a malevolent trickster. Esu sometimes carries messages to their destination, but sometimes willfully forgets them or takes them to the wrong destination. When this occurs, havoc is wreaked in the mortal world. Esu is not a fool or an easily duped trickster, but a powerful orisha who commands respect and has harsh consequences for those who fail to show it (Ogundipe 193). Esu must be appeased or he is more likely to be unreliable in his messenger duties.

At this point, it is important to stress that Esu is not an evil, malevolent, or harmful orisha in Yoruba religion. Esu has often been misinterpreted as the devil by outsiders, or being a purely evil being. “He tempts people, but that does not mean that he is against the human race or will do only harm,” (Awolalu 28). According to Awolalu, it is easier to imagine Esu as a powerful deity that can help or harm. When treated with respect and reverence, Esu often assists mortals in their tasks, but, if offended, Esu can cause volumes of trouble in the mortal world.

However, in Brazilian Candomble, Esu has a slightly darker role. While portrayal of Esu as the devil by missionaries was strongly rejected in Yorubaland, the narrative was more in line in Brazil, keeping in tradition with syncretizing orisha with Catholic figures (Ogundipe 213). While not wholeheartedly evil, followers of Candomble accepted that Esu runs both malevolent and benevolent errands, and therefore has a dark side. Another intriguing Brazilian twist on Yoruba belief is that Esu is sometimes referred to as a slave, as he runs errands for mortals for little compensation (Ogundipe 214). While powerful, the reverence and respect for Esu does not appear to be as high in Candomble as compared to Yoruba.

Esu is also the lord of the crossroads, beginnings, and endings. When a person faces a crossroads or difficult decision, Esu is present and guides travelers. However, he may lead them down the wrong path. The duality found in Esu’s nature (he can either help or harm) is reflected in physical depictions of Esu. Esu is often depicted with a protrusion from the rear of his head, ranging from a small protrusion to more phallic depictions (Ogundipe 157). In this sculpture, the artist chose to create a serpent emerging from the rear of Esu’s skull. The serpent has its own face, and is devouring a helpless animal. This brutal depiction contrasts to a benevolent humanoid Esu portrayed on the other side. The contrast between the two sides of Esu’s head signifies that Esu can be helpful and resourceful, or can be cruel and damning. The power and might Esu has is exaggerated within this depiction.

The details of this Esu shed significant insight into what the creator believed about the orisha. Esu is mounted on a horse, and, although now missing, probably carried a flywhisk in his right hand. Both the horse and the flywhisk signify royalty and military prowess. That Esu is depicted in this manner is indicative that he was highly revered among followers of Yoruba. The attendants following Esu are depictions of devout followers, who in real life would be special priests and priestesses dedicated to Esu. These attendants carry various medicinal herbs and other ritual items. Esu’s mounted position and close-at-hand devotees symbolize his power, might, and royalty. In many depictions, Esu is portrayed with long hair, uncommon among Yoruba people except for the powerful and royalty (Ogundipe 171). In most portrayals of Esu, it is clear that he is highly respected and revered.

One of the most interesting aspects of this depiction of Esu is the humanoid face. This wooden Esu has facial scars why typify a specific people foreign to Yorubaland. Esu is also depicted with a beard typical of the Hausa People. The Hausa are a Muslim ethnic group native to northern Africa. However, to the Yoruba, the Hausa are a foreign population. Why would a Yoruba depiction of Esu cast him as a foreigner instead of a native? The conventional dialogue would have Esu depicted as a native and the Yoruba a descendant.

In my research I discovered that it is common for not just Esu but all orisha to be depicted a hailing from a foreign land. The Yoruba had great respect for their foreign neighbors. Depicting their gods with characteristics typical of their neighbors is a clear-cut example for the love and respect the Yoruba showed to foreigners. This depiction of Esu is therefore helpful in establishing that the Yoruba were kind to neighbors. Upon further examination, this claim is reinforced by evidence showing Yoruba respect for trans-local persons (Awolalu 186).

Unlike many other religions, Yoruba and most diasporic religions are very welcoming of foreign persons and concepts. Diasporic religions often incorporate symbols, signs, and powers from other religions such as Christianity into their practice. In some cases, this was just an easy way to refresh old concepts. In others, followers were able to worship their religion inconspicuously where it was not tolerated. Examples of rephrasing Yoruba doctrine into Christian terms include Santeria using Our Lady of Charity and Cobre as a representation of the orisha Oshun. This flexibility and hybridity were essential to the life and proliferation of many diasporic religions as native Africans expanded across the globe.

This statue of Esu would be used to adorn an indoor shrine. It would be at sacred processions for a specific orisha. It would carry messages from worshippers to the orisha which they hope to communicate with, and would send messages from the spirit world to the mortal one. This statue would appeal for an orisha’s benevolent intervention in the mortal world. Its important duties make this sculpture an essential part of an altar.

The two-foot wooden sculpture of Esu found in the Spirited Things exhibit is rife with intricate detail and symbolic meaning. Every part of Esu’s depiction has deeper meaning than face value. Esu’s prominent position, his follower’s worships, his facial depiction, and his serpent protrusion all have significant meaning and help to establish what the Yoruba people thought and believed in relating to Esu.

Bibliography:
Falola, Toyin. Èṣù : Yoruba God, Power, and the Imaginative Frontiers / Edited by Toyin Falola. Carolina Academic Press African World Series. 2013. pp.18-20

Ogundipe, Ayodele. Esu Elegbara, the Yoruba God of Chance and Uncertainty : A Study in Yoruba Mythology / by Ayodele Ogundipe. 1978, 1978. pp.151-220.

Awolalu, Omosade. Yoruba Beliefs and Sacrificial Rites. 1979, 1979. pp. 28-186

When I walked into the museum after being told about our project I already knew that I wanted to pick something on the Haitian Vodou altar. There’s something about Vodou that has always intrigued me. Maybe it was its misrepresentation in media that made me want to learn more about it, just like with my interests in Paganism and Wicca. That morning I walked into the exhibit and over to the Vodou altar I noticed objects and details that I hadn’t noticed when we had previously visited. I was drawn to multiple objects that had feathers on them, objects that my prior knowledge of African diasporic religions couldn’t help me understand. There was one specific object with blue and red feathers and an orb and stem kind of shape that caught my attention. Looking through the booklet next to the altar I found the object and read about it. It was a pakèt kongo for the goddess Èzili Dantò, protector of single mothers and abused women. At that point I didn’t need to look at any other objects, I knew I wanted to research Èzili Dantò and the pakèt kongo.

A pakèt kongo is a kind of container. The one I chose is primarily red and blue and is completely made of fabric, except for the feathers. It sits elevated on the altar, the blue and red striped base is full and held with a blue ribbon tied in a bow. Ribbons come out from the middle of the base, pale yellow and sticking up like bubbles on top of a drink. As my eyes move farther from the center, gold ribbons with a green pattern of flowers and squares and red ribbons embroidered with blue flowers and stems and gold trimming curl outwards giving the rounded base the appearance of a blooming flower. Protruding upward from the pale yellow ribbons is a stem wrapped tightly in red fabric. Two feathers extend from the stem, wispy and bent. The large red one grabs my attention first, but the smaller blue one demands to be seen too. An intricate kind of calm intensity surrounds the object, which was at first confusing but as I learned more about Èzili Dantò and about how pakèt kongo’s work, I began to understand its meaning, how it’s used in Vodou, and how it represents Èzili Dantò.

Many African diasporic religions have the belief that when someone is sick or injured the problem is not just physical; it’s also spiritual. It is usually thought that the problem occurred because whoever is sick or injured has fallen out of sync with the universe. The problem is then addressed ritually and holistically. In Haitian Vodou practitioners see doctors when needed, like for broken bones or serious illnesses, but the issue is still taken care of through ritual healing ceremonies in order to restore balance to the spiritual side of things. Most, if not all, of these rituals involve pakèt kongos.

The ancestor of the pakèt kongo is the nkisi, a healing bundle that comes from Kongo in Central Africa. There are minkisi (plural of nkisi) that have a kind of stem-on-globe shape, and then there are minkisi figurines. Both have medicinal herbs inside them, but the shape that has persisted through Haitian Vodou is the stem-on-globe shape. Minkisi had many different uses and were often associated with spirits, much like Haitian pakèt kongos. However, pakèt kongos are not filled with herbs or medicines, the bases of them are filled with soil from a graveyard or cemetery. They are “charged with spirits from underneath the land of the living” (Daniels 2013, 423). This core component is essential for the pakèt kongo to work at all.

The slaves that were in Haiti back in the late 1700s and early 1800s mainly came from Kongo and Benin. The slave revolution lasted from 1791 until 1804 and the slaves were aided by Polish troops that came with the French troops. Due to this Haitian Vodou was exposed to Christianity and Èzili Dantò was paralleled with Our Lady of Czestochowa, the black Madonna. Èzili Dantò is the fierce mother who will drop everything to protect her children, and she fought alongside the slaves during the revolution. She has two vertical scars on one of her cheeks, scars from an injury she received while fighting alongside her children. However, her children also betrayed her during the revolution because they thought that she couldn’t keep their secrets. This belief caused them to cut out her tongue so she could no longer talk. It is said that Èzili Dantò cannot see blood because “At the sight of blood, Dantò goes wild” (McCarthy Brown, 2010, 231). One point that is emphasized in texts about Èzili Dantò is that above all else, she is a mother and her children come first.

In Karen McCarthy Brown’s novel Mama Lola: A Vodou Priestess in Brooklyn, there is a story told by Mama Lola’s daughter, Maggie, about an experience she had with Èzili Dantò shortly after arriving in the US. Maggie got sick and had to go to the emergency room and the physician there thought she had tuberculosis and wanted to hospitalize her, but Maggie begged to go home. The doctor let her go home under the condition that she come back the next day for more tests. However that night:

We just went to bed, and then I saw, like a shadow, coming to the light… Next minute, I actually saw a lady standing in front of me… with a blue dress, and she have a veil covering her head and her face… she pull up the veil and I could see it was her with the two mark. Èzili Dantò with the two mark on her cheek… she told me to turn my back around, she was going to heal me… She rubbed my lungs and everything; she rub it, and then she said, ‘Now you know what to do for me. Just light up a candle and thank me.’… I went back to the doctor, and the doctor say, ‘What’s wrong with you? I thought you was sick!’ (McCarthy Brown, 227)

Èzili Dantò drops everything when her children are in need, without thinking twice. However, there is another side to Èzili Dantò that I mentioned briefly before. She is also known as Èzili of the Red Eyes and “some people call Dantò a baka (evil spirit)” because “Dantò can be evil, too… She kills a lot. If you put her upside down, you tell her to go and get somebody, she will go and get that person. If that person don’t want to come, she break that person neck and bring that person to you” (McCarthy Brown, 231-232). She is the warrior mother, the protector of single mothers, working women, abused women, and all her children. If she needs to be fierce, or if someone wants her to be evil, she will be.

The calm and intensity in Èzili Dantò’s personality are shown in her pakèt kongo through the blue and red colors that are present. The blue ribbon tied in a bow around the base is secured with pins, and the binding of the fabric isn’t just to keep the soil from getting out but “also to ensure that the spirit is kept in” (Daniels 2013, 423). As I mentioned before, there is a belief in Haitian Vodou that an illness or injury needs to be addressed both physically and spiritually. Pakèt kongos are used to help correct the imbalances in the cosmos through healing rituals. The one for Èzili Dantò is most likely used to pray specifically to Èzili Dantò for spiritual healing.

At the beginning of this project I wanted to learn more about Èzili Dantò just because of what I read about her in the little booklet next to the Haitian Vodou altar. That evolved into me wanting to know more about how the pakèt kongo on the altar represents her and how pakèt kongos are used in Vodou. I think I would need to see one used in a ritual to fully understand the ways in which they’re used in Vodou, however it is one of the most interesting objects I’ve ever studied. Haitian Vodou combines art with ritual and the pakèt kongo is a perfect example of that. The object appears incredibly decorative, but it does have a purpose, and one that is incredibly important. Seeing the object on an altar in a museum puts it out of context, automatically making it more difficult to understand the use of the object, it seems more decorative than purposeful. Art has power, and the exhibit gives that a new meaning, making it fitting that a pakèt kongo for Èzili Dantò be on the Haitian Vodou altar.

Bibliography

Daniels, Kyrah Malika. “The Undressing of Two Sacred Healing Bundles: Curative Arts in the Black Atlantic in Haiti and Ancient Kongo.”Journal of Africana Religions 1, no. 3(2013):416-429.

McCarthy Brown, Karen. “Ezili.” In Mama Lola: A Vodou Priestess in Brooklyn, 219-58. University of California Press, 2010.

McCarthy Brown, Karen. “Afro-Caribbean Spirituality: A Haitian Case Study.” In Vodou in Haitian Life and Culture: Invisible Powers, 1-25.

Thompson, Robert Farris. 1983. “The Sign of the Four Moments of the Sun.” In The Flash of the Spirit, 119-127. Random House, Inc.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-ndSaxwWzCmW7DPBxu_Grgikkb9FH_V5iLJKDVTP_Qw/edit?usp=sharing

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 very simple and uncomplicated. It was standing alone in a minimalistic glass càs̩e̩, 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 essay will explore the ideas that the Gelede mask is 1) an an active spiritual altar and 2) demonstrates the importance of women in ritual practices, while also raising questions about gender dynamics involved in such 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. The Gelede festival includes costumes, music, singing, and dancing, and usually take place in a marketplace–the woman’s domain in Nigeria.

In the Gelede festival, women are the subjects of worship. Men dress as women and wear masks that imitate their faces:

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).

Professor of history, art, and visual culture at University of California Santa Cruz, Elisabeth L. Cameron provides insights into the complex gender dynamics/relations within the Gelede festival. There are bound to be some interesting dynamics surrounding a ritual in which men “pose” as women in order to worship the spiritual powers of women themselves. The mask itself depicts a hunter on the back of the woman’s head. The hunter’s placement brings about some questions related to gender relations both in Yoruba culture and in the Gelede festival–does the hunter on the back of the woman’s head convey the idea that men are ultimately in control of these traditions? Within the context of this mask and ritual, it could also mean that men are at the mercy of women, as they worship and pray that their ritual will influence the witches present in their lives to use their power for the benefit of society instead of destruction. The Gelede mask is a meaningful and beautiful piece of artwork, but also functions as an altar within Yoruba culture. The rituals that this mask is used in give it the sense of life that African art is known for.

Spiritual altars in Yoruba cultures provide ways to call spirits, ancestors, gods, or other symbolic beings 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 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 is art with a purpose–it was created with clear and dedicated craftsmanship (as you can see from its detailed paint), while also erupting with a sense of power, purpose, and most importantly, functionality: “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). African art is created with the idea that it must have a source of life to hold any meaning. In 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, and 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.

Yoruba scholar Babatunde Lawal states that “. . . the human image, a masterpiece by Obatala, embodies a special power (às̩e̩), inspiring and sustaining the creativity manifest in the visual, performing, and applied arts . . .” (Lawal 1996, 24). Lawal’s description of às̩e̩ connects well to Abiodun’s insights about the way Western scholars didn’t recognize African art as “true” art. In his book, Abiodun also discussed in depth the idea that African art must be activated by some energy in order to possess meaning to the people who observe, perform, and appreciate it–this life present in African art is called às̩e̩. This idea of às̩e̩ does not lend itself easily to straightforward description, translation, and analysis using Western terminologies present in the humanities (Abiodun 2014, 56). Ás̩e̩ is not something that we, in the West, use to classify and qualify objects and people–however, in Yoruba culture, às̩e̩ describes a desirable, divine life force that, if present in a person or object, gives a divine meaning and essence to said person/object. As the Gelede mask is used and therefore initiated in the Gelede festival, its às̩e̩ increàs̩e̩s 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.

The Gelede mask, in my opinion, is one of the most interesting objects in the Spirited Things exhibit. It carries such complex connotations and ideas related to gender and the dynamics involved in the Gelede festival. The Gelede ritual delves into the way women are perceived by both themselves and the men imitating them in Yoruba culture. The mask also demonstrates the idea of às̩e̩–a concept not present in Western art or culture, but one that carries possibly the most divine meaning in Yoruba culture. The Gelede mask is a representation of the idea that art must be alive in some way in order to have meaning and reach its predetermined purpose/potential. African art is not created to simply observe and contemplate. I believe this 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, Rowland. “às̩e̩: Verbalizing and Visualizing Creative Power through Art.” Journal of Religion in Africa 24, no. 4 (November 1994): 309. doi:10.2307/1581339.

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.

The staff (paxorô) for the God Oxalufa is my object of interest for this analysis. The simplicity and complexity of this object were very compelling to my eye. Walking around the museum my eyes and mind stumbled upon a tall staff surrounded by various crowns. Mounted on a block, standing about 5 feet tall stood this particular all silver staff. At the top of the silver staff is a silver crown with a single standing dove upon the crown. Hanging out of the mouth of the dove is a silver pendant of a bell. Pendants fall from the bottom of the crown in symbols of bells, mortars, fish, butterflies, and feathers. Approximately halfway from the top of the staff down to the middle of the staff are 6 equally placed tier-like structures. Starting from the topmost tier slightly under the crown and then going down, each tier progressively gets moderately larger. Identical to the crown mounted at the top of the staff, each of the tiers has the same pendants hanging from them. Each pendant represents an Orixa or God of the Candomblé religion. Visually analyzing this object lead to my curiosity about the use of this object and the symbolism this object provides the individual who uses it in the Candomblé religion. Through research of the God associated with this staff, I was able to figure out the meaning behind this staff.

The religion this objectis associated with is the religion of Candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian religion. Candomblé was founded in the late eighteenth century around Bahia. The elements in Candomblé resemble elements of Yoruba religion. This decent of Candomblé from Yoruba was due to the prominent practice of the Yoruba religion among slaves. Candomblé focuses on the traditional dispensing of sacraments to the orixas or spirits or deities. Specifically, this object is for the orixa Oxalufa also known as Oxalá or Obatala.

The orixa Oxalá is known in the Candomblé religion as the father of all Gods and the creator of mankind. He is known as the high God or the supreme God and is also the seniority figure. This position was gained by his high moral standards and the integrity of his priests and worshipers. Oxalá is visualized as the oldest of the orixas and walks with the staff to support his hunched over body. Seniority, purity, and whiteness are all used to describe him. White clothing is broadly associated with Candomblé but is more specifically worn by Oxalá worshipers. White and silver are known to be Oxalás colors because they are the simplest and purest colors.

This staff is meant to be a symbol of higher power and higher authority. It’s relation to the God Oxalá gives those in the possession of the staff the view that they are a superior and are a follower of Oxalá. The staff is a symbol of power and the mixture of this and the association with the supreme God gives the staff the symbolism of royal power or authority power. The dove at the top of the staff symbolizes that purity of Oxalá. The dove is also the preferred sacrificial animal to give to Oxalá. This purity and power are shown through the staff with its numerous pendants. Each pendant is associated with another orixa or God in the Candomblé religion. For example, the pendant of the fish represents the goddess of the sea Iemanja and the butterfly represents the goddess Iansa. Oxalá is the father or the senior brother to each other orixas. Therefore, their involvement in the staff dedicated to Oxalá symbolizes his authority to all kinds, Gods, and mankind.

In an altar created by Mai Jocelinha in Salvador, Bahia, Brazil, two staffs of Oxalá are placed on either side of a white draped cloth making it look like Oxalá as the center with the crown on his head. In front are white and silver offerings including bells, white flowers, metals and ceramic tiles. This altar is meant to convey Oxalás glory, honesty, and purity. The staffs on either side of the altar are to signify the maturity and wisdom of the eldest Oxalá figures.

The representation of authority and seniority are given off by the staff of Oxala. All figures in possession of this staff are not questioned to have great authority in their community. Usually, these figures are the eldest authority or priests who are in possession of this staff. The pendants that hang from each of the tiers are heard to make the noise associated with Oxala. Metals striking against each other is the sound of Oxala walking with the staff to support him. Staffs are commonly seen as a royalty symbol and in the Candomblé religion, this particular staff is seen similarly as a way to identify a person of higher power.

Staff of Oxala Annotated Bibliography

Beier, U. 1956. Nigeria magazine: Obatala festival, 10-28.

Cahn, Peter S. “Brazil.” In Worldmark Encyclopedia of Religious Practices, 2nd ed., edited by Thomas Riggs, 217-226. Vol. 2, Countries, Afghanistan to Ghana. Farmington Hills, MI: Gale, 2015. Gale Virtual Reference Library

Harding, Rachel E. “Afro-Brazilian Religions.” In Encyclopedia of Religion, 2nd ed., edited by Lindsay Jones, 119-125. Vol. 1. Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2005. Gale Virtual Reference Library

ROCA, ROGER SANSI. “Catholic Saints, African Gods, Black Masks and White Heads: Tracing the History of Some Religious Festivals in Bahia.” Portuguese Studies 21 (2005): 182-200.

Thompson, Robert Farris. “Face of the Gods: The Artists and Their Altars.” African Arts 28, no. 1 (1995): 50-61.

Seth Epling

The object was stuck in a falling state, suspended in mid air.  A weapon among an altar, a scepter with crowns surrounding. I wanted to know where 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 simple, wooden staff. The kind of wood that if you held it, it would give you splinters. There are three brass segments on staff and right above the one at the top there is a cat like creature. It is a very interesting creature with a big cat body and long ears or horns. One of the biggest reasons why I picked this object is this animal and the shadow it casts. The shadow from the display makes it look like the cat is walking along the staff. Right before the axe head, two horns protrude, similar to the cat’s ears . There is the blade that is made of metal with tidal waves throughout the edge. Two metal pieces hold down the blade, an S shape metal piece and a spring piece. The last thing on the scepter is a flower a 6 petal flower below the horns and next to the head. On every other petal there are bumps that seem to make a simple pattern. This lead me to what I wanted to learn from this object. Why is this deadly object in a place of worship. Even within the scepter there are juxtapositions as there is a flower that draws your eye to it. I wanted to learn everything about this scepter and the god it represented, Hevioso or shungo. Contrary to its looks, it is not a weapon, it a tool used for religious and political festivals. I question the meaning behind with the aspects of the king and the deity he represented. As a hot god, Hevioso in vodou or Shungo in yoruba tradition, he 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 give background on Hevioso and how a different king follows him 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. I will explain the cat creature on top of the staff and the significance it has towards the scepter.  

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. The main religion was Vodou, which is a religion based of the following of spirits. Some of these spirits are ancestral, but every person has a deity that guides that person through life. There were many kings that ruled over the Dahomey kingdom and each king had a deity that represented him or her. 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 and have little differences.  One god that many kings represented was Hevioso, the god of thunder for Vodou, 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 saying that he is an angry god but this is slightly wrong because they just did things fast and associated with war which is why they are perceived as angry. Often, Hevioso is represented as a lion because of his pride and his intensity. The king that was made for the scepter does not have information on him but there is another king, King Glele, that was much more influential who followed Hevioso in his actions.  

King Glele was the king of Dahomey for many years, and like stated previously, he had Hevioso guiding him. He was a military genius and spent many of years of reigning on conquering other people. He earned the nickname of “Lion King” and “Lion of Lions”. 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)

People were afraid of King Glele and this is what this court song was saying. Fon people, the people who follow vodou in Benin, admired him but because of his actions, that were guided by Hevioso, they were taught not to wrong him. 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

Shown above is one of the scepter made for King Glele taken by Blier. It has many similar aspects to the scepter in the museum. The creature on top of our scepter has similar facial expressions and shape to this one. King Glele commissioned the making of many objects like this including big knives. 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 seem to be used in the same festivals and courts. For one they were used in the court systems, these objects were used as tribute to the royal dead, punish criminals, promote and pay court officials, celebrate military victory and display wealth of the royal family according to Blier. These knifes and the scepter are used as a way to show strength both physical and personal. For the king to show how much power and money he has, to demonstrate the greatness of his armies when they won. It was just to prove to the people that he is most supreme. This is interesting because one of the major viewpoints of the haitian religion is healing the body and soul. There doesn’t seem to be festivals or courts that use either these knives or the scepter that convey a main theme of health. They do have a belief that “People are born to die” (Brown, 4) and these objects are used to celebrate the deaths of a royal family. They seem to be used more in honor of the fallen, as in war or royally, then to be used in healing the body.

The reason for the cat creature towards the head of the staff is a little tough. Since there is no information on the king who kept this scepter, it is hard to know what exactly is the creature. In the picture of the Nesuhwe shrine house in Abomey from the book Asen, Ancestors, and Vodun there are two animals. The lion with a name above it that says Glele

Photo by E. Bay

which is his animal that represents him and next to him on the right side, there what seems to be a cat like animal with horns for Glele’s father, Ghezo. This animal is thought to be a buffalo because one part of his symbol is a buffalo, according to the new world encyclopedia. Using this information, I can infer that this animal, if it is a cat, buffalo, or anything that is aggressive and strong, is unique to the king that had this scepter and also a form of representing and honoring Hevioso.

I went into this research with the goal of figuring out what the scepter was used for and how it related to Hevioso. Unfortunately, not knowing what king had possession of the scepter made the research difficult. I was able to use King Glele who had the same deity and his father to infer multiple points. I was able to argue that the scepter was used to scare people and keep them below him or her. I was able to explain multiple parts of the scepter and how they related to Dahomey kingdom of the Fon culture. This just shows that it is hard to take any object out of context and expect to understand it fully. This goes along with any diasporic religion, the only way of full understanding of an object, it has to be seen in use at a ritual.

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.

Walking into the Fleming Museum’s Spirited Things: Sacred Arts of the Black Atlantic Exhibit, your eyes are inundated by radiant, intriguing, and esoteric objects of various Afro-Atlantic Religions. There are altars composed to honor various deities, plethoras of shining garments, beaded dolls, colorfully wrapped bottles, gorgeous tapestries with images of deities and mythical beings, gathered to express religious cultures. Families of objects line the walls and floors all telling a story of religious and cultural diversity of Yoruba Religions, Brazilian Candomblé, Santería, Haitian Vodoun, and much more.
To the left of me, in a large glass case surrounded by bottles of rum, cowrie shells, and dolls for wealth and prosperity, lies a strange wand-like object. This object, by reading the tag underneath, is known as the Ibirí Wand of the Goddess Naña. By observation, this object is about 15-20 inches in length, and extends from a straight handle, into two pieces of straw that bend in opposite directions to create an oval shaped looped at the summit of the wand. The ibirí is made of Palha da Costa, or African straw, and is adorned with rows of blue, red, gold and white glass beads. Glass Beads, or any links of beads are said to, within the practice of Candomblé, after being washed in herbal baths or blood offerings, are said to take on the ashe of the deities they are used for, and become a connection or a literal “link” from user or practitioner to the divine. Along with the beads decorating the Ibirí, pearly white cowrie shells, which create an oceanic aspect of the wand, entrancing sections of leather ranging in color, drawing your eyes in all directions around the shape of the wand, are present. Beginning at the base of the handle, my eyes seemed to follow the colors as they changed starting with black, blue, green, yellow, white, and finishing with red. I had never seen an object quite like this, that could catch my eyes and draw them in so many different directions at once, I was eager to discover more about this mesmerizing entity of an object. In this essay, I will provide background information on both the Ibirí and its owner, Naña Buruku. Also, I will explain how the wand is used within vocational rituals honoring and invoking the goddess of dance, death, and disease.
To start, I would like to first give a bit of background information on the owner of the Ibirí, Naña Buruku. Naña Buruku, is an orisha, or deity within the Brazilian religious practice of Candomblé. She is considered the Orisha of Death, Dance, Healing, Disease or Pestilence, and other aspects as well. She is considered a “grandmother” of the Orisha’s and is seen very much as a wise-woman within Brazilian Candomblé. Two of her children, are Ogun, the orisha of metal or iron, and Obaluaiye, the orisha of smallpox and pestilence. Naña is known amongst practitioners of Candomblé, as a powerful deity for asking for a pregnancy, to terminate a pregnancy, and for various types of healing. She is said to use the Ibirí as a broom of sorts, or as a staff to guide her followers and her children to their highest potential, like a grandmother spirit would do. However, just as Naña Buruku uses the Ibirí as a tool for helping her children, grandchildren, and devotees, the Orisha’s tool has also been known as a weapon. With this malicious usage of the Ibirí, or the ileeshin, an alternative Yoruba word for the Ibirí reflects a side of the Grandmother spirit that is rather contradicting and darker. “But if a cruel and horrible person stands before her, she can take the ileeshin, thrust it out horizontally before her and strike its looped tip against the belly of the man” (Thompson 1983, 71). This aspect of the Ibirí suggests an aspect of the Orisha that is just, and seeks to have justice against cruel or unjust people. This tells a sort of duality to Naña Buruku, a balance between nurturing and healing with justice and dealing punishment to those who may deserve it. The Ibirí and Naña both share a very balanced and equal power, dealing with both aspects of the world; that which is cruel and unjust, and that which is healing and has justice. This dual persona of the Orisha, seems to exist also within the eclectic gathering of colors within the Ibirí. The colors of blue, gold, white and green emphasize the healing and nurturing side of the Orisha, and her desire to watch and guide over her children, grandchildren, and worshippers. Also, the collection of the colors red and black, reflect on the side of Naña Buruku that wished to punish and serve justice to those who deserved it. I did learn a great deal of knowledge about the dual personalities of Naña Buruku, and created the connection between the colors of the Ibirí, and Naña’s personality. After feeling like I understood the Orisha on a more personal and human level, I wished to learn more about the backstory of both the Ibirí and the Orisha, during her human experience.
The Ibirí wand, was said to have been born with Naña Buruku at the beginning of her life on Earth. “Nana has possessed a certain staff from the beginning of her life on earth. She was born with this staff; it was not given to her by anyone… when she was born the staff was embedded in the placenta” (Thompson 1983, 71). This expresses that the history of Naña Buruku and the Ibirí are intertwined and show the dependence both the object and the deity have on each other. The Ibirí, was also said to have been cut from the placenta after birth, and placed into the Earth. The Ibirí was then said to grow as the child grew. “ Then they cut it from the placenta and they put it inside the Earth. But surprisingly, as the infant grew, the staff grew, too” (Thompson 1983, 71). This legend, in a sense emphasizes how Naña Buruku’s áshe, or her divine powers, grew as she did within the Ibirí and also emphasizes the idea within Afro-Atlantic religions that one’s áshe, or divine influence, grows along with them in the world.
The Ibirí, along with being used by the Orisha herself as a broom, as a staff of guidance, as a weapon, etc. is seen heavily in Candomblé imagery in the crook of Naña Buruku’s arms, as she is swaddling it like a child, again emphasizing her role as a grandmother spirit, a nurturer, and a healer. In one of my research questions, I wanted to discover more about the modern use of the Ibirí within ritualistic practices. This leaded me to discover that worshippers and devotees of Naña Buruku use a form of dancing called Tidalectics, a style of dancing that includes a swaying motion parallel to the action of the oceans waves. The Tidalectics style of dancing creates another connection to the nature of the Orisha herself, as she has been said to be found near oceans, rivers, and streams. The style of dancing known as Tidalectics also led me to create a connection between the ritualistic practice of dancing used to honor the orisha, and the use of Cowrie shells to adorn the Ibirí. Cowrie Shells, or shells of any type are naturally used as a representation of water, or of the ocean. The Cowrie shells used to embellish the Ibirí create a further connection between the orisha and to the ocean. The Tidalectics style of dancing also resembled the sweeping motion of a broom, which Naña was said to perform using the Ibirí, to sweep away pestilence and disease. In the practice of Initiation into the practice of Naña Buruku, practitioners will wear long dresses, usually of the color blue or gold, and take corners of their dresses, and sway them back and forth, mimicking the action of sweeping a broom.
Throughout my research, discovering the existence of such an object has objected my mind to make many connections between a material object and the nature and personality of an incredibly wise and powerful deity. The Ibirí has allowed me to perceive the nature of an object far beyond just what materials, colors, and embellishments meet the eye. The Ibirí wand also allowed me to discover the existence of a foreign style of dancing I had never encountered before, and can be used to honor a deity who’s uniqueness and respectability is as diverse and eclectic as the object that she has carried since birth. The practice of Candomblé is one that can be perceived as radiant, diverse, and honorable as embodied in Naña Buruku. The Ibirí wand is an object that’s personality and backstory have transcended time itself and continues to live on in antiquity within the walls of the Fleming Museum, waiting their every day to meet all who are lucky to see it, and to teach them about itself and the history of a truly wise grandmother orisha.
Below are photo’s of both the wand itself and an Illustration of Naña Buruku