Read American Voudou: Journey Into a Hidden World Online

Authors: Rod Davis

Tags: #Body; Mind & Spirit, #General, #Religion, #Ethnic & Tribal, #Social Science, #Ethnic Studies, #African American Studies, #test

American Voudou: Journey Into a Hidden World (33 page)

BOOK: American Voudou: Journey Into a Hidden World
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Page 215
The pagans endured because they were prepared to accept confusion. That is the whole concept of Esu. If we are looking for an ideal situation, forget it. Hold what we have intact, continue to explore, advance. We have to remember we were sent here on a mission, and we must hold onto our moorings."
Toward the end, he was looking directly at Iya Ghandi, who sometimes returned his gaze, sometimes looked at the floor. No further action was taken. The king apparently felt it best to let the issue lay where it was. But everyone knew she would go. And within the year, she did, following a bitter intra-village quarrel. Exiled from Oyotunji, she disappeared from even its outermost networks, and, like so many people in the voudou world, spun away into another reality, to another fate of life and spirit. Iya Shanla eventually left, too.

 

Page 216
16
Advice and Consent
A few days later, I asked for my reading. As with Lorita, I'd been putting it off. The king agreed, pleased I'd finally come around, and set a time for that afternoon. I would follow a woman from Georgia who'd driven in especially. It all ran late, of course, but eventually one of the king's daughters came to lead me back to the Afin. The Oba was in Iya Orite's househer own, now. From the outside the little two-bedroom looked like a trailer home that had taken root in stages; the interior was plain folks, toopaneled walls, sofas, big portraits of family on the walls, a few throw rugs, a TV.
Iya Orite was in the front room straightening book shelves and setting up an ironing board. Several village children had taken up spots near the kitchen in front of the TV, watching cartoons. Orite asked me to leave my shoes by the doorAfrican custom. As I removed them, I saw the Oba in a wicker chair in the opposite corner. He greeted me with a big smile and motioned me over to one of two footstools separated by a straw mat he had laid out on the floor. We sat facing each other and without further small talk, as I was now a client, not an ob-

 

Page 217
server, he drew his opele, the babalawo's divining chain, from a small pouch at his waist.
I had been told to bring $30. The Oba said to fold the money three times into a square, say my name, then drop the money to the mat. Rapidly invoking the orisha in a ritual litany, he made his first "drop" of the opele, on top of the money.
He quickly scanned the chain, on whose links eight palm nuts are mounted in swivels, to count which nuts fell "up" and which "down." I couldn't believe how fast he readlike a computer. In a way, that's what he was. The Ifa system, which encompasses, in ascending order of authority, the obi, the cowries, the opele, and yet another called the ikin, is so logic-driven Microsoft could write software for itliterally. (And may yetthe Internet is now full of voudou and santeria web sites, including one for an Ifa society; many of the people mentioned in this book are now reachable via the Net). No matter how many times I pondered or observed the many forms of Ifa, the intellectual and philosophical backbone of voudou theology, I marveled at both its mathematical precision and its organic creativity.
1
Regardless of the divining instrument used, each permutation is based, like digital technology or a coin flip, on an open-closed option. The coconut husks of the obi fall white side up or dark side up. The cowrie shells face up or down. The palm nuts of the opele show the smooth or rough surface. The job of the priest is to scan the throw and use the numerical "picture" to build a sequenced paradigm of fate, expressed as the odu, for each client.
That's why the Oba's rapid tallying, as he proceeded through the first, and most important throw, and on through a half-dozen more, each one diverging off the previous, tributaries of the generality of life to the specifics of mine, was so impressive. With the four obi husks, five basic combinations of odu are possible.

 

Page 218
The sixteen cowries offer seventeen variations. The opele raises the mathematical possibilities to 256. (The
I Ching
, in comparison, has a base of 67.)
The geometrical leap of the opele's range occurs because the chain is actually a kind of super-processor for the oldest of the Ifa methods, the fall casting of the eight palm nuts, the ikin. With the obi and cowries, a single throw can yield a full odu. The ikin requires that eight nuts be cast eight times to generate an odu. The process is considered to be the most traditional, and marginally more authoritative, but also far more time-consuming. Most priests have turned to the opele, ekuele in santeria, which can create an equivalent number-picture in just one "drop."
But ikin or opele, the babalawo, to whose use these methods are restricted, is required to be able to recognize each of the 256 potential patterns on sight, and know how each relates to the other and to the orisha pantheon. Each odu, in other words, is distinguished not only by a particular configuration, and formal name, but is also associated with certain traditional verses and parables. And each odu is considered to be a manifestation of a different orisha, or even a different personality trait within an orisha.
2
To read an odu is to see an incredible range of thousands of options. It would be as though when you saw a country on a map you simultaneously made links with every book written about it, every leader of it, all the people in it and its entire history, and could merge all that knowledge in a single thought. An odu is an entire novel of existence and imagination, grasped in an instant. In that, it seems as Eastern as a Buddhist insight; the complexity often reminded me of
The Glass Bead Game,
Hesse's metaphoric bridge from Europe to Asia.
As he worked through my reading, the Oba was trying to peer through a tremendously complex prism. But that was not the cause of the odd look on his face. My "dominant" odu,

 

Page 219
determined on the first cast, was Iwori-osa, indicating the influence of Ifa and Oya. But with each subsequent, or refining cast, he had repeated the name of a different orishaeach time with increasing tone of puzzlement. What was happeningthough I did not know it at the timewas that I was not being divined in the way we had all expected.
As I watched the Oba's brow furrow, I knew what had been behind my reluctance to show up for a reading all week. This is how it had gone in Atlanta, too.
I asked the Oba if there were a problem.
Balancing the chain in one hand, focusing somewhere in the distance momentarily, then looking back at me, he said he'd been trying to determine which was my African spirit guidethe mystery everyone in the village had been waiting to solve. He had thought the answer would be fairly straightforwardObatala. But Obatala wasn't answering.
Iya Orite, who had been observing from her ironing board, came over to kibbitz. "See if it's Elegba," she said. The Oba cast the chain. The chain said no. The Oba and Orite looked at each other. Nobody'd really gone beyond those possiblities for me. Orite had some more ideas. Oshun? The king threw the opele. No. Shango? Same answer. Orite walked away, smiling with a kind of puzzled curiosity. Suddenly she turned. "Ask about Ochosi."
The Oba threw the opele again. This time, instead of shaking his head, he looked up at me. It seemed a very long moment. He grinned and wrote something down in his client book. That was it: Ochosi. The hunter. One of the Warriors. That was who I was.
I felt a slight smile turn the edge of my mouth. I was surprised, too, also having figured myself, perhaps from power of suggestion, for an Obatala. Now I wasn't.
I waited for the king to finish inscribing his notes. In fact, he told me later, he had seen Ochosi on the second throw, in a con-

 

Page 220
figuration known as Irete Tura, which indicated the presence of both Ochosi, in the dominant position, and Elegba, on a secondary level, But the weakness or ambiguity of the successive throws hadn't really convinced him Ochosi was for me. He'd made the additional casts, even waiting for Iya Orite to be the one to pose the definitive yes-no question, to be sure.
Had this been Africa, and had I been a real initiate, he would at this point have begun to recite the appropriate verses from my dominant odu. Then he would have told me the apataki which fit the odu and verse. After that, he would have helped me relate the meaning of the verses and the parable to my life. In America, where most clients have no acquaintance with the odu, or with verses, or with parables, priests generally summarize. ''Well, the reading looks good, but you need to be more careful with your money, or take better care of your wife," etc.
For me, the Oba also had to explain the nature of my new spirit, about whom I knew little. Ochosi, he said, lives and works alone. My only companions were Ogun and Osanyin, the reclusive wizard of herbs and medicines, who, like Ochosi, lived deep in the forest. Ochosi is syncretized with St. Norbert, the Catholic saint who is sometimes depicted in forest garb with a dog. No wonder, it occurred to me, Robin Hood was one of the great heroes of my boyhood.
I was an important spirit, the Oba explainedone who went forth to bring back sustenance for the people. Yet I did not wish to live among them. As Ochosi, I was a networker. I linked people together through sharing the information from my solitary travels. The Oba said it would be good for me to work in or around a "structured environment," by which I think he meant a job, but that I also must be free to move, search. I would never have a long relationship with a woman, because I would be too solitary. I was a spirit who went between the world of men and of nature, and preferred the latter.

 

Page 221
It didn't sound like fun. Edward Abbey would make a good Ochosi, living alone in his rock canyons in Utah, but was that really me? Alas, the more I pondered it, the more it seemed true. I really was a huntera writer, a searcher for knowledge. I gathered information and brought it back to the community of the literate. Still, I was perplexed by the unexpected shift of my spiritual identity.
Previous indications that I might be Obatala hadn't been guessworkBaba Tunde had called it thus in Atlanta. The king explained that such a conflict over one's orisha identity was possible, but when that happens, the higher level of Ifa rules. In my case, the opele of the Oba outranked the cowries of Baba Tunde. The Oba himself had initially thought he was Shango, only to be read as Obatala, and then, later, had become a priest of Ifa. Iya Orite said she, too, had gone through a kind of orisha crisis in the course of initiation to Obatalathree orisha had been "in a battle" for her "head."
There were further complexities. The Oba said my reading also revealed a strong Obatala presence after all, appearing in his "stern" personality. Oya was in there as a supplement, too, making me "stubborn, headstrong." I also had a "cultural'' Oshun, who drew Obatala's tendency toward intellect and organization into artistic spheres. And there was a "cultural" Elegbafrom the second odu, the one which had revealed the presence of Ochosi. Further, each of these secondary orisha, in each aspect, had to be particularized to me, or I to them. Were I to pursue further steps towards initiation, I would have to incorporate their "personalities" into my own. Oya, for example, doesn't like intoxicating drinkI do, but can't tolerate much. Because of Ochosi, I would favor the green of the forest in my clothing. I do, though maybe because I'm part Irish.
As the king explained all this to me, I felt my spirit brighten, as if I had finally discovered my true identityand liked it.

 

Page 222
But the critical part of the reading remained. Because it is binary, Ifa is a philosophy of pairsgood and evil, fortune and misfortune. In every reading, good news is tempered with bad. There is always a downside risk. In voudou the bad news is called osoboa warning. In order to secure the positive things that have been foreseenor reduce the negative consequences of a bad reading, such as mine in Atlantathe osobo must be mitigated. In voudou, mitigation comes through sacrifice.
The king said my warning "speaks to travel, to the streets and highways." The orisha with jurisdiction in those areas were Elegba and Ogun. If I wanted to ward off possible harmharm that might jeopardize the realization of the other, dominant forces in my reading, I should make ebo.
I looked across at the Oba. He was leaving it up to me.
"Okay," I said. "What would we have to do?"
He cast the opele. To appease the hunger of the gods and persuade them not to interfere with my fate, but to help me, I should sacrifice three young roosters. It would cost $150.
"We'll do it tomorrow," he said, and glanced toward his wife, as though confirming a dental appointment. "Iya Orite will tell you what all you need to do."
I stood to go. As I was putting my shoes back on, Miwa, who had come in a few minutes earlier, walked over to her father to beg for a reading. She was trying to decide whether to move to Atlanta to take a job. The king said he didn't really have time, but, as everyone in the room knew, time wasn't the issue. Neither he nor Orite wanted to face the loss of their daughter to the big city, and a life that would draw her ever away from Oyotunji.
But Miwa, like her mother, was persistent. The king gave in, and Miwa took her place on the stool I had just vacated. The king threw. Orite moved closer. The Oba scanned the chain and looked at Orite, who also saw the message. "I hate to tell you this," the king said, "but I have to be honest. The odu says you
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