Archive for: July, 2010

Ócháni Lele – Interview: Part 3

Jul 29 2010 Published by under Before My Year

This is the third and final set of interview questions between myself and Ócháni Lele, as part of his online book tour for Teachings of the Santería Gods. Rather than just focusing on him as a writer or his new book, this interviews covers something a little more general — the patakí themselves. I tried to keep my questions limited this time, so if there’s something you feel like I’ve left out, feel free to leave a comment for Ócháni Lele or myself.


Year-in-White: Every now and then I hear someone reference something from a patakí as if it was fact. I’ve noticed that not all stories are treated like this, though. Very few people will claim that some sort of magical five-toed chicken helped create the world, for instance. Are there certain stories that you feel are more fact than fiction or should they all be treated as just that – stories?

Ócháni Lele: That’s a good question, and my answer is “it depends.” There are many levels to our patakís, and those levels are constantly unfolding.

Like you, I find it troublesome that someone would believe a five-toed chicken came down from heaven on someone’s back and helped to create dry land, but these were creation stories conceived in a time when there was no real scientific knowledge. Ancient humans tried to wrap their minds around the concept of “where did this come from?” This creation patakís is one of the many stories that emerged. For patakís like that I think we need to look into the symbolism created. One could write papers on the symbols of our creation myths. The story itself is also meant to be entertaining, and I think it relays a lot of information about the natures of the orishas we worship, orishas who are central characters in that myth (such as Obatalá, Eshu, Orúnmila, Odua, Olokun, etc.). Personally I think that patakí, in our modern age, is meant to examine the spirituality behind creation; just as the science behind the creation of our world is vast, so are the spiritual concepts behind what happened. It also gives order to the emergence of those concepts. But that’s a subject one could write about for months and not exhaust.

A lot of our patakís are fictionalized accounts of actual historical figures. Many of the orishas (and the odu themselves) we worship were once living, breathing people – take Shangó for example. He was the fourth king of ancient Oyó. He was a descendant of Oduduwa, the progenitor of the Yoruba race so history tells us. Some of our stories tell us that not only did he have the blood of Oduduwa in his veins, but also his mother was an embodiment of an orisha, so he was twice blessed. The tales of his life live on in our odu; and over the centuries I’m sure other elements were added to those. So for stories like that we have fact and fiction merged to create a spiritually dynamic story that remembers not only the earthly Shangó but also the heavenly orisha; and we believe that they were one and the same. Who is to say they are not? And through those stories we learn of their spiritual natures.

There are stories about men and women who had problems and made (or did not make) ebó; and we remember the outcomes of that. Those form the basis of many ebós that we prescribe in divination. There are some stories that are pure history, such as the taming of horses to create the cavalry in ancient Oyó, or the introduction of various weapons among the nations. There are stories about the migrations of various city-states and villages, such as the five migrations of the holy city Ilé Ifé. There are stories about different kings (and queens) that became revered as specific roads of the orishas. Also, patakís about various avatars of the orishas are important because they help us trace the origin of that road, and the differences that existed among the different regions influencing the Lucumí faith. Some are important for no reason other than they give us spiritual reasons for many of our customs.

This question you asked is a huge one, and it’s one that needs to be addressed on a much larger scale. To make my answer simple – I think one has to approach each patakí differently and determine if it was meant to relay a moral, encapsulate history, teach us through symbol, or, simply, to entertain. Different patakís espouse one or more of these things to different degrees.

Year-in-White: The patakís evolve slowly over time as they are retold and revised over the generations. It seems like it’s important for the story-tellers to ensure that patakís remain culturally relevant. Are there any patakís that you feel are more behind-the-times than the rest?

Ócháni Lele: I don’t believe that the stories need to be changed to make them culturally relevant. They are stories from the past about the past; there is no need to “change” that. Their “behind the times” nature comes from the fact that they are stories of an earlier time. This was one of the major problems I had with my own retellings. For each character in each story, I tried to “develop” the character a bit without changing the pataki’s nature. That was difficult.

Take, for example, my chapter on Okana. One story I really love from that odu is the story titled, “Okana’s Seduction of Shangó.” In my own notes, I have that story recorded thus: Okana was a witch who desired Shangó more than anything. She met him while he was riding on his horse and she walking through town and fell hopelessly in love with him. She used her witchcraft and potions to try and seduce him. But Shangó had gone to his diviners and made ebó. His ebó was stronger than her witchcraft. When she met Shangó again, armed with her potion, it worked briefly before Shangó found the strength to tell her he would never be with a witch like her. But so caught up was she in her own magic that this crushed her, filled her with unfulfilled desires, and she turned her magic to evil things. Her unreturned lust for Shangó, and her use of magic against him, was the beginning of her destruction.

That, more or less, is how I was told the story by my godfather; and that is how I wrote it in my notes. It has the makings of a good short story; however, to write a short story there has to be more. So I focused on Okana’s desire and her use of magic. I focused on Shangó’s use of ebó with his diviners. And I created a scene that I think is relevant to the time in which the story was set to show how Okana was crushed. A brief narrative was fleshed out into a full short-story. That was difficult. Even more difficult – I had to do it in such a way that it followed the fragment I had without changing the plot a single bit. I wrote tons of drafts before I got it just right; and I went through this with each and every story I wrote.

Year-in-White: As more and more stories are shared either through printed works like your own or through digital versions online, what implications – both good and bad – do you think that has for the traditional stories that, historically, were only shared verbally from person to person?

Ócháni Lele: As the media through which our stories are shared changes, the presentation of the stories will change. What works as an oral rendition does not work as a printed rendition; and what works in the printed word will not work if our patakís are presented through visual media, such as plays or television or movies. Take the works of the Brothers Grimm, for instance. I grew up reading those. I had to hide the book under the covers at night and read with a flashlight because my mother believed the stories were too gruesome for a child; but read them I did. Later, when she gave me the Disney versions of those same stories, I was incredibly disappointed. They were nothing like the originals. And later, when Disney turned some of those into movies (oh . . . my . . . gosh . . . what they did to the little mermaid!) they were virtually unrecognizable. Hopefully, this won’t happen with our patakís. But chances are it will.

As more writers, authors, playwrights, and artists come into contact with our culture, we’ll need to keep in mind that while our stories are reaching a wider audience, not all versions or interpretations will be relevant to us as a religious body. In my work I tried very hard to stay true to the plots and characters of our patakís; and I worked hard to make the settings as relevant to our ancient culture as I could. And in my private notes, meant to be passed on to my godchildren and their spiritual descendants, I’ve tried to keep the original fragments on which my retellings are based in the body of my personal work so they can compare, contrast, and come up with their own opinions of the writings. I think that’s what everyone who reads works such as mine needs to do – employ dialogue about my work with their own elders about what they’ve read. If everyone does this, then the work I’ve done becomes a springboard for discussion and learning.

I think that’s the most important part of the work I’ve done and the work I’m doing: it’s educational. And the opportunities for this type of work are unlimited. We have so many talented writers among our ranks — hopefully some of those will do work similar to mine soon and add to our body of knowledge!


On behalf of this blog and its readers, I’d like to give a big, “Thank you!” to Ócháni Lele for taking the time to answer my questions and allow me to share it with everyone here.

Ócháni Lele’s book is available online at amazon.com. You can also find the other books he has written throughout his career as both a writer and a priest there. Click on the link below to find his latest book, Teachings of the Santería Gods, released on July 7, 2010.

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Still Alive

Jul 29 2010 Published by under Before My Year

Things have been pretty hectic lately.

I’ve been trying to get over a cold and catch back up on work… so I apologize for not posting much here lately.

Here’s what I’ve got planned so far:

  • Tonight, I’ll post the third interview from Ócháni Lele. I was going to do it earlier this morning, but haven’t had a chance yet. It’s all about patakis, so I hope you all will enjoy it. It will also probably be your last chance to write in with your questions for him for a while, too, so don’t miss out!

  • Saturday, I’ll be working on the podcast — gathering up news articles, Q&A material, and trying to come up with a topic of my own to discuss. Sort of just making it up as I go along.

  • Sunday, I’ll be in Orlando with my padrino. I haven’t seen him in a while now and am definitely looking forward to it. With luck, hanging out and talking with him will spark some ideas for new topics to blog about or discuss on the podcast.

  • After that…? It’s a bit up-in-the-air. I had hoped I could get an interview going with one of the singers over in Orlando, but I haven’t heard back yet. Probably need to start coming up with a “Plan B”.

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    Ócháni Lele – Interview: Part 2

    Jul 22 2010 Published by under Before My Year

    Once again, I had the pleasure to speak with Ócháni Lele recently. Those who read last week’s blog interview will remember that he is the Lucumí author of various books on the religion Santería. Specifically, his work focuses on the diloggún and the odu that form its oral literary corpus. His past works include the titles The Secrets of Afro-Cuban Divination, Obi: Oracle of Cuban Santería, and The Diloggún. He is with us today promoting his new book released by Destiny Books on July 7th, Teachings of the Santería Gods.


    Year-in-White: Ócháni, this has turned into a very lengthy interview, and I’d like to thank you for taking all this time to speak with both myself and my readers.

    Ócháni Lele: You’re quite welcome. I love talking (and writing) about my work.

    Year-in-White: Until the release of this book, Teachings of the Santería Gods, all of your work to date has been instructional. This book does have some wonderful teaching material in it, but primarily it is a collection of short stories, beautifully written. Why the change?

    Ócháni Lele: I don’t look at this as a change as much as I do a natural evolution of my writing. When I wrote The Secrets of Afro-Cuban Divination in 1998 (it was contracted late 1998 and published late 2000), there was nothing on the market that spoke of the diloggún – either as a system of divination or as an oral holy book. I wanted to begin my work by investigating the diloggún as a system of divination; that is, after all, its most practical application. Something most of my readers don’t know is that when I wrote Secrets I wanted it to be an inclusive survey of Lucumí divination. It had an extensive chapter about Obí divination in it.

    But books are limited entities, and for a first volume on two virtually unknown divination systems written in the English language, I had some serious space constraints. Plus, Obí divination isn’t that simple, not really. So I cut the chapter on Obí and presented my first volume as a survey of the diloggún. It was unique; it was innovative; and it was the first book of its kind written in the English language. It was the first book of its kind in any language to provide complete instructional material regarding the casting of diloggún. And it was a huge success!

    About the time that Secrets came out I was burnt out on nursing; and one night, disappointed in new staffing guidelines that I felt were unsafe at my then current job, I quit. I put in my two weeks’ notice, worked it out, and after my last night on the job I sat at home wondering, “Now what am I going to do with myself?” The deleted chapter from Secrets sat on my dining room table, all 68 pages of it. I decided to rework that into a book.

    In a two-week period in which all I did was write, eat, shower, and sleep, I added my personal anecdotes about being white and entering what is considered by most to be an African religion; and then I added all the patakís I knew supporting the coconut-based divination system. I added a simple chapter on an art few initiates know or remember anymore in regards to Obí divination, the aperes, and then I polished it all up and sent it to my publisher. A few weeks later it was contracted! Late 2001, Obí: Oracle of Cuban Santería was published.

    While writing that book, I knew I wanted to move into storytelling. It felt good, no, powerful to tell my own versions of the patakís supporting Obí divination. Over the years I had collected hundreds of patakís, sacred myths, about the orishas and the odu; however, my writing skills were not strong enough to commit to a project dedicated only to storytelling. Plus, every day my email box was crammed with requests for more information on the odu. Those emails gave me the inspiration to write my incredibly huge volume titled, The Diloggún: the Orishas, Proverbs, Sacrifices, and Prohibitions of Cuban Santería.

    When I sent that 400,000 plus word manuscript to my publisher, Inner Traditions, I was afraid. Publishers don’t like projects of more than 75,000 to 85,000 words, but when the acquisitions department read it, they “got it.” The diloggún is huge; and the opportunities for writing and studying this system are huge as well. They took a chance and published it. The volume was a huge success and went into successive printings.

    Year-in-White: And how did this lead you into your current book, Teachings of the Santería Gods.

    Ócháni Lele: Something most don’t realize about the publishing industry is this – after a work is contracted, it can take six months to a year and a half to bring a book to the shelves. It’s a long, drawn-out process of reviews, edits, and rewrites. I sent Inner Traditions the final manuscript for The Diloggún in 2002. It didn’t come out until 2003. During that time, I was searching for the subject matter of my next book; and that is when I decided to start writing short stories based on the patakís.

    From 2002 until late 2007, I wrote and rewrote all the stories I had in my private collection. I began with Okana and worked my way through the composites of Ejila Shebora. It took me 6 years to work through them all like this, and along the way my godfather taught me hundreds of additional stories. Even now, I don’t think that man (God bless him) realizes how much he taught me, or how closely I hung on his every word. I worked my versions of those into my notes as well.

    In 2008 I still had hundreds of stories and fragments untouched; but when I realized how the years had flown by without me publishing anything . . . well . . . I stopped what I was doing and planned how I was going to present these stories. After many false starts, I decided that a short volume on the patakís of the root odu from Okana through Ejila Shebora would be the most logical. I agonized over which ones to present; and early 2008 I sent a proposal to my editor. The publisher issued a contract; and I began months of cutting, editing, writing, and rewriting until the manuscript was complete.

    Truly, the book you hold in your hands is one that took 8 years to write and bring to the bookshelves. I am very proud of the work I’ve done.

    Year-in-White: Towards the end of the introduction in Teachings of the Santería Gods you reference Okana’s story. You pose a question to the reader about whether the osogbo that comes into one’s life due to failure to make ebó is the result of the osogbo itself or the result of the person not making the required ebó. This is an intense question, one that involves the realm of moral and ethics. Which do you believe? Was the outcome of that story due to the failure to make ebó or to the osogbo itself?

    Ócháni Lele: This is why I love to study both the odu and the patakís, and this is why I wish more people spent time contemplating them. Each, if read thoughtfully, brings up multiple issues regarding morals, ethics, and personal responsibility. Any one story in my book could generate dozens of papers on just these subjects. Without imposing my own beliefs on my readers, I’d like to say that the world is a complicated place, and the stories in my book reflect this world’s complications. Everything we do affects everything and everyone else; nothing exists in a vacuum, and everything is caught up in an intricate web that derives its strength from its multiple threads. I’d like my readers to come up with their own ideas on these topics as they read my work.

    Barely 100 years ago (give or take a few dozen years) were the Yoruba thought to be savages with no native spirituality. As recently as our generation, this country tried to make laws limiting the practice of our faith. Even now, mainstream WASP society looks at what we do with disgust. But after reading these stories, myths and histories – sacred dramas as ancient as any sacred texts in our world – one learns that the Yoruba were a deeply spiritual people who struggled daily with the concepts of God, soul, ethics, morals, and personal responsibility. These stories are the core of our spiritual practices. Only the morally insane could read this work and think, “These people have no soul. These people have no spirituality.” There is a gentleness, a refreshingly vibrant, spiritual yearning to these patakís. They are the result of a spiritual genius; there is no soulful poverty in them.

    Year-in-White: There are so many ways to present these stories. I’d like to know if you have any plans for an audio book or public performance based on these patakís?

    Ócháni Lele: Once I get through the initial frenzy of activity associated with the launch of any book, mine included, I do have a special project planned. I’m still working out the details, so I’d like to ask your blog readers to friend me on facebook (look for Ócháni Lele there), add me on twitter (look for ochanilele) and add me on myspace (myspace.com/ochanilele). When I’m ready to start that project I’ll put up announcements on all those social websites.

    Year-in-White: Once again, I’d like to thank you for taking time to speak with us. And to all my readers, Ócháni Lele’s new book, Teachings of the Santería Gods, is available now. Amazon.com has incredible deals on this volume and all of Ócháni’s work, and you can purchase them through the link below. Next week’s third and final interview with Ócháni Lele will be just be about patakís. I can’t wait!

    Ócháni Lele: Thanks for hosting me on my blog-tour. I’ve enjoyed this very much!


    Ócháni Lele’s book is available online at amazon.com. You can also find the other books he has written throughout his career as both a writer and a priest there. Click on the link below to find his latest book, Teachings of the Santería Gods, released on July 7, 2010.

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    New Focus

    Jul 20 2010 Published by under Before My Year

    Shortly after a mildly-interesting dream I had yesterday, I ended up deciding upon a few things…

    First, I want to try to do more interviews for this site (and maybe at some point, the podcast).

    There are tons of sites out there about the orisha, about the history of the religion, or even just discussions about trivial stuff like what it means when a candle turns black or how much people charge for readings.

    I’d like to do more interviews and Q&A — where people talk a bit about how they got into the religion, what they like and don’t like about it, etc. There are plenty of questions I’d love to ask and I’m sure I’m not the only one.

    I want to make the site more about the community and less about what’s already readily available on other sites — superficial aspects of the religion like animal sacrifice, witchcraft, divination, or collecting beads and orisha like they are Pokemon. Not that I won’t still talk about that stuff. I just don’t want it to be the primary focus of this site.

    I still have two more interview segments with Ócháni Lele left to post. After that, well, we’ll see… I have a few people in mind, but I haven’t yet approached anyone about it. If you have any suggestions, leave a comment on the site or via Twitter and I’ll see what I can do.

    Second, I need to get off my butt and start going to more tambores and events.

    I have been putting it off because of lack of funds, time, and motivation. I don’t think I’ll ever be the type to go to functions every weekend or anything (especially since all of the stuff I go to is typically a couple hours away), but it’s been quite a while since I’ve gone to anything and I really don’t have a good reason not to anymore.

    Third, I know if I was determined to do it, I’d probably have saved up enough money to make ocha by now.

    Even though I haven’t taken any money out of the fund since I started it, I haven’t been adding as much to it as I should. I think I’ve just sort of been holding out until I have some type of experience where I know without question that I need to make ocha. Anyone can tell me that I need to do it, but until I FEEL it, I’d just be going through the motions and wouldn’t get as much out of it. I’m hoping that between talking with others out there in the community and going to more functions, it might make things a bit more clear for me.

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    Buyer’s Remorse

    Jul 19 2010 Published by under Before My Year

    I just ran across a bizarre Florida news story, entitled: “Lee man alleges voodoo, fights to get motel back from Santeria spiritual adviser

    There are plenty of cliché phrases that I thought of while reading this news story… “There’s a sucker born every minute” is perhaps the best suited, though.

    People want to feel safe and secure. Whether they have health issues or just feel like something isn’t right in their life, they want it fixed.

    In this case, what started out as a $50 investment in spiritual guidance ended up costing more and more, the deeper he got involved. Eventually, the man lost his home, business, car, boat, and — perhaps for a little while — his sanity.

    It’s pretty sickening, but not uncommon — both in and outside of this religion.

    This is why it’s crucial to build relationships in the community with trustworthy people.

    For those of you who are new to the religion and don’t yet have godparents you can trust, you don’t have many options. Don’t sacrifice common-sense in favor of “faith”. If there’s someone who you’d like to learn from, find out about their lineage and do a bit of research on them. If they work on their own, don’t have a verifiable lineage, or seem even remotely “shady”, just stay away. There are plenty of honest, good people out there that you can learn from instead.

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    Ócháni Lele – Interview: Part 1

    Jul 15 2010 Published by under Before My Year

    Ócháni Lele is the pen name of Stuart Myers, an orisha priest living in Winter Park, Florida. Most know him as the author of The Diloggún: the Orishas, Proverbs, Sacrifices, and Prohibitions of Cuban Santería (Destiny Books, 2003). Yet he has authored two other books about the Lucumí faith: Obí, Oracle of Cuban Santería (Destiny Books, 2001) and The Secrets of Afro-Cuban Divination (Destiny Books, 2000). This summer Destiny Books is releasing his fourth book about the Lucumí faith, his first book of short stories based on the religion’s patakís: Teachings of the Santería Gods. With the release of his next book immanent, I had the chance to sit down and interview this author about his life, his work, and his spirituality. This is the first of a three-part interview that I will publish in three installments over the next three weeks.


    Year-in-White: How did you first get involved in this religion, and what made you go so deeply into the religion?

    Ócháni Lele: My road to this religion was a strange one. I was living in Fredericksburg, Virginia, in the 80s, and I was involved in all things magickal and spiritual. From 1986 to 1989 I was writing for an underground spiritual magazine, long ago defunct, titled Grove of the Goddess. While writing for that magazine another of the writers investigated a story that was unfolding in 1989 in Texas, a bizarre series of crimes that came to be known as the Matamoros murders. Those who remember back that far might remember that in 1989, Mark J. Kilroy went missing during his Spring Break in Matamoros; and after an exhaustive search Texas authorities discovered a death cult and drug ring in that Mexican town. It was lead by Adolfo Constanzo, who, if I remember correctly, committed suicide before he could be arrested. Very quickly the authorities blamed the cult’s activities on both Palo Mayombe and Santería before any links could be proven. It was on the front page of every newspaper.

    The writer of the article for Grove of the Goddess did a lot of legwork and discovered that the cult was not a part of any Afro-Cuban faith; instead, authorities were using what happened there as a slur campaign against a beautiful spirituality, a religion that had taken root on American soil and was slowly growing. This was in the same time period that the Church of the Lucumí of Babaluaiye was fighting their legal battle up to the United States Supreme Court regarding our religious beliefs, and after doing some research on my own, I wanted to know more about this faith.

    At the time I was involved in Gardnerian Wica (spelled with one “c” please), and I knew well the smear campaign law enforcement officials came up with to prosecute anyone involved in such things in the 80s. The more I dug for the truth, the more entranced I was with these Afro-Cuban faiths; and I was determined to learn all I could about Santería. Late in 1989 I packed my bags and made my way to Florida. At that time there seemed to be two havens for the religion – New York and Miami, and I thought being in a tropical climate would bring me closer to the religion that had flourished on Cuban shores. It was a huge move for me at the time – I was a simple country boy from King George, Virginia – but I wanted to find this religion, its orishas, and its priests so badly that I packed my bags and ran away almost overnight. It was an impulse well-followed!

    But I was wrong about Miami being the place that would bring me closer to the religion! I’m still living in Florida, the Orlando area, but during my time I not only travelled to Miami in my quest to know the orishas but also Texas, California, and Michigan. Eventually I made santo in an ilé in Brooklyn, New York. The irony of that is not lost on me, by the way! And I still live in the Orlando, Florida, area.

    Year-in-White: You are now a priest in that religion. What made you decide to get crowned?

    Ócháni Lele: When I started to see diviners in the early 90s and began offering ebós, I had no desire to get initiated. I was happy being an aleyo (a Lucumí word meaning outsider) and just worshipping the orishas in that small way. But something changed all that in 1993. I went to a tambour uninvited – I’d overheard talk about it in a local botanica – so I dressed in white head-to-toe and I crashed it. Respectfully, of course, but I still crashed it. While I was there a priest mounted his orisha, Oyá. For the life of me I can’t remember who that priest was, but Oyá sought me out and, shaking, I put myself on the floor to her. I thought I was about to get called on my disrespect for coming uninvited. Instead, she blessed me, lifted me, and told me (in Spanish – the person attending her had to translate), “You have no idea what I have planned for you. The only way you’ll find out is if you make santo.” That’s all she said to me, but the way she said it . . . was powerful.

    I left that tambour with a new sense of purpose, and looked for an ilé to join.

    When I met my first real godparents in 1994, I had been through countless houses and diviners trying to find people with whom I clicked. Just about anyone I asked would divine for me and make ebó, but because I’m white, a lot of them wouldn’t consider me as a godchild. Even at that time there were a lot of priests who figured white people really didn’t have any place in this faith. But I was determined.

    During the years from 1994 through 1996 I took many initiations in the religion: elekes, warriors, Olokun, Ibeyi, and santo lavado (Obatalá). But a series of personal setbacks in that house turned me away from my path; not completely, but just enough to where I was happy with the initiations I had but not too interested in becoming a priest. Fast forward a few years: I met an incredible oriaté in Brooklyn, New York, who many know by the name Checo Yemayá. I found his youth, his knowledge, and his enthusiasm for the religion refreshing! While originally I was looking only for the Lucumí faith, he was also a Tata Nkisi in the Congolese faith Palo Mayombe. Very quickly I was cut as a palero and Tata Nkisi in that house; and not long after, I was initiated as a priest in the Lucumí faith. If there was anything that made me decide to become a priest, it was my godfather, Checo – with him, I finally “got it” when it came to the Lucumí faith. People might be “bad” but the orishas were not; and he rekindled my love for them.

    My journey took me from King George, Virginia to Orlando, Florida, and Miami, Florida, and then all over the country before my head finally found its home in Brooklyn, New York. It was an exhausting journey, but it was well worth the effort!

    Year-in-White: After you made ocha, were there any unexpected changes in your life for the better or for the worse?

    Ócháni Lele: To summarize that question, let me say that if I had not made ocha, I would be a very sick man today, if not a dead man. The week that I spent in the initiation throne was a week that I should have been in the hospital. I went to New York in Congestive Heart Failure. My cardiologist wanted me as a direct admission to a local hospital, but the orishas had other plans for me. Today, I’m incredibly healthy and happy with not a health problem in sight! The story itself is quite long, so if you don’t mind I’d like to direct your readers to my blog with the following link:

    http://ochanilele.lit.org/wordpress/?p=904

    It’s a long story, and those who are interested can read about it there.

    Year-in-White: How long did it take you to learn to become proficient at reading the diloggún?

    Ócháni Lele: I have been studying the diloggún, its mechanics, and its odu for more than a decade and a half, and even now I ask myself if I’m proficient! There are days I’m not so sure! But divination is what I love and divining is what I do, and with Elegguá I have worked a few things that have seemed almost “miraculous” for other people. So I must be doing something right.

    If diloggún is nothing else, it is a lifelong study. For some reason modern priests think that the oral literary corpus supporting this system is short and simple, when in truth it is vast. Think of the Vedas of the Hindu faith. They’re rather exhausting to think about. Now multiply that by 16, and you have an inkling of the wisdom contained in this system.

    Proficiency with this system cannot come overnight. In my opinion, it can’t come from months or even a years’ worth of study. If one wants to know the diloggún and all the odu encompass, one simply must study daily. I’ve approached these patterns with an almost rabbinical passion, and I can’t imagine anyone else studying this system without the same zeal.

    Lucumí divination is not something one can approach casually or liberally. One simply must devote a lifetime of study to it, in my opinion.

    Year-in-White: Is there any advice you’d like to share with new-comers to the religion or those, like me, who hope to one day make ocha?

    Ócháni Lele: Actually, there is! When my godchildren take their first steps in the religion, receiving their elekes and warriors, there is a short speech that I give them that I think everyone in this faith, whether they are an aleyo, aborisha, or priest, should keep in mind.

    “Priests are human; we are creatures of flesh living and moving in a material world, just as those without santo done are material and living in the same. All of us make mistakes. All of us stumble. All of us fall. None of your faith should be in priests; we are just the ones who guide you into the mysteries of the orishas. All of your faith should be in the orishas; they are divine and make up the body of Olódumare, who is God. If you keep your eyes on the orishas and if you keep all your faith in them, when the day comes that I or any of us stumbles and falls in front of you, your faith in them will be intact. Put none of your faith in priests: Put all of your faith in the divine.”

    I wish someone had been around to tell me that when I started this path 21 years ago; I might have been initiated a decade or more sooner.

    Year-in-White: Thank you so much for the interview! I’m sure my readers will be looking forward to parts 2 and 3 over the coming weeks!

    Ócháni Lele: It has been a pleasure. Thank you for having me!


    Ócháni Lele’s book is available online at amazon.com. You can also find the other books he has written throughout his career as both a writer and a priest there. Click on the link below to find his latest book, Teachings of the Santería Gods, released on July 7, 2010.

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    Episode 010: Itutu And You

    Jul 10 2010 Published by under Before My Year, Podcasts

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    IN THE NEWS:

    It’s July and I’m only just now starting to get to the stuff from June. Sorry about that.

    First is an article entitled “Santeria Lives on in the District“, published July 8th on The Washington Informer news site.

    On June 26th, over fifty people attended a workshop at the GALA Theatre in Washington D.C. to pay homage to the traditions of Santeria and to the ancestors.

    Rather than focusing on the theology and religious aspects of Santeria, the workshop centered on two other aspects — the music and dance.

    The Bata drums, in particular, were given much of the focus.

    The next news story is a little older — from the middle of last month — but still relevant to this podcast. The subject matter is one that seems to make its way into quite a few of the news stories I find, unfortunately.

    This latest incident of the public discovery of animal sacrifice was mentioned in an article entitled “Visitors to San Antonio cemetery discover chicken remains among gravestones“, published June 17th on the San Antonio news site, KENS 5.

    The article itself is pretty short, but there’s a video clip that accompanies it. Pretty entertaining stuff, in a sad sort of way. News reporters ask whether the animal remains were a result of a prank or a cult. Also, an idea is suggested about halfway through that the animals might be left in an effort to wake the dead. Laughable, but not unexpected. As they mention in both the article and the video clip, they did a “quick internet search” to find information. I’m not quite sure when hard-hitting journalism was replaced by a cursory glance on the first page of results on Google, but I’m not a big fan. Surely the people they interview will be more educated, right? One woman interviewed said that she doesn’t want her father’s soul troubled by what may be going on above his grave. Wait…. What?!?! For real…? Look, everyone is entitled to their beliefs and if something works for you, awesome. I mean, personally, I love this religion. First, I have no concern about the dead coming back and never met or talked to anyone in the religion who seemed to harbor such ideas. Secondly, I believe that once someone is dead and the spirit has moved on, there should be only remembrance and homage, not a fear that they will be troubled by trivial stuff like this. Everything has to die sometime, even those chickens.

    AFTER DEATH:

    In the Lucumi tradition, when a priest or priestess dies, a ceremony — the Itutu — is performed for them and they are buried so they may return to the earth just as they had been born from it.

    Outside of the religion, it seems that everyone wants to by cremated. Even with most of my friends, that’s what they’ve chosen as well. It’s convenient, sure. You can travel with your Aunt Edna in a vase… or even put a bit of poor old Uncle Buck in a zip-lock baggie and disperse it into his favorite fishing creek. But just because it’s easier for the living doesn’t mean it’s best for the dead.

    Ignore the amount of energy and heat required to cremate a body or how much carbon-dioxide results from it. Just focus on the ashes left behind when it’s done. Aside from the bit of phosphorous material you might find in there, it’s about as useful to plant and animal life as what the contents of an ashtray or vacuum might contain.

    Though I like the idea of cremation more than the having my remains sealed away in some fancy coffin that will long outlast future generations of my family, it goes against the traditions of the religion and goes back all the way back to the Yoruba.

    There’s a book called “The History Of The Yoruba from the Earliest Times to the Beginning of the British Protectorate”, which was first published in the early 1900′s. Aside from having an exceedingly long name, there’s actually some interesting information in there. One piece of information is about deaths and funerals. According to the book, the Yoruba didn’t bury their dead in graveyards or cemeteries. Instead, they were buried in their houses.

    It was probably a relatively simple process. It’s not like they had fancy tile or carpeting to pull up. They simply dug up the dirt until they had a hole large enough to fit the body horizontally about six feet underground. I guess they used markers of some type to signify the location of the body.

    From a cultural standpoint, I guess I can understand this. The ancestors are treated with much respect and reverence by the Yoruba, so of course they’d want to keep them close and nearby. From a modern view, though, I think it would be a bit creepy trying to go to bed knowing that “grandpa” was just a few feet underneath where I’m sleeping…

    While I harbor no wish to be buried in someone’s bedroom (or have them buried in mine), I do like the idea of allowing my remains to feed insects, plants, and other organisms. After all, if I’m dead, why do I care about being in some dignified pose and wearing some fancy set of clothes?

    I have assumed that — at least in the U.S. — the only legal way of “returning to the earth” when I died was to be put in the cheapest coffin available and it would most likely decompose along with me as time went on.

    Apparently, though, there’s another option and it’s something I think everyone in this religion who is crowned should consider. It’s known as a “natural burial” (or “green burial”). The idea is pretty simple. The person is buried in a biodegradable coffin, casket, or shroud. Unlike in conventional burial practices, though, it’s done at a shallow enough depth to allow — and encourage — natural decomposition of the body.

    I haven’t exactly been comparison-shopping, but I’d imagine natural burials are less expensive, too, since you don’t have to pay for preservation chemicals, a stupidly-long-lasting coffin, an outer container that the coffin will go into, etc. You’re pretty much just paying for a small plot of ground and some basic maintenance. Easy on your wallet and Orisha-approved. Can’t beat that. But maybe since it’s still something only a minority of the general public knows about or wants, it’s more expensive. Not sure. If any of you have some current dollar amount comparisons you’d like to send over, I’d appreciate it.

    Either way, those who have made Ocha are expected to receive Itutu and be buried. Those who only have elekes and warriors — even if they have received “washed” orisha — are not crowned and, thus, don’t have any such obligations.

    Regardless of what you’d like to happen when you die, it’s important to not just assume that someone else will know what you want and will step up and carry out your wishes. You should really consider having a will or other form of legal document that clearly states not only what you want to occur but also what you do (or don’t) want done to your body, who needs to be there for the ceremony, how to get in touch with them, and that sort of thing. Don’t just rely on people in your ile to take care of you. It’s your responsibility to make sure everything is ready for when your spirit must return to Orun.

    ASK AN ABORISHA:

    eggun staff: As I mentioned in Episode 3 of the podcast, the opa-iku, or “eggun staff”, are consecrated wooden staffs made to call eggun. When not being used in a ceremony, it’s usually left in your eggun corner or shrine.

    could I buy my eggun staff: You definitely can. You can find them at botanicas, websites, ebay, and all sorts of places. If you’re going to buy one, I’d recommend finding someone in your area (or at least someone you can communicate with a bit via phone or email) who can make one for you. This way, you can tell them a bit about your ancestors and hopefully get something unique that is fitting for your eggun. If you get a pre-made staff somewhere, you’ll want to add your own custom touches to it, whether through carvings, hand-picked ribbons, or by incorporating small trinkets that remind you of your ancestors.

    feeding eggun: If you know a bit about your ancestors, meals traditional to them are preferred. Otherwise, general stuff like tobacco, rum, and coffee are fine. The only real taboo I know of with them is the use of salt in their food, which should be avoided if possible. Use your instincts on this. If your father used to love salty french fries when he was alive, go for it. Even though it’s called “feeding”, the most important part is to remember and honor your ancestors and try to build a better connection with them.

    elegua or eggun first: That’s an easy one. Eggun before Orisha. Always.

    necklaces for the eggun: To my knowledge, there aren’t any sort of official elekes for eggun. If you want to feel a closer connection to your eggun and feel like a necklace would help with that, you could probably make your own. That would be more of a personal practice, though, than one of traditional Lucumi. Instead of colored plastic beads, you might want to consider using shells, stones, bones, or other “earthy” sort of materials.

    santeria necklaces: The necklaces in Santeria are the elekes. They are often worn as a way of identifying yourself as a member of the religion and to bring the influence and protection of that eleke’s orisha into your life.

    receiving elekes: The elekes ceremony can take place before, during, or after you receive your warriors. Each necklace is presented to the recipient and, one by one, they are dropped to the floor, picked up and then kissed by the initiate. This is done to let the orisha know that if the necklace ever falls to the ground, it is due to an accident and not that they are being abandoned.

    what happens if someone who doesn’t practice santeria wear santeria beads: The beads themselves don’t really mean much. After all, putting on a stethoscope doesn’t make you a doctor. The necklaces given during the elekes ceremony have been consecrated, but even that doesn’t make them all that powerful. All of that stuff you might hear about the elekes providing folks with protection, strength, or whatever? That comes from the connection that person has with their orisha more than it does from the elekes themselves.

    where can I buy orisha pots in new jersey: I’m not in New Jersey, so I’m not sure. Off the top of my head, the only place I can think of is a site called Auctions609.com I’m pretty sure they are based in New Jersey — but I might be wrong … I’m just guessing just based on the 609 — so you might be able to stop by there if they have a storefront. Even if they don’t, the shipping rates should be pretty reasonable (assuming they are based out of New Jersey). Aside from that site, the only other one I’ve used for soperas and tinajas is FolkCuba.com I had a bad experience with them, though, in which a tinaja for Oshun was chipped during shipping and even though their support person said they’d take care of it, they quickly stopped responding to my messages, so I was out however much money it had cost. To avoid situations like that, always try to buy locally when you can, so you can see and feel what you’re buying beforehand. A quick search on Google Maps for the word “botanica” should help you out.

    being a santera: That’s a tough one, since I’m neither crowned nor a woman. I remember talking with a friend about there being some things that females traditionally aren’t allowed to do as well as the things that they are the only ones able to do. Unfortunately, I don’t really recall many specifics. I remembered something about only men being able to birth Elegua, since he requires male energy. I also recall reading somewhere about women not being allowed to play the Bata drums. I didn’t really pay much attention to this stuff, since it hadn’t applied to me at the time. Sorry!

    connecting with your orisha: How you do this is kind of a mix between personal preference and which orisha you’re trying to connect with. If the orisha has a specific aspect or element that you can surround yourself with, that might help. If you’re connecting with Ochosi or Oggun, take a walk in a park, go camping, or maybe go hunting. If you’re connecting with Yemaya, try going to the beach or spending some time on a boat out in the ocean. If you’re connecting with Oshun, there are rivers. For Oya, cemeteries and windy nights might work. And lightning-storms might be good for connecting with Shango. When I first started learning about the religion, someone told me that the “orisha eats hearts”. I’m guessing it was a poorly-translated proverb, but the person was basically trying to tell me that language and knowledge don’t matter so much as intent, when it comes to connecting with the orisha. Consider starting out small and speak to the orisha just in your mind. Tell them about yourself, what it is you’re looking for, what it is you need help with, and that sort of thing. Eventually, you’ll be comfortable enough that one day you’ll find yourself speaking out loud to a stone with cowry-shell eyes, just like the rest of us weirdos. Some people communicate with the orisha in very formal and somber manner, while others have a more casual style. As you talk more with the orisha, you can leave them offerings of their favorite foods or drinks. Just treat the orisha with respect and you should be fine.

    orisha dreams: There are two categories to this. In the first category, you dream of the orisha. It may or may not have any meaning, but it’s usually either your subconscious trying to tell you something or, well, maybe you’ve just gone to too many tambores lately. The other category is when the orisha speak to us through our dreams. In these, the orisha have a message for us. As with other matters of the orisha, I think sometimes the message the person receives aren’t always as cut-and-dry as they might think.

    orisha artifacts: To me, when I think of “artifacts”, I picture Indiana Jones or something. But when it comes to traveling with your orisha — especially through airports — labeling them as religious artifacts can sometimes mean the difference between leaving with your orisha and leaving it behind. The main issue you’ll need to be concerned with is that the orisha are as clean as possible first. Artifact or not, a bit of dried up chicken blood on an otane or inside a cowry shell can ruin your day. Whenever possible, consider transporting your orisha in a way that won’t require it to be poked, prodded, scanned, and examined by airport security, customs, and similar high-security checkpoints.

    orisha otanes: The otanes are essentially consecrated stones that are tied to a specific orisha. They are sometimes explained as the focal point or manifestation of an orisha in the physical world. The container, tools, and even the shells can be lost or damaged and fairly easily replaced, but the otanes should be treasured and protected from harm. [EDIT: After talking with my padrino, he pointed out that the otanes and shells both should be protected equally, since a loss of either would result in essentially the same situation.]

    orisha shells: Consecrated cowry shells are used during divination as a way of communicating with the orisha and getting advice from them. There are plenty of books out there that teach how to read the Diloggun and are good to know for later, but unless you have the ashe required, throwing the shells without being properly taught by your godparent is likely to give you about the same results as from a Magic 8-Ball.

    orisha books: There are tons of books about the orisha, ranging anywhere from large hardcover books all the way down to small pamphlets about individual orisha. If you can read Spanish, you’ll probably find a much larger selection of books than if you have to limit yourself to only ones printed in English. For the most part, though, these books aren’t going to tell you anything you can’t find yourself with a Google search or two. Most often, they just go over symbols, colors, tools, days, numbers, dates, and all sorts of things that are attributed as being sacred to or associated with the orisha. I have reviewed some of these books on the site already, so be sure to check those out. Basically, these books (or even just internet research) are great for learning the basics and general info about the orisha. To learn more about individual roads of an orisha, a godparent or someone from your ile would probably be best.

    santeria patakis odu book: There are a handful of good books that focus on patakis. A long-time favorite of mine is a book called “Santeria Stories” by Luis Manuel Núñez. For one that is specifically about odu and the stories associated with them, I’d definitely recommend the new book from Ócha’ni Lele called Teachings of the Santería Gods: The Spirit of the Odu, which I’m currently reading.

    bringing elegua into your home: It’s pretty cut-and-dry, really. A ceremony, Entrada, is done to welcome Elegua and let him know where his home now is. It doesn’t take too long. A little offering to eggun, to Elegua, throw some Obi, and you’re done. If you don’t currently have your own house, something can usually be worked out, but you’ll want to discuss that with your godparent.

    taking care of elegua: It might depend on what road you have, but mine’s been pretty low-maintenance. I’m pretty sure I covered this in an earlier podcast episode, but basically you just offer him the occasional candle, rum, cigar, and bit of palm oil, and you should be good. The one you received Elegua from should be able to go over it a bit more. One thing you might want to consider, though, is the issue of toys. Consider your path of Elegua first. I have Laroye, which is a rather young and playful path of Elegua, but there are others that are older and less playful, so toys might not aways be appropriate. Again, consult your godparent if you’re unsure.

    clean my elegua: The most common way is to use a bit of rum and palm oil. The rum can be sprayed on him from your mouth, but you want it to come out more like a mist than like a sprinkler. You might want to practice first. As for the palm oil, while you’re coating him in the palm oil on your hands, be sure to talk to him and tell him how things are, what you need, and that sort of thing.

    traveling with elegua: Depending on how you travel, this might relate back to my earlier comments about “orisha artifacts.” When travelling by car, make sure Elegua is secured in such a way that he won’t cause damage if you have to slam at your breaks at some point. Usually on the floor in the backseat is a safe bet. There’s also something called a “Pocket Elegua”. I haven’t had any experience with those one way or another, but if you’re going to be doing a lot of travelling and can’t safely bring Elegua with you, maybe that’s something to consider.

    elegua dice: I don’t know if dice are officially associated with Elegua or not, but I have three dice in Elegua’s clay dish, myself, so I will at least share my take on it. Elegua is often associated with risk, opportunities, luck, decisions, and that sort of thing. I think dice represent that pretty well, so I use them.

    how long do you offer candy to elegua: Candy is really not much different from other offerings. The biggest factors for me when deciding when to dispose of food or drink offerings is appearance, smell, and potential for bugs. Appearance is important because a fresh fruit being offered seems respectable, but if the fruit begins to rot, that seems more like a sign of insult or neglect. With smell, an offering of dried herring, for instance, might be appropriate for Elegua, but if it starts to smell up my entire house, it’s time to get rid of it — no matter how much my cat might protest. With bugs, Elegua probably doesn’t want flies, ants, or roaches crawling on him any more than I want them in my house, so things that aren’t sealed typically get thrown away within a day or so. Just use common sense. Most candy is going to be sealed. Unless it’s chocolate, it will probably look the same today as it does weeks from now. I usually swap mine out as new candy is added.

    omi tutu, ana tutu, tutu ile,tutu laroye what does this mean: It’s a prayer that basically translates to “Cool water, cool road, cool house, cool conversation” and is said while offering libations of water to Elegua.

    ibu ikole: She’s one of my favorite paths of Oshun. Ibu Ikole is associated with powders and witchcraft. She’s definitely one orisha you don’t want to get on the badside of.

    obara owani: I actually had to look this one up. The gist of this odu is that people are against you, either in words or action. The person who did the reading for you should be able to tell you more.

    LITERARY SPOTLIGHT:

    Most of the books I have reviewed lately have been, well, less-than-stellar. The other day, my Amazon order of the newest book from Ócha’ni Lele arrived. It’s called Teachings of the Santería Gods: The Spirit of the Odu. Though I haven’t finished reading it yet, I’ve enjoyed it so far. I’m no diviner, but I do enjoy reading stories. This book has many. One story, like the one featured in the chapter on Okana involving the cat and the rat, I had read a version of once, but had completely forgotten of it until now. Most of the stories are new to me. Given the amount of interest a lot of you have shown in patakis, I think you all will probably enjoy it quite a bit.

    SITE NEWS:

    As you’ve probably noticed, I’ve been pretty hard-pressed for both free time and new ideas on what to discuss on the blog and podcast. As a way of compensating for that, I’m going to work on publishing some interviews in the coming weeks. For starters, I’ll be interviewing Ócha’ni Lele, if for no other reason than he’s kind enough to have accepted my request. Though we’ve never met, we have talked a few times online and he seems like an interesting guy. If there’s enough good feedback about it, I’ll try to find others to interview or maybe to post a few articles now and then on the site. I still haven’t quite worked out the logistics of how it’ll all pan out, but it should be fun, so stay tuned.

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    Upcoming Podcast Topics

    Jul 08 2010 Published by under Before My Year

    In The News: As with earlier episodes, I’ll cover random news bites relating to the religion or that might at least be of interest to people in the community.

    After Death: This one is for all of the santeros/santeras out there… This isn’t about the after-life. I’m talking about after death… When it’s time for your Itutu, will you be ready?

    “Ask An Aborisha”: I’m not crowned yet, but — every now and then — I can usually find a topic or two that I know a little about and can try to help answer some questions you might have. Since I neglected both the site and the podcast for pretty much all of June (sorry, everyone!), I’ll try to make up for it by covering as many topics and questions as I can during the upcoming podcast episode.

    Literary Spotlight: Most of the books I have reviewed lately have been, well, less-than-stellar. Yesterday, my Amazon order of the newest book from Ocha’ni Lele arrived. It’s called Teachings of the Santería Gods: The Spirit of the Odu. Though I haven’t finished reading it yet, I’ll share my initial thoughts on it.

    Site News: Since Ócha’ni Lele is pretty much the only author I know online, I’m going to pick his brain a bit for a post or two in the upcoming weeks. I’ll try to get him to share a bit about his background and experiences, and about one of the main aspects I’ve been enjoying from the new book, patakis.

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