Notes on the Writing of This Book
There are a number of protocols I have followed in this book that I feel should be explained, including the names of the religion and of priestesses and priests, the spelling of Lucumí terms, and the use (or lack thereof) of the names of odduns (divination signs) associated with the stories and proverbs found in this book.
What’s in a Name?
The religion most people know as Santería is also known as La Regla Lucumí (The Rule of the Lucumí), La Regla Ocha (The Rule of Ocha or Orichas), or simply Lucumí, Ocha, or La Religion (The Religion). Lucumí was originally the term used for people brought to Cuba from the various African nations, now known as the Yoruba. These days some in the religion take exception to the term Santería as they believe it implies our religion is much more syncretic than it actually is or because they feel the term is a reminder of slavery times. In actuality, the Catholic saints were used to hide the orichas (goddess or god), and there was very little mixing of the two religions at all. Santeras and santeros are also known as iworos or olorichas (an oricha priest), words denoting priest and one who has an oricha. And as we will discover in Chapter Three, the early Lucumís deliberately subverted Christianity to fit their own needs, using only the aspects of the Western religion that suited their own needs and worldview.
Names of babalawos are followed by their oddun in Ifá in parentheses; for example, Pete Rivera (Odí Ogundá) or Miguelito Perez Alvarez (Ogbe Dandy). Among one another, babalawos often refer to each other by their odduns rather than their names or will combine the two. For instance, I am often called Frank Baba Eyiogbe or simply Baba Eyiogbe.
Olorichas (santeros) have the names given to them by their oricha during their initiation in parentheses after their names: i.e., Guillermo Diago (Obá Bí-ibae). The word ibae is often used here for priests who have passed away. This is our equivalent to “rest in peace” in English.
Language
Many of the terms in this book are in a language called Anagó or Lucumí, a language developed in Cuba that evolved from the Yoruba language. Anagó is a liturgical language, used mainly in prayers, songs, and religious terms. Unfortunately, very few people are able to speak the language conversationally anymore. The tongue is partially a mix of the different dialects slaves brought to the island, with the Oyó and Egbado dialects having the greatest influence. Some of the words come from oró iyinle (deep words), which are archaic forms of speech used by the old priests, and often the literal meanings of these words are lost in both Cuba and Africa. The Anagó language in many ways has become locked in time to when the slaves came to Cuba, mainly in the nineteenth century.1
Yoruba is a tonal language, and one of the most noticeable differences between the Yoruba and Anagó languages is the lack of tones in Anagó due to the influence of the Spanish language, particularly in written forms of the language. Sometimes tones are approximated through the use of accents, but not always. Oricha priests and others often spelled the words phonetically according to the Spanish orthography, and words may be spelled in different ways in different books. For example, the word for two, which I spell here as meyi, may also be spelled meji or melli in a different place. So the spellings used in this book are just one way of spelling these words and are not definitive by any means. Of course, all these factors can make it extremely difficult to match words with modern Yoruba. In recent years some have changed the Lucumí spellings in an attempt to bring them in line with a perceived “correct” Yoruba spelling. This was done because of the acceptance of the mistaken notion that the Lucumí language is nothing more than a degraded form of Yoruba.
I was unable to include a guide to translating words from Anagó to modern Yoruba or vice versa, but those interested in attempting translations between Anagó and modern Yoruba can find a basic guide at www.orishanet.org/translate.html.
A final word on words—I realize some of the terms may be a bit difficult to remember at first for those who are unfamiliar with the region or religion. Therefore, I have tried to make the glossary at the back of the book as complete and informative as possible. In fact, it is complete enough to serve as handy vocabulary for those just getting started in the religion as well. For those people I have also included useful words that are not found in the book but are often used in the religion.
I recall when a popular book was released that had taken a large number of Lucumí songs and translated them to modern Yoruba and then to English. Like a lot of people, I was thrilled at the prospect of having a reference to translations of a number of songs all in one place—until I tried singing one of these corrected songs in front of my padrino Guillermo, that is ...
“No, no, no, NO. No es popo fun mi, es popoPÚN mi.” My padrino’s exasperated tone made it obvious he was not in agreement with such corrections.
Fortunately, I knew enough to realize that it was likely the book that was wrong and not the elder with more than fifty years in the religion. When I delved deeply into one of my older Yoruba dictionaries, there it was. It turns out that popopún is a bed or bedding (the song is used when spreading the feathers over the oricha after a sacrifice). The words “popopún mi, popopún mi iyé” translated to “my blanket, my blanket of feathers.” When I started looking at the songs in the book with more critical eyes, it became obvious that the author had been so sure of the fact that Anagó was an extremely degraded form of Yoruba that he had drastically changed many of the songs’ lyrics to make them fit modern Yoruba. I shelved the book, and I haven’t seen it in years. I assume I must have eventually thrown it or given it away. Looking back, I realize the book was extremely valuable after all. That book was the first crack in the popular notion that the language—and, indeed, the religion itself—was merely a degraded version of a pure and correct Yoruba model. Once that crack appeared, it wasn’t long before I began to see more and more evidence the Lucumí religion was far less degraded than many people, including myself, thought. Like my first exploration of the popopún song, upon closer and more critical examination, it became clear that far from being degraded, the Lucumí religion had preserved many things that were lost, even in the religion’s homeland.
We must also take into account that the Yoruba language did not have a written form until after most of the slaves had already been brought to Cuba. In Africa, the first Yoruba dictionary was not published until 1843, when Christian missionary Samuel Crowther composed it as part of his plan to unite the various Yoruba nations under Christianity. The standard Yoruba seen in most dictionaries is itself a mix of mainly the Egba dialect and Oyó grammar. Like all languages, including Spanish, English, and, yes, the Yoruba language, the Lucumí language has changed and adapted to accommodate influences from a variety of sources during its development. So, for all intents and purposes, just as the Lucumí traditions have developed into their own religion over time, the language of Anagó evolved into its own separate language.
After reading Stephan Palmié’s ground breaking piece The Cooking of History: How Not to Study Afro-Cuban Religion, I came to the realization that, like it or not, whichever way I spell the words in this book would be a political act. If I used a pseudo-Yoruba orthography, which is Yoruba without the diacritical marks, I would be conceding that the Lucumí language and religion is a degraded form of the Yoruba versions and are somehow in need of correcting, which they are not. So, by using the classic Lucumí orthography taken from the Spanish, as Lucumís have been writing the language for more than a hundred years, I am clearly stating that the Lucumí language and the Lucumí religion are correct just the way they are.
Photos
To take photographs of orichas is considered sacrilege by many people in the religion, and no actual photographs of orichas were taken for this book. All of the receptacles for the orichas and Echu Elegguá used in the photographs are empty and unconsecrated. Even the ekin nuts (used in worship and divination) seen in the book are unconsecrated. This way I could give people an idea of how orichas in priests’ homes appear without actually photographing the deities themselves.
Odduns
The patakís (parables, histories), refránes or owe (proverbs) in this book all come from the different odduns in Ifá. They are part of our oral tradition that was passed down from my elders, particularly Miguelito Pérez and Pete Rivera, my padrinos (godfathers) in Ifá. Versions of some of these patakís and refránes may also be found in Ifá books, such as the various versions of Dice Ifá and the Tratado de Odduns de Ifá as well.
In the 1940s Pedro Arango published a book called Iwe ni Iyewó ni Ifá Orunmila, which gave detailed information on the odduns of Ifá. In his “Words from the Author” section prefacing the second edition of the book, Arango admitted copies of the first edition of the book had fallen into the hands of a woman, presumably a santera, and two obá oriatés (master of ceremonies in Ocha). Arango wrote that to save his responsibility, and probably his reputation as well, he was publishing the greatly enlarged second edition using much tighter security. In addition, Arango threatened to publicly denounce to their elders any non-babalawo found to be in possession of the book. In fact, the accessing of books on Ifá odduns by non-babalawos is very likely to have played a major role in the frictions we see today between olorichas and babalawos.
In keeping with tradition, the corresponding odduns to most of the patakís and refránes in this book will not be included, except where the oddun’s name is necessary to the context in which the patakí or refrán is being used. While the patakís and refránes themselves are not considered secrets, most traditional babalawos refrain from publicly stating the names of the odduns associated with them. This information is for the exclusive use of fully initiated Ifá priests who have the aché (spiritual power) and the authority from Olófin to interpret or work Ifá.
Somos babalawos … Jurado para ayudar la humanidad
Somos babalawos … Ifareando en la Habana donde se Ifarea al duro,
sin guantes.
Somos babalawos …
We are babalawos … Sworn to aid humanity
We are babalawos … Working Ifá in Havana,
where they work Ifá the hard way, without gloves.
We are babalawos …