OYA'S MARKETPLACE - Oya N'Soro

OYA'S 

MARKETPLACE 

VOLUME 1 AUGUST 2, 1993 

EDITION 3 

ALAFIA. 

SANGO'S ANGO'S PLATFORM 

PLATFORM 

It would seem that, although we’ve 

presumably gotten what we asked for, 

we are beginning to lose faith with that 

new blood in the United States White 

House. 

One would hope that, at least, we who 

worship ORISA and celebrate EGUN- 

GUN would make use of our divine 

resources to help stem our temptation 

to eschew rationality in our haste to rid 

ourselves of the moral and spiritual 

miasma that has personified the presidential 

administrations of the last two 

decades. 

It is important that we continue to 

hope for the resolution of the myriad 

problems that besiege the lands in 

which we live, for a human being 

without hope is but a zombie...bereft 

of spirit and soul. However, too much 

hope -- irrational, blind, unreasoning 

hope -- turned without factual basis to 

expectation, can be equally deadly to 

the human soul, because it gives way 

all too easily to the poison of disenchantment. 

The image comes to mind of a man 

parched and starving in the desert who 

By By Sowande Sowande Akintunde 

Akintunde 

prays to ELEGBA for food and water. 

Before long, ELEGBA answers his 

prayers via a vision: the man will receive 

food and water shortly. However, the 

longer it takes for ELEGBA’s “promise” 

to manifest, the grander grows the hope 

of this starving man, and the closer 

those hopes creep toward expectation. 

Thus, as more hours pass, the man fully 

expects ORISA to send him an elegant 

feast and an oasis of cool water. So, it 

comes to pass that the man staggers over 

a little spring gurgling a few feet underground; 

not too far away, he spies a hare 

lapping at a small puddle of water thrown 

from the spring. 

“O,” thinks the man to himself, “this 

cannot be what ELEGBA meant; after 

all, to eat that hare I must chase, capture 

and cook it, and that is much too 

difficult to be expected of a man so long 

without food or drink. And I cannot get 

to the spring without digging it out of 

the Earth...that, too, is back-breaking 

work. After all, didn’t ELEGBA promise 

me a seven-course meal fit for a 

chieftain and exotic juices and unguents 

for my suffering? Of course, He would 

never dispense so mean a fare as a tough 

hare and a little water to someone who 

has suffered as much as I.” 

So, secure in his delusion, the man 

staggers on. When a day, and then two, 

pass without sign of the bounty he now 

expects from ORISA, his well-spring of 

hope quickly dries and shrivels to bitter 

disappointment. “Ah, the Trickster has 

tricked me,” he thinks. “He has fooled 

me into expecting a feast, while He 

laughs at my plight. I’ll not be tricked 

again; I’ll not pray to Him again. Let 

my suffering be upon His head.” And 

so, wrapped in his vow, the man loses 

the ability to perceive aid when it is 

rendered, and suffers greatly for it. 

We who live in the United States and 

throughout the Americas have long been 

starved for equal opportunity at prosperity, 

and we have long thirsted for 

justice. We are currently in the same 

position as was that wretched man in 

the desert. We have prayed for an 

instrument of change in our lands, and 

we have been rewarded with the election 

of Bill Clinton as President of the 

United States. However, as fervent 

and rampant as our hopes may be for his 

accomplishments, we must realize that, 

powerful as his office may be, the 

President is still but one individual who 

must enlist the support of 

cont. on page 20

OYA'S MARKETPLACE PAGE 2 

EDITORIAL EDITORIAL PAGE 

PAGE 

The blue dress or white slacks...tuna in water or 

oil...a movie or Oprah reruns...would it be that 

all our choices were so simple. Yet, it is the very 

opportunity for choice that causes us to be the 

closest third-dimensional being to OLODU- 

MARE. Failing to realize this, we slough all our 

choices off like yesterday's dirty linen. We 

consult for guidance in more clearly understanding 

our path but allow our ego to dictate 

our "need" for autonomy. Worse, we may fear 

our lack of "understanding" and freeze, remaining 

decisionless, not quite grasping that such 

lack of action is a choice within itself. 

Our lives are made up of a multitude of 

directions. It is our choices at each little 

crossroad of our lives that push us down the 

tributaries of our path. It is our relationship 

with OLODUMARE and all that entails which 

allows us to plant the best seeds and reap the 

most from those seeds we choose to sow. The 

ORISA do not make our choices -- they cannot; 

only we can make the ultimate decisions for 

ourselves. The choice we make today affects 

the products of tomorrow's endeavors. 

Many become disillusioned because divination 

reveals a reality that fails to manifest itself in 

their lives. What happens here? Consider the 

following: It is suggested that it would be in 

your highest interest to forego eating meat on 

Tuesdays for an unspecified period of time in 

order to obtain a new station in life. Tuesday 

approaches - a last minute barbecue planned - 

do you eat ribs or not? You CHOOSE not to 

eat ribs, although for the life of you, the sense 

of it all fails to appear. A new person in town 

has been invited to the cookout and comes over 

to talk, attracted by the fact you are meatless 

at a barbecue. It turns out they have money, an 

idea and are looking for someone with the saavy 

to begin a new venture. It is something you have 

always longed to do. A perfect match has been 

made as internal cleansing takes place, 

rejuvenating you for new directions. 

Or...you CHOOSE to eat that rib, deciding 

that eating meat once cannot hurt. The heavens 

do not pour down fury upon your head, the 

Earth does not open up to snatch you into her 

bowels. Contrarily, nothing happens...nothing 

at all. As you look into the sameness of your 

situation, you feel somehow cheated and blame 

the ORISA for having deceived you. But...we 

can only be presented with our possibilities. It is 

our behavior that dictates which of our potentialities 

will bear fruit. Additionally, it is an everchanging 

reality. Each choice leads to the next 

which leads to the next which leads to the next - 

- shaping, forming and emitting the arena of 

possibilities created by the particular direction 

taken. The worlds of our creation are limitless, 

guided only by the roads we choose to tread. 

What does this all mean? We must begin to take 

responsibility for our decisions and therefore 

our actions by understanding how we shape our 

realities. This issue provides tools to enhance 

that process. The groundwork is set in getting 

to know "self." There are ways in which one can 

begin to understand where their decisions come 

from. The paths some have traveled based on 

particular decisions they've chosen are shared 

with us. Read and enjoy but remember that 

there is work to be done. We indeed have the 

power, as Sowande suggests in his article, to 

creatively support change on a higher level. It 

is a decision, though, that must be consciously 

made and constantly reviewed. The first step is 

yours -- but only you can decide to do so. Go 

ahead and take it -- the Earth may just breathe 

a little easier because you did. - SG 

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: 

SOYINI GONZALEZ 

STAFF EDITOR: 

OMOPE CARTER DABOIKU 

CONTRIBUTING EDITORS: 

AWO FA'LOKUN FATUNMBI 

IYALOSA ADETUTU ADEYEMON 

OYA'S MARKETPLACE is published quarterly by 

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article contributions and advertising requests are 

all welcome and should be submitted to Oya's 

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All rights are reserved. Reproductions or utilizations 

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MARKETPLACE may be obtained from the Reprint 

Services at the afore-mentioned address.


OLOKUN: MYSTERY AND 

REVELATION 

“Greetings to the mirror that traveled 

to the spirit world and came back!” 

Words are incapable of encompassing 

the mystery. Words are also gifts of the 

mystery, and may, therefore, illuminate 

our path to understanding. 

OLOKUN means “owner of the ocean.” 

In this hemisphere YEMOJA (“mother 

of fishes”) is the ORISA most commonly 

connected with the sea’s ASE. 

OLOKUN is seen as a path of YEMOJA. 

Some connect OLOKUN to the depths 

of the ocean while considering 

YEMOJA’s domain to be nearer the 

surface. Many insist on the impossibility 

of possession by OLOKUN, and the 

undesirable consequences of initiation 

to this ORISA. Turning to Africa, 

though, and specifically to Benin, will 

present a different picture. 

OLOKUN, according to the Bini, is the 

supreme ruler of AGBON, or Earth. All 

other deities fall under the dominion of 

OLOKUN. This ORISA rules humanity, 

as well, through the representative of 

OLOKUN’s power -- the chief (OBA). 

According to the Bini, “The ruler of the 

sea is greater than the one on land.” This 

is only logical as the sea itself is much 

greater than the land and accounts for 

much more of the earth’s surface. 

Worshippers create beautiful temples 

for this ORISA. Magnificent largerthan-life 

statues of OLOKUN fill their 

space, surrounded by courtiers. These 

statues are modeled out of sacred earth 

collected from ant hills or termite 

mounds. The ceremony of preparation 

includes the addition of magical and 

medicinal herbs, EFUN, and kola-nuts. 

Feet knead the mixture until it has the 

By Nisi Shawl 

proper consistency. 

After the statues dry, their adornment 

includes paint and embellishment with 

mirrors, beads, cowries and cloth. Each 

temple has its own style of painting. 

The colors used range from simple, 

somber combinations of black, white 

and brown to greyish-blue, orange and 

red. 

In front of these imposing figures the 

community gathers to sing, make offerings 

and receive the blessings and 

pronouncements of OLOKUN 

through their priest. OGUN, 

ESANGO and EZIZA-The-Whirlwind 

make appearances on the dance-floor. 

Balance, harmony, and fluid arm 

movements, like those of vines or 

snakes, observed in an initiate’s body 

announces the presence of OLOKUN. 

After delivering messages from the 

spirit world the priest is led to a secluded 

room to cool off and return to 

AGBON. In Benin, possession by 

OLOKUN is no cataclysm. It is miraculous, 

yes, and beyond the comprehension 

of the human mind. It is an 

experience that is also inherent in the 

worship of this deity. 

Everywhere associates OLOKUN with 

the idea of conception, which resonates 

with the picture of a deity of the 

depths, of the deepest mysteries of 

life. Reflection, which involves surfaces, 

is also important in OLOKUN’s 

worship, though, as the phrase from 

the song quoted at the beginning of this 

article indicates. One praise-name for 

OLOKUN is EZENUGHEGBE, which 

translates as “the Looking-Glass River.” 

Another, UHUANMEN, means that 

OLOKUN is “the Source of the Big 

Sea.” This ORISA has the attributes of 

both the secrets of depths beyond the 

depths and the revelatory qualities of a 

mirror in Africa. 

Practitioners in both the New World 

and the Old speak of the enormous 

wealth at OLOKUN’s disposal; the 

unimaginable treasures which originate 

in the ocean. In Benin this deity also 

occupies the crossroads between worlds 

(IGHA-EDE) as does ESU. Perhaps 

that position makes it easier for 

OLOKUN to distribute this wealth. 

The figure below illustrates the way in 

which OLOKUN brings the blessings of 

heaven directly to us. 

Cowries, pearls, and coral may represent 

OLOKUN’s wealth. Perhaps it is 

the abundant supply of food the sea 

guarantees. It may conceivably be the 

birth of children, whose presence means 

the continuation of our culture, our 

heritage, and the care for our well-being 

as we grow old. Primarily, it is life. Life 

is the treasure brought to us from 

heaven by the owner of the ocean. 

By now the astute reader will realize 

that I have avoided referring to this 

deity as either male or female. Certainly 

OLOKUN’s gender is a controversial 

subject. Scholars argue one way 

and another. Some suggest a neuter or 

bisexual identity. Praise songs are to 

“God, my father,” but also to “my 

mother.” OLOKUN is referred to as 

both King and Queen of the waters. 

cont. on page 20


TIKARA - ENI 

THE ELEMENTS OF SELF 

By AWO FA'LOKUN FATUNMBI 

The foundation of any system of metaphysics 

is the concept of self. Many 

forms of Christianity regard the self as 

either “evil” or unworthy. It is only 

through the process of accepting a specific 

set of beliefs, that the individual 

can find “salvation.” This world view, 

inconsistent with African forms of IFA, 

has had a subtle influence on ORISA 

worship in the West. The elders of 

LUKUMI and SANTERIA lean toward 

viewing the individual as someone who 

is always in danger of “angering” the 

ORISA. As a result, the process for 

avoiding anger is to make periodic offerings 

to the ORISA in an effort to make 

them “happy.” 

The ORISA represent powerful Forces 

in Nature, making it difficult to imagine 

either the Ocean, the Fire, the Air or 

the Earth becoming angry over the 

specific actions of any given individual. 

Catholic notions of death, purgatory 

and original sin heavily influence the 

idea that the ORISA are set on punishing 

those who disobey them. IFA teaches, 

in contrast, that the world is a balanced 

system that functions with its own 

internal guidance system that maintains 

harmony and growth. It is the individual 

job of each to grasp this internal order, 

then to live according to its inherent 

principles. 

In dissimilarity to Christianity, IFA does 

not believe that the “curse of Eve” 

burdens humans. IFA teaches that 

everyone has right from birth to receive 

the blessing of abundance, good health 

and family. They manifest these 

birthrights by integrating all the elements 

of the self. 

“TIKARA-ENI” is the YORUBA word 

for “self.” The word “TIKARA” is an 

elision of “TI” meaning “of,” “IKA” 

meaning “envelop” or “world,” and 

“ARA” meaning “physical body.” The 

word “ENI” is YORUBA for “self.” 

“TIKARA-ENI” therefore refers to all 

those elements that make up the total 

person. The West frequently limits self 

to the physical and emotional state. In 

IFA the concept includes the physical 

self, the emotional self, the spiritual 

self and the influence of those Spiritual 

Forces that have a direct influence on 

individual destiny. 

IFA considers the body the house of 

both the intellect and the emotions. It 

teaches that both mind and emotion 

must be in alignment if life is to prosper. 

Once this alignment occurs the self 

has access to spiritual power called 

“ASE.” Upon access, the self can use 

ASE in a ritual context to create alignment 

with ORISA. In simple terms, 

living in alignment with ORISA means 

living life in harmony with those Laws 

of Nature that sustain Evolution. 

IFA teaches that when the self experiences 

alignment with ORISA, the balanced 

connection between the physical, 

emotional and spiritual self occurs. 

This experience is described as a joyous 

event that motivates the entire body to 

celebrate through movement. This is in 

stark contrast to the common Western 

perception of Spirit interaction, which 

has a base of fear, suspicion and the 

desire to maintain “self-control.” 

During most ORISA ceremonies joyous 

movement becomes collective dancing 

that frequently occurs in front of a 

mat. IFA considers the mat sacred space. 

It is the place where the Spirit realm 

and the Earth realm interact. When an 

ORISA worshipper dances in front of 

the mat, they are surrendering to the 

possibility of Spirit possession. The 

experience of Spirit possession is not 

the intrusion of some alien entity. From 

the perspective of IFA, Spirit possession 

is a key element in the integration of the 

total self. This point of view suggests 

that the mat is a doorway that allows 

for humans access to the invisible 

dimension of Spiritual influence. 

From a symbolic point of view, the mat 

represents the inter-relationship between 

all that exists in the universe. Dancing 

in front of the mat is ceremonial 

acknowledgement of the belief that 

within the matrix of Creation, everyone 

and everything is linked. The interwoven 

fibers that make up the entire fabric 

of the mat represent the threads of all 

forms of life. IFA expression does not 

limit life to animals. IFA believes all 

that exists in the world to have “ORI,” 

which means “consciousness.” 

This excerpt is from the 

upcoming book IBA SE ORISA by 

AWO FA'LOKUN FATUNMBI.


Sitting crosslegged before a candle and 

incense, I cast the coins. And from the 

doorway comes my mother’s terrified 

cry: 

“Girl! I ain’t havin’ no conjurin’ in this 

house!” 

That is how the journey began. 

And this: 

A dinner table talk with relations in 

Alabama. . .As certain names are spoken, 

ideas expressed, my paternal aunts 

and normally oh, so rational father, 

toss salt over their shoulders without 

missing a word or mouthful. 

And this: 

The beautiful, brick red aunt who hid 

her long, wavy black hair beneath African 

wraps, places a chocolate brown 

doll dressed in Native American clothes 

next to my blonde Christmas Barbie 

and murmurs in my ear: “This is who 

you are. Black and red. . .Black and red. 

Remember that.” 

And: 

Of the grandmother, Priscilla Patton, I 

never knew, never saw, this: 

“They say somebody hex her,” a wizened 

Delta crone offers cautiously. “Or 

maybe she hex them first. Woman was 

wild. Run off to get married by jumpin’ 

out a window. Blouse got caught and 

she jus’ shuck it off and lef’ it there. 

Took the mule and gone, no blouse on!” 

And also: 

The night after the death of Priscilla’s 

eldest daughter, her youngest daughter, 

my mother, hears my electronic 

metronome begin to tick, tick, tick, 

slow and steady. 

“Joberta, you go on back now,” my 

mother says tenderly, touching the 

GETTING GETTING TO TO OYA YA 

By By Cynthia Cynthia M. M. Dagnal-Myron 

Dagnal-Myron 

metronome as if it were her sister, 

before turning it off with a firm click, 

and no fear. 

Yes. This is how the journey began. But 

it ended half the continent away, on the 

wind swept mesas of HOPI, where I 

would wind up married to a KACHINA 

carver and adopted by his tribe. When 

the KACHINA/EGUNGUN danced, I 

“understood” the drums, the guttural 

chants. When I danced for the first 

time myself, in the ancient plaza, with 

the other women, the rain came -- a 

blessing from the ancestors, who knew 

what my aunt had told me: “Black and 

red. . .black and red. This is who you 

are.” 

And so I ran with whirlwinds, in windstorms; 

stood in thunderstorms smiling 

as the drops hit my face. Wild, like 

someone else I knew. And someone 

else I did not know. But I knew other 

things: having suffered a miscarriage I 

went up to a windy mesa top ruin, as I 

often had before, and held sherds of 

ancient pottery in my hands, knowing 

the old ones would heal me, and send 

me a healthy child, if I prayed and fed 

them. And so my daughter was born, 

the next spring, eyes wide open, her 

frown too old for her face. Sassy eyes, 

like someone else I knew. And someone 

else I did not know. 

Months later, a teacher would arrive, a 

schoolteacher who would become another 

kind of teacher. She had lived in 

Brazil and studied CAMDOMBLE and 

UMBANDA, and she would say, “You 

act like OYA. . .” 

And the journey would become a conscious 

one then. And as if to encourage 

it, signs: 

A sultry woman’s voice, waking me up 

at dawn one morning, speaking my 

name so tenderly I almost wept to hear 

it. . .Lights going on at night, by themselves. 

. .An urge to collect and place 

sherds in my husband’s cornfield and 

garden; to make a circle of sherds and 

plant flowers, place found objects in it. 

. .My daughter’s toy spaceship, turning 

itself on, roaring loudly from a closet 

shelf too high for her to reach, and my 

daughter grinning up at it, once we 

opened the door, as if she knew what I 

knew (“Grandma wants to play,” I told 

her, before I knew what I was saying 

myself.). . . 

Listening to a Brazilian singer, Djavan, 

I asked my new teacher, “What is that 

chant there?” 

“That is to OCHOSI,” she said, smiling. 

“That is an ORISA song.” 

And she gave me a gift: an article by 

Luisah Teish to read. At the end of 

which was a phone number. I put it 

away until I began to build little altars 

without knowing what I was doing it 

for. I remembered something about 

altars from the article. And one Super 

Bowl Sunday after I had sat up all night 

rearranging one of them, I crept away 

from the KACHINA carver and his 

HOPI football fan friends, to see if 

Luisah would think I had lost my mind 

-- or found it, at last, as I did. 

AWO Fa’Lokun Fatunmbi heard me 

begin leaving a message, and interrupted 

it, telling me to tell him exactly what I 

had experienced. And his warm chuckles, 

as I did so, told me, “Yes. . .I’ve 

come home at last.” 

cont. on page 20


WHO IS ESU ELEGBARA ? 

ORDER ORDER OF OF ODU 

ODU 

He is the gate opener of opportunities 

(opening whatever door is closed to us) 

and the one that closes the doors to us. 

There is no other ORISA like ESU 

ELEGBARA. He is second to OLO- 

DUMARE, not even ORUNMILA has 

his powers. 

In Yoruba theology, ESU ELEGBARA 

is respected as so versatile a character 

that one must be wary of what one says 

about him. He has often been called 

either the Devil of the New Testament 

or Satan. He is certainly not the Devil, 

who is an outright evil power in opposition 

to the plan of God’s salvation of 

man. On the whole, it would be nearer 

truth to parallel him with Satan in the 

Book of Job 2, where Satan was one of 

the ministers of God and had the power 

of trying men’s sincerity and putting 

their religion to proof. 

What I have gathered from many years 

of research, reference and sources is 

that ESU ELEGBARA is primarily a 

“special relations officer” between 

heaven and earth -- the Inspector General 

who reports regularly to OLO- 

DUMARE on the deeds of the divinities 

and men, checking and making reports 

on the correctness of worship in general 

and sacrifices in particular. 

Some BABALAWO hold the idea that 

ESU ELEGBARA is the right hand to 

ORUNMILA. His duty is not to run 

errands for ORUNMILA; nor to always 

be in attendance upon him and act 

under his orders. ORUNMILA is 

assigned the duty of hearing the voices 

of OLODUMARE and declaring His 

will to the world. Whenever 

ORUNMILA’s declaration is not 

heeded, it is the duty of ESU ELEG- 

BARA to bring some calamity by way of 

punishment upon the recalcitrant. In 

BY BY OBA OBA ECUN 

ECUN 

return for the service which ESU 

ELEGBARA gives, ORUNMILA feeds 

him. Whenever he is not satisfied with 

the feeding, he takes it upon himself to 

spoil the works of ORUNMILA. 

ESU is unique because he must always 

be about his business of inspection. His 

duty includes, among other things, the 

inspection of worship and sacrifice. 

ORUNMILA also belongs everywhere 

and is the great “consultant.” His functions 

include the prescriptions of sacrifice 

and ritual acts. It is also believed 

that there is a pact between ORUN- 

MILA and Death brought about because 

of ESU ELEGBARA. ESU once 

overcame Death in combat and deprived 

him of his powers. It was ORUN- 

MILA who interfered with ESU to give 

IKU (Death) back his powers. 

ESU ELEGBARA and ORUNMILA 

often work in collaboration. Once, all 

the other ORISA conspired against 

ORUNMILA and took him in accusation 

before OLODUMARE. It was 

ESU ELEGBARA who defended him 

and whose argument OLODUMARE 

accepted. Whenever he works with 

ORUNMILA it is ESU that approves 

and bears the sacrifices to heaven. It is 

through him that the works of ORUN- 

MILA and the other ORISA will be 

successful or not. Without the interference 

of ESU ELEGBARA nothing 

will work. Sacrifice has to first be 

made to him in order to be successful. 

Those who know about this divinity 

hold a healthy respect for him as do the 

other divinities. This is because he holds 

the power of life and death as prosperity 

or calamity depending on what reports 

he carries to OLODUMARE. 

Therefore everyone seeks to be on good 

terms with him. We hear many times of 

a warning, BI A BA RUBO, KI A MU 

T’ESU KURU (when sacrifices are of- 

fered, the portion which belongs to 

ESU ELEGBARA should be set aside 

for him). He is a mischief-maker, quite 

capable of causing confusion, creating 

complicated situations or promoting 

malice among people. By his guile, he 

would make enemies of very close 

friends, cause husbands and wives to 

quarrel and make antagonisms among 

the family nucleus. 

Some say there is an unmistakable 

element of evil in ESU ELEGBARA 

and for that reason he has been associated 

with the Devil. They say his primary 

function in this world is to spoil 

things. Even so, we cannot call him the 

Devil -- not in the Judeo-Christian 

sense of that name. Whatever elements 

of “evil” there are in ESU 

ELEGBARA can also be found to some 

degree in most of the other divinities. 

He is not the personal embodiment of 

evil standing in opposition to goodness. 

“ESU ELEGBARA is how he is,” 

created by OLODUMARE with dual 

personalities, that of good and that of 

bad. These dual personalities were precisely 

what OLODUMARE wanted in 

him because there would be no one 

better to judge the human character. 

When all of this has been admitted, 

though, it is quite clear still that we of 

the Yoruba descent in this new world 

place almost every evil tendency and 

practice in man down to ESU 

ELEGBARA’s agency. Whenever a 

person commits any deed which results 

in unpleasantness or harm to himself or 

his neighbors, we immediately say, 

“ESU L’O TI I,” (It is ESU ELEG- 

BARA who is making him do it). There 

is also a strong belief that we can use 

him against an enemy. There are many 

rituals that can be done in regards to 

this situation, but if you are not familiar 

and do not have the savvy to do 

these rituals, I would suggest not to get


started in something that can turn 

against you. You must keep in mind 

that the enemy against whom you are 

doing the enchantment may have more 

knowledge than you do and can perhaps 

work with ESU ELEGBARA better 

than you. Keep this in mind at all 

times. 

Another thing to always keep in mind is 

that when he becomes angry, ESU 

ELEGBARA’s fury is not easily restrained. 

Whenever he is to be used for 

anything, make sure you know how to 

control his anger, otherwise he can be 

destructive. 

ESU ELEGBARA, nevertheless, is to 

be used and paid homage to at all times 

and by everyone -- this is a must. I will 

recommend to all of you to only use 

him for good deeds. When he is so put 

to work he can be benevolent. Whenever 

he is to be called upon for help, be 

sure to address him by BABAMI (my 

father). When you are walking along 

and see a rock that calls your attention, 

be careful -- that rock could be ESU 

ELEGBARA calling you mentally --to 

pick him up and take him home. 

We want ESU ELEGBARA at our right 

side at all times. He is worshipped all 

over the YORUBA land and in the new 

world. Without a doubt, he is the first 

divinity in the ORISA pantheon -- there 

is no place where he is not called upon 

for help. In order to be everywhere at 

once he manifests himself as follows: 

he is the highest and the lowest, prince, 

garbage collector, adolescent, elder, 

etc. He adopts any identity in order to 

make his presence, powers and will 

felt. Everywhere there is ritual to any 

ORISA he is the intermediary among 

man and the ORISA, but he is also 

first; trouble will come if this is not so. 

He works in close contact with ORUN- 

MILA, OSUN, SANGO, YEMONJA 

and ODUDUWA, but he is number 

one and a servant to no one, including 

ORUNMILA-IFA. 

Because of all I have said in reference 

to ESU ELEGBARA and also because 

he happens to be my favorite ORISA, 

I will say to you and the four WINGS: 

NG BA R’OGBO NG BA GBO; 

NG BA R’ATO, NG BA TO; 

NG BA R’AGBA BI ESU ELEGBARA 

MA YO SESE 

If I possess the means of old age, I will 

be old; 

If I possess the means of long life, I 

will live long; 

If I can be as old as ESU; 

I will rejoice exceedingly. 

DUPUE, DUPUE ESU ELEGBARA 

BABAMI ASE OO. 

Thank, thank ESU ELEGBARA my 

father the grace be with you. 

Note: The prayers written here may be 

used to salute ESU ELEGBARA and 

also to do work with him, or make an 

offering or sacrifice. 

SALUTE TO ELEGBA AND PRAYER 

TO ELEGBARA 

BI S BA WA NRE LEE EMU 

ELEGBA MI 

BI A BA WA NRE ‘LE ESU ELEG- 

BARA MI. 

ONIJA, OO 

EJEMU OLUWONRAN 

A-DI-GIRI-GIRI-RE ‘BI-IJA 

LABALABA KAN ‘MI ETA O FO 

RAKINRAKIN. 

ESU ELEGBARA, MA BA M’JA. 

MA BA M’SIRE. 

EGBE NI O SE FUN MI 

O NO OMB’OMODE SIRE. 

MO R’EJE L’OJU-ITO OMOBIN- 

RING YELEYELE. 

ESU ELEGBARA M’JA. 

MA BA M’SIRE 

O NI O MB’OKUNRIN SIRE. 

MO R’EJE L’OJU-ITO RE YE- 

LEYELE. 


MA BA MISIRE. 

O MB’AKIKO SIRE. 

OWON FA A L’ORUN TU. 

ESU ELEGBARA MA BA M’JA 

MA B M’SIRE. 

O MB’AUNKO SIRE 

NWON MA DUMBU RE O. 


MABA M’SIRE 

O MB’AKOJA SIRE 

NWON BE AKOJA NI ORI. 

ESU ELEGBARA, MA BA M’JA 

MA BA M’SIRE. 

ONIJA, O LE. 

A-DI-GIRI-GIRI-RE’BI-IJA. 

MODUPUE ELEGBARA BABAMI. 

Now I will chant a salute to my 

ELEGUA 

OBELLIGEREN One, you are not 

cruel. 

The EJEMU foremost chief of 

IWONRAN Town. 

He will prepare himself and go to 

fight. 

A butterfly chances upon a civet-cat’s 

excrement and flies high. 

ELEGBA, don’t fight against me. 

Don’t play with me. 

Just be to me a giver of good luck. 

You said you were playing with a 

child. 

I saw much blood flowing from the 

girl’s private parts. 

ELEGBA, don’t fight against me. 


You said you were playing with a 

boy. 

I saw much blood flowing from the 

boy’s private parts. 

ELEGBA don’t play with me. 

You were playing with a rooster. 

The rooster head was torn from the 

neck. 

ELEGBA don’t fight against me. 


You were playing with a goat. 

The sheep was slaughtered with a 

knife. 



You were playing with a male dog 

The male dog was beheaded. 


Don’t play with me 

cont. on page 21.


ASE...WHAT IS IT? 

ASE...WHAT IS IT? 

By BABALAWO OSEFAFUN 

Since the beginning of time mankind 

has been plagued by the thought of 

how to become holy to get close to the 

God(s). Mankind has developed all the 

means in order to make life easier and 

to avoid almost all physical labor. 

History has seen how life as our ancestors 

knew it evolved from the six simple 

machines -- the pulley, level, incline 

plane, wheel and axle, wedge, and 

screw. These simple machines changed 

the world; that is the physical part of 

ASE. To an extent that is wonderful 

but only to an extent because what we 

created to make our life easier really 

enslaves us to our work. We get 

farther away from our creator. When 

man developed the first construction 

crane he created a way to speed up 

production. That which took him ten 

years to manufacture can now be done 

ten times faster but the focus is not on 

cutting time. What has actually been 

created is GREED. As a computer 

tech, it has been taught that computers 

were originally designed to help man 

speed up calculations and retrieve 

masses of information as quickly as 

possible. Today those uses are still 

realized but there are also people 

working overtime in order to meet 

deadlines or making sure they don’t 

lose the stock market “Q’s” - all this 

man has created but how has this been 

possible? 

According to the oral tradition handed 

down to me by my godfather Carlos 

“ODUNJO” Canet and from his IFA 

godfather, the renowned late ARABA 

of Lagos, Nigeria, FAGBEMI 

AJANAKU (my great-grandfather in 

IFA IBA-E BAE TONU!) all this has 

been possible through the power of 

ASE. 

Many who are initiated to our faith, 

whether it is called SANTERIA, LU- 

CUMI or the YORUBA religion, are 

confused in their understanding of ASE. 

This includes several priests who have 

long been initiated and who have initiated 

many others without they themselves 

knowing what is, who provides 

and how to acquire ASE. 

Energy, according to the physicists, is 

anything that can be converted into 

work through the application of force. 

If we go back to the simple machines 

mentioned at the beginning, we see 

that man converted raw minerals into 

the construction crane. He has turned 

the implements of OGUN, the raw 

forest, into houses, boats, furniture 

and OSE-SANGO. Could we be confident 

enough to say that all this is a 

manifestation of ASE? Can we state 

that ASE is also energy and the application 

of force is OLODUMARE, even 

though those things need something 

else to make them do what they were 

supposed to do (unless ASE is applied 

the machine will be unproductive, just 

like a human being)? Are all these 

manifestations of ASE? Not to some 

of the priests of our faith. To us, it is 

a little more or a little less, depending 

on who is doing the talking. In fact, to 

some unscrupulous priests, it means 

the exchange of physical ASE for money 

(initiating without the real ASE,) not 

thinking of the irreversible damage 

that will be done to a person and to the 

spirit. 

“ASE” means the blessings and the 

divine will of OLODUMARE. These 

blessings are illustrated in certain materials 

of natural origin. At the same 

time they represent spiritual strength 

and the divine will power. ASE must 

be used in all ceremonies of this religion 

of ours. 

Even though anyone can make ASE in 

the literal sense, not everyone possesses 

the real ASE. Because we know 

that all in the Universe exists in pairs, 

including us, we know that ASE comes 

in a pair, called the Physical ASE and 

the Spiritual ASE which both work 

together. All priests must be well 

identified with OLODUMARE in order 

to command the power of this thing 

called ASE - we BABALAWO also call 

it OSE-TURA. An IWORO or a BA- 

BALAWO cannot go to a botanica and 

purchase the Spiritual ASE; they can 

only obtain the Physical. If they are 

not well identified with OLODUMARE 

the preparation of the ASE, as priests 

and BABALAWO know it, will be nullified 

in the heavens and earth. Even 

though a priest is born, their life is 

exactly as that of a child being born and 

will be nothing until they meet their 

second in the cosmos in preparation to 

meet OLODUMARE. The IWORO 

and BABALAWO can only obtain Spiritual 

ASE through an exemplary moral 

attitude in every aspect, including love 

for the parent, brother, sister, neighbor, 

environment (animal, plants, waterways) 

and self, to just name a few. 

This is how a priest gains the recognition 

on earth and heavens thereby giving 

us reason to say that they have ASE. 

Neither color, sex, nor religion matters 

in order to possess ASE if all the above 

is followed. But you can offer the 

ORISA each the biggest four legged 

animals there are and if your heart is 

dirty you will not get the attention of 

OLODUMARE. There are many who 

follow this lesser path -- priests 

diabolically insisting that the women 

who come to them must have sex with 

them in order for EBO done to work. 

Priests charging $500 for five ILEKE. 

The list goes on. These are extremes, 

of course, but are the destructors of 

our faith. As there are bad parents in 

family structures, so are there bad 

godparents in our religion. As there are 

bad leaders and bad doctors, so are 

there bad priests. My advice to those 

seeking the true ASE is to always check 

and get a second opinion and never be 

afraid or intimidated. Walk the path of 

wisdom and righteousness with your 

chin high and I guarantee you that you 

will also soon possess the true ASE.


I am BABALAWO OSEFAFUN I have 

walked the long path and now I have 

acquired the experience to guide others 

and have not been discouraged. If any 

need explanation or commentary please 

get in touch with the editor who knows 

how to contact me. On the other 

hand, if you are a priest and feel 

threatened by this, reorganize yourself, 

your heart and goals because the 

Universe needs you. May the power of 

my mother OSUN clean your body and 

may the power of my father 

ORUNMILA give you wisdom. 

ABORU ABOYE ABOSESE. 

ILÉ ÒRÚNMÌLÀ 

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GOLDEN AGE\OPON IFA 

By AWO FASINA FALADE 

Civilization is much older than supposed 

and western society is in reality 

a poor shadow of the past. I wish 

to discuss the time of long ago. We 

will call it the Golden Age, where 

people were wise and compassionate 

beyond all comprehension. When 

all knew their relationship with the 

natural order of the universe. The 

true laws of ODUMARE were the 

factors that contained all life. They 

were genuinely men like gods and did 

in fact converse with the ORISA. 

Punishment and fear did not exist in 

this time. Men had not dug ditches 

to protect themselves from 

themselves. There were no weapons, 

war, nor hunger. The people were 

free from care and the earth was 

untouched by plow, yet produced 

everything needed to survive. It was 

unquestionably a time of 

ODUMARE, BABA ABON, 

IFA\Truth\Wisdom. 

Unfortunately, people took this 

blessing for granted and turned their 

backs on the teachings of the elders. 

ODUMARE in his compassion sent 

ORISNLA to guide the lost ones 

back into the fold, this was the 

Silver Age. For the first time, the 

parched air did glow with heat and 

ice, which caused people to seek 

shelters. They built houses of thick 

shrubs and twigs fastened together. 

Seeds were buried in long furrows 

and the animals groaned, pressed by 

the yoke of plowshares. ORISNLA 

came to show the morality needed 

to gain the grace of ODUMARE, 

but the people heeded not. Still, 

ODUMARE is ever compassionate 

and sent another, OSUN, to guide 

the suffering home. This was the 

Brass Age, more fierce in disposition 

and prone to horrible warfare. The 

plows had become tools of destruction. 

Yet OSUN was compassionate 

and tried to guide the lost back, without 

success. Again ODUMARE sent 

his guide OGUN. This is known as the 

Iron age. 

Perfection is not in the future but in the 

past. Each of the ages are superior to 

the one that follows. The world has 

declined, not improved and the cycle 

continues until the New Dawn of 

Wisdom is upon us again. At present, 

we are in the Iron Age with the world 

situation growing more dismal each 

year. We are at the eve of destruction 

-- the time when life reaches its ultimate 

degeneration. No evolution of 

morality but the justification of decadence. 

No respect for the law of 

ODUMARE, but the raping of ON- 

ILE, which provides our existence. IFA 

shows the wisdom of the Elders and the 

salvation in developing IWA-RERE 

(Good Character). It is your choice, to 

survive in harmony with the IMALE/ 

ORISA or to continue to destroy our 

relationship with ODUMARE. 

L I F E 

B R A S S 

OSUN 

COMPASSION 

WATER 

F I R E 

B I R T H 

MORALITY 

S I L V E R 

OBATALA 

OGUN 

I R O N 

DESTRUCTION 

DEATH 

E A R T H 

S P I R I T 

I F A 

GOLD 

WISDOM 

AIR


TORTOISE TORTOISE AND AND THE THE ELEPHANT 

ELEPHANT 

This article is for the benefit of our 

children, our continuity in ÒRÌSÀ 

worship. The article is a children’s story 

from African perspective and it starts 

with the following song: 

ERIN KÁ RE’LÉ Ò, KÓ WÁ J’OBA 

ERIN YÉ YÉ Ò, EERIN YÈ YÈ 

Lead: Elephant, let’s go home and be 

made a king 

Chorus: Elephant, elephant, elephant 

ÌWÒYÍ ÒLA À RE, 


Lead: By this time of tomorrow 


AGADA A MÁA SE FÉÚ, 


Lead: Machetes will be busy cutting 

meat 


KÙNMÒ A MÁA SE GBÌ 


Lead: The sound of the clubs will be 

heard everywhere 


GBOGBO ÈNÌYÀN MA YÓ’TA 

L’ÉNU 


Lead: There will be a great feast 


By Chief/Ms. FAMA 

ERIN KÁ RE’LÉ Ò, KÓ WÁ J’OBA 



made a king 


To tell children a story in YORÙBÁ- 

LAND, the children will first of all be 

assembled; then the narrator will start 

the story with the following dialogue: 

Narrator: NÍ ÌGBÀ KAN 

Once upon a time 

Children: ÌGBÀ KAN NLO, ÌGBÀ 

KAN MBÒ, ÌGBÀ KAN KÌÍ 

TÁN L’ÁYÉ 

One time is going, one time is 

coming, there will always be 

a time on earth 

Narrator: NÍ OJÓ KAN 

Once upon a day, 

Children: OJÓ KAN NLO, OJÓ KAN 

MBÒ, OJÓ KAN KÌÍ 

TÁN L’ÁYÉ 

One day is going, one day is coming, 

there will always be a day on earth. 

Narrator: My story is about the cunning 

tortoise (turtle) 

Children: Tortoise again! 

Narrator: You know every story about 

him. 

The narrator then begins the story. 

Story: 

In ancient time, there was a town that 

was constantly terrorized by a mighty 

elephant. It was not very easy for 

hunters of the town to kill the elephant 

because of its size. To kill such a big 

elephant required the joint effort of 

several powerful hunters. At that time, 

elephants were not friendly with people 

because elephants lived in the forest 

and human being lived in villages or 

towns. That means that there were no 

zoos then, therefore, Elephant and Man 

regarded each other as enemies. There 

were not many powerful hunters in 

that town at that time. Therefore, 

elders of the town had a meeting with 

the OBA (king) and their discussion at 

the meeting was on what to do to save 

the town from the elephant’s reign of 

terror. This meeting of the elders is 

called ÀJO ÀGBÀ, Council of Elders. 

At the Council of Elders, the elders 

agreed that an announcement be made 

that whoever could capture or kill the 

elephant would receive a big reward. 

The following day after the Elders’ 

meeting, the town crier went round the 

town with AGOGO (a gong - musical 

instrument) announcing to the town 

people that the King had a reward for 

whoever could kill or capture the terror 

elephant. At this ancient time, there 

was no radio, no television, no 

newspapers, and there was none of the 

modern mass media equipments. 

Announcements were usually made by 

town criers. 

When Tortoise heard this announcement, 

Tortoise was happy because of 

the reward aspect of the bargain. Tortoise 

was happy because he was greedy. 

Tortoise was also cunning. Tortoise


knew that he would not be able to kill 

the elephant, but Tortoise also knew 

that with skillful planning (remember 

Tortoise is a cunning reptile), he could 

get Elephant alive to the town. Tortoise 

thought very hard on the scheme 

to take Elephant alive to the town and 

when he was sure that there was a good 

scheme, Tortoise went to the King and 

told the King that he would bring Elephant 

alive to the town. 

The King was surprised at Tortoise and 

he asked Tortoise how on earth he 

could do that, saying, “Tortoise, you 

are such a small reptile that the elephant 

wouldn’t even feel it if it stepped 

on you. How would you bring Elephant 

to town?” 

Tortoise told the King not to worry 

about him. Tortoise demanded that a 

beautiful throne be prepared for Elephant 

but that the throne should sit on 

a covered pit. The King summoned 

elders of the town and told them 

Tortoise’s request. The elders agreed to 

give Tortoise a chance to prove itself. 

As demanded by Tortoise, the people 

dug a deep pit, covered it, and then 

made a beautiful throne on it. 

Meanwhile, Tortoise went in search of 

the elephant. Tortoise found the elephant 

and made a friendly gesture to 

the elephant. Fortunately for Tortoise, 

the elephant returned Tortoise’s gesture 

with a smile. Tortoise worked hard and 

before long, a good friendship was 

established between the two. Once 

this was done, Tortoise started working 

on his plan to deceive Elephant into the 

town. Tortoise started flattering the 

elephant, telling the elephant how 

beautiful, majestic, strong, and mighty 

it was. Elephant ignorantly fell for 

Tortoise’s flattery. Before long, Tortoise 

became Elephant’s trusted friend 

to the extent that Elephant started 

believing whatever Tortoise told him. 

When Tortoise knew that he had build 

Elephant’s confidence in him, he started 

telling the elephant that the elephant 

needed to go and live in a town. One 

day Tortoise said to the 

elephant,”Elephant, you know you do 

not belong in the forest. With your 

power, you should be a king among 

people in a town.” Elephant replied 

that he was not sure if he could ever be 

made a king in a human environment. 

Tortoise told him that he knew of a 

town where they wanted an elephant as 

king and the, Tortoise, believed that 

Elephant would fit in that position. 

Elephant was surprised at Tortoise’s 

news and told Tortoise that he did not 

believe the news. Because Tortoise had 

planned his strategy well, he mounted 

pressure on Elephant to believe him 

and also that Elephant should be 

prepared for a big kingship installation 

ceremony. Tortoise cunningly convinced 

the elephant to agree to a date for the 

ceremony. Between Tortoise and the 

elephant, a day was fixed for Elephant’s 

journey to the town. 

Once this date was fixed, Tortoise 

secretly sent back to town. Getting 

there, Tortoise told the people to assemble 

at the gate to the town with 

pomp and pageantry. Tortoise told 

them that as soon as he and the elephant 

emerged from the bush, the 

people should start singing, drumming, 

and dancing to welcome elephant to 

the town. Also that the singing, drumming 

and dancing should continue until 

they get to the death trapped-throne 

made for the elephant. Tortoise told 

the hunters that were to kill the elephant 

to be in disguise and to hide 

someplace near the pit. When Tortoise 

finished with the arrangement, Tortoise 

went back to the forest. On the agreed 

day, Elephant was jittery at the prospect 

of the day’s event. At the same time, 

Elephant was happy because he was 

going to be made a king. Tortoise and 

Elephant made the journey from the 

forest to the town. Elephant was 

happy throughout the journey. By the 

time the twosome got to the gate that 

led to the town, singing, drumming and 

dancing were going on. Elephant was 

thrilled at the reception for him and he 

thanked Tortoise. So thrilled was 

Elephant that he never paid attention to 

the song about his imminent death. 

When the people saw Tortoise with the 

elephant, they were happy but they 

kept their distance because they could 

not predict what the elephant might do. 

When they realized that the elephant 

was happy, they increased the tempo of 

their music. They started singing, saying: 

ERIN KÁ RE’LÉ Ò, KÓ WÁ 

J’OBA 



made a king 


ÌWÒYÍ ÒLA À RE, 


Lead: By this time of tomorrow 


AGADA A MÁA SE FÉÚ, 


Lead: Machetes will be busy cutting 

meat 


KÙNMÒ A MÁA SE GBÌ 


Lead: The sound of the clubs will be 

heard everywhere 


GBOGBO ÈNÌYÀN MA YÓ’TA 

L’ÉNU 


Lead: There will be a great feast 


cont. on page 21


IFA 

IFA 

BY BY CHIEF CHIEF FELA FELA SOWANDE 

SOWANDE 

The late Chief Fela Sowande was a 

professor of Pan African Studies for Kent 

State University/ Born in OYO, Nigeria, 

in 1905, he received a good deal of 

his higher education from British schools. 

He discovered that for all his learning 

his roots held the true knowledge. He 

returned home to research his culture 

and wrote a number of papers on 

traditional YORUBA. The unpublished 

papers were left to the Department of Pan 

African Studies at Kent. Permission has 

been given to share some of his work with 

our readers. Discussion is certainly 

welcomed as well as critique. The 

following is an continuation of an 

unedited excerpt from Chief Sowande’s 

paper entitled “IFA.” - SG 

Acknowledgements are due to the Ancient 

Religious Society of African Descendants 

Association for permission to 

quote freely from their collection, and 

to those who readily granted access to 

private libraries of rare books. They 

remain anonymous as a protection 

against the curious-minded, whose 

curiosity is only equaled by their forgetfulness 

to return borrowed books. - 

Fela Sowande. 

We have therefore in the YORUBA 

System, OLORUN, ELEDA & OLO- 

DUMARE. Of the three, OLODU- 

MARE is the least rarefied, be He is still 

neither Matter, nor conditioned by Matter. 

He is the Root of that which 

eventually becomes Matter; the Root 

of that which eventually becomes Form; 

we may perhaps regard Him as the 

Germ from which the Principles of 

Form and of Matter subsequently develop. 

He is pure Spirit, but so near to 

manifestation, that He enters into virtually 

every aspect of Manifested Life, 

not because He is the Supreme God, 

which He is not, be because He may be 

likened to the Permanent Secretary 

of a Minister of State, in whom the 

Minister places absolute confidence, 

and who deals with the general 

public on behalf of the Minister. 

One does not upset such a Permanent 

Secretary and expect the 

Minister to have much time for one! 

OLODUMARE is vitally important 

because of this sort of relationship 

with OLORUN -- the Supreme Deity; 

but also because these Three 

Names represent Three States of 

Manifestation of That which, in every 

System like that of the YORUBA, 

is forever Nameless, the “IT,” from 

which even the Supreme Deity -- 

OLORUN -- derives, of which it has 

been said, in another system: - I am, 

without beginning, without end, 

older than night or day, younger 

than the babe new-born, brighter 

than light, darker than darkness, 

beyond all things and creatures, yet 

fixed in the heart of every one. 

From me the shining worlds flow 

forth, to me all at last return, yet to 

me neither men nor angels may 

draw nigh, for I am known only to 

myself. Ever the same is my inmost 

being; absolutely one, complete, 

whole, perfect; always itself, eternal, 

infinite, ultimate; formless, 

indivisible, changeless...Of all existences 

I am the source, the continuation, 

and the end. I am the germ, 

I am the growth, I am the decay. All 

things and creatures I send forth; I 

support them while yet they stand 

without; and when the dream of 

separation ends, I cause their return 

unto myself...Apart from me there 

is neither wisdom, nor knowledge, 

nor understanding. Into every state 

of knowledge do I enter, into false 

knowledge as well as into true, so 

that I am not less the ignorance of 

the deluded than the wisdom of the sage. 

For what thou callest ignorance and folly 

is my pure knowing imperfectly expressed 

through an uncompleted image of my 

divine perfection...Mine is the healing 

influence flowing down from consecrated 

hands, mine the venom of the adder’s 

fang. Nothing falleth but my me, and in 

whatsoever riseth, mine is the power that 

lifteth up...Before all worlds, I WAS: In 

all worlds I AM: And when worlds are 

but a memory, I SHALL BE. 

Of this same “IT,” it is also said: “From 

my substance all things derive their substance, 

and all that hath form is built 

from my four-fold elemental 

manifestation. Four are the subtle 

principles which the wise conceal from 

the uninitiate by the names: FIRE, 

WATER, AIR, EARTH. In endless variety 

of mixture and proportion, directed by 

my Will, these mingle together for the 

production of forms. They are 

transmutations of a single essence and 

from their mingling are brought forth all 

things.” It is the writer’s currently held 

view that, in the YORUBA System, 

OLORUN correlates with FIRE; ELEDA 

correlates with AIR; OLODUMARE 

correlates with WATER; and OFUN 

(HEPA) correlates with EARTH. The 

‘single essence’ from which They all derive 

is the un-named and unnameable “IT.” 

These same oral traditions state 

categorically that the permuted names of 

OLORUN, viz: OLORUN-ELEMI, OLO- 

RUN-ALANU, etc., were imported by 

the YORUBA converts and had no place 

in the Traditional System per se. Idowu’s 

OLODUMARE, as”one who is supreme, 

superlatively great, incomparable, and unsurpassable 

in majesty, excellent in 

attributes, stable, unchanging, constant, 

reliable,” may apply to the concept of 

OLODUMARE in YORUBA Christianity. 

It simply does not belong in YORUBA


Traditional System, where we find this 

Stanza, cited by Lijadu: “OJU MPON 

OLODUMARE, OJU MPON ORUN- 

MILA; OLODUMARE NA RUBO KE. 

NWON JUMO YAN ASOBILIKI ER- 

ANLA KOKAN ATI OGBOGBO- 

KANLA LI EBO FUN ARA WON. 

AWON MEJEJI GBO EBO, NWON 

RUBO.” Briefly, “OLODUMARE was 

in dire straits; ORUNMILA was in dire 

straits; OLODUMARE told ORUN- 

MILA to offer sacrifice; ORUNMILA 

said OLODUMARE too should offer 

sacrifice; each divined for the other; 

each sacrificed.” Lijadu adds a footnote 

to say that this Stanza, from EJIOGBE, 

was one of which BABALAWO stood 

in great dread; it was with difficulty he 

was able to persuade his BABALAWO 

to recite the Stanza, and even then, 

Lijadu was led into a corner, and the 

Stanza recited by the BABALAWO 

mouth-to-ear. The story given by Lijadu, 

may be briefly summed up as follows: 

OLODUMARE and ORUNMILA were 

out walking one day; they suddenly fell 

into a deep pit, from which, try as they 

would, they could not get out. They 

were there for days, until the monkey 

(EDUN) happened to discover them 

there; he went, collected some fruits 

which he threw to them; they ate, 

regained strength to climb out, but 

were both still so shaken by their 

experience that they went and shut 

themselves up in Heaven, and no one 

could get them to come out, except 

EDUN who threatened to spill the 

beans about the discomfiture he had 

found them in, at which both hastily 

emerged from their hiding place. Here 

is no picture of OLODUMARE as 

conceived by Mr. Idowu. But we cannot 

re-write the ODU corpus to satisfy any 

author, and they must be our ultimate 

points of reference. 

TO BE CONTINUED... 

MARRIAGE ACCORDING TO YORUBA CULTURE 

By CHIEF ADETUNJI OLOKODANA 

Marriage is as old as man. Marriage according to YORUBA culture is an 

ancient institution. The conditions surrounding marriage involves the 

bride and the groom, the extended families on both sides, as well as the 

community in general. This condition, therefore, makes it impossible for 

any couple to pick up each other and decide to get married at short 

notice. It also makes divorce a difficult exercise. Divorce rate under 

YORUBA culture is at 2% in the rural areas and about 10% in the cities. 

In my subsequent articles I will dwell extensively on the following 

important pillars of marriage in YORUBA culture: 

A. The Consent of the Bride and Groom 

B. The involvement of the extended families 

C. Dowry (a gift of money or property by a bridgroom 

to the bride) 

D. Marriage dos and taboos 

AfriCarribean AfriCarribean BBS 

BBS 

We are proud to announce the creation of an electronic Bulletin Board System 

that will focus on those issues near and dear to those appreciative of ancient 

African tradition and its progeny in the New World.The service will provide 

many of the general BBS features such as message centers, chat modes and 

E-mail along with a few features unique to our particular needs. It is scheduled 

to "boot up" on October 4th of this year and will be available to all users 

of IBM compatible computers with modems. For more information, contact 

OYA'S MARKETPLACE, P. O. Box 21521, Canton, OH 44701-1521, 

(216) 588-9549. 

P. S. All those who would be interested in serving as Sysops (system 

operators) in their particular areas are invited to discuss their desires with us.


Well, the money for tickets is in hand; 

actually, “in drawer” - performance 

payments remaining uncashed for fear 

they will be “invested.” I am one for 

adventure, but I don’t handle 

disappointment well and don’t want to 

have to deal with it here. Questions begin 

to mount. Where will I go? Will I, or the 

baby, get sick? Should I wean her or not? 

What shots are needed? Birth 

certificates...passports...visas. 

My first insight into the character of 

Nigeria as a nation is the visa form. Upon 

calling the consolate, I am advised to 

submit a written request along with my 

passport. Check. The form I receive is at 

least a photocopy of a ninth generation 

photocopy, lines of the letters broken, 

readibility compromised; totally unlike 

our immaculately printed and numbered 

paperless carbon copies. I am later to 

realize that this is a deep clue lending to 

the psychological preparation helpful in 

absorbing the shock later to come. 

With the visa forms I send an express 

mail return envelope addressed to a 

friend’s Cleveland home. We will drive to 

Cleveland, store the van, catch the train 

and ride in relative comfort; take a taxi to 

JFK airport and then be off. But first, 

airline tickets and a departure date. We 

choose to fly Nigerian Airways; it is the 

only inexpensive airline we know and the 

flight is direct from New York to Lagos. It 

has also been suggested that the 

experience will help me understand my 

people. After trying several times a day, 

several days in a row, we decide to use 

a travel company where a friend works. 

Finally, tickets and flight day. But still no 

visa. While waiting, we get shots for this, 

that and the other. 

Day of departure to New York, 

everything goes so screwy that we miss 

our designated departure time and 

realize that we cannot catch the train to 

the Capital City. The money from the train 

tickets, however, is necessary to travel by 

car. I go to the depot - there is no agent. 

The sign on the door indicates the agent 

is thirty minutes late due back from lunch. 

One hour later, the lunchbreak is still not 

over. With a prayer on my lips, I approach 

the information kiosk. (You see, Amtrak 

departs Cincinnati from the museum 

Journey to Self 

by Omope Daboiku 

center at Union Terminal.) After explaining 

the situation to a clerk she smiles, askes 

for the tickets and promptly refunds the 

money, no questions asked. I take that as 

a sign that travel will be smooth. 

On the road, excited, I ask question 

after question. How many days in Lagos 

before going on to Owo? Will we see 

Ibadan, what of Ile Ife? There’s a family 

friend in Osogbo I hope to see, not to 

mention Osun Grove and Susan 

Wagner’s sculpture. 

It dawns on me, about three p.m., to 

call the Cleveland Heights post office to 

see if the express package has been 

delivered. They have no record of any 

delivery. Better call the consulate. The 

visas are ready; no, they won’t be mailed 

today. The mail clerk is already finished 

for the day and, God forbid, that anyone 

else would step into that sphere of 

responsibility. (Second clue as to the 

character of Nigeria.) 

Drive, drive, drive to New York. Every 

mile brings more anxiety and relief; 

polarity and surface tension become 

understandable concepts. Good thing 

I’ve remembered to bring the consulate 

address. We park nearby at about five 

a.m. and wait until the office opens. First 

in, first served; with visas in hand it’s on 

to Brooklyn. The van will be left with a 

cousin. I say a very sincere prayer for its 

safety. Off to the airport at two p.m. for an 

eight p.m. flight. Am I in for an eye opener! 

Upon arrival, I’m told that we are very late 

and then I see the queue and the baggage. 

Suitcases big enough to smuggle a short 

adult, boxes big enough for a refrigerator 

held together with string, and sacks 

galore. Folks pushing, conniving each 

other to advance in line, and constant 

chatter among the departees. 

I am again privy to the Nigerian mind 

as a passenger feigns surprise when 

the desk clerk announces that his bulging 

suitcase (with which assistance was 

needed to even get it up five inches to the 

scale!) is overweight and requires an 

additional charge. My surprise is 

authentic, though, when informed that a 

ten percent surcharge of the adult fare is 

required for the fifteen month baby who 

will be in my lap. After the argument about 

my ability to get correct information in 

advance, the fee is paid. Tickets in hand, 

we proceed to the departure terminal. 

Wait, wait, wait. At eight p.m. the plane 

that we are supposed to get on hasn’t 

even arrived. I’m told it was probably late 

getting to its designated point. Nigerian 

Airways seems to be caught in a time 

warp, literally...late to depart point A, late 

to arrive point B, surcharge for late arrival; 

late to depart, late to arrive, surcharge. It 

is a vicious cycle. Another clue. 

After several false starts, the flight is 

announced at two a.m. and folks 

stampede to the gate. Here there is no 

concept of “line”; instead, there is simply 

a bulge of humanity complete with hand 

lugguage that could easily fill a moving 

truck. Arguments and insults; voices 

raised to indecent levels for public 

interaction. I anticipate blows being 

exchanged, but soon realize that the hot 

energy of insult has more power than 

physical contact. Folks finally settle down 

and I survey the aircraft. Whoa! The seats 

are almost uncomfortable and very close. 

The movie screen is smaller than the one 

used in the sixties to show home movies. 

The hostesses’ cotton suits show the 

stress of cleaning; the stewardesses’ 

attitudes reflect their uniforms. Everything 

is on the verge of shabby. This is 

confirmed when food is served. Vending 

machine sandwiches would have been 

more appreciated. In the attempt to provide 

“Western” food versus traditional fare, 

the meal served is inadequate. Luckily, 

anxiety is filling my stomach so the food 

is of little consequence. Also, since the 

baby has a ticket and teeth, I insist she 

also have a food tray; so, I do have 

something to snack on through the night. 

The flight is smooth but hot. I’ve got on 

too many clothes. Advice from someone 

who had obviously never flown Nigerian 

Airways. Thank goodness the baby has 

on layers and we all get some sleep. The 

ride is long and I’m conscious that I am 

leaving all that is certain behind. But, can 

one ever be certain? That is the stuff of 

which adventures are made. Surely, the 

spice of life is the titillation of uncertainty. 

This is what plays in my brain as I drift off 

to sleep. Heading home in relative comfort


compared to the forward journey. Of one 

thing I am certain — this is no vacation. I 

cannot afford to be a tourist. I must drink 

it, breathe it, and dissect it all. I cannot be 

a passive observer: I am going home and 

home is where you’re an integregal part 

of the whole...they need you as badly as 

you need them. “ASE,” I sigh as we rush 

headlong further and further east toward 

the rising sun. 

When I woke up, the sun was glistening 

off the floor of clouds below us. As I 

marveled over the phenomena of flight, I 

noticed the clouds part and Mother Africa 

peep through. I could not see Her clearly, 

but the sighting alone pulled at my 

umbilical center so that I immediately 

searched my bag for the handkerchief 

that Aunt Zelma (actually a maternal first 

cousin, once removed) had given me 

especially for The Trip. Here I am choosing 

to fly into the arms of fate, back to my 

mother’s bosom; I reflect on the sensation 

of terror They — The Departed — could 

possibly have felt being torn from the 

same mother. Tears flow for those lying 

between shores — all those safe in 

OLOKUN’s kingdom, fertilizing all life in 

the biosphere. We ride over land for a 

long while before those expert in this 

passage begin to reach for luggage. The 

plane lands like a snowflake on glass. 

Everyone applauds the pilot; yes, they 

actually clap and shout praises on the 

ability of their countryman’s skill — how 

African! 

The Test began the moment we 

deplaned: We had just crossed the 

Atlantic Ocean solely dependent upon 

extremely sophisticated technology and 

upon arriving at Murtula Mohammed 

Airport must climb down like a bus station 

— only there at least one gets delivered 

to a covered curb, just in case of rain; but 

here, no such courtesy. Then, The Line. 

Waiting to enter, everyone waits “on line.” 

Passport, with visa stamped in, and 

medical papers are examined cursorily, 

oh so slowly, as if slowness insures 

some level of quality. 

It’s hot inside the airport, humid hot; 

sweat, several levels above perspiration, 

pours between the creases of my body. 

I now understand what people who are 

claustrophobic feel. The air is still, tepid. 

No exhaust fans are blowing. Nothing is 

automated except for the folks in line; they 

behave like trained animals, patiently 

standing “on line” knowing there is no 

value to being impatient. 

It dawns on me that uniforms are 

everywhere; it’s like a business suit — it 

seems that everyone in charge of anything 

has on one. The women have wear 

anklets and pumps looking more like 

Girl Scouts (Guides) than Madonna. The 

colors of the uniforms reaffirm the 

dullness of the earth and trees, with every 

now and then a skyblue flash of some 

ranking officer. Nigeria was to be like just 

that — dull and dirty with flashes of 

brilliance — the textiles, the architectural 

forms, murals, sculptures, rivers, 

mountains and the people juxtaposed to 

the dirt, trash, pollution, disrepair and 

jumbled development. 

Suddenly, my mind shifts and I realize 

that all hosts are waiting outside, not 

allowed to come inside to greet their 

guests. As I’m trying to digest this new 

issue of control, a guard motions to my 

husband and the following conversation 

occurs, “Sir, welcome home. Sir, this is 

a camera, yes? It is too obvious. I would 

suggest placing it inside your luggage. 

Oh, your cases are full. Well, then, tell me 

what you have for them.” I realize he is not 

concerned for us; he is the frontman 

looking for the marks. The “them” are the 

armed guards searching luggage as 

you go out. I hold the camera in my right 

hand and turn toward “them” presenting 

my left hip on which I had that charming 

15 month old girl. We pass through to 

waiting arms. 

I am overwhelmed with smothering 

greetings from faces I recognize from 

photos — sister-in-law and husband, 

distant cousins (and general on-lookers) 

to see the African American wife. The 

women are pressed and starched in IRO 

and BUBA; the men are casual GQ. 

Everything is snatched from me; for the 

first time in 15 months my hands are free. 

(I carried nothing for the duration of the 

trip with the exception of a bottle of 

whatever to drink and water with which to 

bathe. That aspect of respect is definitely 

worthy of preserving!) We bustle off to a 

car and then we’re off. And, I mean off. I 

see no speed limit signs and our driver 

(anybody that’s anybody has a driver) 

seems determined to see how far he can 

make the speedometer needle go into 

the red zone. My husband says, “No 

faster than 90 please.” I become 

conscious that my right hand is gripping 

the doorhandle, the left is grabbing for 

the child, and my mind is screaming,” Ok, 

ok, I’m impressed, already!” as we swing 

into a curve crossing one of the many 

bridges over the Lagos Lagoon at 75 

mph. I knew at that point that an adventure 

was unfolding. 

The first stop was OBALENDE district 

to the childhood home of one of Nigerian 

friends in The States. The dwellings are 

all swished together with no space 

between them — homes and businesses 

are side-by-side. My hosts’ children 

swarm out to greet her and see the wife 

from the white man’s land. They gaze 

from the corners of their eyes, kneeling 

obediently as they are introduced. I fall in 

love with their inquisitiveness. Again, 

everything is snatched; ‘Sola, my 

daughter, is as delighted as am I. We 

cross a small, open sewer on a sturdy 

board and go inside. It is dark and cool, 

an extreme contrast to the glaring light 

outside. Then, to my delight, I am handed 

a bottle of Fanta orange — the coldest 

thing to drink since departing JFK. As my 

eyes adjust, I see a small color television, 

fridge, stereo and bed; the room is about 

8x8 replete with everything needed for 

20th century comfort. Mama comes in, we 

stand and she speaks to me in excellent 

English. Darkly dressed, she has on 

nothing spectacular; I am not surprised. 

I pass rooms stacked with cases. She 

owns three units, one with a pharmacy, 

one with a tailor shop. Plus, she sells 

soda and beer wholesale. Despite her 

surroundings, there is money here. No 

one would know by the premises. 

It’s night in Lagos; music and 

mustiness pervade all. I’m enthusiastic 

and appalled simultaneously. I try not to 

stare — all these dusky faces and, 

contrary to Anglo belief, no two look alike. 

I see the countenances of others I know 

at home in America; looking at the folks 

mulling around the night lanterns at the 

street market, it’s easy to accept that each 

of us here, Black in America, has a family 

on the African continent. I’m overwhelmed 

by the similarities and contradictions. 

Everyone is hygienically clean despite 

whether clothes are fine or ragged. Brilliant 

smiles are everywhere; I saw no cavityridden 

teeth. Men, women, boys and girls 

stroll arm-in-arm; here holding hands 

has nothing to do with romance. 

Children’s toys are what their 

imaginations can conceive. Moreover, I 

am in the most populous nation in Africa 

where the British ruled for so many years 

with their hoity-toity concepts of propriety 

and had the nerve to leave this place with 

cont. on page 23


In April of 1984 I, along with a fellow 

seeker of truth, began a series of dialogues 

that led to the appearance of 

"Dialogues," the second of five essays 

entitled "The Bridge" to be published in 

"OYA'S MARKETPLACE." In November 

of 1984, I had my first reading by an 

IFA priest. In April of 1991, I was 

initiated as a priest of OBATALA. This 

summer I was initiated to IFA and am 

now a BABALAWO. My name is 

OLUSEGUN. To me all of this is 

related to the material we call "The 

Bridge." It is a statement of the agreement 

between ORI and IPONRI; that 

is to say our consciousness and our 

higher self or spiritual double. 

DIALOGUES 

© 1987 

Chapter One: Wanting to Change 

We are writing now for those people 

who know, in their hearts, that they 

have to change. They don’t like their 

lives as they are. They feel cut off or 

distant from their own deeper, or higher, 

sources. They have a sense that people 

can be more than people seem to be, 

that life on earth can and should be 

different, less violent, more whole. 

We are writing for the man and woman 

who have come to realize that life lived 

for the externals alone, that is, life lived 

for job, family, house, money, is not 

enough. This man or woman experiences 

technology, and while perhaps 

appreciating the human creativity be- 

THE BRIDGE 

(from private conversations) 

© AFS 1983 

hind it, feels that the external advancements 

of the day have somehow missed 

a more subtle inner truth about human 

life. This man knows that instantaneous, 

worldwide communication has 

become a fact, yet he feels very alone 

and out of touch with anything of 

lasting value, lasting meaning. 

He searches. He reads. He joins groups 

or tries methods for meditation, spiritual 

growth, self actualization. Perhaps she 

senses a religious connection to God, or 

knows of the reality of the psyche. But 

nothing seems to work for very long. 

Her life, his life, do not really change, 

do not get better. There may be ups and 

downs in terms of material success or 

times when relationships are more 

positive or times when one’s physical 

condition is less of a problem. But 

underneath, there remains a yearning, a 

longing, that no amount of external 

comfort can fulfill. Men and women 

have felt this way for a very long time. 

The search for meaning is the oldest and 

most basic endeavor of the human mind. 

It is the source of all religions, all 

traditions, all schools. It is the search 

that comes from the realization that 

one’s own experience of living is at once 

profound and meaningless. In this 

knowledge there is pain. 

In general, people seem to react in one 

of two ways to the discomfort of this 

most basic paradox of life. The majority 

turn away from it, almost as a 

reflex, and find satisfactory relief in 

external actions -- whether in church, in 

sport, in wealth, in anything outside of 

themselves that can at least present a 

passable illusion that life is fine the way 

it is. Those who have made this choice 

usually do not recognize what they have 

done and none would be able to name 

the time and place when they turned 

away from their own deepest inner life. 

We are conveniently forgetful of most 

of our basic choices, including the choice 

to look outward, never inward. 

A few, however, are unable or unwilling 

to do that. They choose, or are 

compelled by inner need, to face the 

paradox of life. They begin to see 

themselves as ones who are searching 

for the truth or truths that must be 

beyond the apparent paradoxes of 

meaning-no meaning, joy-sorrow, isolation-community, 

and of course, lifedeath. 

Extreme honesty is needed in a discussion 

like this, for it is necessary to 

acknowledge truthfully to oneself how 

one finds one’s life to be. It does no 

good to deny one’s inner condition. The 

starting point is always with the facts. 

So it is essential that one be very clear 

about the facts of this issue. He asks 

the question of himself, “How do I 

really feel about my own life as it really 

is today?” 

The candid answer to that, coupled 

with the obvious facts about the condition 

of the world in general, leads one 

to search. And now, in response to the 

paradox, to the sense of limitation, to 

the pain, he or she is able to tell himself 

or herself: “I am searching for the 

truth, I am on a way, a path. I may have 

no answers yet, but I will find them. I 

am not satisfied with myself as I am. I 

have to change, I want to change.” 

With this personal truth, such a person 

has entered yet another paradox and 

most likely has no knowledge whatever 

that this is the case. 

The paradox is this: On the one hand, 

an individual’s own wish, his or her 

personal desire for real change, for 

transformation, is absolutely the most 

important factor necessary for any 

change to occur. One’s own wish, one’s


own sense of inner direction, is without 

equal in importance as the driving force 

that can lead to conditions in which 

change is at least possible. But on the 

other hand, the statement made to 

oneself, “I want to change, I want to 

grow,” is in fact one of the most 

eternally damning lies that can be 

fostered in human consciousness. It 

may have slightly different forms, of 

course...I want to be more loving, or 

more whole, or more conscious, or I 

want to be free, creative, alive. But in 

every case, the definition of oneself as 

a seeker of truth, or as one who is on a 

path, or as one who is searching for 

something more, in every case such an 

attitude in oneself eventually becomes 

a barrier to freedom which is very, very 

difficult to overcome. 

The reasons are not simple. It is not just 

that such a person has deluded himself 

or herself into thinking that he is looking 

for truth when he is not. It is not an 

issue of sincerity. No, the more subtle 

problem is that the self image of such a 

person allows that person to accept, 

welcome, trust, and follow almost any 

construction of pure nonsense that 

reinforces the person’s view of himself 

as one in pursuit of truth. He or she will 

hear or read that a particular teacher, 

teaching, or system is about finding 

God, reaching peace, gaining freedom, 

having cosmic consciousness, attaining 

higher self, or any other such idealized 

state, and will inwardly rejoice that 

there is “help” available. Great studies, 

experiments, experiences, soon follow. 

A body of knowledge which seems to 

explain everything is accepted, the 

sanctity of a particular teacher 

acknowledged, the company of others 

on a similar path is savored. Our 

subject has not found truth, rather our 

subject has only found a new context in 

which to continue to be the same person 

he or she has always been. But now, 

this person feels that there is help -- the 

missing half of the equation has arrived: 

the seeker finds the sought. 

This identification, in the name of truth, 

with a system of knowledge or body of 

“answers” is the way in which one’s 

deepest wish can become one’s biggest 

lie. It goes unnoticed -- but then, 

everything goes unnoticed! 

Any reasonable reader would, at this 

point, want to be able to determine 

first hand if he or she is an unwitting 

victim of such a subtle yet mammoth 

lie. Let’s not rush to answer just yet. 

Let’s agree to look at the question 

honestly and openly and without fear 

(no one but you will ever know!). 

Besides, it doesn’t matter at all if you 

happen to discover that all this time 

you have been the victim of a selfcreated 

illusion. If that is the case, or 

if you even suspect that that might be 

the case, don’t worry. You have nothing 

at all to lose. To be free from a lie 

is no loss. You may also find that what 

we are writing is of no use to you, or is 

just plain wrong. If that is the case, 

then leave it alone. 

...one's deepest 

wish can 

become one's 

biggest lie... 

Now, we really do have a question to 

look at. What does it mean to say or 

think that one wants to change? How 

real is that wish? What is the basis for 

your conviction that you need help, if 

you have such a conviction? What 

would real change be? Are there traps? 

As sincere and deep and strong as one’s 

wish or longing might be, are there 

traps? How can one know for sure? 

We need to deal with fact, only fact. 

There is great hope in that, great freedom. 

We do not want self delusion, we 

do not want the kind of self indulgent 

subjectivity which seems to lack all 

contact with the simple, observable 

facts of reality. We want the truth, 

plain and simple. The truth will set you 

free. 

The questions, however, do seem complex. 

More so when each person’s 

entire personal biography is added. So 

we begin slowly and simply. We pose 

one simple question about ourselves 

then make a private commitment to 

spend the time necessary to determine 

the factual answer. We will want the 

answer now, of course, at once, with no 

delay, no effort, no confusion. Confusion 

is annoying. But we decide to 

accept delay, accept confusion, accept 

that need for some small effort, all for 

the sake of establishing at least one 

clear fact about ourselves. 

Let’s take the question “What do I 

want?” Our premise in posing that 

particular question is at least twofold. 

First, we know that what people want 

drives their lives. (You may not know 

that, or may agree or disagree, or you 

may think that you know without ever 

having verified it for yourself.) Second, 

we know that what a person really 

wants and what that person thinks he 

wants are usually not the same. This is 

only our view. You verify. We may be 

wrong. But in any event, it makes the 

question of “What do I want? very 

worthwhile. We know that you can 

theorize about it, we know that you can 

tell stories about your experience with 

your own wants, but the challenge here 

is to drop all that we think we know, all 

that we are sure of, and just look at the 

question openly, honestly, and with 

great persistence. We suggest that it be 

studied for period of time. Once a day 

for three months write down what you 

feel you want for yourself at that particular 

moment. Be ruthlessly honest 

with yourself or don’t even bother with 

this -- why waste your own time? Do 

this more than once a day if you can. 

Once an hour would be truly remarkable, 

though practically no one wants 

the truth that badly.


Ask yourself, “What do I want, right 

here, now?” Take inventory. Pause and 

look straight into yourself. What issues 

are on your mind? What are you seeking 

right at that moment? Maybe nothing. 

Maybe rest. Maybe food, sex, a shower. 

Maybe truth. Maybe sleep. Write it all 

down. You may have many wants at 

the same time -- list them all. There are 

no right or wrong, worthy or unworthy, 

sacred or profane answers. There are 

no scores, no prizes. This is only to help 

find a little of the truth you deserve to 

have about yourself. 

An interesting phenomenon to notice at 

this time is one’s own reaction to the 

suggestion just made, the suggestion to 

try to see what you want. Reactions 

generally fall into two categories: those 

who resist the suggestion immediately 

and those who accept and embrace it 

just as quickly. Some of you will never 

do what has been suggested here. Some 

will do it, but only after many months 

or even years have passed. Some will do 

it right away, starting with today (the 

day you are reading this) and will do it 

with great enthusiasm and efficiency, as 

if it were an exercise from your 

childhood days in elementary school. 

Well, it is an elementary exercise from 

a school. But in the giving of an exercise 

we need to explain that no exercise of 

any kind creates freedom. Seeing the 

truth as it is creates freedom, is freedom. 

The value, importance, limitations, and 

risks of exercises is knowledge one gains 

with experience. There’s no use in 

creating needless theory on the subject. 

Chapter Two: The Magnitude of 

Change 

There are only two states of existence 

possible for a human being: freedom 

and slavery. However, it is not easy to 

describe the difference in words. The 

problem is a problem of scale, scope, 

dimension. Freedom cannot be described 

in terms of slavery. The mind 

which is enslaved attempts to conceive 

of freedom but will always only repli- 

cate its own slavery with every thought. 

There are not degrees of freedom. 

Freedom is not a progression of states. 

One is either free or not. One cannot 

be partially free, or a little free. However, 

a person can and does change 

states -- to and from freedom, in and 

out of slavery. The changes go unnoticed 

for the most part, mainly because 

the time spent by most people in freedom 

is very, very brief, perhaps only 

fractions of a second at any one time. 

How then does one who exists most of 

the time in psychological enslavement 

bring himself or herself into a state of 

inner freedom? 

If one is really interested in this question, 

it is necessary to verify, as fact, 

whether or not one exists in psychological 

slavery. Are you or are you not a 

machine, existing as a machine does, 

driven entirely by principles of mechanics? 

This is a very old idea, that man is 

There are not 

degrees of 

freedom...One 

is either free or 

not. 

asleep. That man is psychologically, 

spiritually dead. That he lives in the 

illusion of freedom but actually has no 

freedom. That he is in prison, and 

worse, does not know that he is in 

prison. That he sees only shadows and 

thinks they are all there is to reality. 

But is any of that true? Can I find out? 

What difference does it make for me, in 

my own private life? 

The student of this question has to 

begin with why this question exists for 

him or her in the first place. As a 

student one can at least look inward, 

and without making any presumptions 

of certainty, can at least say tentatively, 

yes...there is the state I always seem to 

be in, I will call that “slavery” just for 

the sake of study. And, yes, there is 

another state, which I have sometimes 

experienced, or which I at least sense 

must exist, and I will tentatively call 

that “freedom,” also just for the sake of 

this study. Here we are giving names to 

things only for ease of conversation, 

not to define them. 

Now, within the conditions of this little 

experiment, we are saying that a free 

person would know for a fact that he or 

she is free, and a slave would not even 

know that he or she is a slave. Further, 

we are saying that I, the student, 

presume myself to be enslaved and 

therefore am incapable of even knowing 

that much, and that any thoughts or 

ideas I have on the subject must be a 

product or my own mental slavery and 

therefore could not of themselves lead 

to freedom. Very good paradox indeed! 

Within the terms of this paradox, that 

is, of a machine incapable of anything 

but machine-like behavior, is there any 

way out? Let’s look at this from a very 

practical, totally real point of view. For 

the sake of the hope of freedom, I will 

tentatively agree that I might be a slave. 

And now I remember my question about 

this...how can I verify, test, find out for 

sure? Certainly it would be worthwhile, 

for certainly, if this and that are true, 

then there is genuine hope for me. And 

that, after all, is what I want. 

The most practical, and most possible, 

tactic to use with oneself at this time is 

to attempt an action that could only be 

done by a free person, some action 

impossible for a slave. This would be to 

consent to imitate freedom while knowing 

that one is not free. 

To go forward with this, we need to 

establish a few tentative generalities 

about what we slaves think might be 

the difference between freedom and


bondage. As honest slaves, we can say 

that we really don’t know anything 

about freedom. We have opinions, we 

have read books, we have heard sermons 

and lectures. But honestly now, 

we haven’t every really lived in freedom 

and therefore we will suspend all that 

we think we know about being free. 

Maybe a free person can fly, or heal, or 

never again reincarnate -- we don’t know. 

So we will temporarily define freedom 

as that which is not slavery, bondage, 

mechanicality. 

What then is slavery, bondage, mechanicality? 

That is the condition we 

presume ourselves to be in, it is the 

state which the prophets tell us we are 

in, and in this experiment we are to 

suppose that this is all true. But what 

exactly would that be? What are the 

characteristics of a slave, of a machine, 

of a person in bondage? In bondage to 

what? Enslaved by what? A machine 

driven or controlled by what? 

For the sake of getting started, let’s 

accept some tentative descriptions of 

slavery, or whatever we want to call the 

opposite of freedom (actually, freedom 

evokes no opposite). Let’s say the 

following about our state of psychological 

mechanicality: there is no personal 

initiative, only imitation; all actions, 

thoughts, feelings, are essentially 

repetitive; behavior is controlled not by 

vision, not by clarity of sight, but by 

fear; habit rules one’s internal and external 

response to stimuli; external 

stimuli, or the memory of expectation 

of same, rule one’s inner life; one has no 

thought for oneself, only the internalization 

of someone else’s thought. 

Further, we would expect a first-rate 

slave or robot to be utterly convinced 

without any doubt that all of the above 

is untrue, does not apply in his or her 

case, and that in fact he or she is selfdirected 

and full of self knowledge. 

Now, is there any practical way to 

challenge all of that? Any way to 

actually challenge myself, bring my 

whole self into question, now, at once? 

Yes, it can be done now, at once. One 

only has to look. Just look, not react, 

not think, not analyze, not fear, not 

hope, not move in any way, just look, 

just see. But perhaps that is too much, 

too overwhelming, too frightening for 

us as we are. For are we not just now 

convincing ourselves that we are robots? 

Not like robots, but really robots! 

So here, now, as robots, it occurs 

to us that we could do one small totally 

unrobotic act: we can look at ourselves, 

we can acquire factual information 

about ourselves, we can create our 

own body of self knowledge, of truth, 

without any outside reference points 

whatever. Without any reference to 

mother, pope, teacher, guru, saint, 

lover, and without any reference to 

fear, doubt, pride, anxiety, hope, or 

need. This is the gathering of facts, the 

cognition of truth, simply as it is, now. 

But this is still a big task. Still an 

unfamiliar act for slaves like us who 

thrive on the known, the comfortable. 

So we reduce it in scope,make it smaller, 

make it manageable, make it real. 

We go at one simple question: can I 

observe myself? 

Obviously, the only way to find out is 

to try. And this is the suggestion. 

Attempt to verify whether or not you 

really can observe yourself. Be practical 

and honest about it. Get as down 

to earth as you can about it. Face it. 

Of course you don’t think it’s necessary. 

We know that. Of course you 

already know a great deal about yourself 

and your life. Of course you 

already possess self knowledge and 

objective truth. On the other hand, 

maybe you don’t really want to know; 

maybe there’s a lurking fear that some 

new fact might upset your present 

picture of yourself... 

Keep this task simple and do-able. 

Pick some know behavior or situation 

that is sure to happen every day during 

the next few months or so. An example 

might be brushing your teeth in the 

morning, or eating lunch, or walking 

down a particular hall at work, or 

getting the mal, or turning on a particular 

television show, or anything that you 

know you will do every day. 

Attempt simply to see yourself as clearly 

as you can for no more than one or two 

minutes during the situation you have 

chosen. 

Observe all that you can of yourself: 

your thoughts and reactions, your physical 

posture or tension, your emotional 

state, and of course your reaction to the 

act of self observation. 

If you decide to do this, if it isn’t 

beneath you, then you will have greater 

success if you help yourself remember 

the task each day. Write yourself a 

note. Sit quietly with yourself for a 

moment in the morning and remind 

yourself that for one minute when you 

go to get the mail, for one minute then, 

you will try to see how you walk, what 

you think, what you feel. Not to 

become wise in cosmic truth, just to 

know a simple fact about how you 

really are at that time. For a robot, such 

an act is impossible.


a great many other individuals against 

a plethora of complex difficulties, and 

only given the proper amount of time 

and support will he be able to accomplish 

his -- and thus our -- goals. 

Let us, then, acknowledge his good will 

and give him the benefit of the doubt(s). 

Let us pray that OBATALA gives him 

the presence of mind to identify the 

problems that beseige us all in a manner 

that is effective to their solution; let us 

ask SANGO to bolster his courage in 

his own convictions, so that he might 

dispense justice on our behalf. Let us 

ask OGUN to clear his path through 

the political minefield that is bi-partisan 

politics; let us ask OCHOSI to 

guide him to integrity. Let us give 

thanks to OYA for blowing the wind of 

change in our direction...let us pray 

that YEMOJA nourishes his spirit daily 

for yet another battle. We must ask 

OLOKUN to clear his vision of the 

mysteries of our own desires and needs, 

so that he can administer fairly to us all. 

Finally, let us sacrifice to OSUN, so 

that She will see that the bounty She 

might bestow upon Bill Clinton might 

be bestowed upon the entire United 

States and the world at large. 

In short, let us orient our heads to do 

what we must to help this new President 

to help us. In so doing, unlike the 

man in the desert, we will not pass up 

the small meal for the expectation of a 

larger feast that might be impossible to 

render at this time. Thus, we will find 

ourselves better able to keep our hopes 

alive at a time when we sorely need 

something to hold onto. 

O DABO. 

ASE. 

SANGO - 

cont. from page 1 

OLOKUN 


The statues in OLOKUN’s Benin 

temples, which ought to shed some 

light on the question, customarily depict 

this deity as male. However, 

OLOKUN is never shown alone, but 

always attended by many courtiers. An 

unmistakably female EHI, or souldouble 

(what we call the IPORI) accompanies 

OLOKUN in one shrine. In 

another, the masculine-appearing EHI 

wears a type of crown associated with 

the Queen-Mother in this world, and 

with ORA, OLOKUN’s favorite wife, 

in the other. 

Many find this sexual ambiguity uncomfortable. 

In this hemisphere, they 

usually identify OLOKUN as masculine, 

paired with a feminine YEMOJA 

for the sake of balance. There is the 

impression that notions of what defines 

masculinity and femininity are useless 

at the level this deity operates. There 

are elders who say it doesn’t matter but 

suggest speaking of OLOKUN as male. 

Others report valid and enriching 

visualizations of OLOKUN as female, 

a mermaid in a palace on the ocean 

floor. 

“No one knows what is at the bottom 

of the sea.” Scientists speak of glowing, 

volcanic cracks from a newly formed 

Earth. They report phosphorescent, 

foot-long worms and other exotic 

creatures clustered around these sources 

of heat and light. In what we perceive 

as darkness, though, there may be other, 

stranger forms of life. 

In honoring OLOKUN we honor the 

known and the unknown; that which 

has been brought to us from heaven and 

that which we have not yet received. 

Hopefully in sharing these words we 

may prepare ourselves to receive more. 

ASE. 

OYA - 


Actually, the journey was about to 

begin again. But I would have help 

now, to know what the signs all meant. 

I am new at this. But have been blessed 

all along. 

My car’s front license says, “OYA,” and 

I smile when people mouth it as I 

breeze by. And I say, “Go on, Priscilla, 

with your bad self. . .” 

I am beginning to understand. 

Alafia. 

RIDDLE 

"The power of the word is very strong," 

the teacher was telling his student. "In 

fact, there are certain words, when 

spoken, that can kill an animal without 

ever having to touch it." The student 

was fascinated and begged to be told 

the mysterious words. The teacher 

looked to the student and replied, "Ah 

yes, but how can I tell you?" 

If you think you know, drop us a line. 

Let us know if you would mind our 

printing your answer. - OYA'S MAR- 

KETPLACE.


TORTOISE 


ERIN KÁ RE’LÉ Ò, KÓ WÁ 

J’OBA 



made a king 


With the singing and dancing, the people 

led Elephant to his death trapped throne. 

The first step that Elephant made to get 

to the throne landed him inside the pit 

that was laden with sharp metals. The 

moment Elephant fell into the pit, sharp 

metals, heavy rocks, and clubs landed on 

him simultaneously with shots from guns. 

It was too late for Elephant to fight back 

because he was trapped inside the pit. So 

the elephant died in the pit and the town 

people had a big feast. 

Narrator concludes the story by saying, 

“ÀBÒ MI RÈ É O.” (Here I stop.”) 

Children respond: 

“GBA ATA JE.” (“Eat ATAARE 

-- guinea pepper -- for 

more wisdom.”) 

Narrator will then ask the children what 

lessons they learned from the story. 

Lessons from the above story are that: 

1. A reign of terror is not good be 

cause whoever terrorizes will get 

killed eventually. Elephant terror 

ized the people, but the people 

killed the elephant at last; 

2. A person should know well who 

ever he/she decides to make 

friends with. Elephant did not 

know Tortoise well, therefore, he 

did not know that Tortoise was 

not a true friend but a traitor; 

3. There is strength in unity. The 

town people were able to kill the 

elephant because they were united; 

4. The story also teaches good neighborliness. 

Till we meet again, be blessed and be 

fulfilled in your ÒRÌSÀ worship. 

ÀBORÚ ÀBOYÈ 

Coming attraction: FUNDAMENTALS 

OF THE YORÙBÁ RELIGION (ÒRÌSÀ 

WORSHIP) by Chief FAMA. 

ODU 


O Belligerent One, you are not cruel. 

He who smartly accrues himself and 

goes to the fight. 

Thank you, ELEGBA my father. 

PROVERB OF OKANAMEJI (1-1) 

A KI IRU ERAN ERIN L’ORI KI A 

MA FI ESE TAN IHO IRE NILE 

(In front of child you could never say 

that someone is going to be decapitated 

because when the child sees a man with 

a knife he will automatically be looking 

at his own neck.) 

This pataki could be applied to the 

ODU of IFA EYEKUMEJI. 

11 11 

11 11 

11 11 

11 11 

Pataki of OKANA MEJI (1-1) DILO- 

GUN (Cowrie shells) 

It happened that a long, long time ago 

there existed in the Kingdom of ILE 

IFE a King that had a beautiful daughter 

- her beauty was known all over the 

land. They lived in a magnificent palace 

surrounded by incredible wealth. 

The King made sure that he kept his 

daughter with very little contact with 

the outside world. She lived in solitude 

in one of the most lovely places in the 

palace. Only one of the oldest maids of 

the Kingdom had access to the beautiful 

Princess. This old lady had the only 

key to the bed chamber of the Princess. 

She was in charge of bringing to the 

Princess whatever food she consumed 

every day. The diet of the Princess 

consisted of some of the most delicious 

foods served in the Kingdom, but it was 

served to her in very odd ways. The 

OKA (bread) was given to her without 

the crust, the almond with no peel -only 

the white part of the bread and 

almond was given to her to eat; anything 

given to the Princess to eat had to 

be white. This was the way it had to be 

because the elders believed that in this 

way the body and soul of the Princess 

would be kept purified. 

(Do keep in mind that the Princess in 

this story is the ORISA JEWUA and 

she is everything virgin in this world.) 

The entry to her bed chambers was 

forbidden to everyone in the Kingdom. 

But one day the old maid forgot to 

close the door to the Princess’ room 

when she retired. ESU ELEGBARA 

had, for the longest period of time, 

been curious to find out who lived 

behind those walls and was nearby that 

day. Taking advantage of this opportunity, 

he walked inside the bed chambers 

of the Princess and came very 

close to where she was eating her food. 

“What strange food they are serving 

you, my lady,” he said when he noted 

the food in her plate. “Bread without 

the crust and almonds without the 

peel, what a pity! Everyone knows the 

best part of the bread is the crust! The 

crust of the bread is where all the 

nutrition is, the same for the almonds, 

and fruits. Without the crust the bread 

tastes very dull, it has no flavor!” 

ESU ELEGBARA said all these things 

to the beautiful Princess but he knew 

who she was - she was JEWUA, 

OLODUMARE’s favorite daughter. 

ESU ELEGBARA also knew that he had 

no reason to be there because it was 

forbidden for all men in the Kingdom to 

see JEWAU. She was the symbol of 

virginity to every living creature on the


planet and her virginity was to be kept 

intact at all times. With all bad intention 

he got the beautiful Princess interested in 

everything he had to say to the extreme 

that when he left the room, the innocent 

JEWUA let the old maid know that a 

man had been in her forbidden chambers. 

The old maid became pale with anger. 

Her surprise was so great that she began 

to run at full speed out of the Princess’ 

room. She ran until she came across a 

very large salon where OLODUMARE 

usually was. She came to tell him the bad 

news of what had happened to his daughter. 

At the precise moment ESU ELEG- 

BARA had come inside JEWUA’s bedchamber, 

she lost her virtue of being a 

virgin. 

NOTE: We practitioners of the YORUBA 

religion know that it is forbidden for a 

man to look at JEWUA directly and less 

to speak to her. This PATAKI of 

OKANAMEJI 1-1 tells us we have to be 

very careful when we deal with the 

unknown because we can get in trouble. 

When this ODU comes out in a reading, 

we must do EBO to the EGUNGUN 

(ancestors), JEWUA and ESU ELEG- 

BARA. 

QUALITIES OF THE ODU OKANA- 

MEJI (1-1): 

When this ODU comes with IRE it is a 

very good ODU for the person that is 

having the reading done. It is telling the 

reader that better things and changes are 

coming his way. The ODU is also telling 

the diviner that the person being read 

could be a BABALAWO, priest, poet, 

writer, scientist, doctor, lawyer or a 

great holy man. 

When this ODU comes with OSOGBO, 

then it is telling the person that things are 

not very good for him and he must move 

very fast to get initiated (usually the person 

is a child of ELEGBA, AGALLU or 

SHANGO). OKANA with OSOGBO is 

not good and the person doing the consulting 

had to do all types of offerings and 

sacrifices to the EGUNGUN. 

If the ODU comes to a child then the 

diviner must advise that this child can 

and should follow the suggestions given 

above, as far as what to become when he 

grows up. 

EBO TO DO WHEN OKANAMEJI 

COMES OUT: 

1. EBO Offering to ESU ELEGBARA: 

16 OKA-bread slices. Spread each of the 

slices with cocoa butter and eggshell 

powder-EFUN/CASCARILLA then 

place the bread in a large white plate and 

cover with cotton. After 16 days have 

past, take them to the cemetery. During 

those 16 days, come in front of the shrine 

and pray to the ancestors for help. Light 

two white candles in the shrine. 

2. EBO Offering to ESU ELEGBARA: 

One black rooster, taken to the woods. 

Clean the person with the rooster then 

sacrifice the rooster to ELEGBA. The 

rooster should be sacrificed to the first 

rock that is found in the woods. Make 

sure that the rooster is buried in the 

ground. 

3. EBO Offerings to JEWUA: When this 

ODU comes out in a reading one should 

give himself 8 baths (one each day) with 

Virginia elder (bleo blanco), make sure 

to smash the leaves to get the juice out. 

Place the juice in 1/2 bucket of water. 

Add to the water a bit of eggshell 

powder, 8 teaspoons of almond oil and 

3 cups of goat’s milk. Mix all these 

ingredients together and take the bath 

early in the morning. This bath has the 

qualities of taking away all evil influences. 

CURUJEY BROMELIAS HOHENBER- 

GIA EWE ELA: 

There are a great variety of these plants, 

also known as BROMELIACEA and all 

of them are parasites. The EWE ELA is 

a very common herb in the forest of 

South, Central, Latin and North 

America. There are a great variety of this 

plant but the majority of them live on the 

branches of large trees, especially on the 

branches of the Oak tree. These herbs 

can be used as ornamental plants and 

some of them have flowers that can be 

used in flower arrangements. 

This plant belongs to ESU ELEGBARA 

and OGUN but is the ASE of ESU 

ELEGBARA. All of his children should 

know all the qualities that these parasite 

plants have. At the time of initiation of an 

ESU ELEGBARA child, it must be added 

to the group of herbs that the ASE is to 

be made the night before the initiation. It 

should also be placed as decoration in 

both of the thrones that are made for 

ESU ELEGBARA. The EWE ELA can be 

used in all the work that is done with 

ESU ELEGBARA. A good luck powder 

is also made from her. To prepare a bath 

for good luck smash the juice out of the 

leaf or blend it. Mix the juice well in a 

bucket of water and add to it 3 teaspoons 

of honey and 1 teaspoon of perfume. 

Place the bucket with the mixture in 

front of ESU ELEGBARA the night 

before and early in the morning take a 

bath with it. These recipe can also be used 

to clean the house, because it takes all 

evil influences away. Say the prayer given 

before in these pages when making this 

bath. Prayer makes the enchantment 

work better. Anything that a priest does 

while adding this plant to it will be 

assured of working with IRE. 

EWE ELA is used as a medicine and one 

of its best qualities is when it is used as a 

powder. The powder will kill all bacteria 

in cuts. As a powder it has been known to 

cure herpes and all types of skin rashes. 

EWE ELA is one of the best medicinal 

plants to drink because it is a good blood 

purifier. In times when medicine was not 

so advanced, indigenous people used this 

to cure high blood pressure, kidney illness 

and venereal disease. In some cases it has 

helped stop the growth of some viruses. 

This wonder came about when 

OLODUMARE created the planet and 

all that happened in the ODU of OKA- 

NAMEJI (1-1). This is the reason why 

this herb is so important to have in our 

houses for use in everything that has to 

do with ESU ELEGBARA. 

EWE ELA is to only be used for good 

deeds -- nothing evil will work as long 

as it is around.


JOURNEY 


NO sewage system. While watching 

animals and humans relieve themselves 

in the black stream of a ditch, I marvel that 

all the children don’t die of tetanus or 

typhoid as I see one breech the muck to 

retrieve a ball. Yet, no one seems troubled 

by the stench (which by week’s end has 

reduced itself to a comforting smell like 

a familiar latrine), nor did anyone else 

seem to realize that every speckle on that 

sludge was a mosquito skipping. People 

with running water fill their pans with 

pride and accomplishment unaware of 

drinking lead with every drop. Roaches 

are as big as the specimens in the zoo; 

those guys don’t run. Fleeting (Fleet — 

brand name pesticide) the house each 

night to kill Dracula’s dive bomber squad, 

I learned 

cont. on page 23 

to sleep despite that lone zoomer in 

the room and found out why everyone is 

Nigeria uses medicated powder. The 

menthol in it deadens the evervasive 

smell of mold and mildew. I could wax 

poetic about that essence; every now and 

then I still come across an item from 

Home long folded and upon opening it a 

slight draft vividly recalls the smells of 

that place. Unique, never experienced 

here. So full of the living of life. 

Comparatively, we here are antiseptic. 

So free of filth that we must infect 

ourselves artificially through inoculations 

to remain healthy. I think of all those who 

want to Go Home and wonder if they 

could jump this hurdle of inconvenience; 

no regular trash pickup or even the 

customary US convention of a kitchen 

garbage can. Let’s not quibble about 

paper or plastic; over there it’s about 

containment, period. And, personally, I 

prefer an outhouse or even an enamel 

slopjar to an enclosed toilet with no water 

to flush it. You see, in an “all-electric” 

upscale town apartment, which is superlarge 

and the envy of any American visitor, 

water is pumped to the reservoir and 

when it goes out, water becomes a scarce 

commodity; bath-tubs are flooded to 

assure water to drink, bath and cook. No 

one even thinks to empty any waste water 

down the toilet. Simple things are not 

worthy of contemplation. Take your own 

fan and bedsheets to the hospital if you 

want comfort. Visitors coming with or 

arriving home late to food in thermal 

“flasks” (food bottles) of all sizes, 

marketed there like Tupperware; foofoo 

wrapped in plastic wrap and still warm 

inside the insulated bucket. Cooker 

(stove) looks like any other except the 

gas comes not by line, but by cylinder 

which the household buys. When the 

government really wants to get funky, 

there is a shortage of cooking gas despite 

Nigeria’s status of an OPEC nation. But 

then this is also the country that posts 

billboards asking the people not to abuse 

their paper money (wadding it up vs. 

folding neatly) and mints coins which the 

populace boycotts because it is too heavy 

to carry enough to pay for the highly 

inflated goods — the woman I shopped 

with calculated payments by the batch: 

That’s X number of =N20 notes. 

We move to a relative’s house in 

another section of Lagos, a city of 9 

million people making New York City 

resemble Cincinnati, Ohio in 

comparison. This part of town is more 

sophisticated; there are concrete plates 

over the sewers and broken glass along 

the rims of the walls of each apartment 

building. This house belongs to one our 

mother’s junior brothers; he is an attorney 

whose Mercedes is in a constant state of 

repair, but he has one and that alone 

lends credence and status. The Auntie 

there could have been the sister to my 

own father’s sister-in-law in Texas. The 

children were lean, clean and welleducated 

with Western desires: 

Swatchwatch and Walkman wants. 

Private, religious schooling. Family 

prayer at bedtime with special invocation 

of protection against armed robbers in 

the night. Prayer again at 4 a.m. I believe 

in the paradigm of praying unceasingly 

and pass. Roosters wake me. I have 

slept with crossventilation controlling the 

occasional skeeter. It’s amazing what a 

little concrete can do. The walls of this 

uncle’s parlor (living room) are filled with 

books; the furnishings are Ebony 1964. 

It’s comfortable like grandmaw’s house. 

From here to IBADAN to be with my 

husband’s older sister, her husband, 4 

sons and live-in sister-in-law. I’ve 

passed the first test, on to the next. 

IBADAN is a gemstone; you can feel 

the depth of its importance to the cultural 

fabric of Nigeria. Hilly, all the buildings 

feel really old with no more settling to do. 

The earth is red like Virginia clay; all 

structures have a ribbon of iron oxide at 

their foundations so everything matches. 

From a high vantage point, I look down 

on a section of the city; it stretches as far 

as the horizon. Everywhere I look is 

IBADAN, city of iron roofs. I imagine how 

the city must have glistened when the 

metal was new. Auntie’s house was fab: 

four bedrooms, three baths, kitchen and 

huge parlor. All concrete; but concrete can 

be a cool shelter from the sun, combined 

with ceiling fans and curtains. I saw the 

first T.V. broadcast station in all of Africa; 

the local cable community producers’ 

stations are technological Gardens of 

Eden comparatively. I decide that I would 

require satellite reception if I resided on 

this side of the water. There are gates 

locked at night — everywhere — with 

gatemen. One was a seemingly very old 

man dressed in ragged traditional 

garments, but his power exuded from him 

and I could feel the strength of whatever 

initiation had been received to allow this 

decrepit old man to guard against the 

armed robbers so pervasive in this 

society’s consciousness. (Until recently, 

convicted armed robbers were shot by 

firing squad!) IBADAN, where the people 

are as smooth as the quartz rocks which 

peek through the soil. 

On to OWO, my husband’s “town”; a 

recent atlas says the population is 90,000. 

After seeing LAGOS, I wonder how any 

census could be conducted accurately 

here. We drive into the ancient past; here 

there is a ribbon of green along all the 

foundations. We are on the edge of the 

bush; this is woodland — paradise for 

farmers. Our family here is displaced 

royalty I am told. The patriarch died in the 

early 60’s soon after independence — a 

strange, slow, debilitating death with 

sudden onset, the only telltale sign a 

patch of missing hair. Suspicion tore the 

family apart; and then the fire which 

devoured the fruit plantation and 

neighboring farms. Years spent restoring 

the fortunes of others, children not in 

school to work off debts, thrown from 

stem to stern, my mother-in-law has been 

raised to sainthood in my mind. I am 

anxious to meet the woman who had 12 

pregnancies, raised six to adulthood with 

no mate, and tackled familial 

discrimination. As we turn down the lane 

behind the palace, I hear the uproar; they 

are all on the veranda waiting. In the few 

seconds before they descend upon us I 

reflect on what Mother said in 1988 when 

we married: The fulfillment of prophecy; 

the family had been waiting 100 years for 

one of their sons to go abroad and return 

with a captive warrior’s daughter. Here I 

am, returning home with appropriate 

fanfare. Children swarm me shouting 

EKAABO, EKAABO - you are welcome. 

Everything is snatched again. I see two 

women on the veranda and suddenly I’m 

running involuntarily, and fall on my knees


at the feet of my child’s great-grandmother. 

Her husband is recently deceased; he 

could remember raids taking people 

away. My head is in her lap, the tears are 

flowing; my heart is so full of joy I feel like 

it’s about to burst. I am lifted and turned 

to the daughter, my mother-in-law who 

looks me deep in the eyes and sizes up 

my character instantly, grins and hugs 

me. The YORUBA flies so fast I can’t 

catch it all, but emotion is universal. This 

is home; these are my relatives. 

Schooled in sociology and a student 

of YORUBA culture for over fifteen years, 

it is not difficult for me to fit into the family. 

Our uncle in OWO (another brother junior 

to my mother-in-law) has five wives and 

a multitude of children; I recorded fifteen 

names to call on a daily basis. From 

outside one would not imagine the house 

contained over twenty rooms. The original 

four above four structure was expanded 

to a u shape with ten rooms up and down. 

Each subgroup of the family has at least 

two rooms which are connected but can 

only be entered by one door, creating a 

parlor with private sleeping room. 

Mother’s quarters are at one end of the 

upper corridor allowing a wonderful cross 

breeze even during the hottest hours of 

the day. The children are the first to explore 

me. They stand outside Mother’s parlor 

as I eat the first meal — OBE and IYAN — 

stew and pounded yam. I have heard so 

much about pounded yam and upon 

eating it I comprehend the African 

American love affair with mashed 

potatoes. The children wait to see my 

reaction; I wait for Mother’s lead and 

begin to eat. The stew is H-O-T but 

delicious. I eat heartily and eventually 

sniff as my sinuses testify to the pepper 

level; but, I keep eating without taking a 

drink of water. Mother soon sniffs too. All 

the kids cheer; I have passed the first test 

and am certain their various mothers will 

get the full details. 

I learn quite a bit while here, like why 

my husband expects food to be instantly 

ready. Here there are five full grown 

women who are constantly in the state of 

preparing or supervising something. 

Activity within this compound begins as 

the sun cracks the sky. The bustle was 

strangely familiar like being a counselor 

at camp, you know. Water splashing, 

fires smoking and the sound of enamel 

pots clinking. I did not wash a dish or 

diaper; here a wife has so much support 

that despite the amount of preparation 

necessary to do anything, much more get 

accomplished than in my own household 

with its hygienic technology. 

When asked by Nigerians how I felt 

about being there so far away from home, 

I found myself replying, “I feel like I just 

descended down some stairs.” It was 

comforting like a house party in a cool 

basement. I had fun, especially when the 

roadtrip began. The first aspect of this 

experience was not being able to 

distinguish the direction of travel. I try to 

get a fix on the sun, but even it behaves 

differently here. There are no posted road 

numbers or speed limits; everyone 

seems to drive by intuition. It is useless 

to ask the mileage from point A to point B; 

every measure is metric, folks determine 

distance by time travelled anyway and 

since they move at 90 mph (the odometers 

are usually marked that way) it’s hard to 

keep a US perspective on a road with no 

lines whatsoever, just macadam for 

miles. 

From OWO to ONDO City where an 

OGUN festival is in progress. Dogs 

hanging from trees that are obviously 

sacred as they are partitioned off by 

concrete walls like a small city park; dogs 

being dragged at leash length behind 

motorcycles. Oil covers mechanics and 

taxi drivers blocking roads for “dash” 

(cash) and running around smoking 

cigars and carrying cast iron pots of fire 

as if defying nature to set them ablaze. 

ADESOLA, the baby, begins to dance to 

the rhythm of BATA drums but becomes 

frightened when they approach her and 

play her praises. Suddenly from nowhere, 

an EGUNGUN on stilts corners me and 

begins to shout on me. I’m slightly 

dismayed that my husband is 

preoccupied with his own video 

experience and I am left without a 

translator. But, my heart knows that it is a 

specific message that I’m being given 

and it feels heartening. As we drive out, I 

am given MARIWO by the exit gateman. I 

am pleased and tuck it in my keycase 

where I know it belongs. 

We travel outside the city a bit to “the 

bush.” The landscape changes and huge, 

smooth black granite rocks appear. I 

imagine stories of heavenly elephants 

and their droppings — feces of the Gods, 

I muse to myself. We arrive at the house 

of the local chief OGUN priest. We are 

welcomed to a parlor with three foot high 

carvings around the room; on the walls 

are faces reflecting life before 

independence. Stories are told about 

how the statues used to talk and how this 

priest was chosen in childhood and the 

struggle to maintain tradition when the 

youth treasure material gain over soulful 

struggle. As we depart he tells us of the 

local celebration and OGUN’s 

manifestation. He pulls out a soda pop 

bottle; inside there is a small gourd like 

the ones from which charms are made. 

It is obviously larger than the neck of the 

bottle. He says OGUN placed it inside as 

confirmation of his presence. I believe it 

must have been a valid trance; this is 

beyond David Copperfield. The priest 

gives me a package for my own OGUN; 

I receive it graciously not knowing it will be 

well over a year before the package is 

placed in my own pot...time enough for 

me to learn which roads of OGUN takes 

snail. 

From there to ILE-IFE; I am charged. I 

will see the Staff of ORANMIYAN — the 

Center of my Universe. Arriving in IFE I am 

surprised at its lack of urban-ness. We 

stop and get out; everything looks 

common. Where is the shrine? We 

approach what feels like an abandoned 

cemetery; the iron gate is elaborate but 

rusted and in serious disrepair. I see an 

off-white,metal studded obelisk and 

realize I’m standing on holy ground. I 

acknowledge the spirit of ORANMIYAN 

and lift a prayer of gratitude to be in the 

presence of antiquity. As an 

accompanying acquaintance relates the 

legend, a man appears out of nowhere. 

I smile to myself as I recognize this 

manifestation of ELEGBA. The man is 

red — his skin is coppery, his hair sandy; 

his eyes are bloodshot. He reminds me 

of a neighbor of my youth — a genius 

scorned to a constant alcoholic stupor. 

Despite his condition, he gives excellent 

discourse of the events that occurred on 

this hollowed ground and in ending points 

to the place where ORANMIYAN stomped 

himself into the Earth. He chides us not 

to approach the place; I am too filled with 

awe to even begin to disobey. Muttering 

prayers of gratefulness, I amble back to 

the auto. I am actually here; I have arrived 

and touched the phallic progenitor of my 

spiritual consciousness. In reflection, I 

must admit the relief of dream fulfilled 

was akin to orgasm. 

From ILE IFE to OSOGBO to see BINTU 

and hopefully the OSUN Grove. I met 

Bintu at the National Afro-American 

Museum in Wilberforce, Ohio, where she 

had conducted a batik workshop. 

Throughout that year (1990) we kept 

bumping into each other as we were 

featured artists at the same venues. We 

took the opportunity to grow close and I 

expected a hearty welcome upon arriving


at her home. We were not disappointed. 

She excitedly received us and outlined 

our itinerary. The next morning we set out 

for EDE — her own birthplace and a town 

I had heard much about, for a cultural 

mentor had lived there for some time 

during his own quest for self. The TEMI of 

EDE received us warmly and upon 

hearing of the DABOIKU/IJALANA clans 

of OWO, picked up his telephone and 

called the wives’ quarters. Within 

moments a woman appeared who 

greeted my husband warmly and asked 

of her “sisters and brothers” at home. 

She was a close relative which meant we 

were related to this kingdom through 

marriage. We received a gift of yams from 

the royal stockpile and were escorted to 

the Shrine of SANGO where supplication 

was made and offerings laid. Here on 

this site TEMI and GBONKA suffered at 

each other’s hands because of SANGO’s 

egotistical needs. I sigh as I ponder the 

price pride often exacts from us. My 

thoughts are interrupted by the amplified 

call to worship at a large mosque across 

the street. IFA and Islam are constantly in 

conflict at the street level so it must be 

really rough in the political arena. As we 

drive back to OSOGBO, we are too late to 

go to the Grove; darkness is settling. I 

sleep soundly, my soul satisfied with the 

events experienced and slightly agitated 

about what tomorrow will bring. I am no 

longer new meat; the mosquitoes leave 

me alone. Perhaps my pepper level has 

risen to the native proportion. (Smile.) 

After eating breakfast, we head for the 

Palace there to see the IYA OSUN. There 

is nothing European about this structure 

— no Prince Charming here. We duck 

down a side path and must step over a 

streamlet of fresh water before crossing 

the threshold. There she sits, mat on 

Earth. She speaks softly. I strain to hear 

what she says to the petitioner in front of 

her. The hair on her head is braided into 

a fabulous top knot; it dawns on me that 

it is a wig and I imagine her pulling if off 

and it sitting on a bureau with no need for 

a mannequin’s head. My turn. As I hand 

her a N=10 NAIRA note I see she is also 

blind. She passes her hand over the bill 

and declares it is “too small.” Her eyes 

may be blind, but obviously her 

consciousness is expansive. 

Embarrassed by the declaration, I hand 

her an additional twenty NAIRA note; 

someone behind me protests. But, I know 

it’s the appropriate sacrifice; it should 

have been twenty from the get-go. She 

begins to chant and someone is 

translating, but I’m preoccupied. The 

OSUN festival has just ended and OSUN 

is down; the niche where the vessels are 

kept is draped in various types of elaborate 

cloths. The IGBIN drums are in front and 

so is ADESOLA, picking up the sticks and 

playing a recognizable rhythm. I am quick 

to call her; please, take no offense YEYE. 

“Leave her,” is the reply, “she is doing 

what she is to do.” After the drum salute, 

the baby toddles over and sits squarely 

in the IYA OSUN’s lap. Their laughter 

together is like tinkling crystal. The baby 

hops up and goes to sit on a mat at the 

rear of the room. “Reserved for the 

princesses,” I’m told. Jeez. My child’s 

intuitive behavior baffles me; I know now 

that I am only the custodian. 

From here to the Grove! As we drive 

down the road, BINTU hails a male friend 

who accompanies us. This is it; this is it. 

I have known of Susanne Wagner’s 

sculptures here since 1978. I’ve seen 

them in books; now, I’m here on the 

same page with them. As we pull into the 

first enclosure, the Muslim prayer beads 

on the rearview mirror slip off without the 

string breaking and hit the floor. The sun 

is shining and the air is sweetly still. 

Secretly, I’m ecstatic that we are here 

alone without the throng of humanity 

present the previous week. As we step 

inside the second enclosure, I begin to 

feel moisture. It is drizzling inside the 

circle of the inner sanctum; the sun is still 

shining and no clouds can be seen. 

Tears of joy like a Mother greeting a 

longlost child. I find we are whispering. I 

approach the river and dip my ILEKE 

OSUN in the swirling water. Our escort 

fills a liter bottle with water before I can 

even make the request. I bend to ask the 

Earth for a keepsake and pick up a stone 

from the river’s edge. The resident 

priestess comes and takes my hand 

leading me to the innermost enclosure. 

I kneel and pray. She hands me a gourd 

of OMIERO; I drink praising OSUN for the 

gifts of home and children — given as 

she had promised in 1978, ten years to 

manifest — double five. MO FERE FUN 

OSUN; A DUPE. I retreat knowing not to 

turn my back. The priestess is following 

us, but I am unaware. I mention to our 

guide that I would like to take the stone 

with me. He says to wait, speaks to the 

priestess who says: “It should be of a 

particular type. Like this one.” She bends 

down and picks up a stone directly at my 

feet. As she hands it to me, I open my 

clenched hand. The stones are identical; 

the priestess smiles, embraces me and 

declares OSUN’s favor. We turn and cross 

a concrete bridge; our host tells the story 

of how the river kept taking down the 

bridges until the proper EBO was made. 

I look at the swift, swirling water and 

understand the vicious current under 

OSUN’s sweet exterior. 

We are leaving the Grove, I suppose. 

I stare out at Wagner’s repairs to the 

original work. She must have been 

tranced when she conceived the work. 

She has truly captured the essence of 

this place. I am humbled by the concept 

that the ORISA are universal — for all 

humanity despite country of ancestral 

origin. Concrete gives way to lush 

greenery. We are out of the inner Grove, 

no more rain. I hear chattering and look 

up to count five golden monkeys leaping 

through the treetops. Any more signs and 

I think I’ll short-circuit. I am aware now that 

our host is special; he leads us on to 

secrecy. Here — the royal divining spot, 

here OSUN’s dyepots, here OGBONI 

meet. Watch the ants; they are marching 

so hard they have cut a road in the soil. I 

just keep repeating “I am blessed. I am 

blessed.” By now I’m numb with 

satisfaction. We get back to the vehicle, 

climb in, drive back to the city proper, drop 

off our hosts and start back to OWO. We’ll 

be there a while more before returning to 

Lagos and the U.S. As we drive out of the 

city, I’m in complete stupor. I have done it, 

seen it, drank it, eaten it; it is now a part of 

me on all levels. I feel drenched with 

success. The pilgrimage conceived over 

thirteen years has materialized. I speak 

aloud and say, “Boy, the crowning glory 

now would be a rainbow,” wishing for the 

inconceivable for the sky is clear, the 

ground is dry; there has not been nor is 

there any threat of rain. “So, you don’t 

know who you are, eh?” my husband 

says with a smirk in his tone. “Look out the 

back window.” I turn and, lo and behold, 

there is a rainbow directly over the road 

looking like a celestial bridge. I close my 

eyes in disbelief and totally comprehend 

the Native American axiom, ‘Today’s a 

good day to die.’ As we drive off I bask in 

the fulfillment of fantasy; I have surely 

been to Oz. 

[Postscript: As this missive comes to 

closure, a soft rain begins. No thunder, 

no lightening. I decide to get the envelope 

together and put it in the postbox now. 

Can’t wait to get a little rainwater on me. 

A DUPE, YEYE O.]


ART: 

GELEDE: ART AND FEMALE 

POWER AMONG THE YORUBA - 

John Henry and Margaret Thompson 

Drewel - #10504 $45.00h/$20.00p 

YORUBA RITUAL: PERFORMERS, 

PLAY, AGENCY - Margaret 

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YORUBA RITUAL: A 

COMPANION VIDEO - Margaret 

Thompson Drewal - #10508 $45.00wb/ 

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DIVINATION: 

AFRICAN DIVINATION SYSTEMS: 

WAYS OF KNOWING - Philip M. 

Peck, ed. - #10501 $35.00h/$14.95p 

AWO: IFA AND THE THEOLOGY 

OF ORISHA DIVINATION - Awo 

Fa’Lokun Fatunmbi - #10404 $12.95 

COWRIE SHELL DIVINATION: 

LISTENING TO SPIRIT GUIDES - 

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IFA DIVINATION: 

COMMUNICATION BETWEEN 

GODS AND MEN IN WEST AFRICA 

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ITA* - Oba Ecun - #10102 $29.95 

SIXTEEN COWRIES: YORUBA 

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YORUBA FABLES (PATAKI)* - Oba 

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FOLKTALES: 

AFRICAN FOLKTALES IN THE 

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GENERAL: 

BLACK GODS: ORISHA STUDIES 

IN THE NEW WORLD - John Mason 

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IWA-PELE, IFA QUEST: THE 

SEARCH FOR THE SOURCE OF 

SANTERIA AND LUCUMI - Awo 

Fa’Lokun Fatunmbi - #10403 $11.95 

JAMBALAYA: THE NATURAL 

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CHARMS & PRACTICAL RITUALS 

- Luisah Teish - #10406 $9.95 

ORISHA: METHODOLOGY OF 

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POWERS OF THE ORISHAS: 

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WALKING WITH THE NIGHT: 

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THE WAY OF THE ORISA: 

EMPOWERING YOUR LIFE 

THROUGH THE ANCIENT 

AFRICAN RELIGION OF IFA - Philip 

John Neimark - #10402 $12.00 

HERBS/HEALING: 

MEDICINES AND SPIRITUAL 

PRACTICES: LIVING WITH THE 

OTHERWORLD - Malidoma Patrice 

Some - TBA 

MUSIC: 

ORISHA SONG LEARNING BOOK 

NO. 1 FOR BEGINNERS - Tape and 

words -ILE ORUNMILA OSHUN/ILE 

ALAKETU 'TI OSHUN - #11001 

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RITUAL: 

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ORISHA* - Oba Ecun - #10103 $35.00 

AGITENA: SYMBOLS OF THE 

ORISHA* - Oba Ecun - #10104 $35.00 

FOUR NEW WORLD YORUBA 

RITUALS - John Mason - #10203 TBA 

ONJE FUN ORISHA: (FOOD FOR 

THE GODS) - John Mason - Revised


edition will be available in September - 

price TBA 

ORIN ORISHA: SONGS FOR 

SELECTED HEADS - John Mason - 

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soon 

RITUAL: POWER, HEALING AND 

COMMUNITY - Malidoma Patrice Some 

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SELECT HEADS: 

AFRICA’S OGUN: OLD WORLD 

AND NEW - Sandra T. Barnes, ed. - 

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ESU - ELEGBA: IFA AND THE DIVINE 

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TAILOR-MAID SERVICES - IYAWO 

seven-day and year white cotton YORUBA 

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VIDEOS: 

AFRICAN AUTUMN - Created by 

Basha Alade - the weaving together of 

color, dance, nature and Yoruba 

folklore through live action and 

animation. With dream as a vehicle, 

the main character and her friends 

become transformed into higher 

conscious states as ORISA. OSUN, 

whose colors coincide with the leaves 

transformed to brilliant colors, 

interacts with SANGO, her lover, 

god of thunder; YEMOJA, universal 

mother of the ocean; and OBATALA, 

who represents purity and 

enlightment. Each ORISA is 

presented in a ritualistic context with 

corresponding symbols and music. - 

#10904 TBA 

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residents add 5 1/2% sales tax. Allow up to 30 days for delivery. 

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ODABO ODOBA - Created by Basha 

Alade - a psychic adventure of a young 

boy, Emet, in search of his identity. 

ODOBA is a round "entity" who acts as 

a magical guide and leads Emet through 

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masks, music and dances of the African 

ancestors. After a sucessful journey, 

Emet returns home where he is praised 

by his family and friends for gaining a 

deeper cultural understanding. The 

music is composed of traditional drums 

and chants from Cuba and Senegal and 

also an original jazz composition. - 

#10905 TBA 

* Available in both English and Spanish 

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