Babalú-Ayé does not play a formal ritual role in the itutu,
the funeral ceremony for those oricha priests that have passed away. However
many elders contend that he delivers the body of the dead person to the
cemetery on a cart, and so he is always strongly linked to death. Given the recent passing
of friends, I have seen several itutus lately, and like most ceremonies in the
religion, they invite reflection.
The itutu brings transformation, as the deceased moves from
the world of the living to the world of the dead. Essentials from the priest’s
initiation are placed in an open gourd on the floor within the egun altar. We
sing oro egun, the nine songs to
praise and move the ancestors. For first time, we name the spirit of our
departed colleague as part of the invocation, and we sing to them as an egun.
We also feed the new spirit with a bird. For those of us who regularly honor
the ancestors, their presence is constant, but we never lose track of the fact
that we are living on Earth and they are living in Heaven. The gourd contains
many of the things placed on the head at the time of initiation, and by placing
those things with the ancestors, we are helping to direct the spirit from Earth
toward Heaven. It is chilling and unforgettable to stand before the ancestor
altar and call the name of a loved one who has recently died. The songs we sing
are full with the gravity of grief. The
process cuts through denial, and the reality of loss begins to set in.
The itutu brings rupture. As we tend the spirit of the
departed, we pull apart each of her oricha necklaces over the gourd. Because
the strings stretch then snap suddenly, the beads usually scatter across the
floor. What was whole, organized, and beautiful is now broken, chaotic, and
formless. After the orichas speak their will, some depart with the deceased,
and we must break their vessels once and for all. The presiding priest passes
from one oricha to the next, striking their vessels with a hammer. The sound of
shattering porcelain sends shivers through those in attendance. After all of
this, it is impossible to deny that life for our fallen friend and for us has
been shattered in some way.
The itutu brings continuity. Some of the orichas stay with
blood family and ritual relatives. The elders teach that these inherited
orichas stay because they want to guide and protect those left behind when the
priest or priestess passes. We do not work these orichas but simply tend to
them with simple offerings and candles. In tending them, we quite literally
tend the memory of the egun from whom
they came. For those of us already in the religion, these inherited orichas
become reminders of the people who have passed. We cherish them as containers
of the love that exists between us and the egun from whom they came.
The itutu brings new knowledge and new relationships. For
blood relatives who are not in the tradition, inheriting an oricha is often the
moment when they actually begin to learn about the religion in more
detail. The inherited orichas require
additional ceremonies like “removing the tears” (quitar las lágrimas), and the
process often creates new relationships with people in the religious community.
Similarly those who inherit an oricha need to learn how to greet and tend the
oricha, and this often opens the door to a deeper engagement with the orichas.
Again many family members adore their inherited oricha and experience a deep
sense of connection and continuity with the ancestor who left the oricha to
them. (Sadly some family members resist the gift of this inheritance, because
they perceive it as too great a responsibility or a burden.)
The itutu brings closure. The elders teach that the stones
that become the core of oricha altars must come from a river, from the flowing
waters of life. Similarly the new initiate visits the river and makes an
offering to mark the beginning of her priesthood. In itutu, the gourd from the egun
altar and the orichas who want to depart return to the river. The cool water refreshes them, as they leave
this world, but there is a deeper lesson here: We are born from the river of
life, and the river of life carries us away in the end.
Maferefún Egun.
Maferefún Ará Onú. Maferefún Oyá-Yansá.
Comments
Post a Comment