Baba Who? Babalú!

Last week, I was in Havana, making ebó to Asojano and giving him an Arará drumming. As part of my regular visits to people I know, I traveled to Reparto Mañana, tucked in between Regla and Guanabacoa. There I visited my comadre Raquel Fernández—Obá Kedun. I have known Raquel since 1997, when I started working in the house of her godson, Saul Fernández—Baba Ni Belequé. In 1999, she supported me in a highly charged initiation ceremony in Centro Habana, and a few years back I received the Ibeyi from her. Although I have known her for many years, it was only recently that I learned that she was married to Rafael Linares—Emerego until his death on December 9, 1985. Arará people in Havana often remember Linares as a knowledgeable and meticulous priest of Asojano. He grew up in the religion. His father was Alberto Linares, the babalawo Ogbe-Roso, and his stepmother was Joaquina Sánchez—Towá. Their house was a gathering place for religious practitioners of their generation. On June 9,

Perhaps the most common ceremony for worshiping Babalú-Ayé is the awán . In the ceremony, a basket is lined with sack cloth with many plates of cut-up food encircling it. Some elders say 13 plates, some say 17, and some even say 77 plates must be present. After sunset, participants gather round the basket and taking handfuls of food from each plate into their closed hands, rub the food around their bodies to remove negativity or osobo. Each handful of food is cast into the basket, until everyone has cleansed themselves. People are also cleansed with a speckled rooster, a guinea hen, two eggs and the já, the ritual broom of Babalú. Different lineages finish the awán in different ways, but these things remain pretty stable wherever you go. Those who work the awán in the so-called Lucumí tradition follow the Arará-Dajomé lineage of Armando Zulueta. They place things at the bottom of the basket to begin. They crumble charcoal and add a peice of bread smeared with palm oil and t

The first time I ever got a reading in the religion, it was with Santiago Pedroso-Cálves, an Obatalá priest and orí-até who worked out of Philadelphia in the 1970s and 1980s. He told me a story about Ochún and Babalú-Ayé that I have never heard anywhere else. Babalú-Ayé was sick and covered with open sores from smallpox. When he arrived in the land of the Arará, he arrived at the bank of a river, the sacred realm of Ochún. He wrapped himself in a special cloth and entered into the water. He came out and he sat by the bank until he was dry. When he unwrapped himself, his sores were gone. Pleased with this new development, Babalú rested in this place. (At this point in the narrative, Santiago pointed to his Babalú-Ayé and said it was the same kind of cloth hanging over it--a square of sack cloth with a thick edging of purple cloth and four cowries in the middle, sewn in the shape of a cross.) After a few days, a child appeared covered in same sores that had plagued Babalú. He ex

Key to understanding Babalú-Ayé is the fact that he moves: he moves out of the land of the Lucumí and into the wilderness. He moves out of the wilderness and into the land of the Arará. He becomes king of a foreign land. More simply, he moves from well-being to destitution and back to well-being. In addition to moving physically from place to place, he moves people´s emotions with his suffering. It is impressive, unforgettable even, to see people imitating him in the caminata, as they drag themselves along the pavement. The sound alone sticks with you, but their bloody hands and knees remind you of the pain you have lived through. In Spanish, the verb conmover captures both this shared moving and being moved. Even in the ceremonies that the now-dead elders taught to the living, Babalú-Ayé moves. In many houses, he travels to the ceiba tree and then again to the cemetery, eating at each stop. He then travels to the family shrine for the dead--the egun--and again shares a meal w

Armando Zulueta—Omí Toké certainly put Perico on the map because of his active life traveling around Cuba and giving Babalú-Ayé to many, many people. However, just a block west of his house lies the Sociedad Africana de Santa Barbára. Founded by the Arará Ma Fementina Zulueta, the family’s religious tradition has deep ties to Babalú-Ayé. Ma Fementina had a Babalú-Ayé and a full set of Arará drums. When she died, he stayed with her daughter, Victoria Zulueta. Victoria’s great-grandson, Aristites Angarica, still uses this Babalú-Ayé on the rare occasions that he he initiates others into the mysteries of this oricha. Unlike most other Babalús, this one has one large, solitary stone. While he receives a single hand of cowries so he can speak, he usually speaks through coconut divination. He insists on having his own room, so he shares a building in the back yard of the family house with the drums.

There are many accounts explaining why Babalú-Ayé was exiled from the land of the Lucumí by the other orichas. In some versions, he spread disease after being mocked, and then Obatalá exiled him. In some, his exile is one of many tests sent by Olodumare, the Supreme God. But in one story, he could not contain his desire for sex. The story goes that Obatalá blessed Babalú-Ayé with peerless sexual prowess. He was a great lover, and all the women wanted him. In exchange for this gift, Obatalá only asked for one thing in return: Babalú was forbidden to have sex on Obatalá’s feast day. Well, after many years of observing this taboo, Babalú was consumed with desire for a new woman he had been seducing. She finally admitted that she wanted to hook up with Babalú, and she told him to come back the next day. Despite the fact that the next day was Obatalá’s festival, Babalú returned and lay with his new lover. When he left the tryst, he realized that his body was covered in sores. Babalú went

In his book, Ewe , the French photographer, ethnographer, and babalawo Pierre Fatumbi Verger describes a work to obtain favors from Obalú-Ayé from the odu Ogbe-Ogunda (p. 314-315). In Lucumí, whether in Cuba or its Diasporas, Ogbe-Ogunda is usually called Ogbe-Yono, and it contains the most famous story about Obalú-Ayé, in which he is exiled from the land of the Lucumí, spends years as a homeless wanderer, and then finally becomes king of the Arará. Verger gives the following description: Open a hole in the floor of the house. Inside the hole, place the unidentified herb called ewe ajade and ewe popo ( Adenia lobata ) along with seven hard stones. Kill a rooster and pour its blood into the hole. Also place its body in the hole. Draw the odu Ogbe-Ogunda in iyerosun powder and place that in the hole as well. Cover the preparation. This work sounds a lot like like another variation on the secret of San Lázaro that Ña Octavia Zulueta--Jundesi planted in the house of Armando Zulueta--

Perico, Matanzas Province In 1932 when Armando Zulueta was nine, he began to pass Babalú-Ayé. Again and again the oricha would take his body in possession, and so one day the African-born Ña Octavia Zulueta initiated him into the mysteries of Babalú-Ayé. Known as Jundesi in the religion, Ña Octavia said she was Arará-Dajomé, meaning her ancestors came from Dahomey in West Africa. In the ceremony, Ña Octavia gave Armando the spokesman and guardian, Afrá. She gave him an Osun with a rooster on top. She gave him a deep low-fired water pot with the sacred stones of Nanú, the mother of Babalú. “Nanú is the mother of Babalú-Aye,” they say in Perico, “and she lives at this side.” And she gave him a covered dish with the stones of Babalú-Ayé-Afrimaye, a specific manifestation of the oricha. She also gave him Babalú’s ritual broom—the já—with three times sixteen cowry shells on it. After that, Armando became famous for his knowledge of Babalú and his aché in possession: they say he could

There are many forms of Babalú-Ayé found in Cuba. Some are common and some are unique. Perhaps the best known forms are Babalú-Lucumí and Babalú-Arará, who is sometimes called Asojano. On the surface the distinctions are quite simple. The Lucumí form has its roots in people of Yoruba descent. It is unsealed and speaks through cowry shells. The Arará form has its roots in people of Dahomean descent. It is sealed and speaks through Ifá divination. If you look a little deeper, the distinctions become more complex. The Lucumí form is usually covered, but not always. It can have one stone or seven. It often carries a protective Osun, but not always. Sometimes it comes with the special Elegguá called Afrá, but not always. Sometimes it comes with Nanú, the mother of Babalú, but not always. In fact, there are a variety of ceremonies used to consecrate it. The most famous Lucumí lineage descends from Armando Zulueta—Omí Toké, but even that’s complicated. Armando’s favorite neice and goddaught

Pedro Abreu-Calvo—Asonyanye is the leading figure among the Arará-Sabalú in Havana these days. The Arará-Sabalú call their divinity of illness and healing Asojano. Initiated in 1992 in the Arará Cabildo in Matanzas City, he continues their tradition of making Asojano direct. He usually refers to Asojano as San Lázaro. When I asked why, he said it was a habit, a routine adopted from the people around him who use that name. He became very direct, “When I say San Lázaro, I mean Asojano.” When I received Asojano from Pedro in 2003, he insisted that I feed my Babalú-Ayé Lucumí with the newly born Asojano. He also told me that when people come to him and they already have Babalú-Ayé Lucumí, he always asks if the Asojano has the same road as Babalú-Ayé. So now I have a Babalú-Ayé and an Asojano, and they have the same road. He always insists that they eat together. Clearly they are not the same. Clearly they not entirely different either. Both Yoruba and Lucumí religion place a good deal