General wisdom around the religion says we shouldn't talk too openly or too much about osogbo because we could inadvertently call it into being. Osogbo is the opposite of blessings. It takes many forms, and all of them represent obstacles, problems, difficulties, that which prevents us from living our best life. Many of our religious practices, such as offering ebo, are meant to deliver us from osogbo, to mitigate it, appease it, or remove it. The advice we get in divination often tells us how to avoid osogbo by taking certain precautions and avoiding certain behaviors or situations.

I agree that we shouldn't talk about osogbo too much, but in recent months I've been reflecting on how the world around us seems plagued by a kind of osogbo we call tiya-tiya. This concerns me because once tiya-tiya exists, it can self-perpetuate and spread like a virus. We end up with a spiritual pandemic. 

Tiya-tiya is associated with gossip, negative conversations, fighting with words. It splits people into factions, turns people against each other, and sows division that tears apart society. It can happen at any level of human exchange, between family members and friends, work colleagues, neighbors, political parties, religious groups. It's not simply complaining about bad conditions or expressing frustration with circumstances beyond our control. Who hasn't complained about covid-19 in the past few months? Who isn't frustrated by what we see and read in the news? Tiya-tiya is more harmful and more insidious than just venting or expressing outrage. It's aimed against another person or group of people with the intention of diminishing them, hurting them, causing them problems, or ruining their reputation. It's done on purpose, and spread in ways that will ensure it does damage. 

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Social media has played a part in the development of an argument culture because with twitter, instagram, facebook and other platforms, people can reach and influence a wide audience. We've become used to seeing politicians attack each other verbally on television and the internet. We see celebrity squabbles in magazines and on entertainment shows. Reality tv has made arguing and fighting a spectator sport. We internalize this kind of behavior as acceptable, even when we don't like it. When we see it transferred to our own immediate life and world, it becomes intensely personal and can trigger emotional responses. We can internalize the negative conversations, and then spread them to others through our own posts, messages, texts, and conversations. Tiya-tiya can take on a life of its own and invade the lives of people who are not even involved in the event that triggered the trauma in the original post. 

​Tiya-tiya is considered an osogbo because it's destructive and is an obstacle to our spiritual development. How can we focus on building our own good character if we're busy tearing someone else down? Negative conversations, fighting, gossiping aren't good ways to spend our time and energy. Rather than help us, they hinder us. They rob us of peace of mind and tranquility. As Orisha devotees, we're constantly reminded of the need to keep a cool head, monitor our words, have gentle character. The Orishas will go to war for us, if war is needed. Do we have to war among ourselves? What do we gain by that? Clearly, we must speak out sometimes and take a firm stand against wrong-doing. But tiya-tiya isn't the way to correct a problem. It simply adds fuel to the fire and makes things worse. 

I've heard many people in recent months say they're leaving religious forums and groups because they're tired of the in-fighting. They don't post anymore because they don't want to be attacked. People are on edge, reading between the lines of every post to see if any traps have been set for them. Are fingers being pointed? Is there a hidden agenda? What's the backstory? Will this start a war? Should we take it personally? We're all feeling a lack of trust and a certain level of despondence over what our religion has become online (and sometimes, in person, too.) This diminishes us all because it stops the free flow of productive and constructive conversation.

I don't know how to rid the world of tiya-tiya but, personally, I’m going to do what I can to keep tiya-tiya out of my life. I hope others will do the same.  These are turbulent times we're going through, and I pray that everyone comes through them with minimum harm and trauma. May the blessings of Olodumare and the Orishas guide your way and clear osogbo from your path. 

Part I of this article looks at the difference between religion and spiritual practices, and defines some terms that help us talk about our belief systems. Part II offers very brief, succinct descriptions of different African-based religions in the Americas and other universal spiritual practices that sometimes intersect with Orisha worship. 

Orisha worship originated Yorubaland in West Africa many centuries ago. The roots of the Yoruba religion are at least 1,000 years old. Many people consider Yoruba religion older than Christianity, and associate the ancient city of Ile Ife in Nigeria with the creation of the world.  The Oyo Empire, which became dominant in the early 17th century, greatly influenced the development of the Yoruba religion, and the collapse of this empire in the early 19th century coincided with the rapid expansion of the trans-Atlantic slave trade in the New World.  Many Yoruba people were taken to the Americas in large numbers in the early to mid 19th century, and the Yoruba religion underwent a process of creolization in places like Cuba and Brazil, where it became known as Lucumi (Regla de Ocha) and Candomblé, respectively. To distinguish the creole variations from what is being practiced in modern-day Nigeria, some people refer to the West African form of Orisha Worship as Isese (meaning “tradition”), Traditional Yoruba religion, or African Traditional Religion (ATR). In the 20th century, Orisha worship spread around the world through migration, taking hold in the United States, Canada, Mexico, Europe and South America. In the United States, large communities of Orisha worshippers live in South Florida, New York City/ New Jersey, and Los Angeles, with growing numbers in Chicago, Houston, Philadelphia, Detroit, and other American cities. Due to migration patterns, the religion tends to be found more in large urban areas and less in rural or isolated regions of the US. 
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​Palo (Palo Mayombe, Palo Monte, Reglas de Congo) originated in Cuba among people from the Congo Basin and their descendants in the early 19th century. It is generally thought to be of Bantu origin, although like most creole religions it combines elements of various West African ethnic groups. It expanded and grew parallel to Regla de Ocha (Lucumi) in Cuba. While some practitioners embrace both Palo and Lucumi, most people consider them separate belief systems. The deities of Palo are not called Orishas. Although some people draw parallels between them, practitioners of the religions understand Lucumi and Palo deities to be different entities. Both religions are of West African origin, and both include ancestor veneration as a central tenet. Both recognize and embrace the power of plants, herbs and other natural elements. Both function through initiation and have a priesthood. Both use divination for spiritual guidance, albeit in different forms. The fact that Palo is called Reglas de Congo implies that it is an organized religion with a priesthood, a cosmology, a set of doctrines, and protocols for religious ceremonies, even though they have not been written down and codified in a single sacred text, such as the Bible. There is no centralized authority over all practitioners, but each group has a recognized priesthood and practitioners are expected to practice the religion according to guidelines passed on by their elders. In this sense, it is similar to Regla de Ocha.

​Vodou (also spelled Voudou, Vodun, Vudú, Vaudou, or Voodoo) is a creole religion that originated in Haiti among the Dahomey people and their descendants. Some influence of the Kongo and Yoruba people can also be seen in Vodou. The deities of Vodou are called Lwas. Like other creole religions of West African origin, Vodou operates through initiation and has an established priesthood. Although there is no centralized authority, tradition is maintained through a social hierarchy in which elders teach new priests, mainly through oral instruction and hands-on experience. Vodou shares some characteristics with Lucumi and Palo, such as the importance of trance possession, drumming as a means of communicating with the divine, the organization of worshippers into societies or houses led by a priest, and the belief in the importance of living in harmony with the natural world. Vodou is considered a religion in its own right, separate from Lucumi and Palo. It’s possible for people to be initiated into more than one of these religions, but practitioners understand they are separate belief systems, each with its own character, history, rituals and customs. During and after the Haitian Revolution at the end of the 18th century, Eastern Cuba received many immigrants from Haiti and the influence of Vodou can be found in some places there. 

​Espiritismo is a spiritual practice or tradition rather than an organized religion. Associated mostly with the Spanish Caribbean now, its roots are in the European Spiritist movement of Allen Kardec (France, 1804-1869).  Kardec was interested in the mechanics of communication with the spirit world and hoped to develop it as a science. In Latin America, it took on its own nature due to the presence of African and folk-Catholic beliefs in places like Cuba and Puerto Rico in the second half of the 19th century.  Some Lucumi houses and practitioners embrace espiritismo as part of their spiritual belief system, but most people see Orisha worship and Espiritismo as two separate (but parallel) traditions. Olorishas aren’t required to practice espiritismo, and not all espiritistas are initiated as Olorishas. The degree of intertwining of the two traditions varies greatly depending on the individual and the house they’re from. Espiritismo doesn’t require initiation for those who practice it. There is no priesthood in espiritismo, although some people are recognized as very talented and effective mediums.  The written works of Kardec and Catholic prayers are often used as reference points and tools for communication with the spirit world. Espiritistas conduct misas or spiritual masses as one of their most important practices. 

​Folk religion is an umbrella term that refers to popular beliefs, often based on specific ethnic or regional traditions, that are outside the dogma and doctrine of official, organized religions. For example, folk Catholicism isn’t recognized by the Catholic Church, but it is a parallel system of belief that often has roots in pre-Christian traditions, legends or mythology from earlier peoples and cultures. The cult of Santa Muerte in Mexico is an example. It is not recognized as part of Catholic doctrine, but has ties to pre-Colombian cultures and is embraced by many Catholics in Mexico. There are examples of folk religion in almost all cultures. You can find examples of it in Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Taoism, Christianity, and many others. Some elements of folk Catholicism, such as the veneration of particular saints as the patrons of particular causes, has influenced the evolution of the Lucumi religion in Cuba. For example, December 17 is celebrated by many Cubans as the day of San Lázaro, the patron saint of those who suffer from infectious disease. It is also a day when many Lucumi practitioners do an agban (spiritual cleaning) to rid themselves of sickness and the threat of death. Folk religion provides people with a spiritual understanding of the world, even though it usually has no clearly defined theological doctrine. It sometimes has a mystical or magical aspect to it, as it predates our modern scientific world and isn’t dependent on modern logic. 

​Paganism is a vague word with multiple meaning and connotations, including pejorative ones when used by Christians to describe polytheistic or animistic belief systems.  Modern Paganism or Neo-paganism is generally regarded as a movement in which people recreate or embrace belief systems from the remote past such as Druidism, Kemetism, and Shamanism, among others, or combine elements of ancient belief systems to create modern variations such as Wicca or Pagan Witchcraft. People who identify as pagans generally don’t embrace the teachings of an officially recognized religion like Christianity, Judaism, or Islam, but consider paganism as an alternative to those institutions. Some pagan groups have recreated a priesthood through consecration or initiation or training, but there is generally no centralized authority that dictates doctrine and ritual practice on a national or international level. Most Orisha worshippers do not consider themselves Pagans nor do they think of Orisha worship as a pagan practice. In the US, Canada and Europe, some people who are involved in paganism may be drawn to Orisha worship because of its animistic nature, but in order to practice Orisha worship, they are expected to follow the norms and protocols of established Orisha communities, including initiation for those who want to perform Orisha rituals. 

​Hoodoo (also called low country Voodoo or Louisiana Voodoo) is an African-American spiritual tradition that developed in South Carolina low country, Louisiana, and other regions of the American South in the 18th and 19th centuries, with roots in West African religious practices.  Other terms associated with hoodoo are conjure work and root work. Through spells, potions, powders, talismans, candle or lamp work, working with spirits of the dead, and other practices associated with folk magic, hoodoo offers a support system and remedies to people who seek help in the realm of money, health, love, family relationships, fertility, legal issues, and employment, among other things. The practice of hoodoo doesn’t require initiation or a priesthood, although some people are recognized for their abilities and power to do effective spell work. Hoodoo is not an organized religion, but a set of spiritual practices and beliefs.  Hoodoo is not part of Orisha worship, although Orisha worshippers with cultural ties to the American south may incorporate aspects of Hoodoo into their belief system. A Hoodoo practitioner who wants to do rituals involving the Orishas is expected to adhere to the norms and customs of established Orisha practice.  Hoodoo root workers and conjurers do not have license to do Orisha ceremonies and rituals unless they have been initiated in a Lucumi, Candomblé, or Isese house.

A number of other creole spiritual traditions of African origin exist in the Americas, such as Obeah, Myal, Quimbois, Spiritual Baptist, Winti, Trinidad Orisha, Sansé, Rastafari, Abakuá, Cuban Vodú, Dominican Vudú (21 divisions), Umbanda, Batuque, etc. Each one has its own character, history, and set of practitioners. It’s important not to confuse them with each other, or conflate them. Depending on geography, ethnicity, and  cultural connections, people may feel called to follow one or more of these paths, either in conjunction with Regla de Ocha or independent of it. ​

You're free to practice the religion you like, and to work with whatever spiritual practices appeal to you. However, there are a few things to keep in mind:
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​1.  Find and work with a mentor, a respected elder, a godparent who can guide you and help you understand the tradition you've chosen. Much of the knowledge associated with these religions and practices has been passed on orally, and you will not find everything you need to know in a book or on the internet.
2.  Understand what cultural appropriation is, and don't do it.  If you enter a religion, respect the people it comes from. Don't take just the parts you like and ignore the rest. Don't try to change it to fit your own worldview. It is what it is. Don't try to turn it into something else.
3.  Don't assume the functions and role of a priest if you don't have authority to do that. If initiation is required to carry out ceremonies, respect that process. 

​On social media, a lot of people in religious forums have a tendency to mix up the Lucumi religion (Regla de Ocha, Santería) with other practices, traditions, and religions that are not strictly connected to Orisha worship. While our religion does allow people to practice different kinds of spirituality and even embrace two or more different religions at the same time, there is usually an implicit understanding that our various paths are parallel to each other, not mixed up and turned into an ajiaco stew. Ajiaco is a metaphor for a hodge-podge of different ingredients combined in a somewhat random way, whatever is on hand. whatever sounds good, whatever is available. While ajiaco is a delicious dish, it’s not a good approach to Orisha worship. Before you start combining elements in a haphazard way, you need to understand each element independently and evaluate whether it really belongs in your life or not. Orisha worship is a complete system of beliefs in its own right. You don’t *need* to add anything to it to make it work. If you do decide to add to it, think carefully about how and why you might do that. Whatever you end up with needs to be authentic not only to you as an individual, but to the ancestors who went before you, and to the larger community of Orisha worshippers who inherited these practices from their elders. 

​Learning how to talk about the religion is a good first step. I’ve defined some terms below so we have a common vocabulary to work with.  You may have your own definition of these terms, and that’s fine. But in order to make myself clear to readers, it’s only fair that I explain how I’m using these words. I believe words matter, because the way we describe ourselves  shapes our identity.

​Cult:  Originally the word was used to refer to the formal veneration of a particular figure, such as the Cult of St. James of Compostela (for medieval pilgrims who walked El Camino de Santiago as an act of religious devotion) or the Cult of Apollo (in ancient Greek culture, those who were devoted to that particular God). In the 20th century, the word took on negative connotations as a way to refer to excessive or irrational devotion to a charismatic leader like Charles Manson or Jim Jones, those who attempt to control or manipulate their followers  through questionable or dangerous dogma. Cult is also used with negative meaning to refer to an unorthodox or sinister group of people whose spiritual or religious practices are perceived as threatening to the well- being of society, such as a devil-worshipping cult or a suicide cult.  Because the word carries such negative connotations, most Orisha worshippers do not want to be considered members of a cult, nor do we want our religion to be described as a cult.  

Religion: This word refers to an organized and systematic form of worship built around belief in the divine. Beliefs and practices are shared by a body of people who have the same worldview or understanding of humankind’s relationship to God. Although the conceptualization of God can vary across cultures, each religion has devotional practices and rituals that govern and shape the experience of their practitioners on earth, as well as their understanding of the afterlife. Religions have communal norms, such as guidelines for moral and ethical behavior and protocols to be followed during worship. Orisha worship doesn’t have written scripture or a sacred text like the Bible, but it does have a vast body of oral literature (represented by our stories, prayers, proverbs, and the teachings of our elders). We are organized into groups (usually called an ilé, or temple-house) and we are led by priests (usually our godparent). This gives a communal nature to our religion, and despite small variations from place to place, there is a standard understanding of the main tenets of our religion. 

​Spirituality: This word refers to a concern with matters of the human spirit as opposed to the material and physical world. Spiritual practices can be shaped by adherence to a particular tradition, or they can be unique to the individual. Spirituality may or may not be concerned with the divine. The focus is generally on the meaning and purpose of human existence. A person who is spiritual may also be religious, but in modern usage, the word is often used to describe people who feel organized religion is too constraining, who prefer an individual and freer approach to spiritual matters. Spiritual people may feel especially drawn to or in tune with supernatural beings and phenomena, or drawn to the world of spirits. Spirits can take many forms, and are not necessarily divine entities.  As a spiritual person, can you feel love and devotion for the Orishas? Yes, of course. If you’re a spiritual person, must you be initiated into Regla de Ocha? No, not everyone’s destiny is to be initiated. As a spiritual person, can you perform Orisha ceremonies? No, if you’re not initiated into an Orisha tradition, you cannot take on the work of the Orisha priesthood. Although many people have an innate sense of spirituality, they do not have automatic or instant access to Orisha worship without initiation. 
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​Tradition:  When used to refer to a religious or spiritual practice (or set of beliefs and practices), tradition is often used to distinguish between one variant and another.  For example, Lucumi is one Orisha tradition, and Candomblé is another. They are both formally recognized as traditions within the religion, which is Orisha worship. The word tradition also includes customs and cultural components of the religion or spiritual practice that may be unique to a particular place. For example, the custom of not doing Ocha ceremonies during Holy Week is not part of Yoruba theology, but it is traditional in many Lucumi communities. The tradition comes from ancestors, and from community expectations and norms. Although it is not explicitly  mentioned in scripture of any kind, it has been transmitted via oral history and has become accepted practice in the community. Most olorishas have great respect for tradition.
 

Some Orisha worshippers dislike the use of the word religion to describe their practices. They say it’s a way of life. It is, but in the USA there’s a great deal of value in being recognized as a religion (not just a cult or a spiritual path or a cultural phenomenon). In a landmark case argued before the US Supreme Court, Church of the Lukumi Babalu Aye, Inc. v. Hialeah, 508 U.S. 520 (1993), the Lucumi faith was legally recognized as a religion, which means our religious rights as Orisha worshippers are protected under the US constitution. This status gives us the right to practice our religion freely and makes it illegal for others to discriminate against us because of our religious beliefs.  Cults, spiritual paths, and cultural customs are not protected under the constitution, but religion is.

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Keep reading...
Part II deals with Creole religions with West African roots, along with other spiritual practices that often intersect with Lucumi.  It looks at how and why some people combine different paths to enhance their spiritual life. 

​Technology is both a blessing and a curse in terms of how people use it in our religion. Whether we like it or not, in the 21st century technology is here to stay, regardless of our conflicting feelings about it.  It exists all around us, and even if we shut our eyes to it, it’s still there.  So, today I want to reflect on how technology has challenged our traditional definition of “community” when we talk about our religious connections to others, specifically in the world of Orisha worship.

​For centuries, Orisha worship was a way of life passed down from one generation to the next, shared among members of a specific community made up of friends, families, neighbors who came from a similar background and shared a similar worldview. They spoke the same language and shared a culture, which allowed them to define community in very personal terms, as themselves in relationship to those they came into contact with on a regular basis, people they interacted with face to face, and who had played a role in their spiritual growth and development. Godparents, godchildren, god-siblings, and extended Ocha family members worked each other’s ceremonies, and interacted not only in a religious setting but also a social one. Everyone in the town knew everyone, and if someone was in need because of a serious illness, accident, loss, or the unexpected death of a loved one, their religious brothers and sisters provided what support they could, along with other friends and family, so that the individual had the best possibility of surviving the hardship and coming out the other side intact. In communities where people lacked money, they might provide food or shelter, watch after children, do chores, or provide transportation to the doctor. The community came together in good times to celebrate and in bad times to comfort each other or strategize about how to confront problems and survive. These communities weren’t perfect. There were rivalries, competition, envy, disagreements at times. But belonging to a community gave people in that community a sense of identity, of belonging, and of purpose. It connected them to other people in meaningful, human ways.

​I don’t have answers to these questions – who does? – but it’s obvious that the growth of online religious forums on social media, youtube channels devoted to Orisha topics, online classes and podcasts on religious topics is related to the perceived need or desire of people to connect to each other in virtual communities as a way to complement, substitute, or add to their real-life community interactions. Little by little, the concept of “community” has crossed over into the online world, connecting us as “friends” or religious brothers and sisters of people we’ve never met in person. When we talk about our community on Facebook, it’s no longer clear exactly who we mean. Everyone in the forum?  Only the people we know in real-life? Only our own religious family? The members of our ilé? Everyone in our lineage? We discuss topics like the responsibilities and obligations of community members to each other without having a common definition of who our community is, and this can easily lead to misunderstandings and conflicts. The broader and wider our community is, the more possibility there is for mutual aid and support, especially in social causes like defending our religious rights in court, demanding equal protection under the constitution, and confronting mainstream media sources who demonize us in their news reports and dramatized tv series and films. There is strength in unity, in solidarity, in numbers. However, there’s also a lot more room for misunderstandings and disagreements about who we are, what we hope to do, and why. It becomes increasingly harder to work together when we don’t know who is in our community and who isn’t, and there’s no recognized leadership or direction that ties us all together. Some people push toward unity and talk about the benefits of having a formally structured organization like a church or institution that provides umbrella coverage to us all. Others say they follow the customs of their house, their lineage, their community, and don’t want or need uniformity because they want to honor the teachings of their elders. These are debates that won’t be resolved easily, and may never be.
 
But, we can all reflect on a personal level about what the word community means to us, as individuals. We can recognize and acknowledge the fact that online communities aren’t the same as real-life communities, and decide for ourselves how we want to interact with each. Many people will say that the religion can only be practiced in real-life settings, with face to face interaction. Indeed, in terms of ceremonies and rituals, most of us who identify as Lucumi believe this absolutely true. There’s no replacement for the relationship between godparent and godchild. No one can practice the religion in total isolation. Most of what we do ritually and ceremonially involves at least two people, and often more. And we must absolutely be connected to our ancestors and the ancestors of our godparents, our egun of blood and stone, who led us into the religion and who make our spiritual evolution possible. There is no replacement for a real-life community, and people who are without one need to make a serious effort to find or create one for themselves.  Not an easy task, by any means, but there’s no way around it. 

Does this mean that online communities are worthless, and technology has no place in our religion? As a person with a practical mindset, I would have to argue “no.” Technology is a tool, like anything else, and a lot depends on how we choose to use it. Technology allows us to stay in touch with our real-life community back home when we’re physically in another place. We can video-chat with our godparents or godchildren any time we like. Airplanes make it possible to travel quickly across many miles, so we can visit more often than people did 100 years ago. We can “go home” to our original community as often as money and time permit, so ties don’t have to break just because we move away. Digitized books and documents about the religion can be shared by e mail attachment or put on the cloud, where lots of people have access to them. We can acquire a virtual library of books and articles about the religion that we would never have found in local libraries or bookshops a few generations ago. We can hear Orisha music, watch Orisha dances, and see processions and feast days celebrated an ocean away just by looking on Youtube. We can sign up for classes and seminars taught by reputable people. We can buy products from online botanicas and have them sent to our home. And we can expand our social circles and meet extremely interesting and intelligent people in online forums, allowing us to learn about differences and similarities from house to house or across traditions. Online dictionaries and translators make it possible for people who don’t speak a language to access and understand written texts that previously would have been hard to understand. These are just a few examples of how technology can be used well. As an educator, I’m especially interested in exploring how technology can be used to teach and learn about the religion. It will never replace face-to-face teaching and learning, but it can be a useful aid, especially for people who don’t have religious elders and haven’t found their own community yet.
 
I don’t have to say much about the down side of technology. We all know what that is. It opens to door to charlatans, scammers, crooks, abusers, people who are fishing for vulnerable ‘catches” who will pay them a lot of money for phony services and supplies. It creates larger than life personalities who try to become major “influencers” when their own knowledge of the religion is slight.  What they don’t know, they make up, and that does a lot of damage by spreading false information or misunderstandings of religious principles. It also allows people to hide behind onscreen personalities and lash out at others, create drama, sow dissent and dissatisfaction, and generally stir up trouble by “trolling” forums for a reaction, to set a war in motion. We’ve all seen these trends, and it has turned a lot of elders off Facebook forums, because it’s simply not worth the effort to combat these bad behaviors online. 
 
So, what are your thoughts about “communities,” online and otherwise? Who is your community? How did you find where you belong? What do you think your duties and obligations are to other community members?  Do online communities add anything meaningful to your life? I’d love to hear your input. You can post to OUR community forum on facebook – LOL, yes I use the word community on facebook, too, to refer to those who are reading and thinking about the topics we discuss here.  Hope to hear from you. Click here to go to the facebook group.  .  

One of the most common questions people ask is how can I find my way into the religion?  It seems so secretive and hard to penetrate.  How can I find a community near me? How can I find an elder who will mentor me? Let's take these questions apart in order to answer them, and let's throw a few more questions into the mix to give you food for thought.

​The answer will be different for everyone, but it's important to be clear in your own mind about where the desire comes from. What do you know about the religion already? What is it about the religion that appeals to you? What makes you believe this religion is a good fit for you? Some people feel a cultural connection to the religion, and see it as a way to connect with their ancestors and their roots. Obviously, if you were raised in a family of Orisha worshippers, you've grown up with the religion and have a clear understanding of how one gets involved in it. But if you are NOT from an Orisha background, what draws you to it? Some people are attracted to it because it represents an extension of their other spiritual practices, like hoo-doo, espiritismo, wicca, reiki, tarot reading, and the like. Some people feel they're being called by an Orisha or pushed by egun, or they are being led by their ori. Some have rejected the religion they were raised in and want something different. Whatever your reason is, make sure you understand what's motivating you, and you're honest with yourself about your expectations and desires.  When the time comes to work with a community of Orisha worshippers, you need to be clear about what you want, and you need to be able to communicate your expectations to them.  If there are any mismatches between your desires and expectations and what the community can offer you, it's easy to spot them immediately if you can verbalize what is drawing you to the religion.  

​If you live in Miami, NYC, Los Angeles, Chicago, or another city where there are a significant number of Orisha priests, it's much easier to find a community. Look around. There might be cultural centers in your community with an Africana focus. You can attend drummings or dance performances or lectures where Olorishas might be in attendance.  There might be public events sponsored by groups like Oloshas United, such as river clean-ups and tributes to the Orishas, or spiritual cleaning ceremonies for the community. If you follow these groups on facebook, you know what they're planning, and you can attend.  If you keep your eyes open, and make an effort to get out and about, you'll start to notice there are Olorishas in your community.  We always say that the Orishas work in mysterious ways and when you are ready to meet your teacher, the teacher will appear. However, if you live in a remote, isolated place where there's little or no Orisha community, it's going to be much harder! In all likelihood, you'll need to consider frequent travel or moving to another location. If you are truly meant to be in the religion and are determined to find a way in, you may have to go to the mountain. You can't always expect the mountain to come to you. Orisha worship has spread around the globe, but there are still areas with few Orisha priests, and other areas with a heavy population of Olorishas and babalawos. Where you live matters.

There's nothing wrong with having a network of people on the internet who share your interest in the religion. You may even find a priest willing to guide you and teach you via the internet. But, you have to realize these relationships are limited, and can never replace real-life face-to-face encounters with Olorishas. If you are going to undergo any kind of Orisha ceremony, it must be done in person. If you are going to become part of a lineage, a house, a community, you must be able to attend and participate in real-time events. Videos and podcasts and blogs don't take the place of real-time instruction and community building. Sooner or later, you're going to have to be physically present at events, and get to know people who live near you, who can invite you to take part in religious activity.  If no one lives near you, you'll have to travel, and that means spending money, taking time off from work, and committing to spending time with people in another place who can become your religious family.  If you are an English speaker and you go to a community where everyone speaks only Spanish, how likely is it that you will ever "fit in" with those people? Communication is essential, so make sure you speak the language and understand the cultural heritage of people who are going to be your elders and your teachers.  We define "ilé" not just as a temple-house where we do our ceremonies, but it also refers to a group of people who are connected via common godparents. When you receive orishas in ceremony from a godparent, you become part of the ilé and part of a specific lineage. The lineage is your religious family. When you're initiated to Ocha, the people in the ilé are your religious family for the rest of your life. That's why you must be sure you're committing to the right people. A community is a broader, more generic terms that just means people with shared experiences and practices We're all part of an Orisha community. We can find an Orisha community on the internet. But to belong to an ilé and a lineage is very different. These connections are established in person. Since teaching takes place at the ilé level, without a godparent and religious family, how much you learn will be very limited. 

There are a lot of frauds out there, people who claim to be priests who actually aren't, people who will offer you Orishas when they have no authority to give them, people who will take your money to do long-distance ebó for you when they have no intention of ever doing anything except collecting money from you. There are priests who go fishing on the internet to catch godchildren, and they will make promises they don't keep. So, how can you know if someone is honest? How can you protect yourself from fraud? My answer starts with: Use common sense.  The vast majority of honest priests are NOT going to be on the internet fishing for godchildren. Why? Because we already have godchildren, we have busy lives, we aren't using the religion to make money. We have jobs, we have families, we have other commitments. If someone is PM'ing you and everyone else in a religious forum with 10,000 members offering services, you have to ask: WHY? Most of us believe it's not ethical to reach out to total strangers and offer unsolicited services. We like to choose the people we work with. We like to take time to get to know the people and establish a relationship with them. We're selective. Most of us want to help people who need help, and we're open to establishing relationships with new people, but we don't solicit customers on the internet.  Second, my advice is to follow your gut instinct. If someone is too eager to help you, too free with promises, or offering you things that seem too good to be true, chances are there's something wrong. Your gut warns you about these things. When you have a nagging suspicion that things aren't right, listen. Sometimes this is how your ori, egun, spirit guides and even the Orishas let you know that you're on the wrong path. Third, I suggest you ask around. What's the reputation of this person offering you such services? Do other godchildren speak well of him? Do other olorishas in the community respect him? No one works in a vacuum - if they do, that's another serious warning sign!!  If you have any reason to suspect someone isn't on the up and up, ask around. Finally, TAKE YOUR TIME AND BE PATIENT. There's no way around that bit of advice.  No one wants to hear a plea for patience when they're in a hurry, but rushing is the surest way to make a mistake. Go step by step, keep your eyes open, be honest with yourself about what you want and why, and look for someone who is a good fit for you, so the relationship has a chance to grow and flourish.  It will come when the time is right. 

​Most people begin their relationship with Orisha worship by going to a diviner when they have a problem. The diviner consults and marks ebbo, which they do. Time passes, they return eventually to the diviner for more advice and help. A relationship builds over time. A few years may pass. The consultant at some point is told that they should receive elekes or warriors or cofá de Orula or an adimu orisha to resolve a problem. At the point where you receive something from someone in a religious ceremony, you have a godparent. It can be the diviner or, more likely, someone you have met at the diviner's house, or through the diviner, as you have established a relationship with that religious community by then, and people know you. During this time, you will have been invited to attend drumming ceremonies, ocha birthday parties, etc. and perhaps invited to visit people, so you have had a chance to get to know people (if you didn't know them before).  In some houses, if you have a long term relationship with a diviner and someone who offers you spiritual guidance or advice, you can call that person godfather or godmother, even if you haven't received anything from them. It can be a title of respect to indicate you have a spiritual relationship to the person. 

​In Lucumi tradition, a person doesn't start to learn a lot about the religion until after they are fully initiated. Certainly, anything like an in-depth discussison of Odu, the knowledge of how to divine, in depth knowledge of the spiritual preparation of herbs, remedies, baths, potions, etc., how ceremonies are done, these are the "secrets" that can't be shared..  In other words, anything that requires you to have "licencia " (authority) as a fully initiated priest are not openly discussed with aleyos. You aren't allowed to work ceremonies, be inside the orisha room, sit at the table during ceremonial meals with initiated priests, etc. There are hierarchies that have to be respected, and there are "insiders" and "outsiders" because that's the nature of a religion that works via initiation.
 
General knowledge of who the orishas are, what their characteristics are, patakis about them, a general understanding of how the universe was created, the role of Olodumare, the role of the Orishas, concepts related to life and death, our relationship to nature,  songs and prayers, recognition of the different rhythms for the orishas and basic understanding of how to dance for them, a general understanding of how the religion works in terms of divination, ebbo, initiation, etc. - these are bits of knowledge that aleyos pick up and learn over time by spending time at the godparent's house, talking to the godparent and other elders, attending religious gatherings where there is a chance to talk to people, perhaps reading recommended material provided by the godparent. There is the understanding that not everyone needs to be initiated, and if you don't need to be initiated, then you don't need to know what a priest knows.  You don't have open access to all the information because that's not how the religion works.

​The learning process works like this: as an aleyo, you visit your godparent when it is convenient for the godparent, and you spend the day in the godparent's house while he/she is working and going about his business, you help with anything that requires your help, you interact, you talk about religious things but also daily life, you sit patiently while the godparent attends to other people, you never demand time or attention, because you know that when the godparent has time to sit and talk to you one on one it is a gift.  You can ask questions when the godparent has time to answer, but if the godparent chooses not to answer, you accept that and don't press it. The godparent sets the pace and decides what to teach you, when, and why. You aren't "entitled" to anything, except decent, respectful treatment, and a general concern with your spiritual well-being. How much the godparent decides to teach you and when, it will depend on the godparent.
 
In a busy ile, there will be other oloshas (and perhaps babalawos) who come and go, who spend time there, and you can also interact with them, but never forgetting that your godparent is the final authority. If there are differences of opinion, your godfather's opinion is the one you listen to.  Other olorishas will not try to steal way godchildren or undermine the relationship between godchild and godparent. They can be a support system, but not take the place of the godparent. The only authority over the godparent in matters of ceremony and protocol could possibly be the obba-oriaté who instructs you about something in an area where your godparent's knowledge is limited. If the godparent doesn't know something, he/she won't pretend they do. They will call or visit someone who does know, and find out the answer. 

Much of our learning comes from overhearing conversations, observing, taking it all in, and thinking about what we've seen and heard. Traditionally, the aleyo is quiet. The aleyo is not supposed to ask a million questions and bother everyone. One or two discreet questions when possible, yes. Demanding or expecting to be the center of attention and have elders anwer all your questions, no.  If you make a pest of yourself, the elders will scold you, or ignore you, or avoid you. 
 
Some godparents will offer more formal "classes" or share written materials or give godchildren access to private libraries, depending on the teaching style of the godparent and the attitude of the godparent about these things. But this is a more modern approach, and not the norm. Most traditional godparents still teach in an informal, oral conversational style.
 
Once you are initiated and undergo the year long iyaworaje period, then do the required ceremonies to be able to work in the orisha room, you can start attending ceremonies and helping. This is where you get hands on experience and learn how things are done. You are working with a community of experienced people, and they show you how to do things. If you have an interest and the aché to divine, you learn how to divine, including an indepth understanding of Odu. After you are fully initiated, you can deepen your knowledge and understanding of the religion.
 
We believe that being initiated (being crowned) changes your head, it creates a new you, a new way of understanding and grasping knowledge, as an "insider." Things will start to make sense to you in a way that they never would before once you have gone through the ceremony yourself. Sharing knowledge with people before they are ready to know it is a waste of time. Knowing intellectually, having the facts, is one thing, but the more profound level of knowing comes from a deep internalization of the knowledge that is only possible by being deeply immersed in the religion. We have many proverbs about knowledge, and the sharing of knowledge. My favorite (and one that was repeated to me numerous times when I was "young" in the religion) is "the surest way to know nothing is to try to learn everything all at once."  We also have a proverb that says "a wise man(or woman) doesn't share all he/she knows." These proverbs inform our way of thinking, and so when an elder is reluctant to share information, it's not a personal rejection of you and your question.  It just means that it's inappropriate to ask.
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​Another issue I want to address is people who have some other spiritual path, be it wicca, espiritismo, palo, hoo doo, etc. - this doesn't give you a fast track into Lucumi practices. You may have knowledge from another tradition that you try to fit into the Lucumi worldview. It may or may not fit. Your personal spiritual beliefs may or may not fit into our way of doing things. If you want to be a part of Regla de Ocha, you have to learn our way of doing things, which may require you to re-think your previous beliefs.  Regla de Ocha is open and inclusive and allows people to practice different belief systems at the same time, but always with the understanding that they are different systems, not to be mashed together into something personal and individualistic.
 
Finally, don't attempt to answer a question if you don't have the knowledge to answer it. If you are asking a question like what's your favorite color, everyone gets an opinion. But if you are talking about the religion, you either know or don't know the information, there is a foundation to the information, you either have it or you don't. Spreading false or mistaken ideas causes a lot of damage and confuses people.  
 
Yes, I know the world has changed, but we stand on the shoulders of those who went before us, and we do things the way we were taught. Change requires very careful reflection, divination, and is a community-based process, not one that happens overnight because of new technology.
 
 
 
 
 

​One of the most challenging things for newcomers to the religion to accept is that there are rules about how things must be done, but the rules seem to vary from place to place and even from person to person, depending on who you ask. What are these rules about the religion? Where do they come from? Can they ever be changed? What happens if I don't agree with the rules? These are some of the questions that come up all the time when people start asking about the religion, so let's take a look at them here.

First, we have to remember that Orisha worship takes different forms in different communities, each one tied originally to a geographic location. Although all Orisha-based religions originated in West Africa, they spread through the Atlantic slave trade and migration to the Americas over several centuries, and they took root in new homes, sometimes experiencing organic changes due to new circumstances.  In Cuba, the religion became known as Lukumí or Regla de Ocha (also called Santería). In Brazil, it became known as Candomblé. In Western Africa, its home, it varied from one region to another and changed over time because religions are living things that correspond to human conditions. Political and social change on a grand scale, such as the uprooting and displacement of large groups of people, civil wars, the usurpation of political control by one group over another -- these are factors that bring about changes in customs and traditions. But, one of the remarkable aspects of all our traditions is that our ancestors managed to keep the essence of the religion true to the teachings of their ancestors, thus ensuring continuity within times of chaos and social change. Negotiating what needed to change, why, and how to incorporate that change into the cosmology of the religion without changing its essential nature was complicated work, done by the community of priests, elders, and with the help of divination, to tweak an existing system of belief to correspond to changes forced on people by external circumstances. An example is the substitution of coconut pieces to replace Obi kola in divination. In colonial Cuba, kola nuts weren't available, and coconut was the closest thing they could find. Our religion is practical, and adapts when it must to new situations. But, these changes are never arbitrary or at the whim of one person. The rules for divination remained the same, but the tool changed because there was no other choice. Changes must be condoned, sanctioned and accepted by a whole community because, no matter how strong one individual may be, no single person has all the knowledge, and no one person can rule the whole religion.

​The first step for understanding how the religion works and what the rules are is to identify which tradition you're going to follow. If you're going to belong to a Lukumí community, or a traditional West African community, or a Brazilian community, be clear about the choice you've made and stick to that while you're in your learning mode.  Trying to learn about them all at the same time, especially if you're new to the religion, leads to confusion and frustration. The choice you make might be based on personal preference or cultural identity, but it's likely that for many people the choice depends on who is your godparent. Many people find their way into the religion through personal contacts. If you find a Lukumí godparent who seems to be a good match for you, and you establish a respectful bond with that person, your godparent will be the one to explain to you how the religion works, as you go along. Naturally, the explanation will reflect the Lukumí system of belief, and will be based on what people have learned from their own godparents, and from knowledge of that particular branch of the religion. This explains why so many people begin their explanations by saying "In our house..." or "In our lineage..." No one can speak on behalf of the entire religion; knowledge doesn't reside in one place only. Elders will speak about how things must be done from their own experience in the religion, and there's no way to prove that one house or one lineage is more authentic or more correct than another. This is also true when we go across traditions. Despite strong opinions people might have, no tradition can claim to be more real or more authentic or more powerful than another. Every system of belief goes back to ancestors who shared a common heritage and a common knowledge base. There's nothing inherently "better" about one tradition over another. Don't waste your time debating that point. Choose one, and stick with it. Your identity as an Orisha devotee will grow according to the tradition you embrace.

​Once you start your journey down a particular road, take plenty of time to adjust to a new way of seeing and thinking about the world around you. If you weren't raised in a culture where the cosmovision of Orisha worshippers was part of your upbringing, you need to learn how to think in a new way. Western logic and reasoning doesn't always apply to this new worldview you're developing. If you insist "why?" all the time, and demand answers that make sense to you, using your old way of thinking, you're going to be constantly frustrated and angry that things aren't "making sense" to you. Impatience works against you, because your head needs time to shift into a new paradigm. Ego also works against you, because no matter how smart you are, and no matter how assured you are in your ability to understand everything, you find out quickly that there are lots of things that you don't understand, can't understand, and you become dependent on elders who tell you how things are, reducing you to a position of "student" rather than "colleague." There's a hierarchy in the religion, whether you like it or not. People with many years in the priesthood, who are respected by the community and considered knowledgeable, are not your equals when you're just starting your path in the religion. Whether you like them or not, whether you agree with them or not, it's not your place to argue with them and tell them they're wrong. Taking a defensive position and demanding a debate about an established rule or tradition is going to cut you off immediately from any future teaching and learning opportunity. If you want to learn, you need to be quiet, listen, and reflect on what you're being told. You don't have to blindly accept it. Analysis is always good. But until you have the mental tools (new worldview) to process the information, it's good to be patient and let the information come, trying to remain neutral about it and not form judgments about things you don't understand fully.

There's no sacred text in written form (like a Bible) in our religion. For many centuries, all information was passed from generation to generation in oral form. We consider the information sacred, even though it's not written, and we also believe that it is codified by repetition and practice. We learn how to do things by observing and participating. We learn by asking questions, but mainly, we learn by listening. We digest the information and internalize it; eventually it becomes a natural process for us and we simply "know" something because it's part of our reality and our worldview. No elder has time or interest in sitting down with you and telling you everything they know, like a machine that spews out information on demand. Elders have lives, too, and responsibilities and demands on their time. Unrealistic assumptions that you will quickly learn everything and your godparent will devote himself/ herself to you full time until you understand it all lead to a lot of frustration and disappointment.  Learning happens in small bits, over time, from being present, observing, listening, doing. Some godparents are better than others at explaining things, and some are more interested in teaching than others. No one "owes" you anything, other than respect and courtesy and spiritual guidance. Take every opportunity you have to spend time with your godparent and your community and ask questions when people aren't busy or preoccupied with other things. Over time, you'll find that you've learned a lot, even if it's not in a formal, organized way.

​The "rules" we learn about how things are, or how things should be done, are part of this inherited body of wisdom that we call "Ifá." The interpretation of Odu, each with their patakines (stories) and proverbs, gives us knowledge about the religion and the rules. Prohibitions are usually explained through a story of something that happened to one of the Orishas because of disobedience, poor choices, or hard lessons learned. Hierarchies are explained through the relationship of the Orishas to each other and to the creator, Olodumare. Some rules, such as the way we perform ceremonies or who has license to do them, are codified through custom, tradition and practice. If a ceremony has been done a particular way for more than 100 years, and the community accepts that this is the correct way to do the ceremony, it becomes one of the rules of the house or the lineage to do the ceremony that way. Our religion is communal, and individuals need to belong to a community. Individual egos and strong opinions that aren't based on knowledge and tradition will create disruptions, chaos, and bad feelings in the community, especially when coming from a newcomer who challenges others just for the sake of imposing their own opinions on everyone else.
 
No one should be forced to accept things that they find morally or ethically wrong. If you strongly disagree with some of the fundamental principles of the religion, such as the need for animal sacrifice on some occasions, then the religion simply isn't for you. Find another way to meet your spiritual needs, because you can't start dismantling an entire system of beliefs to fit your individual opinions. If you think initiation isn't necessary in order to assume priestly functions, you aren't going to be welcome or accepted in any legitimate community. You'll be practicing in isolation a religion of your own invention. All people can be Orisha devotees, whether they're part of the religion or not. It's possible to love and honor the Orishas on your own, but if you want to be part of a community of Orisha worshippers and benefit from the knowledge and experience of that community, you have to be willing to respect the fundamental rules that must stay in place to preserve the tradition and integrity of the elders' teachings and of the wisdom that Olodumare passed down to us through the teachings of Ifa.  

Over the past few years, it's become more and more common for foreigners to travel to Cuba to make Ocha (be initiated into the religion). The primary reason for most people is that "it's a lot cheaper to make Ocha in Cuba than it is in the USA (or Europe, or Canada, or elsewhere)." People are attracted to Cuba as one of the epicenters of the religion and to the exotic appeal of the tropics. They may also have a godparent or friends who have connections in Cuba, who encourage them to do their ceremonies there. Today, I want to look at some of the pros and cons of making Ocha in Cuba, so anyone who's contemplating this step has an idea of what to expect.  My advice to anyone who's thinking of going to Cuba for religious ceremonies is: Know what you're getting into, and make sure it's the best choice for you.
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I'm speaking from the point of view of a person who was initiated in Cuba, and as a person who takes godchildren to Cuba for religious ceremonies. Our community is located in Palmira, Cienfuegos, Cuba, on the southern coast. It's a small town, but one very rich in heritage. Three significant Lucumí religious societies were created there in the 1910s: Sociedad el Cristo, Sociedad San Roque, and Sociedad Santa Bárbara. For more than 100 years, these societies have remained in the hands of the descendants of the founding mothers and fathers (who were born in Africa and brought to Cuba in the 19th century as enslaved people).  Knowledge and traditions have been passed down from grandparent to parent to child without interruption, making Palmira not only a town of religious significance in Cuba and the world, but also a place where tradition has been carefully maintained over time, and teaching has been done in the time-honored way, in person, through oral instruction, and through the example set by elders. 

The experiences people have in Havana or Matanzas might be very different than my experiences in Palmira. The "countryside" is more traditional, slower to change, and more isolated from outside influences than large cities on the northern coast. Yet, with an increase in tourism, travel, migration, and access to social media and cell phones, Palmira is quickly becoming part of a global network that offers religious services to foreign visitors. Whenever an outsider comes into a poor community, there's the temptation to raise prices to meet consumer demand. The influx of money from outsiders who come seeking religious services is changing (to some extent) the nature of religious interaction between Cubans and foreigners, in small towns as well as larger cities. This imbalance of economic power between Cubans and foreigners creates a minefield of potential problems.

Although my own experiences in Cuba have been completely positive and I'm delighted to take my godchildren there to do ceremonies, I'm also very aware that other people have NOT had good experiences in Cuba. I've seen and heard of numerous cases of people feeling disappointed and confused by their experiences in Cuba and by what happens afterward, upon returning home.

​The key to making it work for you is to weigh the pros and cons and come up with an informed decision.

1.  What's your primary reason for wanting to go to Cuba for your ceremony? If the main reason is to save money, think again. Making Ocha is a lifelong commitment, and it's not the time to be bargain shopping. You may save some money doing the ceremony in Cuba, but you may end up spending more in the long run because you'll be expected to travel back on a yearly basis to keep up your religious obligations. Where you make Ocha is your religious HOME, and if your home is very far from where you live, you're potentially creating a hardship for yourself. Think about how well you'll function without a community close at hand. Think about future interaction with your religious family. You're not "done" when you finish the ceremony. Making Ocha is just the beginning of your lifelong experience. 

2.  Are you fluent in (Cuban) Spanish? Chances are slim that the people working your ceremony are going to be fluent in English, so if your Spanish isn't up to par, you're going to have a hard time understanding what's happening, what's said to you, even simple instructions can become a problem if you don't have good language skills. If you don't know Spanish, do you have a translator who will be with you all the time to translate what's said to you? Is the translator very skilled? Especially when it comes to understanding your itá (advice given during the initiation ceremony), you do NOT want a translator who makes mistakes. The more you understand what's said to you, the more meaningful the experience will be, and the more successful the outcome.

3. Do you have a realistic idea of what living conditions are like in Cuba? Cuba is an underdeveloped country, and many of the people in our religion are poor people. Their homes are clean, but they may cook over a charcoal stove in the back of the house, the toilet may need to be flushed by dumping a bucket of water into it, there probably won't be screens on the windows, so you'll see flies (and mosquitos) inside the house, chickens in the back yard, a pig pen in the neighbor's yard, horse manure in the street, and stagnant water pooled in the gutters. It's hot, and not everyone has air conditioning. There's not a lot of variety in food. Transportation is problematic. If you've never been to Cuba before, and never visited underdeveloped countries, you may not feel comfortable in this environment. Even Cubans who have a higher than normal standard of living are not going to be able to offer you luxury accommodations. Are you prepared to rough it?

4.  Who do you know in the religious community in Cuba? And how well do you know them? Be aware that there are good people and bad people in the religion, just as there are in life. If you or your godparent are working with people you don't know well, and you don't have solid references about them, you could end up with frauds who cheat you out of your money. This is a sad reality. There are Cubans who live by fleecing tourists, and if they perceive you don't know what you're doing, you're fair game. At the same time, there are many hard-working, honest, knowledgeable, helpful and sincere people in the religion in Cuba. So, make sure you know who you're working with, and what their backgrounds are. At the very least, you should talk to other members of their religious community to see what kind of reputation they have, ​spend time observing them, see how they treat their other godchildren. Find out about their lineage, and how much experience they have in the religion. 

1.  If you connect with a good community in Cuba, know the people well, are fluent in Spanish and comfortable in the culture, you have the potential to create a wonderful, lifelong connection to that community and those people. Cubans are generous, warm, friendly, welcoming. They're serious about the religion and committed to preserving tradition. They have knowledge. You can learn a lot from them, if you have time and ability to visit often and eventually work ceremonies with them. 

2.  It CAN be cheaper to do ceremonies in Cuba, but be sure you know everything that's included in the cost, and what (if anything) you're expected to bring with you. Calculate the cost of travel into your experience and, if you are expected to pay the travel costs of your godparent, remember to figure that in, as well. Will you need to have a rental car? Pay for pick up and drop off at the airport? Buy food for people? Is the presentation to the drum included? Don't hesitate to ask about what's included in the price.

3. Being part of an old, established lineage in Cuba can be richly rewarding if you're given access to the knowledge and experience of elders from that community. The elders are like walking encyclopedias whose knowledge isn't found in books or online. Spending time with them is an immense privilege. 

1.  If you connect with the wrong people, your experience will be bad. They might cheat you out of money, perform fraudulent ceremonies, or abandon you after they finish with you, cutting you off from the possibility of ever having a community in Cuba. If they're only out to make money from the religion, they won't teach you anything, or nourish the relationship with you. You'll be on your own.

2.  If your only reason for going to Cuba is to save money, you may find that your bargain ceremony wasn't really what you wanted. If you don't understand what was said to you, if no one explains anything to you, and you left without any feeling of connection to the people who worked your ceremony, then any money you saved must be weighed against what you got in return. If it was just a commercial exchange, you really didn't benefit from it.

3. If your godparent lives in Cuba, you might not have frequent and easy access to them when you need them. Discuss plans for how to stay in touch, and set realistic expectations about what the godparent will teach you, when and how you'll learn, and what kind of expectations they have about you as a godchild. Find out how often you're expected to visit, and if they have internet and cell phone service so they can communicate with you. If you're expected to put minutes on their cell phone in order to stay in touch, make sure you understand that before you leave Cuba. Do you have a language in common so you can talk without a translator? Without clear communication, you're in for disappointment.
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In the end, there are no guarantees of how anything will turn out. But, the likelihood that you'll have a good experience in Cuba is greater if you've given careful thought to the issues I've raised here, and have come up with some concrete reasons why it will benefit you to do your ceremony in Cuba rather than your home town. If you have no community near you, you'll have to travel somewhere in order to find a godparent and get involved with the religion. Give thought to where that place should be.  If Cuba seems like a good option, go for it! But, be realistic and know that there are pros and cons to everything, and that you have to go beyond the typical tourist experience in order to become part of a religious community there. Maybe your first few trips to Cuba SHOULD be as a tourist, to observe and learn. If you find a community where you feel at home, you can always go back. There's nothing wrong with tourism, as long as you're respectful and open to learning from people who may be very different from you. As with most things in life, however, it's important to take time to get to know people and see how much in sync you are. Take small steps, and don't commit until you have a good understanding of what the expectations are on both sides. Choose wisely so you don't regret your decision later on.

​One of the biggest challenges for modern-day Orisha worshippers living in the United States or other parts of the developed world is to resist the urge to interpret ancient religions through a contemporary lens. The Lucumi religion, for example, has roots in West Africa that go back thousands of years. It has been filtered through centuries of colonialism in Cuba. It has tinges of paternalism, machismo and homophobia that are politically incorrect today but reflect social conditions and cultural practices from earlier times. In some ways, our religious practices have evolved over time to reflect a changing society, but some ideas are deeply embedded in our belief system and can't be dismantled without seriously challenging the very foundations of our religion.  Issues related to gender identity are among the most problematic for this reason.

​Ancient people understood the importance of archetypes to represent different facets of the human experience. An archetype is much more than a stereotype. It speaks a kind of universal truth about the human condition. Each archetype can represent a different moment in a human's life, a different set of characteristics or personality traits found among people in a community, symbolic situations that mark moments in human development, and so on. These figures appear in folklore, mythology, and are embedded into different world religions because they reflect ideas that are shared by humans around the world, regardless of cultural specifics. Some examples are the nurturing (earth) mother, the wise old man, the magician, the hero, the seductress, the hermit, the traveler, the joker, the witch, and so on.  Usually, these archetypes are presented with gendered identity that reflect either the biological roles of females and males (mother and father, son and daughter, etc.) or cultural ideas about the social roles people play. To some extent, the way the orishas have been personified in our patakis (myths) reflect standard archetypes, such as Elegua the trickster, Obatalá the wise old man, Ochosi the hunter, Ogun the iron worker, Changó the seducer of women, Ochun the seductress, Yemayá the great mother and Oya the fierce independent woman with strong character. This is a very simplistic vision of them, of course, and deeper study reveals that there's much more to them than our first impressions. But that's a topic for another day.

​The gender of a given orisha doesn't necessary match the gender of the human being who is chosen as their son or daughter. Ochún can choose a male or female child, just as Changó and all the others can do. Humans often feel a particular affinity for one orisha in particular and hope that divination will reveal them to be the son or daughter of their personal favorite. But the decision is in the hands of the orishas, not humans. When the ceremony is done to determine who owns the head of a person, the orishas will speak up to claim someone. A man might initially be disappointed to learn that he's the son of Ochún if he secretly hoped he would be chosen by Changó.  He mistakenly thinks that Ochún's association with femininity means he's less manly than he imagines himself to be. That's not the case at all. Strong, powerful men can be chosen by Ochún as her sons. She doesn't make them more feminine, but she may grace them with musical or artistic talent, a love of culture and refined things, or the gift of persuasion and seduction.  In a similar way, a woman chosen by Changó to be his daughter is not necessarily going to appear masculine. She will, however, have a passionate nature, a strong personality, and a love of rhythm and dance. The cultural associations that we put on different activities, labeling them male or female, are somewhat arbitrary, and the individual can manifest masculine or feminine traits while still being true to the nature of that orisha's energy.  Some orishas, like Obatalá, will have masculine and feminine "roads" or "paths," so Obatalá can appear in either form and can be either the father or the mother of a human being. The main idea we need to remember here is that when we speak about the orishas as if they were human, we are merely personifying them, creating images of them in human form based on the stories we know about them. However they are not limited to human form the way we are. They exist in the universe as divine energy, and they transcend gender.
 
Most people today like to think of themselves as individuals, and they don't want to associate too closely with a particular archetype because, of course, there are always some points where the comparison breaks down and feels incomplete. No one wants to be reduced to one simple role in society, or be defined by one simple trait. At the same time, most people today challenge the idea that they're defined by gender. Gender and sexuality are fluid, and don't always follow socially prescribed roles.  Sometimes an individual doesn't identify with his or her biologically defined gender and resists the idea that men must do one thing and women do another in some of our ceremonies. For example, women are supposed to turn their back when someone throws obi to eggun (a divination process done to communicate with the spirits of ancestors). The reasons for this are explained in a pataki, and it's an established tradition in most Lucumi houses. It doesn't mean that women are inferior or lesser than men. It means that that men face one way and women face another way during the ceremony, but neither position is superior to the other; they are merely different, reflecting the fact that men and women are biologically different from one another. Some people resist this kind of binary opposition and feel that they should not be defined on the basis of gender. They want to impose 21st century thinking on an ancient idea because they feel uncomfortable with that way of dealing with gendered identity and feel it limits them in some way. Conversations around these topics can become very heated and lead to major disagreements between those who say tradition must be respected versus those who demand changes be made. 

​Another topic that causes bad feelings among some people in the Orisha community is the belief that only men can occupy certain roles or have certain functions in the religion. For example, in the Lucumi tradition, only heterosexual males are allowed to become babalawos. Only men are supposed to play consecrated drums at ceremonies. In most Cuban communities, the obbá  (leader of religious ceremonies) is male. Some of these practices and customs are explained through interpretation of odu and patakis, and some are explained in social and historical terms. In a religion where hierarchy matters and the number of years in the priesthood carries significant weight, people who are relatively new to the religion may not be very successful in convincing their elders to change their ways. Over time, if the house is not dysfunctional and good communication exists, some compromises might be worked out between individuals if there is a pressing need for them. Or, the individual might decide to leave the house where he or she was crowned and look for a group that's more sympathetic to new ideas. Sometimes the individual will come to understand that the traditions exist for a reason and they're not necessarily a bad thing.  Women and gay men may not be chosen by Orula (to be a babalawo) but they will be chosen by one of the other Orishas with whom they are more in tune, and as a priest or priestess of Yemayá, Obatalá, Eleguá, Oshún, Changó, or any of the others, they can be very powerful and successful religious leaders.  How people negotiate these different options will vary a great deal from one person to another.
 
Those who were raised in the religion and come from Cuban culture usually don't have any problem accepting the religion as it is, and the traditions and customs don't bother then, regardless of their personal opinions about gendered roles. I've never heard anyone in Cuba complain that women are "less" than men in the religion or that women are limited in terms of how much aché (spiritual energy) they have. Some of the most respected and revered elders in my community are women, and their authority isn't challenged by anyone, male or female. They embrace the role that they believe is their destiny (as determined through divination and guidance from the spirit of the ancestors and the orishas themselves). We have proverbs and stories that teach us about the importance of defining ourselves clearly, not being ambiguous about our place in the world or in the community. Sometimes, these break down along archetypical or symbolic roles, or biological identities. Men do one thing, women do another. There will always be individuals who don't fall neatly into a category, or who reject this way of thinking about human beings. Nevertheless, many ancient religions are based on the idea that the world is made up of opposing energy forces, such as hot and cold, life and death, good and evil, blessings and obstacles. The conceptualization of male and female energy in the religion functions in the same way. They are different energies, different forces, and both are necessary (for reproduction and continuation of the human race). Some individuals may decide they don't want children and reproduction isn't an issue for them. They don't want to be defined by their ability to have children. However, this doesn't mean the archetypes of mother/ father or son/daughter cease to have meaning at the societal level.  Recognition of gender difference is, if nothing else, recognition of our parents and grandparents and their grandparents, without whom we would not be on earth. 

​As a religious system, we're capable of change, but it comes slowly and with a great deal of thought. Sometimes, people are anxious to throw out old traditions simply because they don't understand them. No one ever explained why something is the way it is, so it's natural to assume there's no reason. Sometimes there is a reason, but we just don't know it. Sometimes in order to understand the reason, we have to learn to think in different ways. We may have to make cultural adjustments, or acknowledge the experience and wisdom of ancient people who had ideas very different than our own. They aren't automatically wrong just because they're different. What has worked well for hundreds of years shouldn't be casually dismissed, even it goes against the grain of our modern thinking. It's possible to think about gendered identity in the religious context one way, and think about it a totally different way in the context of our private lives as individuals. This isn't hypocrisy, but recognition that the world is more complex than any one system of thought might suggest. In the Ocha room, I wear a skirt because that's what's expected of me; in the street, I wear pants because that's what I choose to do. I accept the imposition of wearing a skirt out of respect for my elders and their traditions. I also understand the metaphysical reasons women are supposed to do this. It doesn't mean I have to wear a skirt everywhere I go, or that my freedom has been taken away from me.
 
These issues can be a real struggle for some people, and as a community, we need to examine more closely why we do what we do, and why we think as we do. We need to learn to think about things in an historical, cultural and social context, and understand the thinking of our elders from their point of view. Maybe we agree with them, and maybe we don't, but before we dismiss ideas as being old-fashioned and wrong, we need to have a more profound understanding of where those ideas came from. We need to understand that traditions aren't rules that are meant to limit our freedom as individuals, but rather, to bring us together as a community, to build collective spiritual energy. Honoring our traditions and our past is part of what we do. We aren't blind to the need to adapt our customs over time, but those who are too quick to change their customs often end up in a confused state because they lose their connection to the collective whole.
 
 
 

​One of the proverbs that accompanies Oyekun Nilogbe (the letter of the year 2017 drawn by the babalawos at the Sociedad el Cristo in Palmira, Cuba) says: The person who tries to be both the head and the tail will never rest. (El que hace de cabeza de cola nunca descansa). In order to understand this idea in context, we can refer to another proverb that also comes with Oyekun Nilogbe that tells us: Those who were born to be the head can't remain in the tail (el que nació para cabeza no se queda en la cola). The idea inherent in these two proverbs is that we all have a role and a function that corresponds to our nature as individuals. Those who were born to be the "head" can't remain in the "tail," meaning those who have leadership skills and abilities aren't going to be happy with anything else. They won't be good at anything else. They don't like to follow orders from anyone, and if they find themselves in subservient positions for very long, they rebel, act out, and gain a reputation for being arrogant and pushy. Of course, the ascent to leadership status takes time and hard work, but those who are meant to be the "head" need opportunities to show what they're capable of doing. Leadership isn't automatic, but if people with good leadership skills never have the authority to put ideas into practice, they become frustrated and resentful. If they're assigned to do the work of the "tail" instead of the "head," the whole organism starts to suffer. They aren't effective at the job because it doesn't suit their nature.
 
In our society today, where competition and individual enterprise are valued so highly, many people like to think that they were born to be "heads" and not "tails." But society can't be made up only of heads. The tail has a function, too. Think about animals with tails. Some animals use the tail to maintain balance. Others use it to brush away flies and other biting insects. Some have prehensile tails that allow them to hang from tree branches or to grasp things. The scorpion uses its tail for self-defense and as a weapon to attack. The peacock's colorful tail gives it a unique identity and is useful for attracting a mate. Fish use their tails to navigate through water.  When a fox curls into a ball, its fluffy tail becomes a warm cover for the face. An alligator uses its tail to store fat. And, many animals like dogs and cats, use their tails to communicate emotions.  The neurotransmitters that send messages from the brain to the tail and other body parts allow the animal to function optimally so each part of the body works in unison. The head needs the rest of the body, including the tail, to make the animal whole.

​This metaphor of head and tail can describe relationships between groups of people, too. We can talk about the head of an organization, or the head of a family. Whenever people are organized in groups, someone emerges as the "head," whether it's through election, appointment, or a natural, organic process.  Problems arise when the wrong person accepts the role of head, because if the head isn't working well, the entire group suffers. That's why it's so important for individuals to know themselves, know their abilities and skills, know what motivates and drives them, and understand what leadership really means. Being a good leader isn't so much about telling other people what to do as it is recognizing what others are good at and encouraging them to do that job to the best of their ability. In other words, in order for a group to work well together, the "head" and the "tail" need to value each other's contributions, recognize that they play different roles, but keep open communication so there are no misunderstandings about who needs to do what.
 
Some heads mistakenly think they have to do everything themselves because no one else can do things as well as they can. They may have the talent, the ambition, the energy and drive to do everything well, but a human being can only do so much without breaking down or wearing out. Overwork and exhaustion can lead to physical problems as well as emotional ones.  The proverb reminds us that we can't do everything on our own. Some tasks are too big for one person, but perhaps even more importantly, as human beings, we're social beings and we need to know how to behave in a group. No one lives in total isolation. Sooner or later, in one setting or another, we have to interact with other people, and we need to understand and appreciate the ways we can work together. People who do the work of the head and the work of the tail, and all the work in between, will never rest. In addition, those people will probably be ineffective in some of the jobs they're doing because their attention is scattered, they lack focus, and they're overextended. The lack of balance in these people's lives deprives them of other experiences that could bring satisfaction and pleasure. They're never finished with work, because there's always more work to do. 

​Oyekun (the first part of this compound Odu) speaks about conflict between brothers. Here, brothers can be extended to mean people we work with, or associate with, as well as family members. Nilogbe (the second part of the Odu) reminds us that others don't appreciate it when we jump in to do their work for them. We might think we're helping, but they see us as arrogant or overly assertive. They see our "help" as implied criticism of their inability to do the job well. For this reason, a person who occupies the position as "head" of a group or organization needs to back off at times and let others do their jobs, even if it's not exactly the way the "head" imagines it should be done.  We need to develop patience and let go of some of the control so others can have a chance to contribute something to the group effort.
 
Because the Letter of the Year comes with osborbo Ofo Lowe Arayé (loss due to conflicts and arguments), we can apply the proverbs in an effort to avoid or diminish the potential problems associated with arayé.  Arayé comes from bickering, arguing, petty criticism, talking behind people's backs. It's the daily tension felt in groups that are dysfunctional or where individuals have problems setting clear boundaries for themselves within the group. Whether it's a loss of relationships, a loss of business, a loss of money, or a loss of home, if a loss comes for you in 2017, it will come as a result of conflicts caused by arayé.  Nothing is written in stone, so you aren't necessarily going to experience loss if you take steps now to prevent it. Decide whether or not you're really meant to be the head, and if you are, how can you improve your leadership style? If you're meant to be in the tail, take pride in that role and don't feel you're a lesser person because of it. Know where you belong, and find the role that fits your nature, that allows you to be happy and productive without changing your fundamental character. Recognize the need for good communication and mutual respect, and don't try to do everything yourself. Set healthy boundaries, and stick to them.