One common misconception about Santería is that it involves fortune telling, which gives rise to a lot of criticism and scorn from outsiders.  For example, people who don't believe in the supernatural, the divine, or anything outside of empirical fact reject fortune telling as superstitious nonsense.  They say fortune tellers are charlatans and crooks who prey on gullible people. Many Christians say that fortune telling is a sin because it challenges the notion that anyone or anything other than God knows what the future holds.  They teach their children that fortune tellers are instruments of the devil.  While everyone has a right to their own opinions, let's start with an important piece of information:   Santeros/as and Babalawos aren't fortune tellers. They're priests.   And divination, when done properly by people with the proper credentials and training, is a religious service through which God and God's messengers, the Orichas and the Egun (spirits of the dead) speak directly to the client through consecrated spiritual tools -- the dilogún (cowrie shells), the epule (babalawo's divining chain), the obi (pieces of coconut), or kola nuts. 

Divination isn't a parlor game, and not just anyone can do it.  For example, only Santeros/as who are fully initiated and who have trained to read the dilogún are able to cast the shells and do readings for clients.  Many Santeros/as don't do dilogún readings (which are called consultas or registros) because dilogún reading requires extensive study and years of practice to master, similar to the way a rabbi might study the Torah.  Some Santeros/as simply don't have the time, patience or interest to learn it, and some don't have that particular kind of aché (the gift, the talent or skill given by God).  Babalawos, who are the priests of Orula, are among the most skilled diviners because Orula, among the Orichas, is the master diviner.  Babalawos spend many years studying the odu (patterns) that can fall when they throw the epuele chain.  They work under the guidance of elders and memorize vast numbers of patakis (sacred stories) and refranes (proverbs) that relate to each odu.  The dilogún and the epuele chain have to be consecrated in special ceremonies, otherwise they don't have the aché to communicate with the Orichás.  So, it's not just a question of going to the store, buying some shells, throwing them, and consulting a book to see what it all means.  In many Lucumí communities, diviners carefully guard their knowledge of the odu because it's powerful and sacred information that shouldn't be shared with outsiders. Today, there are books on how to read the odu, but that's like giving a cookbook to someone who doesn't know how to cook, doesn't have the right tools, and doesn't know how to turn on the stove.  It's only going to go so far. 

So, what is divination good for then?  First, it's important to understand that in the Lucumí tradition, all humans are born with a destiny that is known only to God and his messenger Orula.   We choose our own destiny by choosing the head that will be attached to our bodies when we come to earth.  This is one reason the crown of the head is considered a powerful spiritual force in its own right, and the head needs to be protected. Santeros/as often cover their head with a white scarf or white cap; they don't like rain, the midday sun, the light of the moon to touch their heads; and they don't let other people touch their heads, either.  Our head contains our destiny, and our head is vulnerable to outside influences.    When we're born, we forget what destiny we've chosen for ourselves, and throughout our lives, we have to try to figure out what our destiny is and live in harmony with it.  Consultas, or divination sessions, are one way to do that.  Through the odu that falls on the mat, the Orichas speak and let the client know if all is going well (he has iré, blessings) or if there are problems (osorbo, obstacles).  As a person works through and removes the obstacles, he comes more into harmony with his true destiny, and thus lives the life that God meant for him to have.  Destiny exists as a concept in the Lucumí worldview but it is a destiny that allows free will.  The individual chooses his own head (picking a good one or a bad one); in life, the individual can follow the advice given by the Orichas during consultas, or he can ignore them.  At every turn, the individual chooses how he's going to live.  He might make ebo (pay tribute to the Orichas, give them offerings) or he might refuse to make ebo.  He can modify his behavior according to the advice given by the Orichas, or he can refuse to change.  Questions like how long will a person live, will he be healthy and happy, will he be prosperous depend on the destiny that was chosen by that person before he came into the world, and the choices he makes during his lifetime.  This is why it's not accurate to think of Lucumí divination as fortune-telling.  It is more accurate to think of it as a mirror held up to show the individual what his life looks like, and what he can do to fix it, if there are problems.  

In Santería, people who've been fully initiated into the religion refer to themselves as the son (hijo/ omo) or daughter (hija/ omi) of one of the Orichás.  To find out which Orichá claims your head, you have to undergo one of two possible ceremonies:  In iles (houses) that are Ifa-centric, Babalawos (Priests of Orula)  use palm or cola nuts to draw out the Odu (sign or letter) that signals the owner of the person's head.  In Ocha-centric houses, an experienced elder Santero/a will use the dilogun (cowrie shells) for the same purpose.  These ceremonies go far beyond a regular consulta (reading) where various Orichas may stand up to speak to the client, or express a willingness to help at that particular moment with a particular problem.  The ceremony to find out who is your father or mother in the religion can only happen once in your lifetime.  Once an Oricha has claimed your head, it's understood that you've made a lifelong commitment.  For that reason, the ceremony happens most often when people receive are ready to undergo initiation into the religion or, in Ifa-centric houses, when they receive mano or cofá de Orula.  Once an Oricha has claimed your head, you're usually told that you're a "prisioner" of Ocha, meaning that you're expected to start saving your money to undergo the initiations that will bring you fully into the religion.  Sooner or later, your guardian Orichá expects you to be crowned.

Experienced godparents will tell their godchilden not to be in a hurry to find out who's the owner of their heads, because there's no reason to know this information until you're ready to make Ocha (undergo initiation).  It's important to get to know more about the religion first, learn about all the Orichás, and make sure you have a good relationship with them all before you focus too closely on one in particular.  The Orichás are jealous of each other and don't like it when their children pay too much attention to another Orichá.  That's why it's crucial that the ceremony be done at the proper time and in the proper way, so there are no misunderstandings between the Orichás about who is the true owner of the person's head.

Sometimes during an ordinary consulta, a diviner might tell the client: "You're the child of ..." and mention a specific Orichá's name.  Although it's true that the various odu (signs, or letters) that come up in the reading are associated with particular Orichás, it's not accurate to say that information delivered during a regular consulta should be taken as proof that a particular Orichá is claiming the person's head.  Normally, it means that a particular Orichá is standing up to speak on behalf of that person at a given moment in time, and that the Orichá is offering blessings, help, or perhaps even a warning, to help the client progress and avoid problems.  It may mean that the Orichá has a special fondness for the client, and over time, it may be revealed through the correct ceremonies that in fact that Orichá is the owner of the client's head.  But it's premature to say that the client is the son or daughter of the Orichá based only on a routine consulta, especially if it's the first time the client has seen the diviner and a relationship of trust hasn't been built up yet between the two.

Who was it that said that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing?  In the case of involvement with Santería, that's certainly true.  Newcomers to the religion are sometimes anxious to know who's their mother or father because they're looking for a shortcut and want to establish an immediate bond with one of the Orichás.  They hear about Changó and fall in love with his fiery passionate nature, or they hear about Ochún and fall in love with her sweet sensuality.  They identify for whatever reason with the popular representation of Eleguá as a playful child, or Ogún as the hard working, efficient warrior, or Obatalá as the wise, level headed figure of authority.  The stories and legends, the music and dances, the natural elements associated with the Orichás, such as rivers and oceans and mountains, are fascinating and draw people into the religion, but only in a superficial way.  When people decide on their own, "I'm the son or daughter of...", they're claiming a bond that is purely imaginary on their part.  What's dangerous about that?  There's nothing inherently wrong with showing love and respect toward the Orichás.  Aleyos (non-initiates) can worship through prayer, song, and small offerings of fruits, flowers or candles.  But, again, the Orichás have jealous natures.  Because they were once human and still retain some of their human qualities, they aren't perfect beings. They're powerful, they have the ability to forgive and help those who reach out to them, but they're also quick to punish those who are disrespectful toward them or ignore them.  In short, playing favorites with the Orichás can lead to trouble if you aren't careful, and you need to have your relationship with them clearly defined and formalized before you can work with them in any deep and meaningful way.

At this time of year, with Yemaya's feast day on September 7, Ochún's on September 8, and Obatalá's coming up on September 24, everyone is paying a lot of attention to these Orichás, which is only right and natural under the circumstances.  Everyone in the Santería community celebrates and honors them on their special days.  But, it's also a time when newcomers hear about these Orichás for the first time and feel a sudden attraction to them.  They leap to a quick conclusion that this or that one is the owner of the head, when their knowledge of that Orichá is very limited and incomplete.  Premonitions, dreams, and strong feelings can lead you toward the Orichás, but in the end, the Orichás choose you, you don't choose them.  This is a matter you simply don't control.  For people in the modern world who are used to making choices and getting their own way, it's a humbling experience to be told that you can't pick the owner of your own head.  It's hard to wait and not know who is your mother or father in the religion, but by accepting the need to do ceremonies in the proper way at the proper time, you enter into a different kind of relationship with the religion, where you're honoring the traditions of the ancestors and the elders, and showing the kind of humility that the Orichás expect of their children.  Don't be in a hurry to claim a relationship that the Orichás themselves haven't acknowledged.  Over and over, experienced elders will say: these things take time.