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Overview
As an Afro-Puerto Rican child in the New York barrio, Marta paid little heed to the storefront botanicas full of spiritual paraphernalia or to the Catholic saints with foreign names: Yemayá, Ellegua, Shangó. As an adult, in search of a religion that would reflect her racial and cultural heritage, Marta was led to the Way of the Saints. She came to know Santería intimately through its prayers and rituals, drumming and dancing, trances and divination that spark sacred healing energy for family, spiritual growth, and service to others. Written by one who is a professor and a santera priestess, The Altar of My Soul lays before us an electrifying and inspiring faith–one passed down from generation to generation that vitalizes the sacred energy necessary to build a family, a community, and a strong, loving society.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780307567109 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Random House Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 07/22/2009 |
| Sold by: | Random House |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 304 |
| File size: | 5 MB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
OLODUMARE
THE UNKNOWN IS THE PATH
TO KNOWLEDGE
The orisha Olodumare, the Supreme God, originally lived in the lower part
of heaven, overlooking endless stretches of water. One day, Olodumare
decided to create Earth, and sent an emissary, the orisha Obatal·, to
perform this task. Olodumare gave Obatal· the materials he needed to
create the world: a small bag of loose earth, a gold chain, and a
five-toed hen.
Obatal· was instructed to use the chain to descend from heaven. When he
reached the last link, he piled the loose earth on top of the water. Next,
he placed the hen on the pile of earth, and ordered her to scatter the
earth with her toes across the surface of the water.
When this was finished, Obatal· climbed the chain to heaven to report his
success to Olodumare. Olodumare then sent his trusted assistant, the
chameleon, to verify that the earth was dry. When his helper had assured
him that the Earth was solid, Olodumare named Earth "Ile Ife," the sacred
house.
Before he retired to the uppermost level of heaven, Olodumare decided to
distribute his sacred powers--ache'. He united Obatal·, the orisha of creation, and Yemay·, the orisha of the ocean, who gave birth to a
pantheon of Orishas, each possessing a share of Olodumare's sacred power.
At last, the divine power of Olodumare was dispersed. Then one day,
Olodumare called them all from Earth to heaven and gave Obatal· the sacred
power to create human life. Obatal· returned to Earth and created our
ancestors, endowing them with his own divine power. We are all descendants
from the first people of the sacred city of Ile Ife; we are all children
of Olodumare, the sacred orisha who created the world.
It was ten o'clock on Monday morning, August 25, 1997, when I arrived at
the home of Dona Rosa, a SanterÌa priestess of Yemay·. A short, wiry
woman, the color of sweet chocolate syrup, Dona Rosa was dressed in
blue-and-white gingham in honor of her patron, Orisha Yemay·. She often
lent her home to my godmother for initiation ceremonies, since her
five-room, street-level apartment was large, had a small inside patio, and
was centrally located in Havana, Cuba.
Dona Rosa greeted me with a warm embrace and then led me into the kitchen
to await instructions from my godmother, my madrina, Zenaida, who was in a room off the kitchen, hidden by a white curtain, finalizing preparations
for the ceremony that was about to begin. My madrina was planning to
initiate a young Puerto Rican ritual drummer, omo aÒya, Paco Fuentes, into
the SanterÌa religion. He was to receive the achÈ of his patron, Orisha
ShangÛ. Today was the asiento, the ritual that would ceremoniously place
the achÈ of ShangÛ on the head of the new initiate.
Dona Rosa asked that I sit on a high wooden stool to await the portion of
the ceremony in which I would participate. She offered me a glass of water
and said, "My daughter, it is only ten o'clock in the morning and the heat
is already close to ninety degrees." Momentarily cooled by the water, I
waited patiently for the ceremony to begin. The apartment was swarming
with activity as the priestesses, the santeras, iyalorishas, prepared
lunch. I tried to relax in the midst of the mounting excitement as
santeras and santeros, babalorishas, the priests, hurried about collecting
dishes, placing the sacrificial animals on the patio, and arranging the
plants that would be used in the ceremony.
During Paco's ceremony, I would be an active participant undergoing the
ritual, permitting me to initiate others. One of the rules of the religion
is that an initiate must witness the ceremony that was performed on them.
This assures that the initiate will understand all the steps that they
went through in the various ceremonies for initiation. It is also a way of
passing on information, learning rituals through an apprenticeship process.
The yellow walls of Dona Rosa's apartment had turned gray with age; the
forties-style furniture showed signs of collapsing from the years of wear
and the countless makeshift repairs. The santeras were busy sweeping the
floors, decorating, and cooking in anticipation of the visitors who would
later come to celebrate the birth of the new initiate. The humming voices
of the priestesses and priests mingled with the screeching cries of the
sacrificial goats and chickens that were fenced outdoors in the open
courtyard between the living room and the kitchen. Recently washed
red-and-white curtains were gently waving in the courtyard breeze, causing
the animals to squawk louder from fright.
The kitchen felt like a steam bath. There was a hot fog billowing from the
large aluminum pots of boiling rice, beans, chicken fricassee, and goat
stew being prepared for lunch. I was nervous because for the first time I
would be participating in certain portions of the ceremony that would
prepare me to initiate others into the SanterÌa religion.