ifÂ: a forest of mystery
nicholaj de mattos frisvold
IFÁ A forest of mystery
bibliothËque rouge mmxvi
Publisher Scarlet Imprint / Bibliothèque Rouge Text © Nicholaj De Mattos Frisvold, 2016 Illustrations © Childerico Typography & design Alkistis Dimech eisbn 978-0-9931200-2-2
All rights reserved: no part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, or any other means, without prior permission being sought and obtained in writing from the publisher. www.scarletimprint.com
Contents Preface by Chief Ògúnṣínà Adéwuyì Introduction
part i · a philosophy of character The timeless wisdom of Ifá Ôrúnmìlà and the secret structure of odù The art of divination The cosmology of Ifá
part ii · a forest of mystery Ëjì ogbË · The moist air of consciousness ɚyĘkú mÊjì · The mother of the spirit of death ìwòrì mÊjì · Celestial agriculture in the land of transformation òdí mÊjì · The house of deep comfort ìròsùn mÊjì · The rivers of consciousness ɚwɳnrín mÊjì · The sweet and biɢer traɣ ɚbárá mÊjì · The fork in the road ɚkànrán mÊjì · The crossroad the heart gave ògúndá mÊjì · The relentless pathmaker ɚsá mÊjì · The mysteries of the birds of night ìká mÊjì · The wiɣed cobra of fire
òtúrúpɚn mÊjì · The secret path of truth òtúrá mÊjì · Love’s gentle harmony ìrẹtĘ mÊjì · The author of fate ɚṣĖ mÊjì · The sweetness of mystery òfún mÊjì · The calabash of ɫaracter ɚṣĖtúrá · Èṣù and the design of the world Glossary Bibliography Index
Illustrations ɚrúnmìlà Ëjì ogbË ɚyĘkú mÊjì ìwòrì mÊjì òdí mÊjì ìròsùn mÊjì ɚwɳnrín mÊjì ɚbárá mÊjì ɚkànrán mÊjì ògúndá mÊjì ɚsá mÊjì ìká mÊjì òtúrúpɚn mÊjì òtúrá mÊjì ìrẹtĘ mÊjì ɚṣɶ mÊjì òfún mÊjì ɚṣɶtúrá
Preface
This book ensures that Ifá spreads across the world, something which is not only exciting, but also divine. In my perception, those people who spread Ifá as a consequence of integrating its tenets as a way of life, a philosophy or religion, should be known as ọmọ ìrúnmọlẹ, ‘true children of divinity.’ These people, independent of their colour, race, sex, customs, culture and creed are indeed the true children of divinity. They speak Ifá, act Ifá, demonstrate Ifá, learn Ifá and teach Ifá to the world, and in this way they represent the tradition itself. What other word can be used to qualify these great souls and beings other than using the Ifá term ìṣeṣe? From the perspective of Ifá, ìṣeṣe means ‘the great tradition’ in the sense of being an old and venerable religious philosophy maintained and preserved by trusted and devoted people who clamour for knowledge, wisdom, understanding and good character in the physical plane of existence. Ìṣeṣe is the true language of Ifá that causes Ifá to spread across the world. For me personally, Nicholaj is one of the greatest ọmọ ìrúnmọlẹ that I have encountered. His dedication, his way of life and his character testifies to this. He speaks, learns, teaches, lives and writes Ifá. In doing this he is making sure that the knowledge of Ifá is not shrouded in secrecy but disseminated throughout the world as this knowledge is transformed into written texts, in the form of a book that will benefit humankind. This work is a result of a desire to grow in spirit and dedication to Ifá only possible for a true devotee. This book demonstrates how the principle of Ifá flows in the bloodstream of Nicholaj and makes him tradition itself. No other word than ìṣeṣe can be used when intellectual prudence, wisdom of diction and light of knowledge takes the shape of ìwà rere (good character) as in this work. As a true disciple of Olódùmarè, an initiate of Ifá and a member of Ọgbɳni,
the society of wise men, Nicholaj with this work establishes his name in the mind, soul and the spirit of people whenever Ifá is mentioned. What this work accomplishes is to make a mark, announcing a century of miracles and wonders for Ifá. I say it is a miracle and a wonder because we see today many Yoruba people who instead of embracing their own customs, religion, culture and philosophy are leaving it behind. So it is in truth a miracle to see how a Western man embraces the principles of Ifá, this great storehouse of wisdom that offers insight into the mysterious mind of Olódùmarè – the infinite being and ageless spirit that brought all things into existence – with such great wisdom that was passed down through his diviner and messenger known as orunmila bara agbonniregun akeyo ifa akeyo gbogbo agbaye (orunmila father of agbonniregun, the teacher of Ifá and the renowned master of Earth). And like Ôrúnmìlà, Nicholaj has not only embraced Ifá, but he has made an effort to spread its wisdom. In doing this he has not only brought Ifá to people unfamiliar with the tradition but he has also made it possible for people to bring this old and venerable faith into the lives of others, for the sake of improving the quality of life of all humanity, now and in the future. I am aware I am giving a lot of praise, but in truth this work is truly remarkable. Not only in its way of disseminating the wisdom of Ifá, but also how this work enables the legacy of Ifá to thrive upon the earth. For those reading this book it will bring hope, as this work radiates light and wisdom, the kind of light we find at the source of all things. I am grateful to Olódùmarè and his ìrúnmọlẹs as I am grateful for Nicholaj’s confidence in me, to such an extent that I was asked to write this preface for such a great work. I am grateful for Nicholaj’s dedication, companionship and support of myself, Ifá and his family. I pray that Olódùmarè will always illuminate Nicholaj and his apetẹbi, Adétutu and may his family wherever in the world they might be, be blessed, because for a true devotee of Ifá, humankind is his family. This book shines forth from the aafín imɳ (palace of splendour and light) and imparts ìṣeṣe to the world. This book is a reminder to all the children of Odùduwá how rich their culture, tradition, religion and wisdom truly are. Nicholaj is a good student, a great teacher, a faithful priest, a laudable author, an impressive researcher, a commendable educationist, a praiseworthy pathfinder and I do hope this great work is just the beginning of his dissemination of the wisdom of Ifá. In wise ways Nicholaj has acted with
patience to create a work like this and has been able to bridge a gap between Yorùbá and the Western world with a work of unification and understanding that benefits both worlds and makes them one. He has acted according to what Èjì Ogbè in one of its verses says: oju ko kan mi emi ko kan ju ni o difa fun ero pese ti o nlo se oko igbin igbin nwa oko ero pese nwa iyawo awon mejeeji wa lo si ile alawo ni otooto ero pese wa bere lowo ifa wipe nje oun le ni aya igbin naa bere lowo alawo re wipe nje oun le ni oko awon babalawo awon mejeeji so fun won wipe, ki won lo rubo ki won si tun lo ni opolopo suuru wipe ati oko ati aya yio pade ara won bayi ni olukaluku won ba lo ru ebo ti babalawo won ka fun won nitori ototo ni won lo si ile alawo ti o si je odu kan naa ni o yo fun awon mejeeji lai mo ara won ri bi won se rubo tan ni ero-pese pade igbin ni won ba soro ti oro won ye ara won, ti won wa gbe ara won ni iyawo ni nkan won ba bere si ni dara si, ti oro won ba dero ti ayo idunnu owo, alafia ati ire gbogbo bere si ni to won lowo ni won wa njo ni won wa nyo I am not in a hurry I am not in any haste Was the Ifá divined for Ero Pese (Patience) When he was going to marry Igbin (Snail) Igbin was seeking for a husband Ero Pese was looking for a wife They each went to the house of different diviners Ero Pese asked the Ifá diviner if he would be able to find a good wife to
marry Igbin asked her own Ifá priest if she would be able to find a good husband to marry The different diviners of the two instructed them to offer sacrifice, and calmly and patiently wait for divine support Saying that both the husband and wife would meet each other They offered the sacrifice as instructed by Ifá and as directed by their respective priests and diviners. The same odu appeared for both without them actually knowing one another Immediately after the sacrifice was made Ero Pese met Igbi They met and approached each other, fell in love and later got married Life became pleasant for the two of them. Happiness, joy, wealth, riches, victory, strength and long life became their lot. They were both filled with abundant joy, dancing in merriment. The patience and dedication toward Ifá and its principles is what has caused Nicholaj to make a good marriage between two illuminated realms or worlds, a union that can only lead to bliss and wisdom. It is the kind of marriage that will generate many children who will have their destiny refined and fulfilled. I have no doubt that Nicholaj’s work will enrich the lives of those who are on the path of life and knowledge. He is indeed a blessed person and holds a great position in the world of Ifá. A dupe! (Thank you!) Chief Ògúnṣínà Babatúndɶ Ọlàyínkà Adéwuyì
Introduction
Ifá is a philosophy, a theogony, theology and cosmology rooted in a particular metaphysic that concerns itself with the real and the ideal, the world and its beginning. It is rooted in the constitution of man and the purpose of life and the nature of fate. Ifá is a philosophy of character. The philosophy of Ifá lies at the root of any religious cult or organization involving the veneration of òrìṣà. This book is about Ifá; a work that aims to present its cosmology and metaphysics as a philosophy which is designed to attract good fortune into our lives. Through stories and legends, divinatory verses and proverbs, this philosophy will be revealed piece by piece until the landscape has been laid open before you. Given the premise of this work, Western philosophies have also been referenced. This has been done in order to explain Ifá in more familiar terms to readers unfamiliar with African cultures at large and to give examples from the wisdom tradition of the West. In pursuing this work, I realised that the project could easily span several volumes. It is of course a good thing to discover that one has too much material, but at the same time it has been demanding to choose the most vital parts in order to present the most important themes. As such, this book is an overview of a landscape that can only acknowledge the profound scope of the tradition. My aim is to present a philosophy of consciousness, step by step. We will undertake a journey, presenting Ifá philosophy and divination in the first part of the book and then supporting it with the detailed account of the messages in the sixteen méjì odùs and Ôṣɶtúrá upon which Ifá philosophy rests. The philosophical enquiries of Ifá are rooted in a consensus reality that is subjected to constant inquiry. We can say that Ifá is monist and holds ideas similar to those of pantheism and is resonant with the ideas set forth by
Giordano Bruno (1548 – 1600) in particular. This means that Ifá finds common ground with the Western neo-Platonic tradition, which can therefore be used as a bridge to reach the timeless and perennial dimensions of Ifá. My own journey within these mysteries started in the 1990s when I went to Cuba and undertook tefá (initiation) with Lazaro Cuesta, Eddy Silva and Eddy Silva Jr. in Pogolotti, Havana. It was a profound experience and my gratitude will always be offered to these three wise men. Some years after this initial encounter with Ifá I encountered other babaláwos, until I finally met Chief Ògúnṣínà Adéwuyì, who opened the doors to his house, his heart and his family, and taught me the value of generosity, kindness, the secrets of abundance and patience. This led to my admittance into the Awon Ọgbɳni Funfun in Abeokuta, Nigeria, through Olúwo Sunday Àgbefayɵlɵlɵ, and I was given the blessing to oversee an Ẹgbë Ifá in my own land. This book is a way of repaying what I was given; there is a generosity of wisdom encoded within these pages that I want to pass on in the hope that the wisdom of Ifá, which has undoubtedly made my life better, can have the same effect upon yours. The verses of Ifá in this book are largely taken from the collection made by Awo Abimbọla and found in his Ifá Divination Poetry (1977), and from Pópóọlá’s Ifá Didá (2009) and Karenga’s Odù Ifá: The Ethical Teachings (1999). These texts are highly recommended as sources for deepening one’s understanding of Ifá, and it is my hope that this book will enhance the beauty of the legacy presented by these wise men and that appreciation of their work will spread. The translations of the Ifá verses are my own (unless stated otherwise). I have crosschecked my translations with these writers and with what has been provided to me by Baba Ògúnṣínà. I have made an honest effort to translate liturgical Yorùbá as best as I can, a daunting task, which I hope I have accomplished, whilst openly acknowledging that I have leant heavily on the work done by the aforementioned Babalawos. The majority of the stories retold in this book can be found in one version or another in Awo Pópóọlá’s Ifá Didá, which I suggest as an accessible reference work. I also give gratitude to Pierre Colonna, good brother in many mysteries, and Awo Fálokún who, through his friendship, generosity, and good character, has taught me about Ifá metaphysics for more than a decade. I further want to offer reverence to my beloved apetẹbi, Adétutu Ẹyëbọnmì Ìyámissè, without whom I would not be what I am, and to Babalorisa Ade Oke and ConjureMan Ali, who
are truly my brothers throughout a thousand incarnations, to my good brother Childerico for providing the illustrations; and finally to Peter and Alkistis for being rare jewels of clear consciousness and infinite blessings in this world of perpetual mystery. With these words, I will do what is proper and give reverence to the forces that were not named, but made these pages possible: Ìbà I pay my respect to the owner of Heaven and the spirits of the Earth I pay my respect to the king of the World, He whom we praise first As I give reverence to Ôrúnmìlà, the Spirit of Destiny I pay my respect to the sixteen wombs of the world And their messenger Whom we call the youngest one The dearest one at the crossroads of the worlds, Whom we call Èṣù I greet the powers of the East I greet the powers of the West I greet the powers of the South I greet the powers of the North I greet the king in the city of Love I give homage to the winds in the invisible realms I give homage to the owner of Earth I who am just a child of mystery I who am grateful I give homage to the spirit of the Mountain I give homage to the spirit of the Ocean I give homage to Àkódà I give homage to Àsedá I give homage to the spirits that move the world I give homage to the bones of my blood I give reverence to the Oni of Ilé Ifɵ For all that he represents in being the pillar
Between worlds I give homage I give respect To my Fathers and Mothers To the owner of Heaven and Earth To my Orí I give homage to Ôrúnmìlà, the spirit of Destiny I give homage to Ikú, the spirit of Death I give homage to Ônilé, the owner of Earth I give homage to Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà, the Powerful One And I pray that the power of the word Will open the sixteen doors of creation Wisely and gently In humble love I give my words To spread across the world Gently and in dignity May the words in this book Bring honour to Ôrúnmìlà And my family of Ifá Who are many Àṣẹ Nicholaj de Mattos Frisvold Awo Balogún Ifáṣòtitọ Ôsɳwalé Àgbefayɵlɵlɵ 21st September 2014
I
A PHILOSOPHY OF CHARACTER
ɑe timeless wisdom of Ifá
Ifá is the preservation of the ancestral wisdom in Yorùbá culture which gives guidance on how to make the right decisions on the journey towards developing good character. Ifá is not a doctrine of belief; it is a way of looking at the world. – Awo Fa'lokun Fatunmbi, 2013. Ifá is a word that has no direct translation. Rather, it reflects a concept of wisdom. It holds the secret of creation, and the key to our happiness. Ifá has been defined as a divination system, as an alternative name for its prophet, Ôrúnmìlà, a name given to the religion of the Yorùbá people in present day Nigeria, and more besides. It touches all of these but, at its heart, Ifá is about the power of wisdom to approach the mysterious and, through this, to offer an understanding of the visible and invisible worlds through which our lives, collective and unique, are made accessible. Ifá is about approaching everything as mysterious. Whether the mystery is great or small, Ifá invites us to marvel at its beauty as we grow in wisdom. Mystery is encoded in all things that silently reveal how everything is connected in a dance around polarities which mutually affirm one another and move the world onwards. Whether it is the mystery of life, creation, God, a plant, or a technical problem which we seem unable to figure out, we are touching Ifá. It is about approaching all things and every situation with curiosity, because everything is encoded in mystery, awe and riddles. Ifá is the key which enables us to decode these riddles and mysteries as they appear in our lives, in nature, in all realms of being and existence. If we seek to understand mystery, we need to approach everything free from judgment rooted in our limited perception of the world and life, daring to walk
outside our truths and to see every situation from different angles. The understanding of the mysterious is passed down in the form of poetic verses, stories, proverbs, enchantments and lore. Ifá considers Èṣù to be the custodian of mystery, as the owner of the crossroads that both bind and separate the visible and the invisible. In his capacity as linguist, Èṣù serves as a bridge and mediator in all realms, and enables communication between spirit and man, man and plant, beast and spirit. Èṣù is also the warden of truth and embodies the principle of choice: therefore he is identified with roads and crossings. Truth, like Èṣù, is never static but always dynamic and in a state of flux, like the volcanic lava that gave fire to his soul. Truth is doctrine and not dogma. It is an experience of wisdom and mystery that results in secure and pure knowledge. This truth, this wisdom is then used to better understand the human journey we are undertaking so we can realise our fate. Fate, in the view of Ifá, denotes the unique route towards happiness and fulfillment. Fate is something that we make. The choices that bring us closer to contentment, peace, joy and wealth are the signs that we are walking the path of our fate. Ifá views everything as a simple binary pulse or function, whether inhalation/exhalation, being/non-being, life/death. It is the mathematical algorithm of binary codes that causes you (and, indeed, everything) to be or not be. It is about absence and presence, the fundamental powers that generate the atom, the amoeba, an ensouled life form or a galaxy; it is both simple and intensely complex, as is the rhythm in each and every choice and situation that calls for an action or reaction. Every situation has a host of solutions, every solution invites a choice, and every choice invites new directions. The energetic patterns or frequencies involved in any situation are encoded in the corpus of wisdom known as Ifá. Ifá holds the secret to decoding and understanding the energetic patterns involved in benevolent as well as malevolent situations. Fortune and misfortune are measured with the same attitude of interest, so we can discover how to turn misfortune into fortune and how to make our fortune multiply. Ifá is about possessing the wisdom and disposition that enables us to always see clearly, so we can discern the necessary means to ensure stability and equilibrium, not only in our lives, but in such ways that it can expand and become a stabilising force in the world. Ifá is not a religion; it is an art, a philosophy of life. Ifá as a philosophy can be laid out and bring forth religions, as much as Ifá embraced as an art can
bring forth mystics and wise adventurers. This is affirmed by the Yorùbá vernacular ẹsin, a word which means servitude, and is used in reference to religions such as Christianity, Islam, and Judaism. The Yorùbá people call what they are doing asa or oro ibile, which refers to a custom related to the land, a connotation which possesses a strong ancestral quality. Ifá is monist in the sense that it holds that every possibility was made feasible from a singular condition, or source, which held all possibilities within the form of being; this was at the same time absolute being and absolute absence. The beginning of all things is envisioned as light springing forth from darkness. Through its letting out rays of light, all things are enabled to take form and expression. Ifá is about the beginning of consciousness, because consciousness is the beginning of all things. We can say that Ifá represents a reality of consciousness in which the ideal or invisible world is viewed as more ‘real’ than the material world. One consequence of this view of reality is what happens with the faculty of judgment. Throughout the Ifá corpus of divinatory verses we will see that any judgments subject to temporal truths are those which we assess from a limited sphere of personal action, lived out in a horizontal reality within a limited perspective. Ifá is the illumination that expands our vision and helps us make better choices in the light of understanding our mysterious world. We judge in conformity with proximity and distance, familiarity or alienation – and what we experience as real and material. Ifá represents the light of clarity that emanates from the beginning of time, which we can choose to access or not. Ifá can be said to be a philosophical idealism, noetic by temperament – yet positive philosophies, evolutionary theories, and quantum mechanics naturally find their place within its encompassing wisdom. The idealism of Ifá aspires to be inclusive, because it is a philosophy concerned with the totality of human experience. It holds as an axiom that we are spiritual beings undertaking a human journey. Ifá presents us with an enchanted world in which everything is alive with divine light and potency. We can say that Ifá is ‘traditional’ and ‘hermetic,’ and that there is a deep sympathy between it and the Platonic philosophy that descends through Proclus, Plotinus and Ficino. Equally, it is easy to find resonance between Ifá and such modern philosophers as Hegel, Schopenhauer and Leibniz. But more than this, we can analyse the sixteen odù pairs as presenting a given ray, or philosophy, within the greater philosophy of Ifá, that illustrates how this particular route acts in
the visible and invisible worlds. A constant premise in Ifá is that philosophy should be a good contemplation, it should be a kind of knowledge that enables us to make good choices as it cultivates discernment and clarity. This being said, perhaps Boethius (c. 475 – 526) is the Western philosopher who has the most intimate resonance with Ifá. The philosophy of Boethius was firmly anchored in the concept of Fortune, which he presented within a world view similar to the view expressed in the Ifá corpus. Boethius was a student of Plotinus, and he similarly accorded great importance to Aristotelian logic, considering that it did not interfere with his greater neo-Platonic orientation, as it was solely concerned with the sensorial field of experience. Ifá would see this in the same way, logic being tied into the sensorial world in the form of ara (body), ìwà (character), and orí (consciousness) which, together with èmí (breath), make up the fundamental parts of the human being and make it possible for us to experience the world. Boethius’ best known work was The Consolation of Philosophy, in which he expressed the opinion that philosophy should teach and stimulate people to search for happiness. He said that everything is good, as even that which we deem evil might serve to make us better people, or be the obstacle we need to clearly see where we should search for our happiness. Wickedness will only become wicked if we allow it to multiply by inviting it into our life and clouding our vision of happiness, because it is not a part of goodness – and goodness is God. Therefore, since it is not a part of what is good it will, like most abnormal flares in the cosmic fabric, disintegrate and self destruct. This argument is lifted from Plato’s Gorgias, in which he argues with perfect erudition for the powerless state of wickedness. This argument is later substantiated in The Republic, where Plato comments that fate is not allotted, but chosen. This comment is quite often interpreted in a materialistic fashion, which contains only a part of the truth. Boethius, like Plato, holds that what is perfect, and what is good, and what is beautiful, is not solely a quality of God, but it is to all effects the godhead. This means that fate is seen as something good, perfect and beautiful, but it is our choices that drive us towards it or away from it. In other words, no person is allotted a bad fate; rather, a bad fate is brought into effect by our choices. In a similar vein, Ifá is of the opinion that we are all born good and blessed and destined to goodness and happiness. We are here on earth to do good, just as Plato states in Gorgias that everyone wants happiness and sees this as equal to what is good. Quite simply, if
goodness and happiness are the very matter of creation and the godhead, the absence of what is good will naturally fall short of increase as it is in itself counterproductive. Not only this, but in Gorgias Plato argues that wickedness makes people use their humanity in constantly self-harming ways, thus they gradually diminish into lower forms of existence in their unhappy state. Boethius argues for God being both a final cause and the efficient cause of all things. In doing this, he gives prime attention to the importance of recognising what is good in the material world, hence the focus on the concept of ‘fortune’ and ‘consolation’ that runs through his philosophical discourse. As we shall see later in this chapter, these ideas find resonance in the fundamental philosophical structure of Ifá, as it is rooted in the premise that goodness is the essential essence of being, and perfection is the fabric used to carve out beauty in creation. Ifá is disclosed through philosophical axioms encoded in songs, verses and proverbs that make part of the corpus of odù, which we can define as ‘words from the womb of creation.’ One of these verses is from an odù known as ìrosùwòrì which gives the following teaching about the purpose of the human journey, here in the translation of M. Karenga (1999: 228 – 233): Let us do things with joy Those who want to go, let them go Those who want to stay, let them stay Surely, humans have been chosen to bring Good into the world The All-Knowing One, priest of Ôrúnmìlà Interpreted the teaching of Ifá for Ôrúnmìlà He said the people of the world would come To ask him a certain question He said Ôrúnmìlà should sacrifice Ôrúnmìlà heard and complied One day all kinds of people, good people and Those who do not allow good in other People’s lives gathered together They went to Ôrúnmìlà They said: ‘Coming back and forth to earth Tires us, Ôrúnmìlà. Therefore, please allow us to rest in heaven’
Ôrúnmìlà said: ‘You cannot avoid going back and forth to earth, Until you bring about the good condition that Olódùmarè has ordained for every human being.’ The people of the earth ask him what this good condition is and Ôrúnmìlà says it is about a good world, the bounty of knowledge, happiness and peace, and the absence of fear, anxiety, poverty and misery. He goes on to state that the remedy for this lies in developing good character and internal strength so that we can love doing what is good. Until everyone achieves this condition, people will continue to walk back and forth from heaven to earth until they are ‘recognised as human beings’ or ènìyàn. This approach to Ifá, as a philosophy oriented around character as a source for good fortune that underlies any religious expression, is heavily expanded on by several Yorùbá writers, and in particular Yemi D. Ogunyemi, who insists on the separation between philosophy and religion in the plurality of expressions of faith we find in Yorùbáland. He summarizes the religious component of Ifá as being related to its ethical dimension when he writes: ‘The most important feature of Yorùbá ethics is not obedience, disobedience, reward or punishment. It is Ìwà (character).’ (1998: 14). Ifá as such is the spiritual philosophy of character as held, developed and cultivated by the Yorùbá speaking people of West Africa and several of their neighbouring nations. Regarding Ifá as a storehouse of wisdom accessed for the needs of the community, and as the energetic constitution of a community and its actors themselves, leads to a great variety of schools and traditions of Ifá. It is therefore difficult to define Ifá as a religion in the common Western sense; there is an absence of religious dogma in favor of mystical doctrine. When the word Ifá is mentioned, the most common association is with its oracular arts, and the geomantic divination that, though often called Ifá, is correctly named dafá, meaning ‘to spread out wisdom.’ Ifá initiation is known as téfá, a word signifying ‘to press and spread out the wisdom of attraction and fortune.’ This distinction is important, because when Ifá is set into action for the purpose of divination, it takes on a particular meaning and function. Ifá is the storehouse of wisdom, manipulated and revealed during the process of dafá and téfá. Ifá is an active involvement with the potency of wisdom. As stated at the beginning of this chapter, there are many opinions as to what
the word Ifá means, and over the years I have come to find Chief Ògúnṣínà Adéwuyì’s understanding of it to be the clearest. He states that Ifá means ‘to instigate an attraction.’ If we look at the use of the words fa, fá, fà and fá in the Yorùbá language, we will see that they are always used in relation to bending something, to uprooting, to unveiling, or to attraction. The sound I is often used as a signal to begin the process of attraction, so Ifá can be an elision of iré fa, ‘the art of attracting good fortune’ or even ‘the art of bending fortune in your favour.’ No matter how we choose to interpret the word, Ifá is concerned with how we attract good fortune, therefore it is from this premise that I understand it to be a living and oracular philosophy that teaches us how we can bring what is good and fortunate into our lives. From this simple premise, the beautiful complexity of Ifá surges in riddles and verses, axioms and proverbs that aim to make us understand the dynamic between presence and absence as the prime pulse of creation, being and life. For instance, one Yorùbá proverb emphasises that good fortune comes with the knowledge of misfortune: Tí àbà njè ohùn àlàdídùn laì jè òrógbó, ónje yío pàdánù àdùn ré, which can be translated as: ‘If we eat sweet things and avoid the bitter kola, all food will lose its flavour.’
the chosen one and the marketplace A famous Ifá proverb states: Ayé l’oja, ɚrun n’ilé, meaning: ‘This, our world, is a market, but heaven is our home.’ When Ifá identifies this world with a marketplace, it understands the human field of activity to be one of interactions, deals, transitions and trade. It is a field of movement that challenges us on several levels. In the marketplace we find an ever changing plethora of energy, frequency and vibration. We experience the active side of Ifá in the realm of possibilities. This is always caused by a manifestation of one of the 256 odùs, the energetic vibrations of creation, which can be understood as specific frequencies that serve both as causes and explanations for our experiences. Furthermore, it is in the Ifá literature, written and oral, that we find the vast field of knowledge pertaining to Ifá, again reflected through the lens of the 256 odùs. Adekson writes: Ifá has challenging ideas that generate philosophical knowledge in metaphysics, ethics, epistemology, and science ... Òrúnmìlá (Ifá) possesses
knowledge of the following subjects: the study of nature (physics), animals (biology), plants (botany), oral incantations (ofò), divination (prediction), medicinal plants (herbalism), physiology (anatomy), and sciences associated with healing diseases (medicine)... Ifá foretells by warning and provides solutions to anticipated events or problems (2003: 24). Ifá is the spiritual philosophy which underlies such concepts as mérìndínlógún (cowry shell divination), obí àbàtà (kola nut divination), òrìṣà (deified spiritual forces) and egún (spirits of death and ancestry), which form a nucleus in Afro Diaspora faiths such as Santeria, Lukumi, Candomblé, and the Ṣàngó cult in Trinidad and Tobago. It is also present in the mystery known as Milocan – or sometimes just Ifé – in Haitian Vodou, and we find it under the name of Fá/Afá at the heart of Beninese and Togolese Vodu, which consistently give the Yorùbá speaking district of Ketu as the source of their Fá, as do several terreiros of Candomblé. It is interesting that Ketu is often mentioned, because it is the home of Èṣù. At times we find the term Nago/Anago used, which defines a Yorùbá speaking people in the district nowadays belonging to Benin where it meets with Nigeria – these are basically the people of Ketu. Because Èṣù is the power of the crossroads, he is also the power of dispersion, the potential for action and consequence that springs forth from Ifá. We might understand his role in the world to be the energy that moves the various frequencies we encounter in the marketplace. As such, comprehending this force is crucial to an understanding of Ifá and of how the world works in its simple complexity. Ifá, as a system of divination, can be found in the Arabic practice of ‘ilmalraml or sand cutting. From there it passes, via Renaissance scholars, into Western geomancy. We can understand geomancy as divination by means of earth or sand that takes the stellar bodies into consideration – hence, it is deeply related to astrology, or the ways of heaven. Ifá is earth divination, and as such, it offers the solution to situations that occur on earth, that touch everything here. Ifá is concerned with the individual and the group. It is a philosophy that insists upon the necessity of harmonious gatherings. It insists that we are all born good and blessed. Ifá sees the human journey as one undertaken by spiritual beings, hence our life on earth should be a beautiful experience poised between bitterness and sweetness, which will lead us to a happy and
fulfilled station. A lack of joy is to be understood as a challenge or a mistake, as everything has a solution. Ifá sees truth as being born from the perception that we as individuals are in communion with everything in the cosmos, and it avoids dogma by propounding a doctrine of light. Ifá recognises that everything that exists consists of rays of light and their vibrations, hence it is important to recognise and understand them, whether they proceed from a friend or a foe, and assess them without holding any personal attachment to the judgment we pass. The concept of light is equated with consciousness – thus everything in cosmos, creation, and nature possesses light in the form of consciousness. The greater our understanding of the various rays of light and energetic frequencies that take form in the world, the more freely will we be able to move in the world and participate in this marketplace with elegance, efficacy and gentleness, and so reap lasting fortune. To paraphrase Ogunyemi (1998): ‘everyone has something to sell, even if no one wants our product.’ If our product is not valued, we need to assess what we are offering and give deeper consideration to who we are, so that our product, the effects of our character, which makes part of what we have to offer, can be circulated in the marketplace. The concept of the marketplace is an important one. It is the field in which transactions, deals, pacts and relationships, both good and bad, are struck. Ifá states that the marketplace belongs to woman and by this suggests that she holds the field, with transaction as a form of àṣẹ or power naturally belonging to her. We are here on earth because of woman and because of woman we can make a good or bad fortune for ourselves, just as we can make a good or bad deal. We constantly find, both in Ifá verses and in its philosophical interpretation, that one situation has a thousand mirrors in all possible directions and dimensions. Ifá is all about the hermetic axiom, as above, so below – the below is always seen as a crossroads, and the chain of choices made at each of its four gates reveal images of the invisible world above. As M. A. Màkindè wrote when quoting an Ifá proverb (M. A. Màkindè 1984: 88): Wisdom is known as Ifá Knowledge is the other name for Opele Ifá Because we are bound to have problems. It is to be informed about something we are ignorant of
That Ifá exists to help us. The human being is known as ènìyàn, eni, or ará Ayé, and these terms encapsulate different qualities. While eni and ará Ayé refer to unique human being, an inhabitant of Earth, ènìyàn is a composite of words that hints of distress, but also of its solution through careful analysis. So we might see a distinction here between ènìyàn as one who to some extent has retained a conviction or a memory of their spiritual estate, and ará Ayé, which does not hold this quality and can refer to whosoever walks the earth – hence we find ènìyàn meaning ‘a person of power’ in reference to someone who possesses àjɶ in the sense of witch power and the capacity for generating abundance. In the concept of ènìyàn, we find the mysteries of death, humanity and divinity woven into one secret, because our human condition is caused by death and it is through the human experience that we can realise our divinity. In the more religious interpretations of Ifá in the African derived faiths that took shape in the New World as a consequence of the transatlantic crossing, it is noticeable that these three parts are often separated. The dead and ancestors, egún, are considered as different to ènìyàn and òrìṣà, whereas the latter have taken on the role of deities and are seen as separate from both humans and the dead. However, in traditional Ifá philosophy, egún and òrìṣà are part of the human being, and to die, the state of egún, is a prerequisite for assuming one’s natural state as a potential òrìṣà. The ascent of light in Ifá cosmology sees it as emanating from one source and spreading throughout the cosmos until it is reflected back in the material realm, much as Plotinus described his noetic cosmology in The Enneads. In his work, Plotinus deliberately does not give a location for the One, the original impulse that manifested into creation. The beginning and end remain unfixed presences, which enable the tension between absolute unity and the variety of unique presences and multiplicity of forms of consciousness in creation. It follows that we might see a play between presence and displacement woven into Plotinus’ metaphysics, which is remarkably similar to what we find at the root of Ifá. In Ifá terminology, Plotinus’ One is called òyígíyigì, ‘the stone that begins beginnings.’ It is conceived of as a primordial stone that bursts open with luminous heat, finding its mirror in the flowing magma at the centre of our earth, which is the field of Èṣù. This is part of the reason why this spiritual force is given a unique position in the metaphysics of Ifá.
Èṣù is the youngest of the òrìṣà that came to Ayé – but, in the mirror world in which we exist, this means that he was the oldest. He was the primordial stone lodged within Ayé, maintaining a pure and absolute consciousness of the beginning of beginnings, and thus he surfaced last. He rose from within the earth as the primordial stone and crossroads after the denizens of heaven made their dwelling place here. Thus he gave the impression of being the youngest, the one who came last, even though he was here all along. Èṣù is a paradox in all senses. He is the youngest, yet the oldest, he was gestated as a woman, but was transformed into a male, he is a rock, and yet the fire. He is choice, blessing and demise. He is the power of enigma in the world that makes wonder possible. But as he is a paradox of beginnings and endings, he shall be spoken of bit by bit until he is fully revealed in the final chapter of this work. Let us now return to the primordial stone of creation that is conceived of as resting in the primal womb, odù, a cosmic matrix, a form of energetic whiteness, or light, that implodes in a nuclear stasis, and then expands into bright possibilities of powers. From the womb of whiteness, odù, there is made manifest a primordial light that generates the fundamental energetic potencies in creation, which Ifá calls ìmɳlɵ, meaning ‘dwellers in light’ or ‘brightness.’ The fundamental principle in a cosmic process of expansion is known as ìrúnmọlẹ, which means ‘whiteness sprouts hairs’ or ‘the celestial dwellers sprout in luminosity.’ Awo Fa'lokun has noted that this is similar to the birth of a supernova. In other words, it is a stellar explosion of enormous energy and luminosity, leading to the generation of a new star. The stars and planets are known as igbámɳlɵ, meaning ‘calabash of light,’ and they in turn radiate òrìṣà ìkòlè òrun, ‘the shards of consciousness that dwell in heaven.’ Some of these come to earth and are called òrìṣà ìkòlè ayé, ‘the shards of consciousness that dwell in the realm of earth.’ When this form of consciousness enters the earth, it is known as egún, or òrìṣà orí egún, meaning ‘the consciousness that brings brightness to the bones.’ It ends in the concept of orí inu, the consciousness within each and every thing on earth, whether human, animal, vegetable or mineral. This means that each and every one of us possesses a supracelestial consciousness. Through our orí inu, we are in touch with the realm of eternity and beginnings. We are, as Fa'lokun has stated in several of his books, ‘the eyes of the creator looking back at itself.’ At the same time, all things in nature partake of this memory, which is evident in the way in which the Ifá divination verses make
no separation between man, divinities, plants, and animals when they illustrate the context and nature of a situation.
woman as the symbol of character At the centre of Ifá philosophy we find orí, which lies at the root of the word òrìṣà. Orí is constantly connected with ìwà, character, and it is necessary to give some attention to these concepts. At the root of this enquiry into the nature of character or ìwà in Ifá we find that our purpose is to cultivate ìwà rere or ìwà pèlè, meaning a good or happy character. Ifá sees the relationship between man and ìwà as equal to the relationship between a man and woman and therefore, we can transpose these recommendations onto how men should treat women. The odù Ogbè Alárá tells us that Ìwà was a beautiful woman. But she was not easy to live with, on the contrary the odù speaks of her as lazy and lewd, with a poisonous tongue. After many years of marriage, Ôrúnmìlà could no longer provide for his beautiful wife and sent her away. As a consequence, he started to feel miserable and soon after he lost status, money, friends and his own happiness. Upon consulting Ifá, he realised that he had brought this misfortune upon himself and decided to go after the beautiful and unruly Ìwà. He made ẹbọ (offering) to Egúngún (the collective wisdom of the ancestors) and set out to search for Ìwà. He went to all the sixteen kings of the kingdom in search of her and finally found her in the house of Olójó, at the Egúngún grove, and took her back. There are many things to learn from this story, the most important being that it takes time to build a good character or ìwà rere – hence the saying: Sùúrú ni baba ìwà rere, ‘patience is the father of good character.’ The odù is therefore a warning against being judgmental and critical both towards ourselves and others. Here we need to address and understand the purpose of ègbín, meaning ‘dirt’ or ‘waste.’ This word is commonly used in reference to things, acts, and attitudes considered dirty and wasteful. Ìwà was spoken of in this verse as a beautiful woman of filthy habits. In this we find a warning against judging acts and people. We should note that Ifá realises that creation, the Great Design, is just as it is supposed to be, and when we enter into condemnation, dogmatise and exercise moral denigration we are displaying a lack of understanding
based upon a distorted perception of the matter at hand. We see this in the realm of Ôsányìn – òrìṣà of herbs, roots and leaves – where we find a curious similarity between Ifá traditional herbalism and plant alchemy in the West. The first stages of alchemy are focused on what is called a blackening of the matter, where death or waste is extracted from the essence. From the waste a final and most peculiar essence is derived for completing the herbal remedy or medicine. This same preparation is made in several works for preparing óògún, a powerful medicine in which the plant waste can be reused, and with the aid of fire, the final virtue of the plant extracted and reintroduced to the medicine. If this parallel is applied to the relationship we find between man in growth and ìwà we see that to generate ìwà rere is a process by which we gradually leave the dross and waste in favour of the pure essences of being filled with virtue and joy. It is, furthermore, a directive to not make hasty judgments based upon subjective opinions. We might say that the verse speaks about how the road towards good character starts with the acceptance of who we are, inclusive of the good and the bad. It is only when we accept our self that we can develop towards having a good character. Abimbọla comments in Yorùbá Oral Traditions (1975) that to possess ìwà rere can at times be a burden, just as a rebellious wife is a burden; but still, he who possesses ìwà rere must cultivate it, because the presence of this person makes the world a better place. It is an admonition to not allow oneself to fall into corruption, but rather to be hopeful and to approach challenges with curiosity and devout optimism. It is true that there are people who feel the presence of a good person in their midst as something evil, because the contrast is so great between the elevated joy of being radiating from the person who possesses ìwà rere and those who are driven by selfish ambition to satisfy all their materialistic urges. This is why humility, kindness, generosity and calmness of mind are always expressions of good character. However, it is only people who possess ìwà rere who will have everything, as one Ifá proverb states: If you have money, But if you do not have good character, The money belongs to somebody else. Woman is the symbol of character, and it is due to her ambiguity that she and
ìwà are seen as partaking of the same nature. The àṣẹ of womanhood as manifested in Ôsá méjì represents the idea of the interference of supernatural forces, of the malefic forces in the world, ajogún and the àjè, the powers that people experience as threats to the stability of creation whilst they are in truth divine mechanisms to bring about cosmic order as a result of constant change. On the other hand we find in Ôṣɶ méjì the manifestation of sweetness, riches and abundance in the form of Ôṣun. Ìwà can be said to reflect these two patterns of cosmic reality, which manifest as good and bad character. This does not mean that Ôsá méjì is a bad odù, but that many people have problems realising the magnificent mysteries veiled within it, and thus reflect a distortion or degeneration of its wonderful qualities. Woman is understood to possess these qualities naturally, and moreover, she also possesses odù (the womb), which means that a man’s access to odù is demonstrated by looking at his ìwà in both senses of the word, as his character and as a woman or wife. Woman is therefore the enigmatic centre of all possibility, especially that of cultivating ìwàrere. We need to realise that our fortune and future happiness are completely dependent upon how we approach and understand ìwà. Character is beautiful, it is a way of being in the world. This is the meaning of the contraction of i-wá into ìwà, the way of being in the world. Fa'lokun Fatunmbi has repeatedly pointed out that the important Yorùbá terms related to character and purpose are those such as ẹgbẹ (companions gathered as in a society), ọkàn (heart), and ìfé (love). The heart and love are the foundations for building good character. This means that the centre of Ifá, Ilé Ifɵ, actually contains a subtle reference to it being a ‘House of Love.’ Love is the foundation of Ifá. Just as a marriage is a process towards unity and mutual understanding that aims to create a stable unit of happiness founded in love, so is the journey towards understanding, integrating and reflecting happiness accomplished by embracing ìwà.
îwà and orï Ìwà rere is a term that contains a rich web of connections, because the one who possesses the qualities which are described as good character will experience all the goodness of life. Such a person will always harvest benevolence from the ruling powers, both spiritual and social, as the result of
being a harmonious element in all the worlds. Ìwà gives the direction to our orí, consciousness. Ògúndá méjì says that no divine being blesses a man without the consent or knowledge of his orí. Orí is intimately connected with ìwà because orí is your personal divinity, by allegory your genius or daimon. The orí speaks with the language of air, wind and the heart. As the world moves away from the wealth of traditional wisdom, the more difficult it becomes to understand the ways in which orí interacts with us, and this distance provokes a feeling of being lost. Orí is the divinity that is responsible for your success and failure in life, and it is orí that opens and closes doors and opportunities. Acts of self-sabotage, whether by rejecting opportunities or by making wrong choices, are caused by our refusing to accept the blessings òrìṣà wants to give us. This can be a result of disbelief, feelings of inferiority, shame or self-denigration in its manifold forms. Abimbọla (1975) notes that when we chose our orí in the sense of a fusion of consciousness, guardian deity and ìpín or kádárá, and our destined lot of fortune, we also chose a specific route that we need to embark upon in order to harvest the happy fruits of life. When we stand in the sculptor Àjàlá’s house to choose our orí and destiny, Ôrúnmìlà is present as elérí-ìpín (witness of destiny) and becomes in that moment the compass for our journey through the human experience. Ogbègùndá tells us about the elements involved in the transition of divine beings who choose to experience human life, and the recurring theme in Ifá of patience, honour and humility is found here too. This involves listening to advice from elders and being slow, if ever, to judge. The odù tells of various challenges that we are presented with, which in turn generate choices and thus make up the map for our journey in the market of the worlds. This means that we have already chosen our ordeals and fortunes as human beings. It also means that those who feel that they have been given an unhappy lot are not really starting their journey from the right perspective. For every obstacle or challenge there are always several choices and at least one of those choices will bring us closer to our destiny, carried on the wings of wisdom. Èjì Ogbè tells us that: ‘he who is wise, is made wise by his orí,’ and this is the consequence of embracing this wonderful condition of life on earth with the right spirit. Wisdom walks hand in hand with the fortunes given. Another remark I have often heard is that, upon receiving the itá (the reading concluding initiation that reveals in part the destiny you chose), people can
consider the odù that reveals itself as bad or even evil. These people engage in the negative aspects of the odù Ìrẹtɵ méjì, namely self-hexing, a reaction quite common in our world, where guilt and the distribution of guilt in the hunt for feeling good about oneself is often found. This is evident in the simplest unit of social interaction we have today, between couples. Situations deemed difficult often turn into a vehicle for projecting one’s own accumulated poison outwards, and onto one’s partner in particular. In many cases this leads to damage to one’s own sense of worth and as a consequence worse choices are taken. A vicious cycle has begun, and the emerging feeling of being lost becomes a sour reality. It all comes down to orí. The concept of orí is intriguing. As mentioned, the ìmɳlɵ in charge of this process is called Àjàlá, meaning ‘Dog of Light.’ This term is a reference to dogs as messengers for spirit and of light, being the common substance we all partake in, so in this we find a reference to direction within the light as well as a given quality, which we also find in òrìṣà, being encoded into our consciousness. Àjàlá, however, is described as an insufferable drunkard and gambler; hence, in spite of his masterful skills in sculpting consciousness, he nonetheless often makes errors – the orís he makes crack in the fire, get burned, or are too soft. Before we embark upon our human journey, we go to Àjàlá’s house to select our orí, but the choice is not always easy, as the flaws in his sculpting are rarely visible. By selecting an orí we also elect a given energetic current and with it a given destiny. Such a destiny is to be understood as a way of being in the world that will lead to all good things. When we arrive on earth with an impaired consciousness, these defects can be mended by accumulating wisdom set into action, ẹbọ (sacrifice), and through initiations. Another Yorùbá proverb says: ‘Bit by bit we eat the head of the rat,’ meaning that we should be patient in the work of remaking ourselves. We might conceive of orí as a compass. If it is badly made, it will lead us in the wrong direction, whilst a good consciousness will always point us towards the right choices. The compass of orí comes with intuition, and intuition is a silent frequency that opens a double way between you and the source. Ifá tells that he went to the market to search for a spouse for Orí and there he found Èmí (breath/soul). Orí married Èmí and placed her in his heart. Èmí is also the Yorùbá word used to designate a specific person, someone with a substance and an essence. Èmí was placed in the heart that rests in àyà (the chest), and the chest refers both to armour and also to friendship. Àyà is the
field used to embrace someone in the bonds of friendship so that our heart can meet with theirs. Àyà is a spiritual force in its own right, the spirit of friendship. From the chest stretch forth our arms, known as owó, a word that is similar to òwó, (abundance) and òwòòwó (a gathering, accumulation). The hands reach from the heart with the power of abundance. With our hands we can give and take abundance. From the lower torso stretch forth our legs (ese), the power of strength and endurance in pursuing our direction and path. The legs are connected to ìdí (the buttocks), which remind us of the need to rest, and how much better our rest is in companionship, where two halves meet to make a common solid resting place. The body becomes a symbol of the importance of gathering together in harmony, just as our body is assembled harmoniously. Our material manifestation, as a spiritual being in an ensouled body, requires a path, a goal, a detour, rest, experience and friendship. It all makes part of this harmonious gathering, as threats to harmony offer us the chance to value what we have and to make the right choices. Everything that happens can be used in the service of the right decision, if we allow it to be used in such a way. If we resist the good choice, we always have the option to return, which Ifá calls àtúnwá.
îwà and àtúnwá Àtúnwá is the idea of reincarnation, literally ‘rebirth of character.’ The idea of rebirth is represented by the fourth of the sixteen major odùs, Òdí méjì. This odù represents the uterus and the miracle of birth. Again we see the importance of the female, of woman, for birth and rebirth. Òdí also speaks of the destruction of what is useless and the emergence of the new, the good and the blessed – for we are all born good and blessed. The path away from embracing our happy destiny comes into play as we are subject to socialisation, directly or indirectly, by materialistic values in a spiritually degenerate world. A rebirth commonly occurs in the family-line by descent from the father or the mother, but since the compound, or village, is considered as an extended family, reincarnation also occurs within this greater fold and is then considered to be caused by òrìṣà. We see here the logical sociological consequence that
arises from family being formed both of blood children and through adoption. The purpose of reincarnation, to descend from our heavenly home in Ôrun to journey a lifespan on earth, is to enjoy the mystery of life. Agbó atò (long life) is a blessing, because as we journey through life we will grow wiser, our unruly ìwà will become sweet and good, and we will speak with the voice of our orí. Long life allows us to grow wise in the mystery of being, and with wisdom comes happiness through understanding that life is pleasurable. Friends, prestige, money, a good home and a good name, a good marriage, children and comfort are all consequences of rewarding work and the active pursuit of good character. We must realise the path that destiny has prepared for us in order to receive all possible blessings. Ifá says the goal is the same – happiness and contentment – but the way to attain it is determined by the uniqueness of the path we chose to walk on earth. This is revealed through the naming ceremony, esèntàyè, which is usually performed on the third day after birth. By utilizing the oracular wisdom of Ôrúnmìlà, the destiny of the child is revealed; and recommendations on how to conduct life in order to live well in the world are given, along with matters concerning professions and the various procedures for atonement of supranatural powers so the roads can be clear and open. How different this is from the modern rebellious and antinomian ways in which man looks inward to seek whatever he believes himself to be. Compare that to the traditional worldview of Ifá, where you turn towards the source for guidance in the mystery of life and discover the tools for making your fate your own.
òrìṣà: shards of consciousness Òrìṣà is a term that has been subject to many interpretations. The word itself is clear in meaning, a ‘shard of consciousness.’ One story from the Ifá corpus speaks of how Ôbàtálá, when he was bringing the calabash of creation to earth, came down to the first mountain. He descended along a golden chain, but stumbled as he hit the summit of the mountain, and the calabash of creation broke into 201 pieces. From these shards òrìṣà took shape as a unique – and limited – manifestation of the divine plethora. On an almost primitive level of metaphysical constitution, this is what òrìṣà
is: specific and singular divine potencies, that are awakened as they hit Ayé (the earth), and spark forth a particular form of divine fire. The spark constitutes the core of every ensouled material manifestation, beasts, humans, minerals, trees, and other natural phenomena. This idea of shared consciousness is crucial for understanding Ifá philosophy and cosmology. Since everything that is partakes of a shared divine fire, everything is divine. We might read pantheism or animism into this as much as a qualified monism. These philosophical discourses are actually of less importance in relation to divine sparks continually encountering other divine sparks, because everything possesses orí, consciousness. Ifá is a philosophy about shared commonality and divinity; everything holds the divine fire within, whether strong or weak in its flickering dance. When the calabash of creation fell to the ground, we also learn that 200 shards took form at the right side, but one shard took form at the left. This dynamic is replicated in our hands, the left being a symbol of restriction, force and protection, and the right being a symbol of gratitude, welcome and blessing. The two hands demonstrate our capacity to rend and gather. We find in the hands, the eyes, the legs, the ears and the buttocks a reminder of the importance of unity and also the power we hold in being authors of fortune and misfortune, dispersion and gathering. This idea is encoded in one of the many interpretations of the word ènìyàn. Ènìyàn is one of the terms used to describe humans – but also witches – in the odù Òságúndá. Ènì means ‘people’ and yàn defines a capacity for choice or being chosen. In other words, Ifá is clear that man came to earth with the free will to choose what is good or what is bad, although the term ènìyàn implies the act of choice as much as being chosen. It implies that humans were chosen to take this journey because they were elected to do good and to recognize the shards of divine consciousness dispersed everywhere and thence gather together in harmony. As the body of the tree or that of a mountain houses a divine spark of consciousness, so too does our human body. It is a sacred house for the divine fire taking on a unique form. Since everything shares the same divine matter, our very constitution invites and enables us to learn from plants, trees, beasts and spirits. In these we see our own richness, or lack; and work on our perfection. When we witness everything as divine rays moving, forming benevolent and malevolent relations in an emotionally detached, but interested,
approach to the world, we cease to judge and simply experience. We will be like stars and trees, secure in their consciousness; mountains of integrity and goodness that spread stability and give welcome to the world. The goal is to become awo, the embodiment of secrets that knows the matrix and helix of consciousness and being. Possessing awo will enable us to proceed towards our destiny with dignity and measured movement. We experience awo by mediating àbá and àṣẹ, the ideas and the force by which we accomplish these ideas. The only ìrúnmọlẹ who held both these powers was Ôbàtálá, the king dressed in white. He is the spiritual force bringing with him ideas, dreams and the àṣẹ, the force to make it a reality. He carried the calabash of creation to earth and brought forth all òrìṣà from the storehouse of divine wisdom, the still state of being and all possibilities of expression we know as Olódùmarè. There are no shrines or groves dedicated to Olódùmarè. We can pray to him, as a statement of our axis, an affirmation of recognition, but it will be like whispers touching fog. Olódùmarè is the origin of all, but is different from everything that is, and because of this he is the pole that generates any landscape, known or mysterious to us. In order for every sentient being to know its origins, it needs to reconnect with everything that is, in all its possible variations: trees, beasts, plants – or, even more challengingly, other human beings. Ifá teaches that if a thing exists it serves a purpose. If we become agitated or annoyed we lose wisdom, and in so doing we enter into the crossroads of Èṣù where choices have to be made. These choices can go with us or against us, challenge wisdom or feed it. We need this contrast in our life. We need the dagger soaked in honey as much as we need the kiss glossed in vinegar, because wherever we see evil, goodness is around the corner, and whenever we embrace goodness we should stay in the embrace of love. This will deflect all negativity. We are shards of divine consciousness walking the earth. With our birth we set the earth aflame with a given energy. We open the door to a divine experience, being born as good and blessed souls embarking on a journey that can at times be confusing or challenging, but always rewarding provided we choose the good. We repeatedly come to the crossroads of choice – some of us turn into warriors and interpret everything as situations, while others interpret this condition as slaves, others still as regents. From this point we can understand what we are, and what we are not, in a spirit of invitation and interest as we gently reject the negative and gladly invite the positive. Your life
is about you and your accomplishments. It is about how you embrace and love the world, and here we find the concept of òrìṣà. Òrìṣà is you. Òrìṣà is god. Òrìṣà holds a unique and limited shard of the divine consciousness which serves as a mirror for your becoming and enables your own god making which is mediated by possessing awo. The number of òrìṣà coming to Ayé was 17. This number is significant as 17 represents the principle of multiplication in Ifá cosmology, and it was this power that the earth attracted to herself. It is the number of Èṣù and of his mother, Ôṣun, a constant reminder that Èṣù came to earth to help man to choose good, to choose sweetness. Ifá really has no hierarchy as such – apart from the head, Ôbàtálá; and tail, Èṣù – which form the ouroboros that encapsulates creation. The head is the gentle mediator of all things, signified by the two eyes in the snake’s head and its forked tongue. It is further represented by the boa constrictor sacred to Ôbàtálá. Èṣù is the tail, the crossroads that starts a renewed cycle, or leads you into the wilderness to enter the body of creation from an unexpected direction, a challenge that propels you forward or into resistance. Ifá sees everything that exists as emanations from a single field of diffuse or mysterious being, referred to as Olódùmarè, the name given to the force that rests in the invisible realms as a quiet storehouse of light. As mentioned earlier, the Yorùbá concept of god is noetic and in line with Plotinus – but also with Proclus’ Neoplatonism. Olódùmarè is ever concealed, ever a mystery. This mystery can be experienced in shards of beauty throughout creation, in the visible and invisible worlds. Olódùmarè is the creative power, the heat of divine potential and light. It is the owner of the womb that gives forth snakes (boas or pythons) in the form of òṣùmàré, the rainbow. It is Olòrun Àlá, the owner of the cloth of light in the invisible realm; and Ẹlɶdáa, the one who allows life to flow forth from its third eye. Its power is supported by its firstborn principles, sùúrù (patience), and ɵlà (wisdom/purity), through which it made all that we can conceive of possible, whether in dreams or as an extension of consciousness in motion. These powers known as òrìṣà emanate from ìrúnmọlẹ, ‘spirits of the houses of light,’ which came to earth with the specific task of making it a habitat in conformity with the social spirit of Ônilé. Sixteen powers in particular were crucial for the construction of the earth and everything upon it, including mankind. We should understand 16 not as a fixed amount, but rather a quality
related to the power of multiplication. This mindset is further affirmed when Ifá reveals that at the beginning of time, when Ayé became an ensouled planet, spirits came from the right and the left. Of these spirits, 201 came from the left and are associated with strength and malefica, whilst 401 came from the right, representing benevolence and good fortune. These numbers reveal that the forces of fortune will always outnumber those of misfortune. From the left, the side of strength, only one òrìṣà came forth, and this was Ògún. The remainder of the spiritual forces coming from the left were spirits detrimental to human wellbeing. These are considered to be the necessary arsenal of defences available to Ônilé, with Ògún serving as a stabilising force amidst all these spirits of obstacle and grief. From the left, we have the spirits known as ajogún, elénìní and àjɶ, which include such phenomena as ègbà (paralysis), òfò (loss), àrùn (disease), ikú (death), èpè (curses), ese (affliction) and many more. This doesn’t mean that Olódùmarè designed a world where the battle between good and evil is constantly enacted; rather the necessity of radical contrast in generating a field of experience. In other words, to enable creation, contrast and opposition are essential. This necessary polarity is found in the simple binary of 0 and 1, absence and presence, night and day: from these general principles, it extends into a multiplicity of forms. The godhead dwells in this atmosphere of contemplation and mystery. Since these hostile forces are the result of a cosmic necessity that supports creation, it is important to understand how to engineer one’s life in such a way that they can be absent from it, yet present in the world. Ifá states throughout its corpus that the absence of malefica is accomplished by developing good character, accumulating wisdom and patience, being respectful towards one’s ancestors and interested in one’s environment. Hence the presence of malefica invites the understanding of them as forces that tempt us and help us to make the right and proper choices. In order to accumulate wisdom, we need to understand the myriad forms that have consciousness, and so it is proper to look more closely at some of the well known òrìṣàs, because they reveal the energetic condition of the world and of human beings. Amongst the first sixteen òrìṣàs of importance for our world we find Ôbàtálá, Ògún, Ṣàngó, Ọya, Egúngún, Ọbalúwayé, Olókun/Ajé Ṣaluga, Ôṣun and Èṣù, all of whom represent important powers related to creation. These
potencies are also related to the establishment of the Yorùbá Empire and its original 16 city states with the oni (king) of Ilé Ifɵ representing the axis of these mystical dimensions. This complex is illustrated by the many stories in the Ifá corpus which speak of the fortunes and misfortunes of the various òrìṣàs during their journey in Ayé. They teach us what kinds of situations and energies one should avoid, and how to integrate the lessons of life in order to transform misfortune into fortune. It should also be mentioned that these stories tell of people who manifested these qualities in their lives and thus set an example for posterity. By becoming familiar with the stories and teachings of spirits, men, animals, trees and plants, we increase our own knowledge, and we pay attention and respect to our ancestry and environment. We will now look more closely at Ôbàtálá, who made dry land and the body of everything that would hold a soul. We will also look at Ògún, who made roads throughout the earth and forged the spine and skeleton in man and animals; at Ọya, the mother of wind, and the fiery Ṣàngó. The fertile and sweet waters of Ôṣun will be commented upon, as will the capacity for sickness and healing held by Ọbalúwayé and the secrets of medicine possessed by Ôsányìn. Egúngún, the bones of ancestry, and the crossroads of tradition will be considered, as well as the watery complex of Olókun, Ajé Ṣaluga, Osupá, and Yëmọja; and before I conclude the presentation of òrìṣàs I will, of course, talk of Èṣù.
ɚbàtálá: the source of consciousness Ôbàtálá is often referred to as the king of òrìṣàs. His spiritual force was the bridge that brought consciousness and form to creation. As such, Ôbàtálá is equated with consciousness itself, specifically a calm and cool consciousness. Ôbàtálá is an extension of the spiritual power known as sùúrù, patience, and sòtito, truthfulness and faithfulness. Ôbàtálá has a deep resonance with early life forms; examples include reptiles, snakes, elephants and in particular the snail. The snail not only carries around a house shaped by the golden section in honour of cosmic perfection and wisdom, it is composed of mucus and muscle and represents the stage of creation prior to the forging of the skeleton. The snail prefigures the original form, with its primeval quadripartite brain and serpentine mucus muscle that shapes its body. The white blood of the snail has
calmative properties, and the Ifá corpus tells us that it was the blood of snails which Ôbàtálá used to calm forces that threatened to wreak catastrophe upon the earth. The snail is also sacred to the ìmɳlɵ in its condition of perfect calm, that called upon the skeleton and spine to transform the dweller of peace into a determined warrior through the power of Ògún. It is when we gained a spine and skeleton that the human journey began from its peaceful and patient original state. Ôbàtálá appears both as a male and a female spirit in the stories of Ifá, depending on the traditions preserved in the different Yorùbá districts. More frequently, Ôbàtálá is seen as the husband of Yemòwó, a spirit of purity attributed to white clay and creativity, she who sculpts the world together with him. Some stories tell that Yëmọja was born from this primordial union, while other traditions say that Ôbàtálá never had a child of his own; his capacity is the force that made the mystery of ovum and sperm merge, and as such he is the father of all, not of anyone in particular. This is a further reference to Ôbàtálá being the spirit who brought consciousness to the world in all its 256 different forms, as expressed in the Ifá corpus of Odù. Since Ôbàtálá is the sum of consciousness, we are all, in this sense, his children. What might appear as a contradiction in the many stories is how the energy of Ôbàtálá works in our world. Ôbàtálá belongs to a class of spirits known as funfun, which is usually translated as ‘the whiteness of white,’ or ‘splendour.’ All these spiritual forces are related to ideas of purity, moderation, stability, creativity, and creation, whether in terms of bringing forth ensouled beings or forming a harmonious community. It follows that all the funfun spirits that came to earth became rulers over cities and districts, due to their extraordinary capacities for understanding the fundamental principles of creation and cosmic organisation. Funfun is a reference to what is concealed and mysterious; hence the divergent, and at times contradictory, stories and myths about Ôbàtálá. The whiteness of the funfun spirits is a field of tranquil peace that is contrasted with dúdú, or blackness. Dúdú refers to what is concealed, and it is this that the funfun spirits reveal in the form of a mystery. As such, we can understand funfun to be a force that reveals itself little by little, and thus carries the admonition that stability and peacefulness are necessary preconditions to make positive use of the revelation of the mystery. Glimpsed here are the metaphysical dimensions that bring forth day from night and a child from the womb. In addition to funfun and dúdú is awon pupa, the mystery of redness. Awon pupa represents spiritual forces of fire and fierceness and is related to
the blood, to the passions, and is the principle that actively infuses any form of germination with power. In Ifá metaphysics the universe is a result of the power of expansion and of contraction. This cosmic pulse is frequently referred to as òrìṣàko, male spirits of whiteness, and òrìṣàbo, female spirits of darkness, a reference to the interplay between imo (light) and aimoyé (the darkness needed for manifestation). Ôbàtálá represents our journey through a world of paradox and mystery, to experience goodness and arrive at the harbour of tranquility. This is made possible by the accumulation of wisdom and understanding, as we cultivate our character and gradually increase our awareness, not only of ourselves, but of how we are connected to everything in this web of wonders. Àdúrá ɚbàtálá Ôbàtálá yemi Ni mo se da funfun Ôbàtálá yemi Ni mo se da funfun Sebi aso iyi Ohun le um sode i gbele Àṣẹ igben Ohun le um sode i gbele Alagbada elewu etù Esama sotito Òrìsá mi gbemi o
Ôbàtálá, look upon me with favour It is because of this you dress in white Ôbàtálá, look upon me with favour It is because of this you dress in white It is because of this he/she is renowned It is what you use to start the festivities Costly garment It was he/she you would use to start the festivities Owner of the dress of the guinea fowl They do only good My òrìṣà looks upon me with favour
ògún: the fiery one who made the path Ògún holds paramount importance in Yorùbá cosmology because of his capacity to bring the awon pupa (the red mystery) to earth in the particular way necessary for the evolution and sustainability of every ensouled thing. He has mastery of iron and fire and is a blacksmith, a warrior and patron of hunters. He is represented by the colour red, but more so by deep blue, which typifies
the hottest part of a flame. He gives form to the fire itself, as revealed in the power of iron tamed by it. Iron is represented by the staff that can be bent into form, and iron is the vital component in blood, making Ògún the author of the skeleton and of the blood. Ògún is the force that keeps everything alive with vital essence, determination and motion. Ògún is the only òrìṣà who came from the left side, hence his capacity to exercise dominion over the energies that comprise its malevolent forces. Ògún is the spiritual intelligence who knows how to forge this overflow of sizzling energies into structures and paths; he is, correspondingly, the impulse for war, copulation and aggression. He is the force at play when the farmer ploughs his field and opens the earth to plant his seeds, as much as he is that which moves revolution, the military and the bloodlust of a killer seeking some form of justice. Even if he represents the control of this energy, the energy he controls is not so easily managed by individuals. In this way Ògún represents the force of fire and determination present in a society. Whilst Ifá speaks of the descent of spiritual forces to the earth in several odùs, in Ògúndá méjì we are told specifically of the manifestation of Ògún on earth and the organisation of human society. There are at least four variations of this story, and they all express the same principles. Ifá tells us that all the roads on earth were made by a spiritual force known as Tobí Ode, whose name means ‘the hunter who possesses great skill.’ Before the success of Tobí Ode, Ôbàtálá made an attempt to clear paths so that the visible and invisible realms would be able to converge. He made a knife of silver and started to cut his way through the woods and wilderness. He managed to cut under the bushes to liberate roots and create some space, but when it came to the more difficult clearing of the brush, the silver knife became bent and broken. Through this action, Ôbàtálá inspired the roots of all plants with the power of dreams, and made communication with them possible. Realising that a stronger metal was necessary, he called upon Tobí Ode, who possessed the power of iron, to clear the paths between the visible and invisible realms, and he succeeded in doing so. The accomplishments of Tobí Ode made possible the arrival of òrìṣàs and other spiritual forces to Ayé; he was honoured, celebrated and elected to be king of the city of Ire. He was renamed Ògún Olorí, meaning ‘the power of iron owns the head,’ alluding to his absolute supremacy over all living beings. Ògún refused these honours, and went to the forest of mystery. He journeyed
through it to the mountain where Ôbàtálá was resting in dream and contemplation. In Ògún’s absence, the population became unruly and quarrelsome, and it didn’t take long before he was called back to the city to restore order. He came down from the mountain and out of the forest, painted with efun (white chalk) and dressed in màrìwò (palm fronds) in honour of the true king of whiteness and woods, Ôbàtálá. As a forest lord, in the image of Ôbàtálá, he entered the city of Ire and brought an end to all the hostile and negative forces. Yet again he was hailed as a king with the name Oniré, meaning ‘king of good fortune.’ From Ire, Ògún went from city to city, reinstating order, harmony and good fortune, until he came to Ilé Ifɵ, where he set down his crown of kingship and placed a crown of iron upon his head, departing to the woods to wait for new adventures and new stages in the world’s development. Here in the woods, Ògún established the first society, the Ẹgbë Ode, the hunters’ society that became the model for many others, and also founded the Ọgbɳni society. In his capacity as a founding father of a closed society, he can be seen as the instigator of all forms of society, as well as of social advancements in the ebb and flow of civilisation. For the Yorùbá people, civilisation is moved by the same powers that influence hunters – society reflects their social needs and vice versa. This is evident in the succession of chiefs in the hunters’ society. Ògún was the patriarch, followed by Ôsɳɚṣì, Ològún Edé, and Erinlè/Inlé. As the patriarch of hunters, Ògún had an intense relationship with the powers of misfortune and unrest, àjɶ and ajogún, and in particular with Ônilé, the spirit of the earth, and together they share a veneration – and taste – for black dogs. In several Yorùbá traditions, dogs, especially female dogs, are regarded as guardians and messengers of Ônilé, given their loyalty and capacity for seeing both the visible and invisible worlds. After Ògún, Ôsɳɚṣì was the next chief of the hunters’ society, and in him we see a refinement of the customs of the hunt. Ôsɳɚṣì is attributed with the power of astral travel for the purpose of tracking down prey. He is also associated with the bow and arrow. While Ògún needed proximity to the target, Ôsɳɚṣì could hunt his prey from a distance and with him came all forms of clever snares and traps. This advancement continued with the next chief, Ològún Edé, the sorcerer from Edé city who is reputed to have introduced magic and new ideas into the concept of the hunt. Ològún Edé is usually represented with a
medicine bag in his hands; this reveals a relationship with Ôsányìn, the owner of herbs and medicine, and additionally the use of poisons. After him Erinlè makes his appearance, representing the healing aspect of the hunter and the fisherman. Both Ològún Edé and Erinlè have strong ties to Ôṣun who, in several myths, is said to be the mother of them both. The entrance of Ôṣun into the development of the hunters’ mystery also brings Èṣù, her son, and with them we see the social layers represented by the advances in the hunters’ society providing a model of social evolution. Regarding these four powers, we can conceive of the social rhythm of a society or a civilization as ruled by the following principles: the power of Ògún, manifested through iron and smithing, clears the roads and makes the necessary structures for growth. Ôsɳɚṣì enters the social design with focus and determination to develop the existing structures; as such, he represents the order achieved in a society by its population. Next, a creative element enters in the form of Ològún Edé, an enthusiasm and volatility that is resolved in a dance between poison and medicine, in which Erinlè, the owner of medicines and remedies, steps in as a stabilising influence. We need to understand that a society is born because of the efforts of Ògún. Ògún came from the left side, which demonstrates that both benevolent and malefic forces are necessary for the motion of a society that we perceive as progress. The key is to follow his example and dress in efun (whiteness) and màrìwò, to acknowledge the peaceful nature of Ôbàtálá as being the force that should inform every social advance. Ògún is the honeyed sword as much as the bitter aftertaste in a sweet victory. Fundamentally he is the force that made the substance of life possible, as this oríkì imparts: Oríkì Ògún Òrìṣà bí Ògún A ko roko A ko yènà Ògún lo ni okó Ògún làgbède Ògún làgbè oun naa ni jagùn jagùn Bí o sí Ògún a ko jeun
There is no divinity that equals Ògún Without Ògún We would not clear the weed and woods Without Ògún no path would be clear The hoe belongs to Ògún Ògún is the blacksmith Ògún is the farmer and the warrior
Without Ògún we would not have food
ọya: the white wind that feeds a thousand fires Ọya is the wind, and as the wind is constantly changing so she is the power behind change. Her name is probably an elision of o ìyá mésan, meaning ‘Mother of nine.’ This epithet refers to the nine children she begot with Ṣàngó. The first eight were mute, but the ninth spoke with an outlandishly high pitched voice. This was Egúngún, the others being the eight winds. As the mistress of the winds, she has an important function in how society changes, and the wanton and flickering ways of the human mind and desire. Just as the wind can take the form of breeze, storm and tornado, mimicking the stages in our life, it also mirrors the force inherent in a given society that moves between breeze and storm, pleasantness and destruction. Ọya is a warrior spirit, having her origin in the Niger river, and is often depicted as a fierce Amazon. Several songs and prayers to her state that she is to be feared far more than her husbands, Ògún and Ṣàngó, as her ‘cutlass made of wind kills more than any sword’ (see her odù, Ôsá méjì). Ọya is a mysterious force of nature, present when the wind stirs up and presages the thunder. She is the wind that feeds fire and the force that excites passions. An object in rapid movement will generate heat, and thus the movement of Ọya generates heat and fire, resulting in the atmospheric conditions that makes the thunderbolt possible. She is the wind that dresses in fire, because she is what controls, soothes, and excites it. But wind, the aerial element, is a reference to the spiritual domain, as the corporeality of spirits is formed of air. This association tells us that Egúngún, the collective memory of ancestry, is the wind within the earth, and this is why he speaks with a windlike high pitched voice. This is the dance of Ọya in the world. Her praise names are (amongst many): Ọya Orire: ‘She whose beauty is so great we cannot look away’; Ọya Oriri: ‘the charming one’; Aféfé lèlè: ‘Great Wind’; Afèfé ikú: ‘Winds of death.’ She is also Aféfé légé-legé tí í dá’gi l’okè-l’okè: ‘The wind that severs the treetops’ and Ìyáàmí arina bora bí aso: ‘My mother who dresses in fire.’ The wind is the portent of empyrean wisdom. It is here we find the link between ancestral wisdom and what is hidden within the earth as a reflex of
the original celestial wisdom. The stars are always right beneath our feet. This is why we bow our heads to the ground and ask Ônilé for what we need to stay strong and ardent. The one who listens is Egúngún, the ancestral memory, the subterrestrial wind. Wind upon wind, layer upon layer, nine in all, forms the dress worn by Ọya. Ọya cuts the treetops because the trees are our ancestors, and she descends upon the crown of trees as divine inspiration. Her womb is the gateway of wisdom. She is the wisdom that flashes through the sky and ignites immediate understanding. She is the wisdom that makes us humble and, in humility, we fall to the ground. As we lie there with the ancestral winds murmuring beneath our backs, she flashes in the storms above us. She is the wisdom that touches everything with invisible hands and sets minds, hearts and the world aflame with passion. This is why Ṣàngó desperately needs her. He needs the spark of empyrean inspiration to accompany his thunderous presence. She is the wind of death and thus she is divine justice, just as Ôbàtálá is the most ghastly of deaths, ‘the white death,’ because when the sweet breeze turns into a tornado, devastation is as unavoidable as it is when the whiteness of Ôbàtálá scorches the earth with radioactive rays. She is the wisdom of equilibrium resting upon the shoulders of Egúngún. She is the womb that invigorates the earth and wind to speak its wisdom, because the wind carries seeds and pollen everywhere and is the unruly force that can shift fortune from one hand to another, from one nation to another. As one orin says: É é è pà! Ọya o Héè pa ri pà Ọya o Eégún nlá inú aféfé Héè pà rí pa Ọya o Oòsá nlá ò Oòsà tó tóbi A pani ma nágà Tíí t’óko re léyìn o Omo rè lá nse Àwa loloya
Oh Ọya Oh, Magnificent Ọya Oh Great Ancestor spirit who lives in the wind Oh great Ọya The great orisa Òrìṣà of excellence Who kills without moving herself Who supports her husband Support us We are your children, enflame us We are your children
Ọya wa, ti wa léyìn o E e e hèèpà o Heepa!
We cultivate Ọya Oya that is ours, support us E e heepa o!
Ṣàngó: the twain sword of justice Ṣàngó is a spirit associated with thunder. He was the fourth ruler of Ọyọ state; his rule was one of military and structural excellence and his kingdom prospered in woodcarving and wisdom. Under him Ọyọ state became renowned for its excellence in organization and trade as well as in violence and horror. Ṣàngó is red in colour and is related to politics, water, and women. Ọya, the wind that stirs up the passions, chose him as her ideal husband, while she herself is a power resting within the white cloth of Ôbàtálá. As we saw in the case of Ògún and what is implied in Ọya, all red forces that possess sufficient understanding will realise that they need to venerate the whiteness of Ôbàtálá and thus submit their fiery passions to calm and clear mediation and evaluation. While Ògún is supported by the darkness from which he came, in his red force seeking whiteness Ṣàngó does not have this kind of fundamental cosmic support. With Ṣàngó we find a man born in ancestral memory who rises to godhood. It is in Ṣàngó that we find the divine state of humans, as spiritual beings on a journey to retrieve their divinity. Ṣàngó is a perfect example of the human condition, and in particular the nature of politics here in Ayé. Ṣàngó is the lightning, and by this he demonstrates himself as someone who recognises their celestial origin. We are all born from the flashes of light and fire, the red expressions that give life to everything. It is with the flash of lightning that we gain a soul, and from this we develop our personality within the social climate it finds itself. Edwards and Mason say the following about Ṣàngó: Lightning also symbolises his tongue, and it is his tongue which distinguishes the truth and the lie. The tongue enables Ṣàngó to live life on either side of reality; on the side of truth or on the side of the lie. He is an òrìsá of opposites and is represented as honest and dishonest, stingy and generous, kind and ruthless. (1985: 54)
Ṣàngó is a complex force who constantly strives to maintain a balance, which is symbolised by his double-headed axe. The spirit that inspired him was one of wealth, equality, and abundance, but in a world of contradiction the simple can become complicated. This is encoded in the persona of Ṣàngó, who began as a determined, kind and just ruler who, upon perceiving the wealth flocking towards him, also saw the birds of doom and paranoia following in its wake. This led to demonstrations of violent and depraved power towards the end of his rule. Ṣàngó was removed from royal office by the Ìyàmí society. The same society of wise women that had crowned him ordered him to commit suicide, as was the customary verdict passed on any king who was dethroned for ruthlessness. Various myths tell us that he realised the entire condition and purpose of his life as he strolled around the woods, and that he committed suicide in a state of clarity and acceptance. This enabled his transition from human to òrìsá and made it possible for him to undergo the transition in whiteness and peace of mind. I would say that Ṣàngó represents the ideal of human aspiration; he is the good spirit who wants everyone to prosper, as much as he is the lone wanderer seeking abundance for himself. He is the edún àrá, the thunderstone, and is as such the lightning flash of divine inspiration and aspiration taking earthly form. Ṣàngó is ambivalent, but always focused on assuming the crown of destiny. He is the path all humans follow in pursuit of goals, temporal or eternal. He is not the instigator of battle, but the essence of battle. The form of his thunderous manifestation varies. Oramfe seems to be more serene and Janus-like, while both Jakuta and Hevioso seem to be less boastful than the Ọyọ representation of the thunder spirit, Ṣàngó. In Ilé Ifɵ, Oramfe is important in the Odun Ose festival dedicated to Omitutu, the deified spirit of cool water. Central to these rituals is the apparition of Òrìṣà Ito, who manifests as the mudfish. The mudfish inhabits two kingdoms at the same time, both water and land, and thus reveals a secret of Ṣàngó’s nature. The same bimorphic element is found in the nightjar and the okín (flycatcher)used to represent the spirit of thunder. These suggest the importance of anomaly and change in the animal world and are a reference to ritual and political primacy, representing the presence of difference in the natural scheme of things. And here we encounter the complex field of Ṣàngó where mundane politics reflect the order and structure of the perfect cosmic organisation, showing the wicked,
weird and mysterious ways that make up all the inherent possibilities in the divine design. From Ṣàngó we can learn much about the human condition. We see what an excess of fire can do when a self-centeredness is combined with political power. In Ṣàngó we find the lesson of humility and the secrets of divine presence upon earth mediated by the wisdom of ancestry and the spirit of our consciousness. Ṣàngó brings us the message that we can all gift abundance and wonder to the world as we take the crown of our destiny; equally we can bring devastation and dread when we fail to see the shimmering golden glory of our happy harbour. Ṣàngó is a king who ideally dresses in female clothes, not because of his sexuality, but because he knows that woman gave him power, woman can take his power, and that woman sustains his power. He dresses as a woman to give homage to the source of power, because woman is the crown of kingship, and a king who has no support from women is no king. It is a reminder to men to always recognise that they are what they are because of odù, that the wisdom of the world belongs to woman. Ṣàngó teaches us that there will always be consequences impairing our good fortune when we deviate from what is good, true, and just. Ṣàngó represents the fierce warlord obsessed with attack and defence, because the sight of blood feeds his fire, although he will always be in need of good and wise teachers and advisors to tame his natural chaos. This being said, Ṣàngó is an expansive redness and fire, as is imparted in one àseofò (enchantment). It is the fire of determination we need to pursue our goals: Sángírí-lágírì Olàgírí-kàkààkà-kí igba edun bò O jájú mó ní kó to pa ní jé Ò ké kàrà ké kòró S’olórò dí jìnjìnnì Eléyinjú Iná Abá won já má jèbi Iwo ní mo Sá di o That which tears and whips the walls He left the walls torn and placed therein two hundred thunderstones
He who looks at people in dread and inspires fright before punishing them He speaks with his entire body He speaks like someone powerful You should have fear in your heart His eyes are red as burning coals The one who fights people but never sees condemnation Because no fight is made without justice In him I seek my refuge.
ɚṣun: the creative turbulence of a million sweet waters Ôṣun is the archetypical female force; she contains the seed of all possible manifestations. She is saturated in mystery, so rich in essence that we cannot envision the totality of her possibilities. Ôṣun is said to be the first female force that came to Ayé. She arrived on earth with honey, sweetness and the secrets of eroticism. The myths and stories about Ôṣun are numerous, but we find a common theme in her being a free spirit who leaves her oppressors and critics when her freedom of expression is hindered. Her absence always brings devastation of some sort, because she is the mystery of reflection, the owner of dance, and the spirit of beauty. She is the erotic mystery, because it is desire that moves us onward. Ôṣun is the force that turns iron into jewellery and necessity into elegance, because she is the spirit of elegance and seductive gentleness. Òsun is represented by such animals as the quail, the peacock and the crocodile, and such metals as brass, bronze and gold. Òsogbo traditions, which are the origin of her cult, impart that she was a direct manifestation of Olódùmarè, and in relation to this we have countless myths telling of how she conquered every single male power that refused to acknowledge her. Emphasis is still placed on her attributes as the spirit who ensures successful trade, who brings money and wealth and who touches everything with beauty. She is omi tutu, sweet and cold waters. Crocodiles and alligators living in swampy freshwater represent her aspect when her cold waters are heated up. One story, from Ògún state, tells how Ôṣun was the child of Yëmọja; it is an allegory of a deeper mystery, telling how the salty waters of mysterious inspiration gave birth to sweetness and cosmic grace. This story is important
for understanding the vital role that Ôṣun holds in Yorubá cosmology. It tells of how Yëmọja experienced difficulties giving birth to a child because of constant miscarriages. She managed to become pregnant through the wise counsel of Ôrúnmìlà, whose most important advice was to only take baths in cold water and to avoid any form of herb or medicine. The pregnancy was a delicate process, but the child was born, fragile and beautiful. She experienced severe bleeding from the umbilical cord, and Yëmọja became distressed at the possibility of losing yet another child. She immediately called for Ôrúnmìlà, who took her placenta, sixteen cowry shells, sixteen kola nuts, and sixteen bitter kola nuts, and made sacrifice to Ônilé, the owner of the earth. He called for Ògún to help him deliver the sacrifice to the deepest part of the river, where the water was coldest, on the following day. The cowry shells were separated, eight were kept by Ôrúnmìlà and the remaining eight by Yëmọja. The sixteen shells were then given to Ôṣun, who rapidly grew in health and beauty. There are several variations of this myth, but they all provide the same message. Ôrúnmìlà gained a special place in the life of Ôṣun and gave her the gift of reading the cowry shell oracle which led to Ôṣun being seen as the original wife (apetẹbi) of Ifá. With the gift of oracles and natural power to beautify and bring increase through the power of cold and calming waters, she was assigned a unique place in the cosmology. Ògún can be viewed as her godfather, as it was he who took the necessary steps in completing the sacrifice Ôrúnmìlà began, to ensure that her life would be fortunate and blessed. Ôṣun came to Ayé hallowed with strength and wisdom to support her beauty and elegance, and from this female perfection was born. Ôṣun is the cold water that makes our consciousness calm and peaceful, but she is also the passion that lives in our heart, or rather, she is the river that connects the orí with the heart. Ôṣun can be said to represent the planet Venus in its totality. She has a deep relationship with the àjɶ, or witches, but her witching ways are very different from the cataclysmic and chaotic energies usually associated with them. Ôṣun and àjɶ do however meet in the concept of abundance (as related to passion). She, however, is a Venus thriving in beauty under the Sun, whereas the àjɶ are Venusian powers who derive their power from the Moon. Ôṣun is manifested in Ôṣɶ méjì, which is related to victory brought about by possessing wisdom and intuition, which is seen as a formula for abundance. Ôṣɶ méjì tells us that Ôṣun learned the secrets of abundance from Ôbàtálá,
specifically, that she learned how to activate her potency for generating abundance and increase through his aid. The verse tells us that she achieved this by using her àṣẹ of funké, the power of attraction, which often has an erotic connotation. We need to understand that the erotic is about the sympathy between two forces which leads to the desire to merge. With Ôṣun and Ôbàtálá, we see a field of desire generated by omi tutu, or cold waters seeking a calm disposition and joyous consciousness, which gives birth to elegance and creativity. Ôṣun is the alchemical sulphur, the force that ignites. She ignites sexual passion and dramatic creativity, as much as she is the force that leads to increase and abundance. Ôṣun is powerful, although her power is particularly related to the fragile elements of creation. Beauty and elegance are at times debased and obscured by rudeness and bad character. One story from odiwori tells of a time when the people of the earth became upset with their queen, Ôṣun, because of their greed and self-centeredness. They already had plenty, but wanted more, and Ôṣun’s response was to leave her people and withhold the rain, the element which she commands. With their queen absent and drought causing hardship, they began to make sacrifices and placate her in order to persuade her to return, but Ôṣun responded by stating that she would not return, but that they could use cold water and the plant known as ɚdúndún to solve their problems. They did as she advised, and abundance returned with the rains, but Ôṣun never came back to them. Ôṣun is the principle that inspires artists and lovers, a force that wants our greatness to multiply for the benefit of ourselves and others. This same power can be reduced and limited, become objectified and wanton. When this happens Ôṣun is no longer present, because she is the abundance of calm and soothing waters, as shown in the following oríkì: Ôṣun siginsi Omi o sírí Omi gbegbe lulu Omi a wowo má dà Ôṣun, omi a sàn rere wolé òdàlè Omi yà Omi yù Onímàle odò
Oládé-kolù Ôṣun gbinnIkúngbinnIkún Lo la ilè délé aláfojúdi Olówò jàràrà wokùn O san rere wolé òdàlè Kare o! A fi ìlù gba àṣẹ Àgbàjà obìnrin A bímo màá bi olé Ore Yèyé o Ôṣun from Ìjèsà, owner of the beaded comb The waters do not flow backwards The plentiful river teaches that it is always abundant Like the waters of the earth Waters that flow without overflowing Ôṣun, the water that flows and invades the house of the traitors May the waters go there May the waters go everywhere Ôṣun, spirit of the waters Abundance flows through your spirit Ôṣun, with your great power Open the roads unto the house of the irreverent ones Water that runs all the way to the Ocean Currents of water that flow even to the house of The traitor Reverence to you, glorious mother, Ôṣun You who receive offerings to the beating of the drum Woman who protects her own Children of Ôṣun are not lazy Oh, glorious mother Ôṣun
ɚsányìn: the starry lord of woods and groves Ôsányìn is known as the doctor of the òrìṣàs, a healer who possesses the
knowledge of herbs, shrubs and trees. He is considered the brother of Ôrúnmìlà, and his own origin is equally mysterious. Ifá tells us that Ôsányìn fell from Ôrun and sank into the ground in a city called Irawo. Irawo means ‘star,’ and thus the deeper meaning of his fall is that he as a star became the first impulse of all life forms in the vegetable kingdom. As Ôsányìn was a star, so too is every plant a star growing out of the earth. His name is composed of sán, ‘increase of health,’ and yìn, ‘to boil or manufacture something with the aid of fire.’ It is further related to Ôsá méjì, in reference to one of his praise names, which describes him as ‘He who sets fire to the birds’ which, as we shall see, carries significant mystical currents. Ôsányìn is the root that brings forth plants and by virtue of this he is intimately related to the birds that rest in the crowns of the trees. These birds are associated with àjɶ. Ôsányìn uses the essence of birds, in particular their heads, in the same way as he uses herbs. He is represented by the opa Ôsányìn, which is a staff forged from iron, bearing a disk and a bird, or a collection of birds. The staff is usually planted in the ground and is turned into Ôsányìn through secret rituals. Ôsányìn lives in the deepest parts of the forest, his isolation only broken by the íwín, fairy-like spirits associated with the trees and clairvoyance, and two dog-headed helpers, Ààjà and Àrònì, who serve both as messengers and as the abductors of children chosen to learn the secrets of Ôsányìn. In some stories he is represented as a humble sage-like spirit, as befits a younger brother of Ôrúnmìlà; whilst, conversely, in others he is presented as the embodiment of selfishness and arrogance. He is said to have a great fondness for gin and tobacco and is at times used as an example of the misfortune arising from the abuse of intoxicants. He is found in several odùs, but Òtúrúpɚn méjì is particularly important in regard to him. The message in this odú concerns illness, inoculation and healing. Abundance is often brought about through enduring hardship, because hard work is needed to foster appreciation. When we work hard to achieve something, the human tendency is to grasp onto the result and become selfish over our prize. Ôsányìn did exactly this. One story speaks of how he obtained the knowledge of all herbs and medicines through years of hard work as a servant and gardener, and retired to the woods, isolating himself with his prize, and refusing to share it. Time passed, and the world had need of his wisdom, but he had no time for the world, so Ọya, the spirit of the wind, came and shook the secrets of the leaves and medicines from his hands, scattering them
all over the world. The wise spirit Ôsányìn was humbled through the intervention of Ọya. Another story relates how Ôsányìn was visited by Èṣù for the same purpose. Again he refused to share his wisdom, resulting in the loss of a leg, an arm, an eye and his voice. After this encounter with the Lord of Crossroads, his secrets were taken from him, and he could only speak through birds. Ôsányìn is the archetypical master of wisdom and knowledge who falls prey to selfishness and misanthropy. In his case, his sacrifice would be rúbo, a change of attitude and ‘active doing.’ He was tempered and forced by fate to examine his orí and correct himself so that he could bring forth an ìwà rere, a happy disposition, and be gifted with the spirit of sharing. Selfishness is an illness, and its remedy is generosity. We do not own our discoveries in the world; everything we discover belongs to us all as humans, divine beings venturing through our incarnations. Other stories tell the exact opposite, and show Ôsányìn as a generous spirit who willingly divided the greenwood between spirits and humans in proportion to their need, and revealed the secret resonances between geographical locations and the mysteries of the woods. Ôsányìn is a concealed mystery, and his cult holds the secrets of enchantment and sorcery. To some extent there is a tension to be found between Ôsányìn and Ôrúnmìlà, similar to that between a sorcerer and a sage. Ôsányìn resorts to magical and sorcerous means in nature, whilst Ôrúnmìlà uses ẹbọ and oracles to comprehend the situation and generate solutions. Essentially, we are speaking of two different forms of àṣẹ which both possess the capacity to change a bad fate into a good one. Herbs are of paramount importance in Ifá, hence the proverb: ‘without herbs we could do nothing, without herbs we would not have òrìṣà.’ People well versed in the lore of plants and their use are usually onìsegún or oloògùn. These terms apply both to the practice itself and to the person with this particular knowledge. Also, babaláwos are generally very knowledgeable about the properties of herbs, as well as the various ofo (words of power or incantations), èpè (curses), and àpè (prayers). In regard to èpè and àpè, Buckley comments perceptively that both ways of charging a medicine are related to speaking truth (òótò), not in terms of stating facts, but in the sense that one’s words have a positive or negative impact on the world and on one’s environment (Buckley 1997:141). With herbs one can cure or cause illness.
Ôsányìn is the spiritual force at the root of this mystery and this reveals his ambivalence. Ifá herbs are separated into elements and genders, as well as nocturnal or diurnal, calmative (ero) or stimulant (gún). We have herbs of air (ewé afeefe), of fire (ewé inon), of water (ewé omí) of earth and of wood (ewé igbó). From these basic properties are generated medicines, healing baths (omi ero), spiritual essences and magical proscriptions, in secret ways with the aid of the power of the birds. There is a story which tells of how Òrúnmìlá bought Ôsányìn as a slave to help him on his farm. On his way to the farm, Ôsányìn was drawn to the woods where he met an ugly looking dwarf by the name of Àrònì. Àrònì was a spirit of the woods who entrusted knowledge of herbs to Ôsányìn and offered him his friendship (Prandi 2001:152). This ìtán suggests that this spirit was imported into the cult of Ifá. Mason (1985: 94) says that: ‘Ọyọ benefited from the transSaharan trade during the period of the Songhal ascendancy (in the 1500s), which at its height held both Nupe (Tápà) and Borgu (Ibàribá) in its sway.’ This is interesting to note, since some of the oríkìs to Ôsányìn are pronounced in a secret language, which is similar to tápà dialect. This is also the case in Cuba, where they even refer to Ôsányìn as mandingo or mande speaking. This suggests that Ôrúnmìlà’s role as a pact maker is important. Òrúnmìlá goes to the dwelling of the witches to make a pact with them, and he buys Ôsányìn as a slave who ends up being his student. In Yorùbáland the consensus seem to be that Ôsányìn is from the city of Ìràwò which is close to the border of present day Benin. The word ìràwò, as previously mentioned, means ‘star,’ so it could additionally be that the story imparts the tradition that he fell from the stars to earth. This would harmonize with his epitaph of àrè, ‘a stranger.’ Mason points out that Ôsányìn was not one of the sixteen companions of Odùduwà when they came to Ifè. His outlandishness is further represented by his habitation, the dense woods where he is accompanied by strange creatures, converses with plants and is in communion with the spirits of trees. His helpers are Àrònì, a disfigured gnome with the head and tail of a dog, and Ààjà, his female counterpart. These two beings are reputed to abduct children, taking them into the forest and challenging them. If they prove to be fearless, they are instructed in the lore of herbs and medicines and then sent back to their communities when their training is finished. Other òrìṣàs close to Ôsányìn are Ògún, the god of Iron, Ôsɳɚṣì, the god of the hunt, and Erinlè, a spirit who is considered to be Ôbàtálá’s physician and who is also connected
to silent rivers and more mysterious forces of the woods. These three spirits use the woods by virtue of receiving tutoring from the owner of the woods, and since this is Ôsányìn, they must maintain a deep relationship and bond with him in order to use his kingdom. Ôsányìn has strong ties with Ṣàngó, to whom he gave support in his warfare, both by making magic, compounding cures and by healing. Ôsányìn is a very complex figure, both in origin and function. Mason says that he: ‘embodies the idea of coming to grips with the evil side of existence … He is the balanced mind flying up and soaring over all adversity. He possesses the mind and is ever on guard against man’s inhumanity to man.’ (ibid. 98) The priests of Ôsányìn are usually referred to as Ol Ôsányìn, literally meaning ‘owner of the spirit of the forest.’ Ôsányìn is one of the most important spirits of Ifá, little can be done outside the realm of this spirit. The following salutation to him emphasises this, as well as his outlandish nature: Ìbà O! Ìbà Olódùnmarè Oba até rere k’Ayé! Ibá Olójó òní Ìbà Èṣù Láàlu Okiri òkò Èṣù ìwoni ìlera àbò igbega, ire, oro bem l’ówó ré, jòwó ki o wa fún mi ni nkan wonyi! Ìbà Ôrúnmìlà Bara Àgbonmìrègún Ìbà Ìyáàmi Òsòròngá Ìbà Bàbá Ôsányìn Ìbá Oní ewé Agbénígi òròmú adie abìdi sónsó Esinsin abèdò kíníkíní Kòògo egbòrò irín Aképè nígbà òrò kò sunwòn Tíotío tin, ó gbá aso òkùnrùn ta gìègìè Elésèkan ju elésèMéjì lo Aro abi-okó lièliè Ewé gbogbo kíkí òògún Ewé ò! Ewé ò! Ewé ò! Àgbénigi èsìsì kosùn Agogo ´nla se erpe agbára
Ógbà wón là tán, wón dúpé téniténi Àrònì já si kòtò óògún máyà Elésè kan ti ó lé elésèMéjì sare Ewé gbogbo kìkì òògún Ewé a jé òògún a jé fun mi Loni emi fé ire ré Ôsányìn jòwó fún mi nire Fún mi ni olá Wa wo mi san Ki o sí fún mi ni àbò, oro àtí àlàáfíà A dupe Alagbo Àṣẹ ti Olódúnmarè Olódùnmaré Àṣẹ Salutations! Salutations to Olódùnmarè, the King who spreads out over the entire universe! Salutations to the owner of the day! Salutations to Èṣù, owner of the city and its gates! Èṣù, you who are the owner of health, protection, advancement, good will and prosperity, I ask respectfully that you give me all of these! I give salutations to Ôrúnmìlà, coconut of great wisdom I salute the Mother of the Birds of Night Salutations to Ôsányìn, my Father Salutations to the custodian of leaves He who lives amongst the trees, The crawling one who dresses in spikes and thorns The fly that has a very small liver He who is as strong as a tree made of iron He who we call upon when things are not going well Slender one whom when he dons the cloak of illness moves as if he were falling He who has one leg, but yet is more powerful than those who have two Weak one who owns a weak penis All leaves that possess humidity can be used for medicine
Oh leaves! Oh leaves! Oh leaves! Àgbénigi, divine one who dresses in straw Great bell of iron who powerfully resounds He to whom everyone gives unconditional thanks after he has humiliated all diseases Àrònì who jumps into the well with amulets tied around his chest Man with one leg that causes those with two legs to run For you every leaf is medicine The leaves will work well for me Today I am seeking your good will Give me the honour And heal me Give to me your protection, give me prosperity and peace I pay tribute to the owner of medicine So let it be Olódùnmarè Olódùnmarè let it be so
ọbalúwayË: king of the world, owner of pestilence Ọbalúwayé is honoured as the owner of the world, he is the force responsible for the beginnings of decay and our return home to Ôrun as our body inevitably returns to his element, earth. He was one of the spiritual forces that came to Ayé with the task of creating stability, hence he is referred to as èbora, ‘a force of stability.’ In order to effectuate this task he brought sickness and disease. Obalúayé is the fleshy earth that covers the bones of Egúngún, which were erected as a compass crossroads at the core of the earth. He is the king of the world. When we come to earth it is because he permits our arrival, and it is because of him we merge with the earth when we depart. Ọbalúwayé is the life cycle itself. He is the fever that announces illness, hence he is praised as ‘the scorching heat at midday’ and the ‘boiling waters of earth’ and is associated with every disease borne by hot winds or stinging insects, especially the mosquitoes and ants that are his messengers. He is represented by palm trees draped in palm fronds, màrìwò, in honour of his great age. He is a very red and hot force who rules the bloodstream in particular, whereas Ôṣun is the owner of any fluid that flows in the body. We can understand him to be
the guardian of Ayé. Whenever the inhabitants of the earth become too abusive, or their character degenerates, catastrophes and epidemics often arise as a consequence. Ọbalúwayé is the spiritual force that controls and ensures the stability of the earth herself and is as such, seen by some as the power of retribution encoded in the earth and manifesting when she is ‘heated’ by abuse. Edwards and Mason summarise Ọbalúwayé in the following way: He was a bohemian who ran the gauntlet of experience, was afflicted, but found glory in the end. In his youth he was a dancer who was fond of drumming and music. He was said to be a womaniser, who over-indulged in the vices of men. He lives in the deep, cool forest with Ôsányìn and he has a close relationship with his brother Ṣàngó, Èṣù and Òrisà Oko. (1985: 72) Òrìṣà Oko serves as a contrast to Ọbalúwayé. Each has a strong relationship with illness and the office of judge, and both exemplify the virtues of the latter. They are related to winds, but whilst Ọbalúwayé is the hot and scorching midday wind, Òrìṣà Oko is the wind of night; and no one knows what that brings. They both have a connection with stinging insects, but Òrìṣà Oko is the owner of bees, whereas mosquitoes are favoured by Ọbalúwayé. To Ọbalúwayé belong all kinds of grains and seeds, and above all sesame seeds which are considered to have a relationship with smallpox. Peanuts too are sacred to him. His colours are red and violet, which mimic the fever and strangulation caused by the illnesses that control the balance of the population of the earth. His shrines are commonly found outside the compounds, near to the forest, and his rituals are serene and filled with awe. In general he is not spoken about often, in order to not agitate him, although he is praised as a great physician, because he knows the secrets of diseases and their remedies. It is advisable not to use his true name, Sòponnà, which might serve as an enchantment to bring about his presence, hence he is commonly praised as Ọbalúwayé, the king of Earth. His healing powers are often said to be available through working with Nana Bulukû, who is regarded as his mother. She lives alone in the woods, where she oversees all the freshwater springs in the world. She is represented by the African bowstring hemp (Sansevieria) and bamboo shots which symbolise an ancestral connection through spirit, the earth mound mimicking a termite hill.
She shares this with Ọbalúwayé, and they both have a preference for being covered in palm fronds. Bamboo is the plant that manifested her on the earth. This is quite proper, as it keeps the earth stable, preventing erosion and is benevolent to the wider ecology. Bamboo is a tree which manifests in Ôṣɶ méjì, and is associated with Ôṣun and Ọya. Ôṣun is seen as the water that fills the bamboo, whilst Ọya is the wind that moves its leaves, indicating their presence; which is felt as a sense of fragility, abundance and strength. Some traditions tell that Nana Bulukû is the celestial wife of Ôbàtálá, Yemòwó, who manifests in the 28 stations of the moon, and is the owner of its light. It was Ọbalúwayé who first escorted her to the earth. She is said to walk with the spirits of fire, and in several of her songs she is hailed as both a poisoner and a perfect midwife. We find here, in the powers of Ọbalúwayé, the presence of fire and heat in need of being tempered by the cold water of Nana Bulukû. Just as we find pestilence being balanced by healing, and the starry spaces beyond the moon being mirrored by the earth. This represents the totality of a cycle that plays itself out in calm and agitation, by day as much as by night. Ọbalúwayé contains all of this, which is why one adura (prayer) says the following: Adura ôbalúwayé Òrìṣà jingbinni Òrìṣà tii mu omo ati iya Bi o ba um nwon tan O tun le pada wa um baba Òrìṣà bi aje O mo ilé Oso, O mo ilé àjɶ O gba oso loju Oso ku finrinfinrin O so aje lerukale Òrìṣà jingbinni A momo ohun O pomoolomo ku finrinfinrin O foju omoolomo gbedoro Jowo ma se mi
Òrìṣà of the blistering wounds Òrìṣà who can bring sickness to the child and to the mother When he brings us sickness He might return and bring sickness to the father as well Òrìṣà who is like a sorcerer Who knows the house of the sorcerer, who knows the house of the witches He beat the face of the sorcerer The sorcerer died without moving The power of evil was taken away from the sorceress Òrìṣà of the blistering wounds Takes away things with measured conscience Killed the child of the other without moving Used the face of the child of the other to nail down the pain Please, do not harm us
OLÓKUN AND YĝMôJA: THE RADICAL WISDOM FROM THE SALTY WATERS Yëmọja is a spiritual force known in the New World as the spirit of the ocean and is the patron òrìṣà of Brazil and Cuba. She is associated with mermaids, sailors and fishermen and is considered to be the mother of the bloodstreams of the earth, namely the great salty waters that can be seen as preserving the mysteries of gestation in the womb. All marine life is sacred to her, as are birds that live at the ocean shore and thrive in water. Legend says that she was born in the land of Takua where the mighty Ògún river begins and that she wed Ògún after her marriage to Okefè (better known as Òòṣàoko, an alternative name for Òrìṣà Oko) ended. Yëmọja is the patron of the secret society known as Gëlëdë, which is said to have originated in the land of Ketu, but which is attested to in both Benin and Yorùbáland. The Gëlëdë society originated when a daughter of the Yëmọja, following several miscarriages, found ways of placating the spirit of the river with wooden dolls and spectacles. These enabled the mothers, the owners of the powers of àjɶ, to be appeased, and released benevolent rays of the powers of ìrókò and Egúngún to support Yëmọja’s àṣẹ bringing blessings to pregnancies and opening the roads to wealth. Drewal & Drewal say of Gëlëdë:
The etymology of the word Gëlëdë reveals its central concern and its ultimate significance. Gè means ‘to soothe, to placate, to pet or coddle’; èlè refers to a woman’s private parts, those that symbolize women’s secrets and their lifegiving powers; and dé connotes ‘to soften with care or gentleness.’ Together these ideas convey the significance of Gëlëdë, performances carefully conceived and executed to pay homage to women so that the community may partake of their innate power for its benefit. (1983: xv) A story in Ògúndá méjì tells of how a manifestation of Yëmọja with the name Mojelewo, ‘she who owns the long breasts, she who owns the forest,’ married Okeré, ‘he with the bloodshot eyes,’ in preference to Ògún. He desperately wanted to marry her. She was truly looking for a good man and granted his proposal on the condition that he would never see her long breasts. He agreed, and they lived together happily and had several children, until one day Okeré came home early with a smile, as his wife had washed all their clothes and was without anything to cover her breasts. Mojelewo became enraged and ran away from him. When she fled, she fell into the Ògún river and was transformed into Ofiki, which is the name of this part of the delta, because she was flowing towards the ocean to be owned by no one, and everyone. Ìrẹtɵ méjì tells of the consequences of this plunge into the river. She sank to its deepest depths, and indeed, if you see the Ògún river it looks like a vast dark ocean that you cannot see the other side of. It was here that Mojelewo fell and realized the mysteries of àjɶ. When she came to Olókun, the owner of the oceans, he told her that he had never seen such magnificent powers. She had managed to balance the red powers of witchcraft with the white powers of the irúnmòle. It was her accomplishment ‘to wash white rusty iron with the blood of sheep and snakes.’ Olókun recognized her arrival as the fulfillment of his destiny. His awo had told him that he would encounter a spouse who would make his life sweeter than honey. Like Yëmọja, Olókun is a complex spiritual force, the owner of all salty waters and wealth, as it says in this song for him, collected by John Mason (1996): Olóòkûn lokún gbéra nilè Strong owner of stone beads rise out of the o earth
Osìn erùpè gbéra lè Chief of the soil rise out of the earth Omo omi Olóòkûn da owó Children of water, Olókun creates money Yèyé i dáàna Omo Mother(Olókun) gives children as presents The concept of Olókun is one of boundless mystery, for he came to earth manifesting enigma itself as revealed in foresight and prophetic predictions. He is a funfun force, meaning one of the original spiritual forces that came to Ayé. He was assigned the mission of overseeing and protecting everything below the consciousness of all living things. We find several stories in which Olókun challenges Olódùmarè and Ôrúnmìlà in terms of supremacy and wisdom because his domain is the greater part of Ayé after all, and his wisdom penetrates such depths that only he knows its mysteries and secrets. Because of this, Olókun is at times depicted as male and other times as female; he is, however, a male force and his bipolar expression is simply an expression of his mystery. Yëmọja is the archetypical witch, a force associated with the moon, with silver, lead, tin and with all that is white and transparent. This is mediated with green and blue (colours which are seen as shades of black in a Yorùbá context), and associated with her original essence, which in turn relates to the greenwood and space, whether liquid or aerial. Thus her shrines are located either at the entrance of the woods or on the ocean shore. Yëmọja connects with Ògún in her love for pine, and with the ocean in her love for corals and pearls. She is the crown of Òsùmàrè when the rainbow appears, as the rain is another of her manifestations. Yëmọja is the ‘mother of sea creatures’ and is as such the mother of us all, in remembrance of the time when we made the transition from waters to dry land. Yëmọja guards the cypress and mangroves that seal this mystery as the ocean merges with the forest. She is the movement of the waves meeting land. She is a paradox which we constantly witness. The ocean represents memory and beginnings and it is in this way that Yëmọja became the queen of the oceans. She is associated with the womb that is always fertile, because her own womb resembles the ocean. She is both the continuation of what exists and the àṣẹ of new, alien and changing forms, being the spirit that oversees cultural adaption. Her prominence in the New World testifies to this, demonstrating her ability to span water and land; just as man is
a composite of water and earth. Yëmọja is truly the mother of all òrìṣà. She is depicted in the Diaspora as a siren dressed in white, rising from the oceans with seven stars and a crescent moon adorning her head. These associations run deep, to the mysterious realms of Olókun. Olókun is the owner of the ocean, and of waters in general. He is the mystery of riches as much as he demonstrates that richness is a mystery. Because of his wealth, he grew arrogant and full of hubris. Olókun is a demonstration of grandeur that reminds us that wealth and abundance without wisdom will only drag us into mysterious depths. Yëmọja and Olókun are powers tied to offspring and are considered to be extremely aggressive patrons of their children. Olókun, as owner of the ocean, owns all the creatures within it. Yëmọja, being the ocean mirror itself, manifests as a shark, hurricane, maelstrom or siren, a dolphin, whale or a toad or frog. Yëmọja uses everything in Olókun’s kingdom in conformity with her powers, her works aiming towards multiplication, growth, abundance and protection. Both she and Olókun are fierce protectors and warriors on behalf of their children, who are not only marine life, but everyone possessed of a deep consciousness. As one prayer in reverence of Yëmọja says: Ìbà Ìyá Yẹmọja mo juba o! Yẹmọja ooo! Wa gbo ẹbọ mi Ìwo ti nfún eniti nwa omo ni omo Jòwó mo pe o, fún mi ni omo So mi di oloro Yemoja, yéyé àwon eja, fi abo re bo mi Ki ikú àti àrùn má wo’lé to mi wa Ìyá mi jòwó so ekun mi dayo Àṣẹ to Olódùmarè Àṣẹ Olódùmarè Salutations to Yẹmọja Oh Yẹmọja Listen to my lament You who give children to whoever wants children Please, give me children
Make me prosperous Yẹmọja, mother of fish, I crave your protection So that death and disease don’t enter my house My mother, please, turn my tears and suffering into joy! So let it be Olódùmarè Olódùmarè let it be so
egúngún: the bones we are Egúngún is the collective memory of ancestry. It is often confused with egún, the notion of a specific ancestor. When we speak of more than one ancestor we can say that we are talking about Egúngún, because this force is the sum of ancestral knowledge. Egúngún are ará ɚrun, dwellers on the other side, whose task is to ensure the straight alignment of the crossroads of the worlds. It is a stabilizing force that can also manifest in earthquakes and eruptions as a sign that the stability they uphold is in disorder. We can appeal to these forces for understanding and appeasement, because we are the living continuation of ancestry. Egùngùn is the link between Ayé and Ôrun and reminds us of our dual nature as divine beings on a human journey. Ancestral memory is the red thread that makes this journey understandable. Egúngún makes straight our connection to Ôrun as we walk the earth. Egúngún is related to ikú (death), because death is a divine blessing: it reminds us that life is temporary and that we are on our way back to the eternal. We shed tears of loss because we feel the separation. The experience of losing someone is the same as to yearn for the eternal. Ikú teaches us that the world is a marketplace, an adventure and a journey through joy and experience in which we eat both bitter leaves and honey. They serve as a reminder of the cosmic design until he finally takes us home. Egúngún teaches that we are all unique and that no one destiny is identical to another. This should make us savour life on earth, celebrating our similarities and differences. However, experience shows that this is not always the case! This truth is evident in the songs, prayers, and reverential declarations offered to Egúngún, which are linked to the deeds and misdeeds of a given family and its memory as a family acting in a community and in the wider world. Work with Egúngún is always oriented towards an understanding of who you are
within the greater web of events. Egúngún is the structure of your memory. It is the three nails within your soul that spark into self knowledge. Egúngún celebrations in Yorùbáland take the form of a masquerade. The egúngún priests dress up in multicolored costumes, carefully covering every inch of skin, and commonly wearing a carved wooden headdress, often alien and grotesque in form. The masquerade is a play between the costumed priests and the celebrants, in which the egúngún chase people around and try to beat them with their atori sticks. It is crucial not to get beaten by the egúngún because this will bring the attention of death upon you, at the very least some difficulties will arise from being touched by a random egúngún. It reminds the participants that death is always present, and can strike the one who deserves it as well as a righteous person who is simply in the wrong place. It makes us aware of this on a personal level as much as it calls our attention to the complexity of community. In the egúngún masquerade, ancestry touches ancestry. When this happens we encounter sympathy as much as antipathy, which can bring generations of antipathy into sympathy as well as provoking the opposite. The egúngún masquerade mimics the dance of life in a graceful mockery of our existence on earth, because the alien headdresses that speak of everything nocturnal and foreign that is not of this world serve to remind us of where we came from: the realm of mystery. Egúngún represents the mystery we constantly exist within, the meeting of friends, foes, and challengers and the way in which this always culminates in a dance of understanding that makes these relationships straight and understandable. With the left foot we give resistance and with the right acceptance, and in this way we dance through the world, taking three steps back or two ahead. It is through the dance of ancestry that we can understand where we are coming from and thus gain wisdom about ‘who we are,’ as in the following prayer taken from Awo Fa'lokun’s Family Spirit (2006): Oríkì Egún Ilè mo pè ó o. Egúngún, mo pè o o. Egúngún, mo pè o o. Egúngún, mo pè o. Eti were ni ti èkuúté ilé o. Asùnmáparadà ni tigi àjà o. Àgó kìí gbó ekun omo re kò máà tati were. Àwa omo re ni a pé o; a wá láti se oún re.
Máà jé kí a pa odún je; máà jé kí odún ó pa àwa náà je. Olódún kìí pa odún esin run. Egúngún kìí pa odún esin run. Máà jé kí a rí ikú omom máà jé ki a rí ikú obinrin. Máà jé kí a rí ìjà ìgbóná. Lilé ni kí a máà lé si, máà jé kí a pèdín. Ase. Earth I call on you. Ancestor, I call on you. Ancestor, I call on you. Ancestor, I call on you. House rats are very alert. Rafters never change their position. Rat does not disregard the cry of its young ones. We, your children, gather here for your annual ceremony. Do not let us die during the year. Those who give the annual offerings do not willingly abolish the practice. The society of mediums does not abolish its annual practice. Prevent the death of children and wives. Save us from disease. Let us multiply and increase. May it be so.
Ëṣù: sweet magma that moves the crossroads of the world Èṣù holds a unique position in the cosmology of Ifá. He is the divine messenger and the force that answers our prayers and makes our sacrifices effective. Èṣù is said to be a trickster, but this requires some qualification; he is merely the power of choice represented by the crossroads. He is the choice at each corner of the crossroads that initiates the decision that takes place at its centre. Èṣù was translated as ‘devil’ in the first English-Yorubá dictionary, which is interesting, as the devil in European witchcraft traditions is associated with chance, luck and choice, a power close to God, but with an appetite for and interest in human affairs. There is resonance between the two figures, but the devil as the author of evil is a meaningless attribute to apply to Èṣù. He is said to be the youngest of the spiritual forces that came to earth in the sense that he arrived last. When he got here all the other òrìṣàs had taken their powers and Èṣù accepted what was left over as that which he was meant to have: the àṣẹ of the vital force of Olódùmarè, which he became the custodian of. In other words, Èṣù was gifted with being the active extension of the godhead. He was given a magical staff that enabled him to traverse space and
time at great speed, like Hermes. As the custodian of the vital force, he was given the office of the taskmaster of the òrìṣàs, as well as being their messenger. Èṣù is represented by his magical staff, medicine gourds and clubs. He is the erect phallus symbolizing the fiery lava at the centre of the earth. This gives birth to the volcanic laterite rocks which are the prime manifestation of Èṣù, as are any black rocks that give the appearance of growing out of the earth. Èṣù might have been the last to arrive to earth, but he was originally the leader of the spiritual forces and was the power that brought light out of darkness. In this regard, a tale relates how he regained his original àṣẹ and was recognized as the governor of Olódùmarè’s powers, and thus became the acknowledged leader of all òrìṣàs. Ôrúnmìlà challenged Èṣù, calling him a liar and saying that it was impossible that he, who was the youngest of them all, could be the leader of the òrìṣàs. Èṣù summoned all the other òrìṣàs to the house of Olódùmarè, where Olódùmarè said that they should accept Èṣù as their leader, but they refused to accept him unless he demonstrated that he could be victorious over them in battle. Èṣù accepted the challenge, and took the òrìṣàs to the crossroads where heaven and earth met and asked whoever wanted to fight him to step up. The first to challenge him was Ògún, but Èṣù cunningly managed to throw him to the ground. Ògún went to earth in shame and defeat, where he established a cult in his honour. Ṣàngó stepped up next, but Èṣù outsmarted him too, and threw him to the ground. Ṣàngó left for earth in resentment, and established his cult. Then Ọya stepped up, but he defeated her, just as he had Ògún and Ṣàngó. The same went for the other òrìṣàs who came forward. When he had defeated all the challengers, he went back to Olódùmarè and said, ‘I have proven myself, I have proved that I am the leader of òrìṣàs.’ Olódùmarè invested him with the àṣẹ of authority and respect, and additionally gave him the àṣẹ that would destroy the àṣẹ of any òrìṣà who didn’t give him his respect. The name Èṣù is subject to several interpretations, but one of the most widely repeated is ‘he who gathers everything together,’ and it is in this capacity that he is known as ‘he who challenges man, again and again.’ Èṣù is the fierce one who pulls and pushes us to pursue our destiny, and he is the whip across our back that drives us forward on the path of fate when we make choices contrary to our wellbeing. He is the force we unleash by our lack of good judgment and wise choices. He has many praise names and is known as
‘the one who owns many names,’ ‘the owner of the road,’ ‘the one who parts the road,’ and a multitude of others. These reflect his enormous dynamic, which ranges from his feminine and benevolent aspect to the club bearing man with an erect phallus who hands out whips to a fighting crowd just to teach them painful lessons. Ifá teaches us that the principle and idea of light is what makes the manifest world possible. The shades of light with their frequencies are encoded in the first sixteen odù pairs, or méjìs, but Ifá tells us that a seventeenth principle comes into play in releasing their potencies. We can call this the +1 to the 16 méjìs. This is represented by a combination odù known as Ôṣɶtúrá, which brings Èṣù into manifestation, while he is gestated in Òfúnwónrín, another combination odù. In this discussion of mixture and fusion, we begin to realize the complexity of Èṣù. The odu Òfúnwónrín details the consequences of this mystery, in which Èṣù transforms the source of light and generates possibilities. When Èṣù mediates the powers of Òfún he causes diversity to occur. This diversity takes shape in opinions, people and situations. A plethora of opportunities and choice open before us. This is considered a good thing, though it may appear bitter or bad to us. The bitterness of light is our perception of its manifestation, not necessary a cosmic truth. Ôwɳnrín is the power of radical change and transformation, a force that turns night into day and manifests the inexplicable. Èṣù is a concentration of different powers, but it is within this energetic family that he claims the power of transformation. Òfúnwónrín holds the secret of how to enable ourselves to walk the world gracefully and with dignity. This is caused by both accepting the state of the world and taking steps towards positive change. It is about how we approach the marvellous diversity of manifestation, whether with resistance or with interest. At every corner, threshold, door and crossroads we encounter Èṣù as the custodian of the vital force that creates movement, change and choice in the world. The combination of these forces, Òfún and Ôwɳnrín, indicates that the powers that gestated Èṣù were concerned with how the source of light would generate radical change, while the odù that manifested him on earth, Òsétúrá, speaks of maintaining a clear vision in the fragile web of the world. One story in Ôṣɶtúrá tells of how Èṣù was originally a female foetus, as we all are when we take shape in the womb, but that the spiritual forces found it necessary that he should be born a male. He was born to Ôṣun, who was the
17th ìrúnmọlẹ to come to earth, and the only female force amongst them. We shall look at the mysteries of Èṣù more closely throughout this text, and in particular in the very last chapter, but for now it is important to emphasise his enigmatic nature. It is also necessary to look more closely at his relationship with Ôrúnmìlà in order to fully understand his essence, so for now he will be summarized in the form given by the following prayer: Adura Èṣù Laalu, Èṣù o! Èṣù Odara Omokunrin idolofin Ebita Okunrin Asiwaju Orisa A ba ni wa ija Bi a o rida Ma pa okuta si ilé àṣẹ mi o Laalu tare wa Tare sasa owo Tare sasa àṣẹ nla nla Iku, arun, ofo ki o Ma je tiwa o Èṣù alaketu Ara Ketu Àṣẹ mi dowo re o
Owner of the city and its gates, Èṣù Èṣù, renowned one The one who does as he sees fit Son of the king of the city of Ofin Enigmatic one Leader of the òrìsàs He who looks for strife and fight Whether people want it or not Do not tear down the house of my power Oh, the one of great renown, bring good things Bring plenty of money Bring plenty of power So that death, sickness and loss Are not to be found amongst us Èṣù, king of Ketu Great citizen of Ketu My power is in your hands
our mysterious world Our world, Ayé, is endowed with an indwelling spirit just as everything in existence possesses a spirit and a consciousness. Ifá is a philosophy of consciousness and character that contains the wisdom and knowledge of all the shards or elements of consciousness that are spread throughout the visible and
invisible world. In order to make the philosophy of Ifá more intelligible to Western readers, we can refer to the consideration of the consciousness of spirits and plants in the works of Paracelsus, or read Giordano Bruno’s speculations concerning the energetic bonds between different forms of consciousnesses and his lengthy discourse concerning how images are endowed with the consciousness of light, which gives them form and direction. We might also see a tendency towards pantheism in Ifá, reminiscent of Spinoza. In relation to his pantheism, Spinoza introduced concepts such as ‘thinking substance’ and ‘extended substance,’ which he used to explain how dualism was an experience and not necessarily a real experience in the ideal sense. This form of pantheism presumes a division between the supranatural and the natural, in which nature is perceived as an extension of God wherein we can see God in every grain of sand and every rose petal. But there is a qualitative difference between the emanation of the godhead and the godhead itself, as there is a difference between the parts and the full picture. If we read Goethe, Schiller and Emerson alongside Spinoza, it is possible to find a philosophical field that resonates with Ifá to a certain extent. Ifá places the utmost importance on orí (consciousness) and sees everything that exists as possessing consciousness. Consciousness is associated with light, rays and dreams, and emanates from the source of everything that exists. Therefore we are in a deep communion with all kingdoms – animal, vegetable and mineral – as well as with the invisible world, because everything that exists contains the consciousness of its divine source and, as a result, all are made in the divine image. Thus everything that possesses consciousness can become as God when it is ‘worked’ towards alignment with its source. This indicates that an awareness of the visible and invisible realms should be constantly trained and cultivated, as it is from this that a perception of how all things are connected will be gradually acquired. We have seen that the presence of spiritual forces on earth came both from the right side and the left, which speaks of an inherent polarity necessary for creation to be sustained and to produce energy. This polarity is inherent in everything, to such a degree that Ifá philosophy maintains that everything that exists holds positive and negative reflexes of its singular consciousness. This is as true for plants and men as much as it is for spiritual beings. We have seen how the spiritual beings known as òrìṣà are extensions of
higher and more pure forces. This is similar to the concept of the golden chain in Plato’s Timaeus, as adopted by hermetic philosophers and alchemists in the late middle ages and the renaissance. The theory considered emanations as a chain descending from the pure realm of ideas to their manifestation on earth. As they descended their impurity increased, hence spirit in matter was experienced as a paradox and a dualism, when it was in truth a field established between source and reflection.
tradition and initiation Ifá is a traditional faith, a philosophy and not a religion in the Western sense. The theology of Ifá is part of its philosophy; this lies at the root of any expression of òrìṣà cult or religion in the New World, whether Lucumi, Sango Cult or Candomblé. This is made possible by the theological idealism that forms part of Ifá philosophy. Ifá itself will always be defined as esin, ‘to follow the ways of the land,’ and not as a religious institution. The custodians of the ways of the land are diviners and prophets who ensure that we maintain the traditional flow of wisdom. A tradition is not something that has been passed down for a few generations; it goes deeper than this. Tradition must express some particular facets to be rightly referred to as such, or else it is a pretender to tradition, a pseudo-tradition. A tradition proper is lodged in primordial knowledge that reveals itself in a particular world view. The world view that rises from traditional Ifá is one that invites a certain hierarchy and order, where the extremes in creation are balanced by men and women as natural holders of the mystery of existence. It reveals that there is an order at play which we replicate in the simple structure of ancestry where the father looks to the grandfather for advice, just as the child looks to its parents. In this way wisdom is preserved by those living the mystery we know as life. It is this succession of ancestral knowledge accumulated by experiencing life that enables us to connect with spirit and realize our divine potential, so that we can become òrìṣà, a unique shard of consciousness. In the religious expressions which take Ifá as their philosophical foundation, we find a separation between the two ideas of ancestry, or egùn, and òrìṣà. The latter is usually deified into an unattainable ideal and takes the form of gods and
goddesses, while egún is something murky, ancestral, often volatile and sometimes dangerous. There is nothing inherently wrong with these definitions, but it is important to understand that the two are intimately linked, because a human being who lives a remarkable life and harvests abundance will become òrìṣà. This concept is not very different to that of the Greek heroes who were elevated to the status of gods, or the process of beatitude in which a human being was elevated to sainthood. Another parallel can be found in Boehme’s Mysterium Magnum, wherein we read: … the creation of the angels has a beginning, but the forces from which they were created never knew a beginning, but were present at the birth of the eternal beginning … They are born of the revealed Word, out of the eternal, dark, fiery, and luminous nature, from desire for divine revelation, and have been turned into ‘creatured’ images. Or, as René Guénon commented in regard to this paragraph: ‘fragmented into isolated creatures.’ This means that angels represent ideas in the divine reason that have been revealed as specific ‘images’ or parts of the godhead. In other words: planets, stars, and spiritual forces such as the òrìṣàs possess a specific and restricted light that expresses its nature, just as animals, vegetables and minerals do. Boehme appears to express a view of creation similar to that which we find in Ifá. The ‘forces’ he speaks of are clearly synonymous with the energetic fabric of creation, which in Ifá is known as odù. Odù are the energy patterns of creation that cause the spiritual existence known as ìmɳlɵ (splendrous brightness) to be brought forth in an invisible state. This gives birth to its visible condition in ìrúnmọlẹ, which reveals itself in the light of stars and planetary bodies. On earth these energetic patterns, all 256 of them, express different types of consciousness. These take the form of different personalities which express a relationship with a particular òrìṣà. From this, we derive the concept of all humans being sons and daughters of one òrìṣà or another, a rustic aspiration that can be refined into a pure and unique expression of a divine form. The concept of òrìṣà must be understood as an ideal, and at the same time as a return. It is a specific field of consciousness that we aspire towards. The human condition is what makes this ascent possible. In light of this, ideas such
as the òrìṣàs being angry with us, or taking punitive forms, are in reality the results of misalignment. Such situations occur because men tend to measure the world using their own ego and mundane station as a rule and compass for desire and accomplishment. Ifá, on the other hand, holds that developing good character will enable us to break out of this narrow perception of who we are, and aspire to become òrìṣà. In summary, we all have the seed of òrìṣà, and the way we walk the world will either bring it forth or drive us into forgetfulness. These ideas are replicated in initiation in Ifá or to any given òrìṣà. Initiation is usually referred to as igbódù, meaning ‘forest of the womb,’ or ‘forest of mystery.’ This term makes reference to a sacred place in the woods where the rays of odù are present in a such way that they effect a subtle change in the initiate which brings dramatic consequences. These sacred places can be created by those who possess the secrets to call odù to radiate at a specific location. The ritual is then conducted in a rhythm of concealment and exposure to the mysteries which are being worked, which literally washes the seed within in blood and herbs so that the indwelling òrìṣà can start to take shape and grow in the individual undergoing initiation. He or she is introduced to the fundamental vibration of creation, as a specific ray is worked and then lodged within the initiate, who becomes the ol’ òrìṣà of a given force when the ritual is completed. The fertilisation of this seed is completed with a dafá (reading) that specifies how the person can best cultivate this power in his or her life, and begin the process of becoming what he or she holds. Initiation is a beginning, it marks someone who holds a power and is on their way towards integrating it. The way in which life is lived following initiation either brings one closer to what one holds until one becomes it, or more distant until it is lost. Awo Fa'lokun Fatunmbi relates igbódù to the idea of ìgòkè, which we can translate as ‘ascension.’ Ìgòkè refers to our breaking through the limits of mundane individual consciousness towards the source, as a result of the process of initiation, which opens us up so that our divine seed and potential can blossom into a more mature realization of our divine providence/provenance. This is accomplished when orí inú or the ‘inner self’ forms a link with ìponri, ‘the higher self.’ When this occurs, the link with òrìṣà is made on a supreme level and the ol’ òrìṣà becomes a manifestation of one’s òrìṣà. In metaphysical terms, this means that the ol’ òrìṣà is looking upwards, towards the source, to form a link with the tangible expression of the divine
ideas that rest in mystery. The ol’ òrìṣà becomes a natural expression of a pattern of creation, a consciousness brought by òrìṣà and expressed in unique ways through one’s alignment with the source, as one sets the process of becoming òrìṣà into motion through initiation. The process is mediated by Ôrúnmìlà, the spirit of wisdom, and Èṣù, and the matrix of creation encoded in the 256 odùs.
Ôrúnmìlà and the secret struɐure of odù
Ôrúnmìlà is the prophet of Ifá and as such he is the master of its configurations, manipulations and riddles encoded in the oracle, also known as Ifá. Ôrúnmìlà means ‘heaven brings the spirit of Ělà to earth.’ Ělà means ‘salvation’ and ‘destiny,’ therefore Ělà is the spirit who reveals that salvation is your destiny. To be a prophet is to be a messenger, a vinculum and mediator between what is manifest and what is invisible. A prophet speaks with the voice of the source, the origin of the cosmic design. One ìwájù (prayer) says the following about him: Mo juba awo Ôrúnmìlà. Iwo ni iko Olódùmarè. Iwo ni olupilese awo odù Ifá. Iwo ni Ifá. Iwo ni oluwa awo igba owo-eyo. Iwo ni ohun idarisi. Iwo ni oluwa asiri iwa. Iwo ni òrìṣà julo loye. I humble myself before the mystery of Ôrúnmìlà. You are the messenger of Olódùmarè. You are the author of the mysteries of odù Ifá. You are Ifá. You are the owner of the mysteries of the cowry shell. You are the voice of fate. You are the owner of the secrets of existence. You are the most intelligent òrìṣà. Ôrúnmìlà sees the future by looking backwards, and in this way we are the eyes of the Creator looking back on ourselves as the cosmic design expresses
itself in its myriad variations. The origin of Ôrúnmìlà is, like the meaning of the word Ifá, subject to several interpretations. I believe that all of them are true and speak of how the spirit of Ělà manifested in various timeless, wise and prophetic forms across the spheres in order to uphold mystery, wonder, awe and wisdom. One myth tells how Ôrúnmìlà came from Ôrun (heaven) together with many other spirits and deities and settled in Ilé Ifɵ. He decided to move to the outskirts, to a place called Òkè Ìgètí (Igeti Hill). After living there for some time, he decided to move to Adó Èkítí, where he stayed most of his life. While living in Ifè, he fathered eight children, princes who took possession of various districts in western Africa. He taught his sons, as well as eight other students, the art of Ifá divination. One day a student insulted him, and Ôrúnmìlà returned to Ôrun. The sons and students went to Ôrun as well and searched for Ôrúnmìlà, trying to persuade him to return. He refused, and instead gave them the authority to use the sixteen ìkín (palm nuts) so they could read the cosmic matrix themselves. Another story is given in Johnson’s The History of the Yorubas, where he relates that the Ifá cult came to the Yorùbás from the Nupe people by means of a blind sage named Setilu. His expertise had made the Muslims living in the area jealous, so Setilu left and found his way to present day Benin and then to Ifè. According to this myth the progenitor of the Yorùbás, Odùduwà, sought out Setilu and thus introduced Ifá to his people. A third myth tells that Ôrúnmìlà was born at Ifè and was a skillful diviner who became a king in spite of his crippled body and weak health. He was considered to be a great prophet and sage and many people came to study with him. Of all these students, only sixteen were chosen – a reference to the original sixteen districts in Yorùbáland – for each sign in the oracular system of Ifá. These students became chief diviners. A fourth myth says that Ôrúnmìlà came from the land of the Muslims and suggests that he was an Arabian mystic with great insight into the divinatory art of khatt al-raml, known as ‘sand cutting,’ which is practiced amongst Muslim sages. There are indeed many similarities between these two oracles. Thus Ôrúnmìlà is known as Eleri Ipin, ‘the witness to creation and destiny,’ and as Ibikeji Olódùmarè, ‘second to the creator, Olódùmarè.’ Renowned for his wisdom and understanding of humanity and divinity, he is also called Agbònnírégún, an elision of agbòn with ni ire gún, ‘wisdom of the coconut
knows no limits whether of mercy or blessings,’ thus emphasizing his omniscience and compassion. Consequently, he is knowledgeable about all human and divine matters. Ělà is the source of all knowledge, and Ôrúnmìlà is the keeper of this knowledge. Its oracle, Ifá, is a binary geomantic system rooted in the contrast of negative and positive. This polarity is the mechanism that upholds life and enables transformation. When Ifá divination is performed, this binary pattern is always used as a tool for defining what sort of matrix a client finds himself within. Thus, advice is given by looking at examples from the past as they speak of the future.
This is because we repeat patterns already laid down in the cosmic design. The binary monism of Ifá might appear as dualism, but it is not. It is the necessary contrast that generates being in a mutual affirmation of the sacred and spiritual centre. This contrast, which we experience as ‘chaos’ and ‘order,’ as ‘good’ and ‘evil,’ is actually a manifestation of the binary ontology of Ifá that makes understanding possible, that makes a spiritual centre possible. Ôrúnmìlà is from the source of all beginnings and forms part of the divine consciousness. Both Ôrúnmìlà and Èṣù represent the forces that bridge orí, the human consciousness, and ìpònrí, the divine consciousness. It is accomplished through the key and vinculum of èmí, which is the divinized soul in man. The concept of consciousness is complex and beautiful, and speaks of a design in which man reflects the divine consciousness. Our consciousness is represented by the physical head, also called orí. At the crown of the head, we find our connection to source, láyé láyé , which is understood to be a state of expressive dreaming. The summit of consciousness is at the same time the cave of the source. At our forehead, we find iwájú orí, the third eye, the gateway for prophecy and clairvoyance. At the base of the skull, we find the crossroads of consciousness, called ìpàkó, which, when aligned with àtárì, makes possession possible. Possession is therefore understood as a process that starts within man and vibrates outward in a spiritual frequency, or energy, that we recognize as a natural force, or òrìṣà. Ìpàkó and àtárì represent two forms of memory; the latter is the natural memory gathered by the journey on earth, the former is the divine memory. These meet in orí inú, the inner head in which we find the seat of self resting upon orí àpeere, the mirror of the cosmic matrix within the human consciousness. This construct of consciousness enables perfection and degeneration through its constant pull between the contrasts of this world, as it affirms the central axis of consciousness, which enables ìpónrí, the illumination of consciousness caused by being in alignment with the source. The cosmic design is understood to mirror this structure in its binary dance towards clarity and understanding, and it is Ôrúnmìlà who possesses the knowledge that can connect our consciousness to the cosmic. Ôrúnmìlà mediates between each and every state of being and every realm, and it is these patterns which are read when Ifá divination is performed. The priests of Ifá are called babaláwo from baba nl’awo, meaning ‘father
who has the secret.’ These secrets are disclosed in myths and stories, prayers and songs. By manipulating the oracle of Ifá, the babaláwo will reveal given signs. These signs come with advice and procedures in order to resolve the situation in question. For Ôrúnmìlà there are never any problems, just situations, and for every situation there is always a solution to be found within the corpus of odù Ifá. The corpus of odù consists of sixteen main signs, called méjì, meaning ‘twins’ or ‘pairs,’ which are combined with each other to produce the full 256 combinations. These sixteen principal odùs and their properties are as follows: 1 Èjì Ogbè is the first of the energetic wombs in the cosmic matrix of creation, and represents expansive light. This odù represents the fullness of light and presence; it is where the realm of dream takes its first step into the field of matter. 2 Ôyɵkú méjì is the spirit of the Mother of Death. It is darkness, inhalation and the womb that gestates the light. This odù concerns the temporary absence of light as it undergoes a mystical transformation, the process by which all things are ensouled. 3 Ìwòrì méjì is the power of transformation, the root of consciousness shaped by the poles of light and darkness, the blueprint of self and psyche, and the fire of passion. This odù defines nature, direction and the moment of realization and acceptance. 4 Òdí méjì concerns the transformative powers and their temporary results, the letting go of the past in order to appraise a new cycle of becoming, and establishing a foundation and one’s role in the world. Here we find the themes of security and temptation; and the mystery of rebirth and repeating cycles. 5 Ìròsùn méjì shapes this potential in conformity with ancestry and destiny, and is the root cause of our dignity or disgrace. It is an odú in which we grasp our power and cling to the rope of fate; which can bring epiphanies and delusions, the energy of both the prophet and the charlatan.
6 Ôwɳnrín méjì is the power of choice, and speaks of the need for chaos in the universe. It teaches that the mysterious powers in the matrix, which 7 we tend to look upon as negative, can be seen from multiple perspectives. It is from here that Èṣù derives his powers, a veritable crossroads, and the storehouse of change and choice. 8 Ôbárá méjì is the power that shapes will out of chaos and cosmic possibilities, leading to a cycle of inner transformation. This odù invites the refinement of what we are and is a power that weeds out hostile forces on all levels. It is the energy attributed to kings. 9 Ôkànràn méjì concerns the power of the heart. It enables balance between the worlds, with the heart as the spiritual centre. It speaks of the dark night of the soul and all the distress a heart can cause. It is the energy of contemplation as well as regret, as much as it is about setting good and fair goals and the failure to achieve them. 10Ògúndá méjì is the power of progress and the removal of obstacles. It is the disposition and constitution of seizing one’s fate and becoming its master. An energy denoting victory and strength, as well as the importance of force being supported by other powers in order to move elegantly and graciously in the world. It is the raw energy that rushes powerfully through the warrior. 11 Ôsá méjì is a sign that brought spirits of obstruction into the world and speaks of radical, yet purifying, change. It is an energy that brings cataclysm and disaster. All birds are found here, indicating the volatile and unpredictable nature of this energy. 12Ìká méjì represents the power of contraction, of gathering one’s personal power, which is then expressed in the form of words. It is the energy of deception and curses, of self sabotage and snakes. This odù represents the challenge within the challenge, and is the power that moves beneath our intentions and generates harmony or disaster. 13Òtúrúpɚn méjì is the power that brought sickness to the world, and also
medicine. It is a cleansing power. It tells of the inherent harmony of the worlds and the structure of earth. We must understand our own structure in order to discern between good and bad, not only for ourselves but for the world. It is a force that calls forth a sense of responsibility in a conscious continuum of actions. 14Òtúrá méjì is the power that makes alignment with the source possible. It reveals itself in prophetic vision and clarity. This odù creates the path for visions and realizations. Saints are shaped in this odú because it is a force of truth and hope that combats illness, opening the roads to personal power and prophetic visions. 15Ìrẹtɵ méjì is the power of determination. It promises change and transformation by killing the useless and nurturing what is benevolent and good. It is the call for war, either the war we wage upon our own shortcomings, or the senseless attacks in which we project our own suffering upon the world. 16Ôṣɶ méjì is the power of sweetness, abundance and the fragility of creation. It is here that we find the power of attraction. It is here that we find the memory of ancestry. It is an energy that reminds us how soft and delicate the heart of the world is; just like our own soft and delicate four chambered heart. This odù is a call to awareness. Òfún méjì is the grandfather of the odùs and the source of light, which is understood as a dreaming whiteness. Here is the source of miracles and dispersion. Everything that exists began as a possibility in Òfún. We might say that this odú is the blinding chaos, the reversed black hole that offered up light as the source of beginnings before beginnings, a pre-Titanic energy that is the origin and end of all that exists. Here we must touch on Ôṣɶtúrá, the odù which gave birth to Èṣù. It is the force that causes the cosmic copulation that makes the 256 combinations of Ifá possible. It is the power that ties the serpent’s head to its tail and binds the alpha to the omega. Again, we are reduced to a binary expression, in which Èṣù as a transformative and expansive light uses the power of eros and vision
to generate the worlds. This polarity is frequently understood to be rooted in the principles of àṣẹ and àláfiá. The term àláfiá signifies the desired outcome of life, and is perhaps better understood as a state of contentment embracing health, success and prosperity. Àláfiá reflects all possible conditions and situations that make life on earth good, and can include gifts, including money and children, as well as peace of mind and honour. Àláfiá is made possible by the movement of àṣẹ, a word signifying ‘command,’ ‘directive,’ ‘power,’ ‘may it be so.’ The same word in combination with iná (fire) makes àṣẹ iná, which means ‘fiery power’ and is at times used to refer to menstruation. Àṣẹ is the force that pulsates in the totality of the cosmos, in all the worlds, the force that causes movement, that sustains and transforms. Àṣẹ is Èṣù. The sixteen méjìs are as follows:
the crossroads of confusion Èṣù, the loyal companion of Ôrúnmìlà, is the most complex and mysterious of deities. He is simultaneously the youngest and the oldest, he deliberately plays with gender roles and fiercely attacks any attempt to establish dogmas. The missionaries, and later Johnson, saw in this being the image of the devil, and he became associated with misfortune and all kinds of evil. Èṣù is a trickster, but the mischief he causes is an effect of his presence as the power of chance, movement and transformation. When Èṣù is seen in the image of devils and demons, it might suggest that opportunities have slipped by. The name Èṣù can be split into two phonemes: È, denoting something expressive and sù, ‘to make something spherical.’ If the accent is changed we find the principle of darkening that lies at the root of subú, ‘to collapse’ or ‘bring something to a fall.’ If Èṣù can be understood as the expressive power of the spheres, he is indeed the Lord of the Worlds and a metaphysical principle no different to Ibn ̔Arabi’s understanding of Iblis, as the one who defines the limits of each circle of creative expression! Some have even used the second phoneme to ascribe his origin to the Egyptian deity Shu and locate him as migrating from the upper east of Africa to the southwest. In an oríkì (prayer) to Èṣù collected by Awo Fa'lokun, he is praised in the following way: Oro Èṣù to to to akoni Èṣù ori mi ma je nko o Èṣù ohun ni´ma wa kiri Èṣù ma se me o The word of the divine messenger is always respected The divine messenger guides my head on the path of transformation The divine messenger has the voice that roams the universe Divine messenger do not confuse me Èṣù is symbolized by two things in particular. One is yàngí, the lateritic or volcanic stone which represents the essence of Èṣù. The mysteries of creation are rooted in magma and the central stone of the genesis of the universe, òyígíyigì, hence Èṣù is praised as the ota (stone) of the òrìṣàs. The other
important symbol for Èṣù is a conical seashell known as òkòtó. This shell, with its perfect, pyramidal spiral shape symbolizes transformation in time and by extension transformation in the life of humans. The birth of Èṣù, and the manner in which he came to preside over this specific àṣẹ, is told in the odù Ôṣɶtúrá, which explains the type of àṣẹ the divine beings possess and what purpose they serve. Ôṣɶtúrá is a direct reference to Èṣù, symbolized by one of his most important aspects, the one who transports the offerings, òjise-ẹbọ. This is made evident by his character as Èṣù Elebo, whose domain is to control and regulate the ẹbọ (ritual offering). Èṣù is also called Elèrù, ‘Lord of Erù,’ carrier of rituals. Èṣù is the spiritual force that reestablishes the harmonious relationship between the ìyàmí (volatile powers of hexing and cursing) and the sixteen órísá-àgbá or the sixteen primordial odùs, thus saving the earth from chaos and annihilation. He is the only divinity who can open the gates to Òrun, and so the harmonious and dynamic relationship of òrun-ayé (the invisible and visible realms) is caused by him. Through this role, Èṣù is present in all activities that contain movement and transformation, as the same ìtàn says: ‘Everything, every being could not be without its own Èṣù in its constitution, it could not exist, nor could it be aware of its existence.’ In all processes Èṣù is the element that simultaneously solidifies and transforms the àṣẹ. Èṣù is found in the lives of men when they come to òna pade, the ‘juncture in the road.’ We can associate this with a situation where a choice has to be made. Ifá teaches that there are only two kinds of choices: those which are in tune with àyànmó (destiny) and those which are not. Èṣù is the fork in the road, and Ifá possesses the answer. As the manifestation of choice, Èṣù can be considered to be man’s foremost teacher on the path towards his destiny. He is choice itself, being neither good nor bad, and therefore the very power of transformation, whether the choice made is a good one in which our decisions bring good fortune, or a bad one which brings us lessons that demonstrate a need for growth and understanding. Èṣù is the one who carries the àṣẹ, and as such his position amongst men is mirrored in the cosmic design. Èṣù is the power of change – he is the mercury of transformation – and this is as true of the choices we make, as it is of the fusion of elements and energies that generates the 256 varieties of consciousness. There are at least two ways of assigning odù to elements. One is to set up the
odùs in the form of a 4 × 4 grid in relation to their celestial harmonies: direction / element
odùs
quality / colour
East / Air West / Earth North / Fire South / Water
Ogbè, Ìròsùn, Ògúndá, Òtúrá Ôyɵkú, Ôwɳnrín, Ôsá, Ìrẹtɵ Ìwòrì, Ôbárá, Ìká, Ôṣɶ Òdí, Ôkànràn, Òtúrúpɚn, Òfún
funfun / white dúdú / black pupa / red mixed
Baba Medahochi, a Biní babaláwo/bokono who founded the Akọda Institute in Atlanta, Georgia in the late 1980s, made a set of lessons available for students of Ifá, in which he addressed the metaphysical dimensions of Ifá, assigning the odùs to the quarters in agreement with the Okonron eguntan. This understands the pulse of the primordial wombs, showing how powers organize themselves in matter along each different pulse. direction / element
odùs
quality / colour
East / Air West / Earth North / Fire South / Water
Ogbè, Ôbárá, Ôkànràn, Òtúrá Ôyɵkú, Ôwɳnrín, Òtúrúpɚn, Ôṣɶ Ìwòrì, Ìròsùn, Ògúndá, Ìrẹtɵ pupa Òdí, Ôsá, Ìká, Òfún
funfun / white dúdú / black / red mixed
Okonron eguntan is an odù that speaks of the establishment of powers in the world. It is the energy that manifests the force necessary to establish something. In this phase of evolution, it is Ôrúnmìlà who is credited as the creator of the earth. The verse tells how Ôrúnmìlà sat down in the middle of the island he had made and directed the first eight ìmɳlɵ to take their designated places in the world. He gave the realm of sunrise to Ogbè and sunset to Ôyɵkú. Ìwòrì was given the north gate and Òdí the south gate, and the remaining four odùs were placed in balanced opposition to each other: Ìròsùn at ene, Ôwɳnrín at wsw, Ôbárá at nnw, Òkànràn at sse, Ògúnda at ne, Ôsá at sw, Ìká at nw, Òtúrúpɚn at se, Òtúrá at nne, Ìrẹtɵ at sse, Ôṣɶ at wnw, and Òfún at ese. This organization of power establishes the rhythm and pulse of the world as we know it, where whatever opposes a vibration is also what drives it forward. The medicine and poison is always the same, it is only the
situation, the realm of Èṣù, that changes. The square, with its four sides, replicates the crossroads with its four arms. This reveals that manifestation of spirit in matter is always to do with the crossroads, Èṣù is always there. This is demonstrated in another design based on Baba Medahochi’s presentation of this mystery:
If we add the directions, up and down, to the square we get the number six, which signifies an astrological trine, being a number of the perfection of Venus, a fundamental harmony brought to the world by Ôṣun. If we add to this the tetrarch, the ten numbers signifying cosmic potencies, we have a matrix of sixteen; the sacred number of Ifá. Sixteen can also represent the dual polarity
of the eight winds of the compass rose, a reference to the powers that support equilibrium. Again we are in the domain of Èṣù. We thereby arrive at this cosmological design.
The matrix of creation is rooted in the number sixteen and the cosmic design 4
is composed of 16 resulting in the 256 energetic combinations called odù, meaning ‘womb.’ These are understood as points where energy flashes out in its creative permutations. The four elemental forces multiply to generate the basic 16-fold pattern by celestial copulation – or funké, a spiritual eroticism –
generating the matrix of genesis which is authored by Èṣù and Ôṣun. The 16 primordial potencies engage in another 16-fold copulation to generate the patterns of possibility, the arch, matrix and helix that lie at the root of every nuance of expression known in the cosmic design. Ifá is rooted in a geometric harmony around the pole of existence. Wisdom is the ability to mediate the left hand and the right hand in order to support the polar axis. The left hand represents defence, denial and magic, whilst the right represents the powers of love, bounty and sharing. From the perspective of Ifá, an excess of either power will cause us to drift away from the centre of self and our connection with the source. Ôrɚ (poison) is inherent in the cosmic design, but is only brought forth by excess. Excess of any kind will eventually become a negative power, by which I mean any force or obstruction to our happiness. Ôrɚ has a linguistic similarity to òró, meaning ‘words,’ hence words and breath are at the nativity of what shapes blessings and healings as well as poisons.
the origin of mystery The matrix of the cosmic design is spoken of in the omo odù Òságùndá. I will paraphrase the myth as told by Awo Pópóọlá to Awo Fa’lokun. In the beginning was àkàmàrá, a word commonly translated as ‘God,’ although it better denotes ‘the origin of mystery.’ Àkàmàrá was a composition of dew, gases and humidity dancing in the darkness. The ìmɳlɵ (primordial spiritual being) called Origún shaped these dews and gases into stars and astral bodies. The name Origún means ‘the consciousness that pounds symmetry’ or ‘the one who injects consciousnesses.’ Stars were created as the dew cooled and generated ‘houses of light.’ The astral bodies were, as yet, without direction; this was acomplished by Ìmɳlɵ Bàbá Asémù Egùn Sunwá, whose name can be translated as ‘the father who lays down the bone matrices for the overflowing of character.’ The cosmos was given its design. Its matrix was understood to be a combination of the sixteen powers which engaged in a cosmic gún, or copulation with each other. Sixteen times sixteen produces a matrix composed of 256 energetic currents. These comprise the odù, ‘womb of energy,’ in reference to their expansive capacity of ‘stirring the darkness.’ Olù Iwáyè, ‘the chief of the dwelling of character,’ entered the matrix and
solar systems were generated, including our own. All the planets were given to specific ìmɳlɵ to inhabit, and Earth was given to Ayé. So in reverence to her, Earth was called Ile Ayé, the house of Ayé. Ayé found her condition lonely, and sought other spirits to live with her. Here the creation myth has several variations. One story tells how Olódùmarè (chief of the heavenly rainbow) first sent Ògún (the power of iron) who brought several other hunter spirits to Ayé’s dwelling to make it habitable. Ògún was not successful, so Olódùmarè sent Ôbàtálá (chief of the white cloth/dreams) who brought several other forces with him, known as funfun spirits, ‘spirits of whiteness.’ But he was also unsuccessful, so Olódùmarè sent Ôrúnmìlà. On his way to Ayé he met with the babalawos in heaven, who provided him with the seeds necessary to make Ayé habitable. Vegetation, minerals and animals sprouted miraculously from the seeds Ôrúnmìlà planted, and beings called ènìyàn were placed in Ayé’s habitat. At first everything was harmonious, then these beings started to destroy their home. Seeing this, Olódùmarè ordered the waters to rise and Ayé was covered with water. Most of the eníyàn died, but a few survived, and those were the ones from whom witches, àjɶ, and sorcerers, òṣò, derived their powers. The task of turning Ayé into a habitat was begun again. Once more Ôbàtálá was sent and once more was unable to complete the task; so Olódùmarè sent Odùduwà. Odùduwà consulted Ôrúnmìlà before travelling to Ayé and came equipped with the necessary seeds to generate Ayé’s habitat. The place where Odùduwà started to turn Ayé into a habitat for plants and beasts was called Ilé Ifɵ, the House of Love. In the House of Love humans were created in a variety of forms, which we call ‘races’ today. This is the stage of creation we are in now and Ifá warns that human beings will try to control and subdue nature instead of living in harmony with it. The threat of global destruction will call upon the spirit of wisdom, Ělà, to perpetuate the world, and a return towards traditional and harmonious living will slowly spread over Ayé. There are some striking similarities with the Ifá creation myth and what is spoken of in Poimandres where Hermes Trismegistus speaks of the fall of man as his unification with the powers of nature, mirroring how the divine mind has ‘fallen into creation.’ Man, being the result of the divine mind, is a spiritual being, a divinity veiled in matter and nature. It is from this matrix that the odù Ifá are born, and Èṣù is the mediator between these cosmic patterns that are ‘born’ or manifested during Ifá divination. Whilst Ôrúnmìlà reveals the matrix,
Èṣù moves it. The movement of Èṣù is understood to be like the magma at the centre of the earth, like rivers of lava in subterranean tunnels, and these caves and tunnels are the dwelling of the spirit of wisdom, Ělà.
Ęlà: the heart at the spiritual centre Ělà is the spirit of wisdom, understood to be the witness to fate, though the name is difficult to translate. Ělà is a word that conveys expansion. What Ělà expresses is its own self-expression, a rain of divine wisdom, which we recognize by its power to give imo, ‘illumination.’ Terms like wà, ‘to be brought to life’ and ifùré, ‘to be brought into consciousness,’ are further qualities belonging to the expansive and active wisdom of Ělà. As such, Ělà is the power that enables expression of any kind, the power that moves the matrix and helix of creation to bring forth all things. Ělà is said to reside in caves and informs the network of subterrestrial arteries of Ayé through its mysterious and concealed presence. Traditional symbolism equates the cave with the heart, and the heart with Polaris, the north where perfection resides. North is the direction given to the odù Ôyɵkú méjì, which signifies the darkness of the womb, meaning that Ělà is the spirit that moves, in its expressive force, beneath mystery and transformation, and brings what gestates in darkness and concealment into becoming. As such the cave represents the spiritual centre, as reflected in the heart. Inú is the word that signifies every concealed cavity, whether physical or symbolic. The understanding of the heart and cave as spiritual centres of the world represents the concealed and mysterious character of Ělà being the heart of the spiritual centre found in the cosmic design. Ôrúnmìlà is a manifestation of this power in his capacity of understanding the oro, words/sounds/phonemes of the matrix of creation encoded in the 256 odùs of Ifá. This matrix of 256 combinations and nodes can be understood as the mysterious laws of the cosmic design, its pre-established harmony which dances between the poles of light and darkness, healing and cleansing. This cosmic play is replicated in man when he builds ìwà, or ‘character,’ in conformity with the understanding of the particular combination of cosmic powers that constitutes the foundation of our consciousness and being. In this we can understand what fate really is. Fate is a particular law born from a gathering of energetic vibrations brought
into harmony by wisdom, and our ability to understand the transformative quality of the cosmos. Ôrúnmìlà is the guide on the path of transformation, and transformation is at the core of being. This reveals Ifá to be an active philosophy of life, resting on a total understanding of the wisdom that comprises the lattices and matrices of the cosmic design. When a divination is performed, it is the spirit of Ělà that moves the diviner into an understanding of the cosmic principles at hand, mediated by the memory which he or she possesses of each of the 256 energetic patterns encoded in odù, which will be considered in the following chapter.
ɑe art of divination
As we have seen, Ifá is rooted in a noetic philosophy, which psychologist William James described in The Varieties of Religious Experience (1902) as: … states of insight into depths of truth unplumbed by the discursive intellect. They are illuminations, revelations, full of significance and importance, all inarticulate though they remain; and as a rule they carry with them a curious sense of authority. Within this philosophical stance is found a cosmology of emanations that takes into account everything visible and invisible that exists in a cosmos of commonality, time and timelessness. Forces eternal and temporal, visible and invisible, enter into relationships in which influences, bonds and patterns are forged, made and remade constantly. It is a ‘repetition of difference,’ to borrow a term from French philosopher Gilles Deleuze, whose empirical metaphilosophy might be applied to what actually occurs when dafá or Ifá divination is performed. Deleuze questions whether difference depends upon identity, and whether identity is not in truth caused by difference. In doing this, he applies the hermetic axiom of ‘as above, so below’ but in reverse. This leads him to conceive of the difference as being ‘virtual’ in the sense of being real without necessarily being actualized as such. Deleuze takes the Platonic forms, the world of ideas, and makes them subject to experience, and through this differential relationships are generated, so creating space and time. The cosmos resembles origami in its constant folding and unfolding of a singular substance in a process of differentiation, which makes his idea of God a constant play of forces. Hence his paradoxical allegory: pluralism equals monism. These thoughts are interesting in respect to the principles at play in Ifá
divination, because it is an oracle that predicts by looking backwards and perceives differences playing themselves out. These differences are always ‘virtual’ and need to be acted upon in order to bring out their possibilities. There are several good books about Ifá divination, such as William Bascom’s seminal study, Ifá Divination, Fáṣínà Fálàdé’s Ifá: The Key to its Understanding and Fa'lokun Fatunmbi’s Awo and Dafá . Those interested in understanding the complexity involved in Ifá divination beyond what I discuss in this chapter are encouraged to study these books.
divining the past to read the future Ifá divination is based upon recognizing a given cosmic pattern, which is revealed in a sequence of odù that provide a diagnosis of the situation at hand. The interpretation of the patterns is found in the corpus of Ifá, in the many verses that contain myths, riddles, songs, enchantments and advice of every kind related to each of the 16 méjì odùs and the 240 combination odùs. The diviner needs to possess an intimate understanding of the metaphysical nature of each sign, as well as of the prayers, stories, allegories and recommendations pertaining to each of the 256 odùs. This means that what is revealed are patterns that have precedents in the past. Ifá reveals both the original forces and the way in which these forces have been managed and understood through the lives of men and òrìṣàs over time, establishing a storehouse of ancestral memory that speaks of how cosmic patterns manifest and evolve. This means that Ifá is not an oracle that sees the future, but one that predicts the development and outcome of a situation through knowledge of how these energies manifested in the past. For instance, a large number of verses begin by stating the name of the client who came to a particular diviner for a reading. These represent encoded messages regarding the problem that are found in the name of the client, and its solution, found in the name of the diviner. These are expounded upon in the verse, where the diagnosis is affirmed and a solution offered in the form of a sacrifice. Let us take an example from one verse from Òdí méjì: Atẹlẹwɚ Abinutelu divined Ifá for Itẹrẹ They said his ideas would always materialize;
Therefore he must sacrifice nails Three he-goats and three coəs Itẹrẹ did as he was told and made sacrifice They prepared Ifá leaves for him to drink Everything in the verse can be subject to exegesis. For instance, the name of the awo could be read as the ‘richness of the palm tree disperses enemies,’ whilst Itẹrẹ means ‘a field that seeks to attract good fortune.’ We have here a preliminary diagnosis and solution already expressed in the client presenting his barren crops as the problem, the awo in identifying this problem as having its root in enemies, and that the solution in the palm tree. In order to know exactly what is involved in the solution, a profound knowledge of the qualities of the palm, its stories, myths and placement in the Ifá corpus is needed in order to bring forth what the client needs. In this, Ifá is telling the client that he has good potential for success, but that he needs something that restores his belief in himself. The solution is stated to be nails, three goats and three cocks. Again it is necessary to understand the force a combination of nails, goats and roosters generates; which in this case would be a reference to Ògún and Èṣù. A sacrifice should be made to Ògún, and then be left with Èṣù where three roads meet (ikoríta meta), but goats and roosters also hold a specific àṣẹ of protection and strength, which is needed to help the client attract good fortune. The verse states that he did as instructed and was given Ifá leaves to drink. Whenever Ifá states that a client did as Ifá recommended, it demonstrates a person of good character with a willingness to perform the most difficult sacrifice, namely to change one’s attitude and accept advice. The preparation of the Ifá medicine, a herbal infusion in this case, would indicate that a part of the problem might also be biological, physical or psychological; hence the administration of a medicine to enhance the effect of sacrifice and thereby attract good fortune. In other words, if a client comes for a reading and this odù appears, the client is repeating a pattern that people before him experienced and found solutions for, thus the solutions of the same problem in the past are applied to the same situation in the present. Ifá divination is a process in which Olódùmarè is looking back at itself. The process of Ifá divination is carried out with tools from the forest, but all of these tools hold a meaning that surpasses their mundane function and reveals
a mirror of a cosmic syntax and order at play. The awo can use several oracles like obi, òpɵlɵ or ìkín, and all are based on the same cosmic rhythm. Let us take the divination in which ìkín are used. These are sacred palm nuts taken from a close relative of the palm oil tree called ọpẹ Ifá (Elaeis guineensis). This tree is of tremendous importance due to its inablity to lie or deceive; hence the ìkín represents truth given from an upright character, symbolized by the firm and erect stature of the Ọpẹ Ifá. The ìkín are stored in the ajere Ifá, a closed calabash, usually spherical, and are used together with the ọpọn Ifá, the divination tray, ìyɵròsùn, the divination powder, and oruke, the Ifá tapper. The ọpọn represents the world, visible and invisible: Ayé, the place we know as our world. The ọpọn is a mirror of the heavens, and therefore we find the tray divided into four domains similar to those which we find in astrology, with the axis from ascendant and to the west and the axis from midheaven to the south, marking the four principal energies in creation. These four quarters are typified by Ělà and Èṣù watching the divination from up to down and from down to up, which is why you find Èṣù at the top on some divination trays and on the bottom on others. What is done on the opon is subject to the attention of the watchful eyes of spiritual beings, the eyes of Olódùmarè. The ọpọn is sprinkled with ìyɵròsùn, Ôrúnmìlà and Ělà are called as the oracle is manipulated, odùs are traced in the ìyɵròsùn as they are summoned forth, and the tongue of the diviner is anointed with palm oil and honey in the process. The manipulation of the ìkíns is carried out by rolling them back and forth in the hands; they are grabbed with the right hand from the left, until one or two nuts remain in the left hand. If two nuts remain, a single line is marked; and if one nut remains, a double line is marked. This process is carried out eight times until a double grid of four markings is formed in the iyẹrosun, which designates the reading ready for interpretation. In addition to the ìkín, another divination tool, the òpɵlɵ, is used along with ìbò, the pathfinder. The ìbò is presided over by Èṣù, and consists of several items, such as broken shards, bones, knuckles, sacred seeds and cowry shells. This gives the orientation of the reading, meaning the source of fortune or misfortune. It also helps define the temperament of the reading, accurately indicating what type of fortune or misfortune is at play in the situation enacted on the ọpọn. As such, the ìbò is important in discovering the precise nature of a given situation and in doing so will give greater accuracy to its solution, helping to show what can be done to fortify what is good and transform what is
negative into good fortune. Ifá traces the markings from right to left and, as we have seen, the two sides hold great meaning. As well as being the side that denominates and calls forth spirits of strength and possible malefica, the left is also the female side, and the column of signs which speaks of the past. This female/male and past/present dichotomy is not only assigned to left and right but also to top and bottom. It is ultimately a reflection of the dynamic between absence and presence, as in this example: I Iná (fire) Masculine I Afẹ́ẹ́fẹ́ (air) I Omi (water) Feminine I Ayé/Ilé (earth) As we see in this row of Èjì Ogbè, all the elements are balanced, hence this sign is associated with an abundance of light. If the row was all double lines, we would have Ôyɵkú méjì, which denotes the absence of light. The presence and absence of light affects the elements and generates contrasts and a great variety of possibilities that manifest in patterns, energies, situations, ideas, sentiments and thoughts. Four marks are known as a leg. An Ifá divination always calls upon two legs (méjì), so we have a movement from past to present, from cause to situation. From this, an additional méjì is marked to arrive at a firm identification of the situation and appropriate solutions to the matter. Ifá divination works on the basis of randomization in conformity with the hermetic axiom ‘as above, so below,’ but reversed. Hence the dynamic between one ìkín left in the palm resulting in a double line, and two ìkín giving a single line on the ọpọn. The design that appears is then mediated by the ìbò, which accurately defines the cause of the situation. For instance, a cowry shell can represent good fortune, a bone can mean death, a broken shard loss, an Ifá bead may hold a promise of abundance, and so forth. The ìbòs are manipulated with the same frame of mind as in the reading itself. There are various ways of doing this, and one of them is to have the client juggling two ìbòs, one
representing good fortune (ire) and another representing its absence (ibi) and then hiding one in each palm. The awo will then cast the òpɵlɵ or use ìkín to determine which hand to open and thus reveal the path of the configuration of odùs appearing on the opon. This is elected by throwing two odùs, which will indicate which hand is to be opened by order of seniority. Again a reversal is noticed as, when the first odù, to the right, is senior to the second odù, to the left, it is the left hand which is opened to reveal ire or ibi, and vice versa. This is important because it reveals the state of mind which the client brings to the ọpọn, and sheds light on the specific issues which should be addressed in the consultation. An Ifá consultation is similar to having one with a doctor, philosopher, and psychologist, but all at the same time. The diagnosis of the problem is important, but so too is the good conversation about what the reading shows to the awo and the client. An Ifá consultation is a harmonious gathering of two forces, the situation and its solution.
the structure of the divination verses Abimbọla (1997: 43) states that ẹsẹ Ifá is historical in content, and that its structure is derived from its historical nature. The ẹsẹ (verses) commonly follow an eightfold structure, mirroring the eight signs that makes up an odù, although there are some that deviate from this either by contracting a verse into a smaller message, or extending the rhythm of the poetry to great length. Again, following Abimbọla, the most common feature of an Ifá verse is the presentation of the identity of the diviner in its first part. The name of the diviner can be that of a human being, a spiritual force, a plant or an animal. Some of these names can be quite obscure as they represent the nature of the situation in terms of the form of knowledge that is at play in the verse. The second part names the client. This follows a similar idea: it can be a plant, animal, deity, human being, or even a community that presents a situation to be resolved. The pulse of Ifá is present in the names of the diviner and the client, which are meaningful for imparting an idea of the energy encoded in the odù. The right side represents the diviner and the left side the client in a meeting of solutions that represents the fundamental dynamic in Èjì Ogbè and Ôyɵkú méjì, present and past, light and its absence. The third part of the verse gives a
description of the situation, and the fourth provides the solutions. The fifth part states whether or not the client complied with the advice of Ifá, whilst the sixth imparts the consequences of the attitude expressed in the previous one. The seventh part brings a certain lesson, and the final part brings the moral of the verse into a conclusion of the events that played themselves out between two forces coming together to resolve a situation. Abimbọla gives several examples of this, and I give one of his examples here to illustrate the inherent dynamic within the verses (ibid: 58): I: Friendship does not bind three, Friendship binds only two II: Ifá divination was performed for Sóoróyè (a chief) The son of those who practiced Ifá divination and farming III: He was asked to perform a sacrifice So that he might have money IV: He was asked to offer as sacrifice Two fast-moving rats, Two fishes that swim with grace Two hens with big livers Two goats heavy with foetus V: He offered all these as sacrifice After he offered the sacrifice VI: He became prosperous VII: He started to praise his Ifá priests While his Ifá priests praised Ifá As he opened his mouth He uttered forth the song of Ifá As he stretched his legs Dance caught them VIII: He said It is now time for Ifá To turn my house into a market place I practised Ifá divination And I practised farming My lot must be better It is now time
For me to be prosperous I practised Ifá divination And I practised farming My lot must be better In this example, we can see that the name of the diviner implies that the client has a tendency to spread himself out too much; he should limit his activities to only two things, namely Ifá and farming. The problem is stated as being one of lack of money, and the solution is a sacrifice. The elements of sacrifice represent energies and harbingers of precise powers of good fortune that the client will attract to his life. In other words, the sacrifice of ‘two fishes that swim with grace’ is not only about giving an offering to Ôrúnmìlà, Yëmọja, or Olókun, who are amongst the spiritual powers who elevate the sacrifice of fish into an energetic ray, but it is also a call for the client to be more elegant in his actions. Every sacrifice holds dimensions concerned with our behaviour and attitudes. For instance, in this case, the sacrifice of the two rats signals that a sacrifice to the àjɶs (witches) is prescribed, but it might also speak of the need for the client to sacrifice certain ratlike forms of behaviour, whilst maintaining the speed and agility of the rat. In this way, the recommended sacrifice in its multiple dimensions prescribes a remedy that always involves a change of attitude, or seeks to reinforce already present attitudes, as well as serving as food for spiritual forces and the community. In the sixth part of the verse, we see the consequences of his sacrifice, he became prosperous, and the last two parts impart the lesson and moral of the verse, which are quite straightforward here, but which can be cryptic in other cases. All Ifá verses contain additional information, prayers, or enchantments, but they all follow the rhythm of odù and as such the intonation and the division of the words are always meaningful in so far as they replicate a very specific cosmic resonance and ray. This means that the diviner and client recreate a situation that has precedents in the past and bring them into the present so that predictions can be made about the future.
the importance of allegories and storytelling We hear various accounts of the number of verses ascribed to each of the 256
odùs, the most common being that each of them has sixteen verses, which gives a total of 4096 verses, although some say that there are far more. In other words, Ifá is a living tradition and its wisdom is still being accumulated. The repetition of difference is ongoing, and as each new tone and shade accrues to the basic energy, verses are added to the corpus. This is rooted in the dynamic of the divination itself, in which a diviner who manifests a given principle in a particular way encounters a client who mirrors this dynamic. Hence it is vital for Ifá divination that the communication which takes place in the sacred space should establish new understandings upon the bones of precedence. Some verses can seem enigmatic, such as when a plant, tree or weed represents the diviner, and the client is represented by an animal; or when Ôrúnmìlà himself appears as the client asking advice from a spiritual force or a plant. We have many dimensions here, rooted in the belief that everything is connected, and that we can experience the entire variety of divine manifestations in the cycle of rebirth. To be reborn as a human being is significant, because in these incarnations we are ascending towards our divinity and treading the path of becoming òrìṣà. This also means that we hold the memory of plant and beast, mineral and spiritual force tied into the energetic constitution of our divine becoming. A plant is not inferior to a human being, nor is a spiritual force superior in quality, but rather in function. The plant and the spiritual forces are always connected through accomplished beings, no matter what realm they belong to. Everything is rooted in odù: a given energy can provide a great number of narratives rooted in the same cosmic ray. Actors, geography and time are factors of change, but odù remains the same. Nature is a flux and a pulse mediated by these secure poles of ancestral wisdom, anchored in heaven. We follow patterns that have already been laid down, and in this way we facilitate a variation of the same meetings that have always happened. And in this the beauty and wisdom of odù Ifá is to be found, because Ifá is a dance of energetic forms in meetings, benign and not so benign, with the purpose of growth and understanding so we can understand natural harmony better and live in accordance with it.
the meaning of sacrifice
Ẹbọ, sacrifice, is routinely associated with life force offerings, but this is a very limited perception of what it entails. In fact, Ifá is quite adamant that effective ẹbọ starts with a change in attitude, a realization of the necessity of change and of holding realistic expectations. Ẹbọ is performed in order to improve something that is already promising, to bring about new opportunities, or to diminish the effects of negative currents. Sacrifice can be made in order to bring good fortune to a journey or a business venture, or in the search for a good spouse, or for general well being; but it always comes with the direction to the client to pay attention to the signs. In other words, Èṣù is always present in the design. Being so many things, Èṣù is the divine tongue, the seed of passion and desire that communicates with the world and between the worlds so we can accumulate wisdom. Wisdom, like sacrifice, is accumulated, like a divine sap which we allow to flow and that fills us with life and yearning. Ògúndá méjì says the following about ẹbọ: Igi gbígbe mà lé gànràngún Igi gbígbe niò ní tòtò Díá fùn Ẹbọ Tíí s’omo won lóde Ògbólú Alárà, níbo l’Ẹbọó wà Enu ènìyàn l’Ẹbọó wà
A dried up tree stands upright but has no dignity Dry trees have no sap This Ifá declared to Ẹbọ The offspring of‘The city of accumulated wisdom’ Creator, I ask where is Ẹbọ? Ẹbọ is the mouth of human beings
Sacrifice starts with giving verbal form to what rests in our orí. The mouth represents the portal, the door to our orì. It is through this door that we express our wishes, because words are expressions of our desires and thus are a vehicle for manifestation. On this basis Ifá initiates are advised to bless everyone, to always speak good things and to refrain from gossip and negative speech in general. This is tied in to the moral dimensions of Ifá, which are concerned with the importance of always being truthful and stating the facts. Lies, deceit and gossip are considered the beginnings of misfortune because what we give shape to in our words naturally seeks manifestation. In this form of ẹbọ, the ìrúbo, we make sacrifice to fortify good fortune.
These forms of sacrifice can be as simple as a change of attitude and the offering of prayers and song to a given spiritual force, in which the tongue is directly fed with materials that sweeten our words or give them strength. This form of sacrifice is a constant theme in Ifá with its emphasis on prayers, songs and enchantments. All successful sacrifice starts with a clear verbal affirmation. There is a great difference between thoughts and words. Our thoughts are mere potentiality until they are given a voice and a name, and in this they hatch out into energies and forces that make them grow towards strength and materialization. This form of ẹbọ is done by the awo every day when he or she gets up in the morning and gives praise to the orí. The awo begins every day with verbal affirmations of his or her blessed state, because by doing so he or she can be a source for blessings and good fortune to others. Ètùtù is the sacrifice for turning a wicked situation into a positive one. It can be performed for an individual or on behalf of a community. At times this transformation can involve complex passages and steps. This form of ẹbọ is often given to malevolent spirits or to òrìṣà who have expressed their negative rays, and it serves to appease them. Ẹbọ is the common sacrificial rite that involves adimu, food offerings, and life force offerings to òrìṣà, and is the form of sacrifice usually associated with the word ẹbọ. Ìpèsè are special kinds of sacrifice offered to the àjɶs or witches. These are offerings aimed at appeasing these turbulent forces, which can also be used as a mediating act to gain their favour. Sacrifice can be made to witches in cases when someone is afflicted by the ajogúns, which takes the form of general misfortune, or by àjɶs, which can be recognized by emotional and mental imbalance and turbulence. Ìpèsè can then be offered as a way to remove these negative influences and thus restore equilibrium.
elements of sacrifice The elements of sacrifice are many and varied, drawn from the mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms. They are carefully selected after a situation has been defined and its remedy established. All these items are related to odù as well as to òrìṣà and ìmɳlɵ. The elements of sacrifice can be used both in their material form and as examples of attitude and presence of spirit that need
to be enhanced or diminished. To put it simply, if an Ifá divination calls for the sacrifice of a sheep, it will speak of the need to focus on this energy, both as a communion and in the form of attitude and aptitude. In practice it can signify that the sacrifice of a sheep to a given spiritual force and the consumption of the meat of the sacrificed animal will open roads to good fortune and block misfortune, but it can also speak of a certain attitude associated with the sheep that must be addressed. It should be mentioned that the meat is used to feed the community, and that any lifeforce offering is venerated prior to giving up its èmí, or breath. In this way, lifeforce offerings as made by the Yorùbá people follow a similar pattern to that found amongst the followers of the Mosaic faith with their kosher sacrifice, or the Muslims with their halal sacrifice. Ẹlẹ́dɵ (pig) is used to bring the blessing of children and an increase of comfort in one’s life, as it softens what is crooked and erratic. It is sacred to Egúngún, Ôrúnmìlà, Ìyàmí and Òrìṣà Oko. Àgùntàn (sheep) is important for the funfun òrìṣàs and for such cults as Agemo, which is related to the Egúngún cult, and for Yëmọja. It is said to hold properties that ward off death, and can be used in rites for the temporary resuscitation of the dead. Ewúré (she-goat) is a very common sacrificial element which can be offered to all female forces, Ọbàtálà, Ôrúnmìlà and Èṣù. It is considered to bring stability, protection and general good fortune to the community involved in giving the offering. Òbúkọ (he-goat) is used when force and fire are needed to invest one’s aspiration with power and direction. It is particularly sacred to the hunter spirits and is often used in initiations for male spiritual forces. Eranla (cow) is sacred to Ôbàtálá and the ìyàmís. It brings prosperity and wealth, especially through trade, and is an energy that can stimulate pregnancy. Erinla (bull) is used to bring stability to earth and is sacred to Egúngún and Ônilé. Just as this energy stabilizes the earth, it also stabilizes our life. Agbò (ram) has a very red nature and is used in works of defence, strength and transformation. It has deep connections with Ọya, Ògún, Ôsányìn and Egúngún in its capacity of appeasing the ancestors. Ajá (dog) is particularly sacred to Ògún and Ônilé, and induces serenity and
majesty in the hunter spirits. Òkété (rat) is used to appease nearly any form or force that has become turbulent. It can also be used to both placate and agitate red powers. It is a great sacrifice to give to the àjɶs and will, together with palm oil, appease any dissonance generated by them and thus provide blessings in place of ordeals. Pɶpɶyẹ (duck) is sacred to orí and Yëmọja and calms the mind and nerves as well as neutralising the negative thoughts of others. It holds the àṣẹ of opening the gates of honour and recognition. Ẹtù (guineafowl) is one of the most praised sacrificial offerings, given its connection with initiation, elevation, position and prestige. It is a sacred bird for Ôbàtálá, Ôṣun, Ôrúnmìlà and many others. It is a symbol of the iyawo, the newly initiated, to whom it gives good fortune, prestige and fearlessness. Adìẹ (hen) is said to possess the power of transforming our perspectives and brings health and equilibrium to the material realm. It appeases hostile forces and it brings out the strength of benevolent ones. To some extent the colours of the hen are attributed to given domains in respect to the three colours black, red and white, but its essential properties remain the same. Ẹyẹle (pigeon) represents prosperity, peace and long life as well as honour and loyalty. The white pigeon is especially revered, being sacred to hunters, eboras and funfun òrìṣàs alike. The wood pigeon is believed to hold quite different properties and is said to facilitate possession and bring the powers of àjɶ. Àkùkọ (rooster) is of importance to most male òrìṣàs, and in particular the hunters – Èṣù, Ôṣun, Ọbalúwayé, Ṣàngó – and many others in its capacity of providing radical defence and protection. Ìjàpá (tortoise) is a sacrifice that is made in order to be granted access to secrets. It is particularly sacred to Ôsányìn, Ṣàngó and Yëmọja, and is said to induce supernatural powers and provide diligence and protection. Ìgbín (snail) is sacred to all funfun spirits and in particular to Odù, Ôrúnmìlà and Ôbàtálá. It is the most esteemed agent for inducing peace and tranquillity and is the most highly praised food for consciousness and creativity. The snail also possesses medicinal properties and is a powerful antidote against infections and fevers, as well as being a remedy for even
the most serious of situations in its capacity to restore tranquility where there is turbulence. Ẹja (fish) and in particular ẹja aro (mudfish) are used to ward off death and to bestow longevity. Since fish live in shoals, they are used to combat loneliness and as a foundation for gravitation towards kin and peers. Naturally it holds the power of bringing wealth, being sacred to Olókun and Yëmọja. The mud-fish is sacred to Ôrúnmìlà in its capacity of endurance and its ability to live both on land and in the waters. Ẹyin adìẹ (egg) possesses cleansing and protective properties and is particularly sacred to the Ìyàmí and Ọgbɳni. Eggs can be given to Ôṣun and Ôsányìn when circumstances dictate; but are taboo for many spiritual forces. Efun (white chalk) is sacred to all funfun òrìṣàs, such as Ôbàtálá, Olókun, Òrìṣà Oko and orí. It is used to attract good fortune, in particular luck and money. Osùn (camwood) is a red powder that is used both for healing and to agitate spirits. It is sacred to Èṣù, Egúngún, Ìyàmí and all red spirits. Egbò (tubers) are sacred to Òrìṣà Oko, Egúngún and Obalúwayé. Not only do they possess stabilizing properties themselves, but they also remind the powers that uphold the stability of earth that we who eat them intend to uphold stability. Èkùyá (vegetables) are used for protection and to reinforce our allegiance with nature. Ẹmu (palm wine) is a cleanser and stimulant and is especially appreciated by Òrìṣà Oko, Ôsányìn, Ògún and Èṣù. It can be given to Ôbàtálá in moderate portions in order to stimulate creativity. Iyɚ (salt) is used to invigorate àṣẹ and to build a defence. It is sacred to most red forces and also to orí, in which it serves to strengthen our connection with the source and firm up our determination. Orí (shea butter) represents consciousness and in particular a good, calm consciousness. Ìrèké (sugarcane) is particularly sacred to egúngún and is considered to open doors through which prosperity may enter in the form of agility, good health and business opportunities. Ôgɵdɵ (plantain) is sacred to egúngún, as well as to Ẹgbë, and provides the power of longevity and maintains our healthy connection with our peers in Ôrun. It is used to attract prestige and good partners, whether in marriage or
business. Àgbọn (coconut) is seen as the vehicle of good character and induces stability and clarity. The àgbọn represents Ayé. Irù (cooked locust beans) are used in several adimu or food offerings that serve to placate spiritual forces and strengthen the àṣẹ of good fortune, like èkuru. Àmàlà (cooked yam flour) is used to appease hot forces. It is a food given in order to become more directed and focused. Ěkọ (cooked white corn flour) is used to attract good fortune and bring about a clear and calm state of mind. Ówóẹyọ (cowry shells) represent money. They represent sacrifice as much as protection and the need to give value and attention to what we are doing. This offering always involves the arrival of good fortune, but also the need to develop some form of protection, as good fortune coming to one person can sometimes cause the envy of a friend. The elements of sacrifice that are regularly used, not only as a part of larger ẹbọ but also for the weekly practice of Ifá, are as follows: Atàáré (alligator pepper) represents the power of the word and determination. It is particularly sacred to Ṣàngó and is used to feed the tongue when incantations or enchantments are used. Omi tutu (cold water) is a healing agent, used as a libation to honour the earth and make her cool and calm. Cold water prepares the ritual space as it creates a calm ambience. Ọtí (gin) forms a constant part of all work done with spiritual forces due to its capacity to quicken àṣẹ and allow it to spread out. Ọtí doesn’t refer only to gin, but to any high proof white spirit. Oyin (honey) is used to bring sweetness to life, and as a reminder of fate and destiny. Honey is the taste of our destiny. Ẹpọ (palm oil) is used as a substitute for blood and represents the invigorating flow of power in our life. Obí (kola nut) is frequently used, as it holds the virtue of warding off illness and death and for its ability to generate harmonious gatherings and stimulate friendships.
Orógbó (bitter kola nut) represents the closed calabash, the world united and perfected. In tasting its bitterness we are reminded that we can choose to sweeten the world with honey. The practice of sacrifice makes us aware of being, life, rhythms and the soul of Ayé. For example, if you offer cold water to the earth and pray for a calm mind as you sing to Ônilé, these simple actions involve a connection with water and earth as a means to still one’s thoughts and be present.
the practice of sacrifice The cycle of earth is one of birth, gestation, maturation and death followed by re-emergence; everything that is found on earth is bound to this cycle, even human beings. Ajogúns are a part of creation. Baba Ẹlëbuibọn commented in The Healing Power of Sacrifice (2000) that these malefic powers entered the world at the moment when the first person who could discern good from bad chose the latter. Sacrifice is necessary to maintain balance between the opposing forces emanating from the One, because it is only in opposition that the One is supported. It is only by sacrifice that we can maintain focus on our goal. The ajogúns are not our enemies, they are forces which appear in our life when we turn upon ourselves and embark upon the process of becoming our own worst enemy. Ifá relentlessly stresses that we are born good and blessed, but as we enter the world and undergo socialization and conditioning, we gain the experience of struggle, evil and defeat. This constitutes part of the human journey, as does sacrifice. Sacrifice can be understood as an action performed in order to bring harmony and balance. Sacrifice can be a change of attitude, whether to give up certain negative patterns, to feed a spirit with food, drinks and blood; just as it can be about initiation from other spirits, which will then accumulate the necessary wisdom to bring one’s life into balance, so that one can pursue one’s happy fate. The very idea of sacrifice tells us that imbalance is unwanted, and also that everything in the world is included in this dynamic. The greatest sacrifice is always about giving up patterns and attitudes that impair our good fortune, which was demonstrated at the beginning of this chapter by the example of Ṣóoróyè. His main problem was in the way he gave
attention to the people around him, and so he was advised to change this. He did so and offered up ẹbọ to spirit in order to align a particular spiritual flow with the change of attitude to which he had committed himself, and was thus granted blessings and good fortune. In other words, he sacrificed his attitude, and this attitude became his taboo, his way of ensuring that good fortune would flow. All sacrifice starts with the mouth. It forms words to describe the pain or problem experienced and prayers or oaths. Words lead to action because words are symbols that bring together all kingdoms and all worlds, visible and invisible, to the place of sacrifice. Sacrifice is to give up something. When we call a plant, animal, stone or spirit to the place of sacrifice, it is in order to accomplish balance and harmony for the one who is in search of his or her good fortune. This gives us some perspective to the entire concept of ẹbọ, where the one who performs it is asked to give up his or her bad ways, or to avoid certain things. Sacrifice is about engineering the cycle of life in the spirit of wisdom; the pulse of wisdom is found in contraction and expansion, inhalation and exhalation. If we have brought together representatives of all the kingdoms to partake in the sacrifice, we also need to share it with the community. The intent behind the sacrifice must be demonstrated, and the elements of the sacrifice must be distributed amongst the community, visible and invisible, to generate the necessary flow and flux that provides the anticipated return, manifesting in good fortune for everyone and everything involved. Sacrifice reminds us of how we are interdependent, we always need community, whether it consists of a few people or many, to enable us to spread our goodness. Community is important, and so is what we distribute in our community, so let us always spread goodness where we are, because to walk the world elegantly, gracefully and full of goodness is the greatest ẹbọ we can ever practice.
the mystery of taboo Èèwɚ (taboo) is an important concept, which is often misrepresented, because of its closeness to the concept of ɵsɵ, which means ‘to chose to do what is bad in spite of knowing what is good.’ Èèwɚ is actually closer in meaning to sacrifice, ‘to give up something,’ than it is to the word ‘taboo’ as
we use it, which has come to mean ‘something forbidden.’ A Yorùbá proverb states: Èèwɚ dùn ju oyin lọ, meaning: ‘Taboo is sweeter than honey.’ Taboos are given because they block the ways in which ajogúns may interfere with your life and create negative conditions. Therefore, when it comes to taboo, what is good for one person might be bad for another. Taboos can be permanent or transitory, they can be related to odùs that arise in initiations, or be given in relationship to odù and the spiritual forces of ancestry, òrìṣà and family. Taboos mark the way towards abundance. Èèwɚ can be given because it jeopardizes the health of body, soul or mind, because it impairs our bio-circuit, or because the forbidden food or objects serve as a gateway for inviting possession by spirits, and as such is set aside for specific circumstances. What is forbidden becomes part of the generation of a specific energy; through its deliberate absence, good fortune arrives. Let us look at some taboos and the reasoning behind them. Let us say that a person going through initiation to Ṣàngó is told in his dafá that he has been given a taboo against wearing uniforms, dressing in red and eating chilli peppers. A taboo such as this has precedents in the corpus of Ifá in relation to the particular odù that comes up, which would speak of the abuse of power and the inability to keep one’s emotions calm. This follows a quite logical reasoning that Ṣàngó typifies the warlord, and that abuse of power is one of the traits found in his stories. While Ṣàngó most certainly possesses other more elegant and peaceful aspects, if these taboos come up, it will demonstrate that the iyawo (the newly initiated) has a strong connection with the fire that tends towards burning too hot. Hence the taboo against wearing uniform serves as a reminder of how power can invite the ajogúns in, and the colour red and chilli peppers serve as a reminder of not allowing one’s passions to get out of control. There are taboos which are more difficult to understand, such as those against eating potatoes, peanuts, or beans. When they apply to the vegetable or animal kingdom, taboos are trifold; they can be given because of a spiritual force we are in relationship with, or because they generate a disturbance in our bio-circuit on a spiritual level, or simply because they are harmful to our health. If the food taboo is related to a spiritual force, it is given because avoiding the item will generate a more direct spiritual flow. This can be understood by realizing that òrìṣà also have their taboos, for instance, Èṣù is denied hot peppers, as this will agitate his natural fire, and Ôbàtálá is denied
palm oil, as it will invigorate his state of impeccable and stable whiteness in negative ways. To continue the example with Ôbàtálá, if we make ẹbọ involving this force we can use white chalk, snails, water, yams – but never corn and rarely blood. If we add these items to the sacrifice we create a distortion in the communication and manifestation of the presence. It is the same for èèwɚ given in initiations, certain items are forbidden because they impede and cloud ìpònrí, the link between the visible and invisible realms. In the Diaspora religions it is not uncommon to hear that the breaking of taboo leads to the anger of the òrìṣà; this is not true, but it does lead to the vinculum we hold in many directions being shaken.
ɑe cosmology of Ifá
The cosmology expounded in Ifá is cyclical. Further, Ifá invites comparison with Pythagorean ideas, viewing Ayé or earth as a body surrounding a central fire. If we go deeper into the metaphysics of Ifá we find geocentric and heliocentric, Ptolemaic and Copernican similarities, and even ideas similar to Al-Razi’s theories of the multiverse. While Boethius, Plotinus and Bruno have been mentioned as references for understanding Ifá cosmology, we can loosely define Ifá as a noetic consensus reality, and thus essentially a timeless philosophy. Metaphysically speaking, Ifá sees the invisible and visible realms as categories in constant interaction. Any number of worlds or realms can meet and interact, and our own, Ayé, is one of many possible worlds. Just like any other world, Ayé is endowed with a divine immutable spirit which gives it life and a unique form, rhythm and perfection. Every planet and every stellar body in our universe is inhabited by a spirit with a particular consciousness. In the case of Venus it is a spirit called Àguala; the Sun is inhabited by the spirit called Àmɚká; and Sirius (the canoe star) is the dwelling of the spirit Ìráwɳ Alɶ. These ideas are not far from those which we find in Leibniz’s theory of the Monads. Ifá holds that the beginning of everything is rooted in the presence of a mysterious light that began to move and, as it contracted and expanded, generated a variety of light forms. All of the rays that rose from the explosions caused by the pulse of light became conscious of its ray as their source. Hence the beginning of everything was an explosion of light. The director of the explosion was the intelligence inhabited by the primordial mysterious light, which we call Olódùmarè, a name which in its fullness means ‘owner of the rainbow snakes that rose from the womb,’ but who is usually referred to as ‘the owner of heaven.’ If we pursue the symbolism of serpents rising from a
womb, we find that snakes represent primordial rays of being rising from the igbámɳlɵ, ‘the calabash of light.’ This can be seen in the creator spirit Ôbàtálá who has the python (erè) as one of his attributes; the python is associated with the rainbow (Bascom 1969: 267). There is no hierarchy of value as such in Ifá, as the hierarchy of beings is dictated by placement and action. The social order is regulated by the chief of a village, city or nation, but Ifá is also concerned with mastery over situations and skills. For instance, if a king seeks to learn the art of forging metal he needs to approach Ògún, but not as king, rather, as a student of metallurgy. While the blacksmith naturally gives due respect to the office of the king, the king must also recognize that, when in the hall of the blacksmith, he is not the master of the art he is being mentored in. If we are forging a knife, the one who knows best how to accomplish this task should be the one in charge, no matter what his social status. This sensitivity to role and domain, skill and wisdom, flows abundantly through Ifá, and these roles are not only assigned to human organization, but also in relation to plants and animals. For instance, a hunter seeking prey in the forest is not necessarily the master of the domain he is entering. However, the trees and plants in this domain can function as his teachers and allies. In Yorùbá societies, especially in the countryside, the exchanges between roles in a hierarchical dynamic occurs easily and naturally. This is because of the insistence upon building good character in Ifá. Alongside this is the recognition of what is being done, and the necessity of attuning yourself to the act performed. This attitude is possible because good character, awareness and gentleness are virtues of such enormous importance in traditional Yorùbá society. There is a hierarchy involved in Ifá and its cosmology, but this hierarchy is one of natural emanation and the proper assignment of a power for a given task. For instance, when Ôbàtálá was sent to earth to make dry land he was not chosen because he was more important, but because he was the embodiment of consciousness and thoughtfulness. His recognition as the most important òrìṣà came about because of his character, which all beings in creation recognized. His prestige was the result of him demonstrating his worth through challenges and the way in which he resolved complicated situations.
a golden chain Ifá tells of how spiritual beings descended a chain to make the earth habitable for humans. There are some variations of this story, but most commonly they relate how Ôbàtálá came down to Ayé on a chain of gold (or iron) forged by Ògún. He carries a bag of earth with him and a guinea hen that then scatters the earth over the waters. This act announces the arrival of spiritual forces in great quantity on earth. These first powers that came to earth were the spirits called ìrúnmọlẹ, spirits from the calabash of light. Together with these came also ajogún, ‘strong ones who cause misfortune.’ In the corpus of Ifá we find some variation in the amount of spirits that came to Ayé, but the most prevalent ones tell of 200 on the left side and 201 on the right side, or 400 on the left and 401 on the right. Ògún is the force of light that caused the ajogúns to arrive on earth, hence the slight imbalance in numbers that is necessary for movement. Ìrúnmọlẹ represent the spiritual blueprint of forms in the world. Infinite and mysterious, they might be described as the various forms of the godhead which we recognize in spirits, plants, animals, òrìṣàs and humans. These active potencies of conscious light ignite consciousness in all things. In their capacity as rays of light, like rainbows, they are also spirits whose inclination is one of communication. It is amongst these 401 travelling ìrúnmọlẹ that we find the manifestation of òrìṣà and the ensoulment of every plant, beast and mineral. These travelling ìrúnmọlẹ can take any shape they desire; it is these beings that are ‘gods that walk amongst men.’ They are never what they present themselves as, rather, they represent vibrations, forces and energies that ensoul all things and bring consciousness to situations, conditions and memory. These ìrúnmọlẹ relate to specific elements or vibrations, but we cannot say that they are these things, any more than we can say that the spirit of Ògún is iron, even though iron is experienced as Ògún because it is ensouled with his qualities. In the same way, Ôṣun is sensed through sweet waters, rivers, and waterfalls, but she is not that which she appears within. Ìrúnmọlẹ always enter and leave the world in mysterious ways, hence we find the many conflicting stories of òrìṣà. Some speak of particular ìrúnmọlẹ walking amongst men, and others are stories of remarkable men and women
who expressed a given vibration in a specific situation in such a way that the expression of this particular light led to a perfection, namely òrìṣà. Òrìṣà is therefore a complex concept, because an ìrúnmọlẹ ‘walking as a god amongst men,’ will be recognized as òrìṣà, but a human being under the influence of a given ìrúnmọlẹ who lives his or her life in concord with fate and its natural vibration will through deed, death and memory become òrìṣà in turn. This means that the dead (egúngún) are often the foundation from which òrìṣàs arise. Òrìṣà are a shard of consciousness, forces of nature that have become exemplary either as men performing remarkable feats or as gods walking amongst humans. This is the field of Ayé, in which gods become men and men become gods. It is here that the visible and invisible worlds blend and melt in conformity with our perception and saturate the world with wisdom and potentiality.
the wisdom of the worlds In his teachings, Baba Medahochi presented diagrams, which I will provide in a somewhat modified (and elaborated) form. Figure 1 shows the closed calabash of existence and how everything, visible and invisible, is connected. When the calabash of existence is opened, there is a different cosmic rhythm, in which the calabash is as a still point which allows a flow of light and energy everywhere. The opened calabash releases forces of ‘night’ and of ‘day,’ forces that challenge us to develop good character and cultivate those forces which exemplify it. An illustration of our world within the worlds and the composition of forces we are subject to would look like figure 2. These show that the visible and invisible world comprise a harmonious unit in which the spirit of Ělà permeates all of creation, on all levels and on all planes. Everything in the world is infused with the spirit of wisdom. They reveal the tremendous potential we have in Ilé Ayé, our earth, to become subject to wisdoms of all forms, in many shades and frequencies of light. Our world would then look like figure 3.
sixteen wombs (and one more) Some comment is needed before we embark upon the second part of the
book, which will present the sixteen odù pairs and one more; the odù assigned to Èṣù, Ôṣɶtúrá. Ôṣɶtúrá was the odù Ôrúnmìlà revealed to Èṣù when Ôrúnmìlà and Èṣù became companions. As such the birth of Èṣù, which occurs in Ôṣɶtúrá, will be used as a basis for a summary of the presentation of the sixteen méjì odù. In this I have striven towards giving a comprehensive sense of the complexity of these original forces of creation. This involves a fair amount of storytelling, which provides multiple reference points for the poetic wisdom of the verses. I have approached this matter as an awo attempting to lay down the fundamental energies of creation, and in doing so I have made no distinction between ensouled beings, whether they are spirit, plant, animal or human. This means that in the presentation of odù you will find sages going to trees and animals for divination and you will find the lives and deeds of plants and beasts presented side by side with those of humans.
figure 1
figure 2
figure 3
I have deliberately avoided a stringent order in my presentation, because an odù méjì is a complex concentration of diverse manifestation from a given vibration. Just as we in our human journey need to experience the totality of a vibration to define it, I have endeavored to do the same, to display the many facets connected to a particular ray of light or vibration. The sixteen odùs are a cycle, from the beginning of light in Èjì Ogbè until its cosmic inhalation in Òfún méjì. The sixteen pairs demonstrate how powers came into the world, and how all that is ensouled is mirrored in one of these sixteen odùs. The cycle also speaks of the development of communities, whether cities or kingdoms. Birth, death and rebirth are encoded throughout creation: everything that happens and everything that exists is ultimately rooted in an odù. Each pair of odù possess a consciousness and hands, one marked with the sun and the other with the moon. Each vibration can protect or withhold, just as it can give and bless. But we would do well to remember that the blessing of a snake might be in its venom. In all its stories, verses, proverbs, songs, prayers and enchantments, Ifá calls our attention to what we all share in common. Ifá presents the wisdom of the world in such a way that we can understand the origin of a given act, energy, word or situation, leaving no room for misapprehension and resentment.This discernment is fundamental to a deep understanding of Ifá. Ifá insists that we are all born unique, that we carry a distinct quality that can nevertheless be identified as coming from a clearly defined ray of light. If we have sufficient wisdom we will naturally transform this into benevolence, if we lack wisdom we will engage in errors of judgment and establish a negative pattern. There is a question at the root of philosophical enquiry, namely: what is real? Ifá is a classical philosophy, and like any good philosophy it does not answer the question, but only points the way, and sends vibrations that enable a realization of what is good and true. The world is good, it is perfect. If we don’t see the perfection in the design we perhaps lack perspective. The increase in perspective is what the presentation of the wisdom found in the sixteen méjì odù that follow in the second part will provide.
II
A FOREST OF MYSTERY
ÈJÌ OGBÈ
ɑe moist air of consciousness Èjì Ogbè is the flash of light striking the primal waters. It is an odù that contains the fullness of all things, whether they are desired or not. Ônilé, the indwelling spirit of Ayé, the earth, manifested in this odù and, in the next odù, came the dogs which are her wardens. Female dogs are considered her manifestation in some districts in Yorùbáland because dogs are protective and territorial by nature and also have the àṣẹ of loyalty. Èjì Ogbè means to lift both hands to heaven and receive both the good and the bad. Hence the first ìrúnmọlẹ to activate this odù was Sùúrù, the spirit of patience. As one verse in Èjì Ogbè imparts: K’á má fi kánjúkanjú j’Ayé K’á má fi wàràwàrà n’okún ọrɚ Ohun a bá fi ṣ’àgbá K’á má fi ṣè’bínú Bí a bá dé’bi t’ó tutu K’á simi simi K’á wò’wajú ọjɳ lọ tìtì
K’á tún bɚ wá r’ɵhìn ɚràn wò Nítorí àti sun ara ẹni ni Let us not engage the world in a hurry Let us not grasp the rope of wealth impatiently What should be treated with mature judgment Let us not deal with it in a state of uncontrolled passion When we arrive at a cool place Let us rest fully Let us give profound consideration to the consequence of things Let us do this because of our unavoidable passing It is with patience that we shall accomplish all our goals, hence the snail, boa constrictor, chameleon and elephant are the animals associated with this odù. These animals are given to Ôbàtálá, who manifests the dynamics in this odù in a more tangible form. The elephant represents Ôbàtálá because of its associations with memory, nobility and kindness. In several parts of Africa we find the belief that the elephant is considered the manifestation of chieftaincy. Legends involving the elephant always place him as judge or chief, due to the great wisdom ascribed to him because of his old age. The snail represents the quality of tutù, to be calm and at peace. Their blood is used to appease and calm aggressive forces. The snail also symbolizes patience. It is Ôbàtálá’s favourite food. One story in this odù speaks of how the snail walked the world in search of a good priest to help her out. This journey was riddled with disappointments, but she did not give up, and finally met a priest who possessed good character and was able to help with her afflictions. The boa constrictor is another of the animals of Ôbàtálá. It shares his secretive and nocturnal habits, and the white skin it sheds is said to be the cloth of Ôbàtálá. Ôbàtálá is a solitary spirit with a fondness for the forest clad mountains and thus shares an affinity with this snake which prefers solitude in the treetops or thicket. The chameleon became associated with Ôbàtálá because of its gentle way of walking in the world, and its ability to see everything from one point and to become one with whatever landscape it found itself in. However, it is not strictly Ôbàtálá’s animal, but primarily Ôrúnmìlà’s. Like the boa, it is an
animal which they share. Both represent the protective forces of these two deities, and it is upon the energy of these two animals that they base their protection. Funfun (whiteness) is born in Èjì Ogbè. Whiteness possesses a number of qualities associated with wisdom and ìwà rere (a calm, good and joyful character). Whiteness is signified by maturity, clarity of mind and the power of dream. Dream is the prima materia used by the divine artisans to bring about manifestation. ÒrìṣàÁláse is one of Ôbàtálá’s praise names and it means ‘spirit who holds the power of dreams,’ a play on words between àlà and álá, the former signifying ‘the spirit of whiteness and purity’ and the latter ‘the power of dream’ as symbolized by his white cloth. In Èjì Ogbè, we find such imɳlɵs as Iyemòó and Àyàlá as powers that aid the process of bringing light into matter, using dream as a vehicle of transformation. Ifá places great emphasis on dream, as it is the beginning of manifestation. Iyemòó is also known as àjɶ funfun which is understood to be a benevolent but mysterious force that holds the power of shaping dreams and nightmares. Iyemòó is said to be the wife of Ôbàtálá in some traditions. Her name means ‘mother of my hands’ and this odù relates how the hands and the feet (Ôbàtálá) need to work in harmony. Èjì Ogbè tells that in the beginning all creatures were without orí, they were without heads (that is, consciousness). Àyàlá, the divine sculptor of consciousness, is described as a drunkard, though one possessed of amazing artistic skills. He has the gift of molding wonderful consciousnesses, but all too often they turn out flawed due to his intoxication and his getting too creative with his work! Ifá tells us that we all need to go to his house to select our orí before departing for earth, but since he is such a great artisan the imperfections encoded in the various heads we can choose are not evident, so many of us end up with an impaired consciousness. In the house of Àyàlá, at the moment we elect our orí and set our destiny, the owner of heaven, whom we also call God, says, ‘May you reap blessings on your journey.’ There is no judgment to be found in selecting a good or an impaired orí, it just places us on different paths, with heavier or lighter challenges. The secret of creation and creativity is found here, and this secret is encoded in consciousness. The spirit of consciousness is called orí and Ifá says the following about orí in the ese Ifá Ogbègúndá:
Orí pɵlɶ Atèté níran Atété gbe ’ni k’ òsa Kò sosa ti í dá’ ni í gbé Lɶyìn orí ẹni
Orí, I hail you You who do not forget your devotees Who bless devotees more quickly than other gods No god blesses a man Without the consent of his orí
Orí is a fundamental concept for understanding Ifá and orí is born in this odù. The word orí has different levels of meaning, but it can be translated as ‘to receive one’s self,’ from o signifying ‘someone’ and rí denoting ‘to receive.’ Orí can also mean ‘head’ or ‘summit,’ such as the mountain, the dwelling of Ôbàtálá. One is confronted with a way of using the words that indicates that the symbol and what it symbolizes are one and the same, and that the meaning in turn depends upon context. Orí is the physical head, both what it contains and the spiritual qualities associated with it. First and foremost of these is consciousness. Without orí nothing can be accomplished, no evolution can be achieved, nor can wisdom be comprehended. This is why we find it as a theme repeated throughout the Ifá corpus; as an ẹsẹ Ifá from Ogbègùndá says: Ẹni t’ó gbɳn. Orí ɵ l’ó ní ó gbɳn, that is ‘He who is wise, is made wise by his orí.’ The concept of orí is connected to the idea of our personal daimon or guardian angel. This is because there can be no perception without consciousness. More particularly orí implies the spiritual foundation of a healthy consciousness. Some say that orí reveals itself in the òrìṣà that claims our head, but this requires some clarification. The òrìṣà that we are initiated to, the one who claims our head, represents a particular cosmic colouring that replicates the essence of orí, but orí is also understood to be its own spiritual category, born from one of the 256 odùs in the Ifá corpus. Orí is seen as a gathering of factors with specific denominations. Orí òde signifies the physical head, the material covering of consciousness.Orí inú denotes the inner head, consciousness itself, and is seen as having a dual quality known as apárí, a form of nakedness and openness of what is held and what is expressed. It is here in consciousness laid bare that we find the faculties which produce our character (ìwà). Ifá sees ìwà as a young and inquisitive female force. The parallels with Psyche and Eros in Plato’s Timaeus are too close to be ignored. In Plato’s vision Psyche (Soul) is also
seen as a young and curious woman. In meeting with Eros (Love), she experiences growth and in this she finds identity, discovering the silent essence of selfhood. In the context of Ifá this growth is accomplished by being constantly aware, by approaching the world with loving interest and by being conscientious about discerning the good from the bad. Our bad experiences serve to firm up our integrity and character, they teach us the lessons we need in order to reach the fullness of our potential. It is how we conceive of these challenges that makes the difference, here we find the secret of how to turn vinegar into wine. This idea is intimately connected to a further concept, èrí ọkàn, which means ‘what the heart bears witness to.’ In other words, consciousness and heart need to be in alignment for one to prosper on one’s chosen path. What makes this alignment possible is the faculty of orí ápeere that represents the natural connection with odù possessed by all of us, which invites perfection. So it is by understanding the energetic matrix of creation that we can generate this alignment between consciousness and the heart. This faculty is of an alchemical or transformative nature. It is the faculty that explains difference, as it is seen as being rooted in one of the four elements. The metaphor Ifá uses is that water is always water, but water from a thunderstorm, water going stale in a well, and water flowing free in a cold river are different, though they share something in common.
Ifá understands human consciousness as a naked field of consciousness which is attached to an elemental vibration and coloured by one of the 256 odùs, which represent the totality of cosmic possibility. The idea of the heart is always connected to the idea of love, but also to deception. There is a typical Yorùbá play on words, where ọkàn (heart) is contrasted with ọká (viper), demonstrating the heart’s unpredictability. Ifá teaches us deeply about the constitution of consciousness, imparting that the orí holds the necessary power to enable its perfect alignment with the heart. The points of power in our consciousness are known as iwájú orí, àtárì and ìpàkò. Iwájú represents ‘the third eye,’ our capacity for vision and being receptive to divine inspiration. This is the entrance for prophecy and clarity. Àtàrí is located at the crown of the skull, and is translated as ‘sanctuary’ and ‘temple.’ This centre of power is known as láyé-láyé and signifies a state in which one experiences the source of creation. One’s being merges with origin outside of the confines of time and space and is considered to be in a state of possession. It is this state which the awo of Ifá enters during prayers, divinations, and initiations; the state of wakeful dream. It is a mystical state in which the energetic circuit of creation is enfolding the awo, and he or she becomes a manifestation of the beginning of wisdom. Ìpàkò is the name given to the point at the nape of the neck where our ‘animal’ brain is to be found. It is here that we generate a connection with life and nature. The dead, òrìṣà and all the spirits of nature speak to us through this gateway. Possession via this point of instinct and arcane memory can be violent at times, and is very different to being possessed by the spirits of dream, as happens when the gate of àtárì is used to invite a spirit in. The idea of the left and the right are found in Èjì Ogbè. We lift both our hands to the heavens to receive. The left hand is for defence and the right hand for acceptance. In the stories of creation, spirits of the left are those of fire and restlessness, whilst the spirits of the right are those of benevolence. There is a balance to be found in this play between forces, and which calls upon skill to mediate between them. The hands belong to the body and the head should rule the hands. We need to aspire to become conscious of how we manipulate the forces of the right and the left. Any form of imbalance will throw us off centre.The two hands are represented by Ôbàtálá holding two horns, one containing àbá (ideas) and the other holding àṣẹ (the power of
accomplishment). Ôbàtálá is the only ìrúnmọlẹ who possesses both àbá and àṣẹ. This balance generates a need for otherness, and because of this Èjì Ogbè speaks repeatedly about the importance of an harmonious gathering of forces. The balance of power can alter, as when a spirit of àbá becomes the wielder of àṣẹ in relation to another force. For instance in the relationship that Ôrúnmìlà holds with Èṣù, Ôrúnmìlà is the force of àbá, whilst Èṣù is the àṣẹ, the executing force. If we look at the relationship between Ôsányìn and Ôrúnmìlà, we see the power relationship shift, as Ôrúnmìlà is the portent of Ôsányìn’s àbá, being the àṣẹ of Ôsányìn. When àbá and àṣẹ find each other, they bring forth awo, meaning ‘mystery.’ The concept of awo is constituted by two forces mingling, hence the importance of pairs, or méjìs, in Ifá. Ôbàtálá is the òrísà most closely associated with Èjì Ogbè because he understands the balance of the two hands and the importance of conscience. It is not easy to define his origin – or his gender – as there are so many traditions. Èjì Ogbè states that even if he is the youngest odù, he is the one who holds the greatest honour and who is destined to rule the entire retinue of cosmic vibrations. Ôbàtálá belongs to the class of spiritual forces known as funfun, a word meaning ‘white.’ The word fún, from which funfun may have developed, or is at least related to, contains the idea of ‘giving,’ ‘to impregnate.’ For instance, fún obinrin means to make a woman pregnant. Funfun refers to an ability of whiteness to impregnate matter and references spermatozoa and the mucus membranes. The funfun spirits prefer the forest, as many of the praise names for Ôbàtálá testify. So we find Oluwo Igbó, meaning ‘great prophet of the forest,’ Òòṣà Ìgbowújìn, ‘spirit that lives in a faraway forest,’ Ọba Igbó, ‘king of the forest,’ and Ôṣɶèrèmɚgbò, ‘source of goodness from the forest.’ The importance of the forest is evident in Ifá; it is where the worlds meet, and it is where we find places which serve as portals between dimensions of being. Hence the forest as a place of power is a reference to the process of initiation, igbódù, and the energetic womb of the forest is the place where we remake ourselves and initiate every new journey. Funfun is contrasted to dúdú, symbolized by the colour black. Dúdú is not only the colour, but what is concealed and how it may be revealed. There is a third class of energy, the awo pupa or ‘red mysteries,’ which are spiritual forces of the blood, heart, passions, and the possibilities for germination of any
sort. The use of awo pupa is a reference to passion and fierceness. In Ifá metaphysics there are only these three colours, which denote the qualities found in creation as well as the potentialities inherent in Ôrun. The funfun are ancient spirits who were involved in the process of creation. They are the luminosity before the first light, as spoken of in the last of the méjìs, Òfún méjì, which at times is called Àgbábaba odù, the grandfather of odù and the source of light. Here in the dynamic between the first and last odù is the alpha and the omega, the ouroboros devouring its own tail. Ôbàtálá manifests in the first odù, Èjì Ogbè, which is the potential for illumination found in the powers held by the ‘grandfather,’ Òfún. Èjì Ogbè manifests this potential for light and illumination. Potential and becoming through the vehicle of dream and imagination are a constant theme in this odù. The condition of Òfún, pure consciousness, still and un-manifested, can be touched in dreams. Ifá teaches us that nothing that is not first imagined can become a reality; dream and imagination are the source of becoming. Our good fortune begins in dreams, in the invisible universe of spiritual denizens called ìmɳlɵ, ‘house of light.’ These spirits transform spiritual potential into physical reality. Such is the origin of the substance of creation and accomplishment we recognize as àṣẹ. Ôbàtálá is the one who brings this light of possibility into the world and therefore his votaries say of him: Ôbàtálá sùn nínú àlà, Ôbàtálá jí nínú àlà, Ôbàtálá tinú álá dìde, Ìbà Ôbàtálá, ‘The king of the white cloth sleeps in white, the king of the white cloth wakes up in white, the king of the white cloth rises in white.’ Light is the building block of being and creation. The interaction between light and darkness constitutes the cosmic pulse and is replicated in man by breath. When we inhale and exhale, we move between life and its absence. On a cosmic scale, this takes the form of light and darkness. It is these extremes that generate the stability of the earth, and these contrasts that make our world a mystery. The source of light manifests in several ways and is a source for abundance, blessings, wealth and what the Yorùbá people call orí rere, a calm conscience. Being in the world should be as soothing and comforting as caresses from the rays of the sun. When light is exalted, it burns and makes all things barren. It does this while it remains in the glory of its own being. These cosmic and mystical phenomena can be replicated in people as well, and give what can be understood as a negative vibration of Ôbàtálá. When light turns negative, it implodes and dislocates our sense of self importance. Our
indecisiveness becomes a tool for allowing the scorching sun to burn the fields and people around us. Using the light for personal ends can, in its positive manifestation, lead to natural authority, in its negative manifestation it will generate arrogance. Ultimately arrogance will lead to the sense of total supremacy, in which one’s words are experienced as weightier than even the word of Olódùmarè, the creator. At this point, light will collapse and implode and the bright scorching sun make your spiritual life barren and void of light. In regard to this complex interaction, an Ifá proverb tells us that Ṣàngó needs Ôbàtálá in order to be a just ruler, as strength without a clear and enlightened mind leads to tyranny. The red powers of strength and the whiteness of light need to be in harmony. But we are not perfect, and at times even the accumulation of wisdom and understanding can ignite the illusion of supremacy within us. When the redness, the enthusiasm of strength, has overcome a person the remedy is calmness. In Èjì Ogbè, the presence of Ṣàngó is symbolized by the thunderstone, which contains his àṣẹ. It is, however, made clear that this came from the cone shaped summit of the mountain of the world, and formed the foundation for the rule of the first ọɚni (king) of Ilé Ifɵ. The verse that speaks of the thunderstone establishing kingship on Earth calls upon Ôrúnmìlà to counsel the king, in order that gain and abundance be part of the royal rule. It is in Èjì Ogbèthat we also find the importance of the chest and genitals. The chest, in which the heart resides, symbolizes our capacity for love and friendship, and the genitals the source of ancestry and continuation of lineage. In this complex of consciousness, love and lineage we find truth. In Ifá, sòtítò (truth) is considered to be one of the forces that upholds mystery. The other pole is to be righteous, so that truth becomes truly immutable and a silent witness to creation, an observer of the many rays of light. We recognize this in beauty, and when we are touched by beauty, we are touched by truth. This dynamic is expressed in the Yorùbá proverb that tells us: ‘when your life gets better, my life gets better.’ Truth makes a way for truthfulness, but will always remain awo (mystery). Truth is not about facts; it is about the recognition of mystery, a recognition that shakes the bells of truth in our soul. Ìrókò (Chlorophora excelsa) is the sacred tree in Èjì Ogbè. It is sometimes referred to as the African oak, although it is actually a type of teak. It is also known as alà, in reference to the white cloth of dreams in which it is sometimes shrouded, as a sign of reverence. It is told that Ìrókò came to earth along with his sisters, Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà and Ọgbòrí. Ọgbòrí means both ‘the
beginning of wisdom’ and ‘the consciousness of flax,’ a reference to common people, that is, those who are unaware of their supernatural constitution. Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà, on the other hand, means ‘Powerful mother who owns the birds of night,’ and is the spirit who holds the power of àjɶ, (witchcraft). A story tells that Ọgbòrí had ten children and Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà only one son. One day, Ọgbòrí needed to go to the market, and asked Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà to look after her ten children. She agreed to this and took good care of them. A few days later, it was Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà’s turn to go to the market, and she asked her sister to look after her only son. While taking care of him, she became intrigued by a bird in the bushes and her children hungered for its meat. Ọgbòrí decided to catch it, telling her children to treat Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà’s son well. The bird led her far out into the woods. In their mother’s absence, her ten children decided that they would kill Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà’s son and eat him. Through her supernatural powers, Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà realized that something was wrong at home, so she terminated her journey to the market and started to walk back. When she came home to see that Ọgbòrí was not there and that her sister’s children had eaten her only child, she despaired. Ìrókò heard Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà’s cries and came to aid her from his isolation in the middle of the forest. He appeased her by saying that from this day they would feed on Ọgbòrí’s children, but Ôrúnmìlà intervened and established a pact based upon the protocol of sacrifice, which succeeded in pacifying the vengeful blood thirst of Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà, Ìrókò and the ‘Elders of the Night.’ In this story we find the origin of the violent temper of Ìrókó, and its complicated relationship with children and àbíkú. Ifá tells that there are thirty six ájé living in the branches of Ìrókò, many of whom call upon our most vile and destructive passions. We find here the spirits of wasps, of mothers who kill, and of cruelty. Despite Ìrókò’s reputation for aggression he is considered to be a wise judge, the first tree spirit to come to earth, a recluse with a unique perspective upon the activities of the world. For the Yorùbá, Ìrókò is the origin of the solution to barrenness, in particular through the cults known as Gëlëdë and Ẹgbë. The story that tells of the beginning of the Gëlëdë society is as follows. At the beginning of time the first tree that took root in Ayé was Ìrókò, and with him came spirits older than time that found solace in his branches. Ìrókò loved the night and possessed amazing magical powers which he would sometimes use to spread confusion amongst the humans who had started to appear – just
for his amusement. The hunters gradually recognised his powers and came to him for aid and assistance, and it is from the Ìrókò that the hunters were gifted the power of òṣò, the capacity of allowing the soul to go out of the body in order to track prey. Ìrókò became sought after for advice and help with various problems. He just had two rules: no one could look at him directly, and those wanting his help had to give something in return. It so happened that the women in the villages around Ìrókò were all barren, and so they went to him to see if he could help them. They formed a ring around Ìrókò with their backs turned towards him and petitioned him for children. They promised animals and agricultural gifts in return, but one woman, Olúrómbí, had nothing to give, so she promised to give him her firstborn. Nine months later, they all gave birth to children and went to pay the agreed offerings, all except for Olúrómbí. She decided to keep her baby boy at home and avoid any confrontation with Ìrókò. Time passed until one day she was on the way to the market when the spirit of Ìrókò appeared in front of her, reminding her of her promise. She pleaded and cried, but Ìrókò was not interested in excuses or explanations and turned her into a bird, saying, ‘So be it, may you then be a prisoner in my branches.’ He took her to live with him forever, and she did indeed stay there for a long time, singing her sorrowful songs. But one day a woodcarver came by and hearing her song understood her plight. He used his skills to make a perfect wooden boy. The wooden doll was sanctified with herbs and perfumes and beautifully dressed. The woodcarver brought the wooden doll to Ìrókò, saying that this was the child that he had been promised. Ìrókò was so taken in by the beauty of the craftsmanship that he accepted the wooden doll in place of the firstborn of Olúrómbí and gave her back her human form. In return Olúrómbí and her family went back to Ìrókò with many gifts and offerings and in this way secured his help whenever fertility was a concern. Olúrómbí frequently figures in Èjì Ogbè as a symbol of ingratitude. Her name means ‘She who in her wealth turns fortune into misfortune.’ Several stories use her as an example of someone who has everything but is still not happy, or someone who always wants something more or different to what she has. A story tells of Ôrúnmìlà approaching her after she has decided to give up on her Ifá prayers, and wishes her ‘good morning.’ She grumbles and murmurs in return, complaining that the wealth she asked for never came. Ôrúnmìlà rises to the challenge and prepares a medicine that brings wealth to her. She does not respond to this with gratitude or thanks, but with fresh complaints.
Ẹgbë is a complex mystery in Ifá. On one hand it speaks of the phenomenon known as àbíkú, and on the other it refers to mysteries which are taboo. There is a cosmic dimension here that indicates the thin veil between Ayé and Ôrun. Ẹgbë means ‘gathering’ or ‘society’ and refers to the grouping of spiritual doubles in Ôrun. When we are born our spiritual double can either release us to experience our journey on earth, or it can summon us back. When this happens, we experience accidents and illness that seek to end our life. This situation is caused because the ties connecting us with our spiritual double are not completely severed after our birth as humans. Such children are called àbíkú and are recognized, apart from illness and accidents, by sleeping with their eyes open, playing with invisible friends, and many possess clairvoyance and supernatural skills. In order to stay healthy and have a full life span, a pact is made with Aràgbò, the chief of Ẹgbë. This involves the construction of a spirit house which is regularly tended in order to secure long life. The àbíkú phenomenon is also related to twins. A Yorùbá proverb tells: Ibeji re, omo edun ibeji re, omo edun kerekere-yan, ‘Behold twins, children of the monkey, they do not die.’ This mystery belongs to Ôsányìn, the spirit of herbs, and Egúngún, the collective spirit of ancestral bones, in their capacity of working both sides of the veil. More will be told of these ‘bones and arbours of sweetness’ in the chapter on the mysteries of Òtúrúpɚn méjì. What is important to note here is Èjì Ogbè as the beginning of this mystery, which unfolds in a different octave later on in the corpus of Ifá. The greatness accorded to this odù rests in its power of acceptance, the recognition that creation is a structure that is upheld in a dyadic manner. It concerns perceiving the totality, the perspective of the landscape and how the parts make a whole. Hence, in this odù we find the image of the sphere, expressed by the calabash, the obì (kola nut), the òrògbó (bitter kola nut) and the àgbɳn (coconut). Ifá ló di ení Mo ló di ení Eleení Diá fún Lámèni Ọmọ at’ ɚrun là, gbé’gbá Ajé ka’ri wá’ye Ifá says: ‘It is now one’
We respond: ‘It is now one’ Oneness it is He was the awo who made Ifá divination for Lámèni He who carried the calabash of wealth and success from heaven to earth Lámèni means one who covers long distances in the form of a dragonfly. It was this aspect of Ôbàtálá that brought the calabash of wealth and success from the summit of the mountain (i.e. heaven) to Ayé. The story continues, telling how Ôbàtálá stumbled and dropped the calabash and at this instant success and wealth were dispersed across the world. Next an important declaration is made: Àfín ló gbogbo ara h’ewu Aro ni ó na’wó Kó gbé gbá Òòsà l’ájá Diá fún Èmí Tii s’omo Òrìsà Gbòwújí Èyi ti yóó je Olójà l’áwùjo ara Ẹbọ ni wón ni kó wáá se Ò gb’ebo, ó rú’bo Njé Òrìsà t’ Èmí ló sòro o o Òríṣà t’ Èmí ló soro T’ Èmi o ba bó o Kò si oun yòó nu Òrìsà t’èmí ló sòro o An albino is one who is covered with grey hair over his body A cripple is one who never stretches his hands And carries the calabash of òrìsà from the upper abodes This Ifá declared for Èmí (breath, spirit, vital force of the soul) The child of Òrìsà Gbòwújì (he who veils himself in enigmas) Who will become the most important part of the body He was told to make sacrifice And so he did Behold, Òrìṣà Èmí is most important Òrìṣà Èmí is most invaluable
If Èmí is not removed I say, nothing will be lost Òrìṣà, Èmí is most essential Èmí is the spiritual breath that ignites the soul. Understood to be infinitesimal, it is the very essence that serves as the seed of becoming, and the divine spark that kicks the soul into motion. Èjì Ogbè reveals that everything that exists originated as dreams in the godhead and was brought into being by illumination. Whiteness carries all these ideas of purity, dream and light. It is because of this that Ifá maintains that we are all born good and blessed as beings of light venturing into the world. The world, the role of Èṣù as the great magician of creation, and all the bitterness and sweetness of our journey are spoken of in Ôyɵkú méjì.
ÔYĚKÚ MÉJÌ
ɑe mother of the spirit of death When Èjì Ogbè speaks of the need for patience, tranquility and walking gently in the world, it says that this should be done because of our eventual passing. In the odù following Èjì Ogbè, the birth of light, we find darkness and annihilation. The human journey is here revealed to have an end. Ôyɵkú méjì manifests the marketplace as a symbol of life in Ayé. The marketplace is the site of fortune and misfortune, giving the good deal to the bad man and short changes the honest seeker. Chance and opportunity arise as a consequence of light being caught in matter and taking on a myriad of forms. Seeing the results of this, Ôyɵkú méjì has the following to impart: K’á má ṣ’èké ɵgbɶ
Let us not deceive those with whom we make community Let us not break oath with our companions
K’á má da’lè ɚgbà Nítorí àti sùn ara eni Let us not do this, because of our eventual passing ni
Ôyɵkú méjì speaks of being trustworthy, of retaining the light of Èjì Ogbè so that we are always fair, honest and honourable. But it also speaks of how people will succumb to the temptation of greed. The seed of corruption is found here. This odù speaks about materialism and avarice; it speaks about the meeting of friend and foe. In the verse cited, we should take notice of the word ẹgbẹ, which denotes the community we belong to, whether in heaven or on earth. It is an admonition to recognize our shared humanity. The marketplace is the field of Ayé, the earth, which is why the ọpọn Ifá, the divination board, is also born in this odù. The ọpọn Ifá is a symbolic representation of earth and manifestation, the full circle of the human journey. It is upon the ọpọn Ifá that the awo reveals the patterns of creation as they unfold. Èjì Ogbè taught that the calabash of consciousness was dropped when it was brought from Ôrun to Ayé, and that the wisdom it contained was dispersed, but Ôyɵkú méjì reveals that much of this wisdom was gathered by Ônilé, the spirit of earth, with the help of Èṣù Ôdàrà. That which had been gathered was composed into Igbádù, the calabash of creation as the spirit of earth. As she had been able to gather the wisdom that fell to earth, Ônilé was declared the ‘owner of the womb of earth.’ Her ability to gather wisdom continued as the world moved on and replicated the 256 patterns of cosmic wisdom Ônilé had secured. Because of this, it is necessary for a babaláwo to receive this spirit vessel, the igbádù; to do so is to be given the power of the womb, a power that woman holds naturally in her capacity of gestating the greatest mystery of all, life. The womb of woman is the manifestation of the cosmic womb of possibility, replicated in the womb of creation, which is understood to be the nature of Ayé as mediated by Ônilé. This teaching is of the concealment of light, the secret gestation of life from ovum to birth. When light meets matter, a third element arises which is always a transformative power. This power is given to Èṣù in one form or another. I believe this is due to one of the more mystical interpretations of his name; that he is a ray or flash of light that generates a sphere, temporal order, or confinement. The class of spirits known as ajogún (spirits of obstruction), ikú (death), and Èṣù Ôdàrà, represented by the volcanic laterite stone known as yàngí, are born in this odù. Ôdàrà means ‘to disperse’ and what he disperses here is chance, luck and opportunity. The potential for fire was born with this stone, and through this, movement and transformation became possible. Ôyɵkú méjì explains the causes of human misery and why death is a natural
phenomenon on the human journey. It represents the unknown, the mysteries of night, the accumulation of wealth and the end of any cycle. It is the power that seals the calabash of wisdom and existence. The Yorùbá idea of magic is lodged in something that happens in seemingly unnatural ways, or that interupts a natural course of action. This power of transformation is attributed to the interference of stars, either manipulated by magic, or as a consequence of grace, in which case it is termed a miracle. These secrets go far and run deep, but in the context of Ôyɵkú méjì they refer to the unstable nature of the human being. Transformation is an integral part of humans, replicated and preserved in the concealment of night as a power which it is possible to manipulate. Nearly everything in creation is subject to manipulation and alteration, but one force lies outside their reach: death. Ikú, the power that ends the human cycle, was born in this odù. An oft quoted Yorubá proverb tells us that this world is just a journey, whilst Ôrun is our home. So ikú is the power that brings us back home. It is easy enough to accept this realization intellectually, but our feeling is often quite different when actually confronted with death. We fear death and we fear the darkness, just as we fear adversity and depression. Darkness is born in this odù. Ôyɵkú means that we pay reverence to the mother of the spirit of death. This reverence signals an acceptance of cycles, and the knowledge that every end is also a new beginning. By daring the darkness, daring yourself to enter a new cycle, you can witness the closure of negative cycles, a death to the old in the spirit of change. Ôyɵkú is the space of contemplation and promise. She is the wisdom of the pole, the point that stretches out in the landscape and makes divination possible. Mankind approaches her with fear, not because of what she is, but because of what we are. We are shifting and unstable, an unruly creation mediating between stormy passions and calm reason, often identifying ourselves with the flux of the passions. The key is to seek a balance between ọkàn (heart) and orí (consciousness) in which they are brought into dialogue. If we accomplish this we will be making divine hermeneutics, as one verse tells: Bíríbírí l’ọkɚ dá Bɶɵnáni niomo aráyé
Constantly shifting is a boat on water And so are human beings This was the teaching of Ifa for Ônà
A dífá fún Ônà Ìṣɚkun
Ìṣɚkun
Tí iṣe ọmọọba l’ode Ọyo Ẹnití ó ba ns’akin
Who was child of the king of Ọyọ One who is brave Should not assume the voice of one who is K’ó má m’óhùn ojo shy Ẹnití ó ba nṣ’ojo And one who is shy K’ó má m’óhùn akin Should not talk like one who is brave Ọba kò jɶkí á ṣ’ogun si ìlú The king does not allow us to make war on obìnrin a K’á ba wɳn ló town of women K’ɶni hùwà gbɵdɵgbɵdɵ So that we may perish with them K’ɶni lè kú pɵlɶ pɵlɶ Let us conduct ourselves with gentleness K’ómọẹni lè n’ɚwɚ gbogbogbo So that we may pass peacefully, L’ɶni sin And so that our children can stretch forth Their hands fully on us in burial The verse speaks of the silence of contemplation, the need for reflection in order to allow our self to become known to us. This brings a recognition of who we truly are through the death of false ideas and ideals. It comes with an admonition to conduct ourselves with gentleness, in other words, to be true to ourselves. It always has the effect of bestowing kindness upon our surroundings, so that our children can bless our memory and feel pride when they remember our legacy. This odù is the root cause of melancholy, a condition referred to by the multiple meanings given to the word dúdú (dark/black). This is the colour of mystery and concealment. Not knowing who we are or where we are going invites ‘blackness’ into our life. The challenge lies in not falling in love with one’s depression or dark moods, but in using this condition to reach our potential. Dark moods lead us towards the edges of our being, a condition where we feel alive because death is so close. This is the fire of protection rising within: it tells us that we are mud and clay in a process of metamorphosis. This is the spirit of the mother of death, the wise compass that directs our way. We should show caution, and not mistake the spirit of death
for death itself. Death, ikú, is a dread power, the end of the human condition, the grim reaper himself. The role of Ikú is important, being concerned with balance. One of the many versions of this odù imparts that Ikú was most happy with the creation of humans, because he found them to be delicious and made them his favourite food. But he was insatiable and always lacked satisfaction or pleasure. The people of earth went to Ôrúnmìlà to find a solution to the wild ways of Ikú, and he advised them to prepare a meal with one chicken, camwood, yam, red cloth and pebbles. The chicken had to be tied to a post alive and the pebble rich meal should be placed in front of it. Ikú came and saw the food and tried to eat it, but the hard pebbles made it impossible for him to consume his meal. Discouraged, he went on and found the chicken clucking. The sound frightened him. The frightening sound and the unusual food led him to believe that the humans had gained possession of magical powers, and so he took his leave from Ayé. The world entered a time in which no one got sick, no one died, and chaos and confusion arose. Seeing that the natural balance was upset, the elders of the city went to Ôrúnmìlà and presented the problem to him. Ôrúnmìlà made offerings to Èṣù with kola nuts, bitter kola nuts and a bottle of gin. Èṣù came and told him that he would take care of the imbalance, but Ôrúnmìlà needed to stay indoors for the next 24 hours and prepare some good food for him. Ôrúnmìlà did as instructed. The next night, Èṣù called Ikú to dine with him. Ikú came and complained to Èṣù that he had been tricked by Ôrúnmìlà, and had come to enjoy some time with Èṣù before going out to kill all the votaries of Ôrúnmìlà. When Ikú had eaten his fill, he complimented Èṣù on his cooking, and told him that it was now time for him to kill off the Ifá priests. Èṣù replied that the meal had been prepared for them both by Ôrúnmìlà, to ensure that people would not die in their youth. Ikú became annoyed, but respectfully agreed to the terms of the offering, and swore to not devour Ôrúnmìlà and his followers. Death returned to the world, but now he would only take those in ripe old age. Although Ikú returned to heaven after the initial offering, he sent his emissaries to the world to catch food for him. These were his wife, Sickness, and his children, Loss, Despair, Poverty and Turmoil; the spirits we know as ajogún. These are forces that impede good fortune, and we often consider them to be evil. Ifá states that we attract these powers of obstruction through our choices, our attitudes and general carelessness. It is here that the concept of
taboo enters. The concept of taboo is understood to be something we renounce, set aside or treat as something ‘other’ in order to attract good fortune. Every taboo given – whether concerning food, colours, attitudes or actions – is to avoid attracting ajogún into your life. Taboo serves as a conductor of good fortune if it is respected, something that will bring rewards as we embark on our human journey in this marketplace we know as the world. This is a place where good and bad trade can be carried out, where thieves and truth mingle. The journey itself signifies a progress from one place to another; it is in the spaces inbetween that the unexpected can occur. Ifá teaches that a bed of tranquility and peace awaits those who take ìwà rere (good character) as their compass. Hence the Yorùbá proverb ‘If you don’t know what road to take, develop good character.’ Ifá teaches that creation was caused by the dream of light which was made visible in Èjì Ogbè. With the birth of light, earth and darkness also entered the design; Ôyɵkú méjì forms its support and contrast. Ôyɵkú méjì speaks of how Ôrúnmìlà descended upon a golden chain, the same as that which is used to tie together the òpɵlɵ seeds for divination, and landed on top of a palm tree. The palm served as his guide as he travelled around Yorùbáland seeking his fortune. This took some time, as he was met with constant ingratitude and greed, though finally he was made king of the city of Oketase. The palm tree was rewarded with great prestige because of the help it had given him. The palm tree, ọpẹ (Elaeis guineensis), gives ẹpọ (palm oil), while its close and royal relative, the king palm (Elaeis guinensis idolatrica) gives the sacred palm nuts, ìkín, which are the most dignified tool used in Ifá divination. The ability of ọpẹ to direct one through challenges towards destiny and fortune became the symbol of knowledge of the earth. Thus, the ọpẹ or its loyal friend the pèrègún (Dracaena arborea), should be planted in any place where Ifá is practiced. In this odù we find the okùn beads. These beads were originally of glass and ceramics and used to beautify kings and nobility. Today okùn are synonymous with beads in general and are used as tokens of kingship or queenship in relation to òrìṣà and Ifá cults. They preserve the idea of authority, conquest and ascent. In a profane context, these concepts turn into those of social class, and in this we find an important lesson of this odù. No ascent is about being better than anyone else, it is always about realizing one’s own destiny. One should be humble before fate.
Strictly speaking, Ôyɵkú méjì is the twilight, from the word ɚyɵ, which is used of the two magical junctures when there is neither day nor night, representing liminal times which are extremely benevolent for petitions and prayers. The twilight is the gateway for possibilities, where polarities blend into one another. The twilight is understood as a wondrous and beautiful contrast, because it was the foster parent of Ôrúnmìlà. A story relates how Ôrúnmìlà was adopted by Ôyɵkú’s parents, the triple crossroad and the dumpster. His foster parents were rich and obese, always searching for food, delight and things of beauty. His foster father was gentle, but deep down greedy, while his foster mother took an obsessive delight in the witches’ mysteries. They were good people, but had wholly material and selfish inclinations. Ôrúnmìlà found them lacking in character because they did not seek to develop good character, which showed itself in their disregard for moderation. Hence it is because of Ôrúnmìlà’s foster parents, the parents of Ôyɵkú, that the seed of greed and selfishness was planted in the market of the world. Because of this, Ifá insists upon the importance of moderation, of nourishing body, soul and spirit. Moderation is the key word here, as there is nothing wrong with the gluttony of the generous foster father, just as there is nothing wrong in the witchy interests of the foster mother. After all, it is in this odù that Ôrúnmìlà marries Ojá (prosperity) and Aje (wealth) a marriage that was the direct consequence of his generosity, hospitality and kindness to his community. Illusion was born in this odù, symbolized by the spider that connects the points of creation into a web of deadly beauty in which we can all be caught. The spider is magic incarnate. She represents the essence of possibilities in the world. She spins the web that covers the womb of mystery. The spider’s silk is of the nature of the Moon, and silk is the ladder to the other side, whilst cotton is what embalms humanity.
All trees and plants that fold their leaves at the onset of night belong to this odù. The tree known as ayùnré is chief amongst them. It is said to give protection against death because ikú found itself defeated in front of it. This tree has more than 150 relatives, and one of these which represents the full force of ayùnré is Mimosa pudica. Its leaves will retract and coil up when touched, demonstrating a reclusive energy that appears magical and dramatic. Most of its relatives react in this way to night and the moon, but this one does so in response to touch. Papyrus has the same virtue, but shares an affinity with the palm tree in its upright stature. This family includes a wide range of Albizia and Acacia species, some of which are rich in DMT. Ôyɵkú méjì speaks of how the ayùnré stood up against Ikú’s lust for human flesh and how he tried to subdue it repeatedly without success. This tree is complex in its virtues. It is good to plant it on your property and dress it in red cloth to ward off death, but the use of its leaves and flowers can equally provoke the presence of ikú. Several black berried plants, such as various solanums and the eggplant, are born in this odù. These are plants that give the final solace; death is found in these who herald the end with their beauty. The essence of the solanum, to give solace, is related to men and woman with a mission of bringing an end to suffering. It is an odù that inspires misguided prophets. The biblical story of Jesus’ mission is found in this odù. It tells how Jewesun (the name of Jesus in Ôrun) came to earth on a mission to destroy the powers that inhibited human happiness, in particular he wanted to take down Èṣù. He made divination in Ôrun before coming to earth, and was advised to make ẹbọ to Èṣù to ensure that his mission would be accomplished, but he refused. Jewesun saw no point in making ẹbọ when he was going to earth with such a just cause, and certainly he would never make ẹbọ to Èṣù. Jesus was given a final chance to make ẹbọ to Èṣù when the King of the World (the devil in the Bible) showed him all the kingdoms of the world, and declared that he would make them his if Jewesun made the prescribed ẹbọ. This he refused to do, and consequently brought about the premature end of his human cycle. Curiously, given the importance of the fish as a Christian symbol, it is in this odù that the fish was born and given as food for humankind. This odù carries the energy of dispersion, and because of this, harmonious gathering is crucial:
Ôrúnmìlà says there should be a gathering Mo ní ó di bá igbó ni Together like trees do to form a forest Igbó ni áà ehan I say there should be a gathering together Igbó ni àá bá esi We find monkeys in groups A ki ri anìkarìn nadunadu We find wild pigs in groups A ki ri anìkarìn nadunadu We don’t even find ‘one who keeps silent’ A ki ri anìkarìn yunrɵ Walking alone Ifá ní a bá di igbó, kò si n’ɚkan Nor do we find the greedy one walking rin alone Ifá says we should gather together and not walk alone Ôrúnmìlà ní bá di igbó
We should come together as in the harmony of many voices bringing forth a song. We should call upon the benevolent gathering of human forces so that we can support each other in our pursuit of fulfilment and happiness. In the end, the one who walks alone, really does walk alone. In this odù the importance of ìwà pele is signalled as clearly as it can ever be. Ìwà pele means good character, but particularly the good character that arises because we pay reverence to Ayé. When we pay reverence to the earth, we also reverence our ancestors; those she brought to her bosom by the intervention of ikú, and those she took in mysterious ways. Ikú makes reincarnation possible. We repeat our cycles, and our character/soul constantly experiences the joy of the human journey, and undergoes growth and illumination. Ikú is the one who takes us back home when we reach our destination. This odù represents the memory of who we are. Every babaláwo will tell you that it is important to remember your ancestry in order to have a notion of where you come from. Looking back, you will be able to see your own growth and to heal family curses. These are negative patterns which have evoked ajogúns in the course of your family’s history. In recognizing these patterns and making a declaration of change we are greeting the earth in reverence, and through this we generate a fire that infuses our ancestry with life. This odù concerns the deeds we perform which bring honour to our lineage, and to
ourselves as the living embodiment of our ancestry. Ifá refers to ancestors as egún, a word that means ‘bones.’ These bones preserve the memory of the ancestors who, upon leaving them behind, once more become ará ɚrun, meaning denizens of heaven; the word ara also signifies ‘embodiment.’ This odù further expands on the concept of òrìṣà. An òrìṣà is one who has mastered the human experience, guided by immortal and natural forces, and becomes deified; becoming an aspect of the natural principle which they lived out in their human journey. In doing so, each of the 256 odùs gains marrow and structure and becomes more salient in the world as we expand the consciousness of our ancestry. Ancestor reverence is born in this odù because it brings riches, and darkness. In remembering your ancestors, you access the energetic circuit that makes you who you are. You can count your blessings and rectify dysfunction. The memory of ancestry is used in Yorùbá society as a compass for the newly born; in ancestry we find guidance. We need to understand that an ancestor who made a bad journey can be a good, albeit often difficult, advisor on our own journey. At core, we are our own ancestors, we are all connected with one another through the presence of egún. Blood and spirit are equally important, which the notion of the extended family demonstrates. To be bound to a family in spirit and recognition is as important for the Yorùbá as to be bound by blood. This is evident in all forms of ibá, prayers of gratitude, which honour one’s ancestry. We find here names of blood relatives and spiritual relatives recited side by side. This concept was always kept alive in African societies and made possible the succession of legacy after the dispersion caused by the transatlantic slave trade. It is a concept that should serve as medicine for those who are adopted or otherwise alienated from their ancestry. We are all children of the forces that inhabit Ayé, and kin can be recognized both in blood and in spirit, the attraction between souls. Life is a mysterious condition. So many of us struggle to find self and identity in a world of demands and flux where we constantly search for the quiet place, the oasis of comfort in which we can centre ourselves. It is in soliloquy that we speak with source and our attendant daimons and spirits. Such a communion with self is a meeting with death, who makes us question not only who we are, but also what legacy we pass on. To know yourself in the embrace of death is to gain a vision of legacy, a flash of what you leave behind. Selfhood is an axis around which the world dances. Yet that axis, that starry
pillar, is the marrow of this fluctuating self which takes on masks and forms out of conformity and necessity, whilst that core, the substance, shines through. Self is unique to self and fate reveals itself to those who are true to themselves. True selfhood is the path and gate towards fulfilment and bliss. Whenever we pretend to be what we are not, or allow ourselves to be driven to achieve goals that are not truly ours, we see only despair and hopelessness. Death is our constant companion as we walk the paths of life. Death is our legacy, the mirror that shines with beauty or disgrace as we end our journey. It is always possible to conduct our self in this world with gentleness. It is our capacity for gentleness that will inscribe our legacy in ink of wormwood or roseblood. Living our lives in mindfulness of our legacy will constantly temper our tendencies towards vice and anger. Though we all must meet death, it is death that makes us immortal, that brings forgetfulness and testaments of shame. It is never enough to merely have good intentions, these pave the road to Hell. Those who walk the path of self-deception grow strong in anger, resentment and pride. Those who have ventured down the path of lies and deception will cry out that they don’t care about what they leave behind: they say this because they, and their foul legacy, are already dead. Ôyɵkú méjì is the mystery of death and decay, it holds the secrets that promise renewal through the flux and intervention of one’s ancestry.
ÌWÒRÌ MÉJÌ
Celestial agriculture in the land of transformation Ìwòrì méjì is an odù of fire that combines consciousness and character in order to shape our identity. While Ôyɵkú méjì is the world itself, Ìwòrì is the lifespan of all sentient beings. It is in this odù that the essence, substance and character of all things in all kingdoms takes form. We might understand Ìwòrì as the conscious force that etches characters upon all things, the force that gave all things their ‘name’ and uniqueness. This force is represented by wàjí (true indigo, Indigofera tinctoria). Wàjí represents the hottest part of the flame. Indigo is thus the colour of the fire of transformation. It is the power of wàjí that is used by the blacksmith to forge metals into tools of agriculture and war. The same energy makes the seed of ogbè (father) and ɚyɵkú (mother) bring new life into manifestation. Here, a play on the word wàjí needs to be understood. In Yorùbá society, when a king passes away, his death is never announced, rather the word wàjí is used. The word means to ascend to the upper realms, and is used instead of saying that the king has died. Literally it means that ‘character returns home,’ whereas
wàjí refers to ‘character being born’ or ‘pushed out’ into the world. It is only proper that it was in this odù that the world took its shape with the formation of solid land. Here in the union of light and darkness ojúmɳ (daybreak) and ọjɳ (the 24 hour cycle) were also born. The àdán (bat) was born in this odù, an animal that can navigate in darkness. It was this power that became the basis for the skills in hunting given to the lion, and to hunters. It was here that the concept of ojú (the eye) was born. In this we include the act and art of seeing all dimensions, as well as the physical eye. It is with the eyes of Ìwòrì that Ifá sees the cosmic patterns which are about to unfold and provides predictions and interpretations. Perspective upon the mystery of life came with the birth of the eye and with it the sacred palm nuts of Ifá, the ìkín, representing the eyes that see into all the dimensions of existence. Hence we have one of the praise words of this odù, ‘four eyes,’ the number of ‘eyes’ on the part of the ìkín that opens when it sprouts. A perfect ìkín has four eyes: one pair that look outwards, and another that looks inward. In this odù, we contemplate Olódùmarè, expressed in the enigma of the spider web of choices and consequences. Here, we find the spider, with its eight legs, which is involved in the mysterious work of the divine architect and sculptor, Ayélalà, who shapes the consciousness of men. It is from this conjunction of powers that the seer and diviner is born.
Ìwòrì méjì is endowed with the power of prophecy and clear sight, granted through the aid of certain birds. These are àlùkò (woodcock), okín ológe (peacock), agbe (blue parrot) and ekodidẹ (red parrot). The feathers of these birds became symbols of authority and wisdom through Ôbàtálá. Ifá speaks of a time when he his supremacy was challenged. Instead of fighting back or reasoning with his opponents, he repeatedly took refuge in the forest and sought advice from the birds, with the aid of Èṣù and Ôrúnmìlà. Through applying the wisdom of the birds, this critical moment was turned into a triumph, which brought him recognition. In honour of the powers that provided the solution, he adorned himself with their feathers and gained the respect of these birds that were revealed to be bringers of wisdom, good fortune and authority. The story of Ôbàtálá and his battle for authority is related to a proverb ascribed to this odù: ‘the father of mysteries speaks with a heavy tongue.’ An admonition not to throw pearls before swine, to guard the secrets of possibility and its matrix, and to impart it only to those worthy of it. Equally, it is a call for moderation in speech and discernment in what we impart, and to whom. Ìwòrì méjì, being the capacity for foresight and prophecy, is deeply related to knowledge and understanding, and in possessing these faculties we find the importance of loyalty, tact and consideration, qualities praised in this odù. The idea of loyalty is tied in with the idea of fidelity, and also to the idea of ‘patiently weaving sweetness’ (àìyẹhùn) and possessing a consistent and truthful character. These ideas concerning loyalty and care towards people are found in the following verse: Ẹni a bá wá de làá báá re’lé Ẹni aja bá wá l’ajá nbáá lọ Dáá fún Elèjí Ìwòrí Tí yóó tẹ jú ire mɳ Akápò o rɵ gírígírí Ẹbọ ni wɳn ní kó ṣe The one we follow out is the one we should return home with He who the dog follows out is the one the dog should return with This Ifá divined for Ìwòrì méjì And told he should look with benevolence, and scrutinize his Akápò He was told to practice sacrifice
The verse tells us that we should learn the mystery of loyalty from dogs, which are sacred to Ògún and Ônilé, and are considered to be messenger spirits and guardians. Ògún was assigned dogs to walk with him, and Ôsányìn, the spirit of herbs, has two dogs as assistants. Hence dogs represent loyalty, commitment and dedication, and demonstrate the necessity for these virtues to be cultivated so they can become part of the person possessing good character. The verse also tells that we should scrutinize our akápò, because the student might not always be as loyal as a dog. Akápò is an interesting term, it denotes a student of Ifá, but it also means ‘treasurer’; in other words, an Ifá apprenticeship is considered to be a charge to be approached with sanctity and care. The student is someone to whom secrets and treasures are entrusted, but the breaching of trust is always a possibility during the process of developing good character. Ìwòrì tells us that the worthy apprentice is the one who possesses dedication, honesty, humility and faith. These are traits associated with good character, and truthfulness (ṣòótitọ) in particular. It is in truthfulness as a source for developing good character we will find the source for good fortune. So, on the one hand this odù is about truthfulness and loyalty, and on the other about the absence of these virtues, which manifests in rash judgments and deception. Ìwòrì is an energy that warns against judging something hastily or rashly. It is fire that is at the core of this vibration, and we need to understand the ways of fire in order to direct it well. It is an odù that calls for intense scrutiny and contemplation before any judgment is passed – we should walk the world gently, but we should also be careful in dealings with other people: Kɶkɶnkɶ l’awo kɶkɶnkɶ Gɵgɵngɵ l’awo gɵgɵngɵ Diá fún Orímọníkɵɶ Omo at’ òrun kɶ’rí kẹkẹ wá’lé Ayé Ẹbọ ni wɳn ní kó ṣe Take care of whoever deserves to be taken care of Cherish the one who deserves to be cherished This Ifá divined for Orímọníkɵɶ The child of heaven who brought the beauty of orí to earth He was told to perform sacrifice
Here Ifá advises Orímọníkɵɶ, ‘the beauty of character and consciousness,’ to make sacrifice in order to be appreciated in the world. Situations in which one is not appreciated for one’s good deeds originate in this odù, which draws our attention to the importance of protecting one’s good fortune. It was this predicament Bernhard of Clairvaux had in mind when he said: ‘the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.’ Just because what you have and want to share in the world is a good thing doesn’t mean it will be appreciated. The world is after all a marketplace and there is room for everyone in the marketplace, the scoundrel and thief, the oath breaker and oath maker as much as for the drunkard and sage amidst merchants both truthful and deceptive. Understanding the fire in this odù will lead to discernment so that we will speak with a heavy tongue when necessary, and share in the bliss of generosity when it is proper and worthy. The concept of discernment is found in several taboos concerning trees that originate in this odù. When this odù says these trees are taboo, it means that they are set aside for specific purposes, or to serve as reminders for specific situations and conditions. Three trees are of particular importance in this odù. The first is idí (Terminalia glaucescens), which was chosen to serve as the irọkɶ, the Ifá tapper. It has medicinal properties, in particular antifungal and antiseptic ones, and these qualities are honoured in the making of the irọkɶ. This instrument is used to call the attention of spirits to the tray of Ifá and also to dispel negative vibrations. Then we have the apá tree (Afzelia africana), which was given to the world as a cure for illness, and to serve as the material for the djembe drum and for shipbuilding. Lastly we have the orúpa tree (Hymenocardia acida), which was the son of Òrìṣà Ìgbò (Ôbàtálá). This tree yields a heart shaped bitter fruit veiled in a hymen, which is the very symbol of this odù. We see in these taboos a reminder to use discernment and to ascribe proper use to appropriate elements. These trees represent a call to spirit in various ways. Idí does it by calling the attention of spirit, apá does it by replicating the rhythm and heartbeat of creation, and finally orúpa reminds us not to let our heart turn bitter in our human journey. The sacred plants in this odù are mostly what we would consider weeds; they spread in spite of obstacles and resistance to their growth. Chief of them is tɵtɵ, of which we have two types. The one mentioned most often in this odù is amaranth, also known as pigweed (Amaranthus hybridius), which eases
slow flowing menstruation and is said to aid conception. The other is meadow foxtail (Alopereus pratensis), a weed said to make the spermatozoa stronger. Some farmers add this to the hay given to their cattle, as it arouses the cows just as it does with mares. It should be mentioned that spinach, considered a father plant, is also found here and accorded similar properties. What they all have in common is a rich concentration of iron, and in this they mimic blood and fire; hence it is in this odù that the spirit of iron, Ògún, began his apprenticeship. Àjɶ (the witches), Ajé Ṣaluga (the oceanic spirit of wealth) and Ayé (earth) can all be found here, together with orí (consciousness) and Ifá (wisdom). These powers shaped àkún, the coral beads worn as a regal adornment first by Olókun and then by kings and chiefs. It is significant that the àkún is born here, because it is solely a product of beauty, the kind of beauty these forces can create. But adorning what is ugly will not make what is ugly beautiful. Hence beauty which lacks substance is born here, as is self-centeredness. What both have in common is their focus on outer adornment when wisdom and consciousness have been abandoned. It is a constant theme in this odù, that you should never be distracted from seeing clearly that which you are capable of. This is an odù that speaks of the nature of consciousness. Consciousness is a conglomerate of the spiritual forces most present here: Òòṣàoko, the spirit of the farm, Ògún, the spirit of fire and iron, and Ôbàtálá, the spirit of dream and purity. One story tells how Ôbàtálá gave Òòṣàoko the yam to plant, but he found the work difficult. He managed to obtain the secrets of smithing and the forging of metals from Ìwòrì méjì and started to make agricultural tools, and thus became the first farmer, hence his name, Spirit of the Farm. His origin is obscure, some say he fell from heaven, and others that he was a virtuous king in the city of Ìràwó. What the stories of Òòṣàoko emphasise is that when he was a young, handsome man, he was lazy and given to drinking and was often found in bad company. However, he changed his ways, and was appointed chief and king of his city. He represents the beginning of Ọgbɳni justice. This is based upon the lessons Òòṣàoko learned in his younger years. He proclaims gossip taboo and stresses the importance of allowing both sides of a case to be heard. Gossip here refers to speaking, well or ill, about anyone who is not present. If a person is accused of something it is of paramount importance that the accused should be given the opportunity to state his or her side of the story in the
presence of their accusers. The judge will then assess the testimonies that are sworn to be truthful in the name of Ògún. Again we are confronted with the issue of being truthful, but also being gentle. It is about finding a middle path where consciousness and wisdom inform you how to take the right course of action in between the three ‘ayes,’ being red as witches, white as abundance, or black as earth. A verse in this odù says: Bó o rí o wí Àìwi l’ɵṣɵ Bí o ba wí ràn fún wọn l’áwìíṣíwọ A dàbí ẹni pé íwọ lò n ṣe wɳnu Diá fún Òbúkọ What you see you should tell To keep quiet is almost an abomination But speaking out relentlessly Doing this will give the impression that you are the author of misfortune This is what Ifá told the Goat This is the story of Òbúkọ, the goat. He was considered to be very truthful and wise. He was always called upon to voice his opinion about important matters in the community and he always spoke the truth no matter whether the people involved ranked high or low in society. For the goat, the importance of any case was found not only in the facts but in the wisdom that underlay the facts. Goat was praised for his wisdom and clarity, and this inspired him to repeat himself constantly and to show no sensitivity to those who gathered to hear him talk and offer his wise insights. Goat loved the sound of his own voice, and didn’t realize that he was making enemies by being truthful. But he did notice the resentment in the community and how people left his company when he started to speak. He went to an Ifá priest who told him that he should show caution, that truth doesn’t need to be repeated or broadcast. Goat should be satisfied with telling the truth once; it was not his obligation to convince anyone. The Ifá priest told him that he had provoked two people close to him, mischievous people, who decided to blame him for their misfortune. They felt that every truth Goat told was targeting them, and so they made a plan to destroy him. These wicked people were Ekún, the Leopard, and Ìkookò, the
Hyena. There was nothing bad that these two had not already done. In his truthful way, Goat always condemned the actions of Hyena and Leopard, and so they felt they were the target for his talk in the town and marketplace. One day they decided that they had enough and went to an Ifá priest with their concerns and the Ifá priest told them that they should turn bad into good and never do anything when they were in a state of passion. They became furious and left the priest’s house, vowing to lure Goat out in the night so that they could kill him. However, Goat had made his prescribed sacrifice and had placed raw beef, pork and palm oil outside his door as the Ifá priest had advised him to give to Èṣù. Night fell, and Hyena was diverted from his planned meeting with Leopard by an intriguing smell coming from the house of Goat. When he saw the food placed out he considered himself blessed and started to eat it. Meanwhile Leopard grew impatient, and went to the house of Goat where he found Hyena eating food. He fell into a fury, believing that Hyena had killed Goat and started to feast on his flesh without him. The leopard attacked the hyena and killed him. But Leopard was wounded gravely in the fight and died a few days later. In this story Òbúkọ demonstrated humility. He noticed the resentment building around him and he sought advice; he wanted help to see what he couldn’t see. Humility brought him rewards. Goat did not confer judgment on either adversary, he simply asked questions about the situation, he was not looking to blame anyone. Goat followed the advice in this odù that says: A gbɳ t’ẹnu ẹníkan dá’ jɳ Àrɵmo òsíkà Díá fún Ôrúnmìlà Nijɳ ti baba nlo rèé j’ɵjɳ Akápò l’ ɚdɚ Olódùmarè Ẹbọ ni wɳn ní kó ṣe He who passes a judgment listening to one perspective He is the ruler of the wicked ones This was Ôrúnmìlà’s declaration through Ifá When he was going to defend himself against the accusations His students had presented to Olódùmarè He was told to make sacrifice
Perspective is born in this odù, the importance of which is told in the following story. One day, Ôbàtálá, old and stubborn as he was, decided to travel to Ọyọ to visit his friend Ṣàngó. His friend Ôrúnmìlà told him that he should not travel, that it was not a good time for it, and that bad things would happen. But Ôbàtálá had set his mind on this journey and would not be dissuaded. Ôrúnmìlà told him to at least take three pieces of white clothing, orí (shea butter) and ọṣẹdúdú (African soap) with him. Ôbàtálá accepted this advice and set off on his travels. On his way to Ọyọ he met Èṣù, who was carrying a large load of palm oil and charcoal. Èṣù asked Ôbàtálá if he could help him carry the load. Ôbàtálá accepted, but when Èṣù handed over the palm oil, he spilled it all over Ôbàtálá’s clean white clothes. Ôbàtálá went to a river to clean himself and change his clothes. Again Èṣù asked for his help, again Ôbàtálá accepted, and again Èṣù spilled palm oil over his white clothes. Once again he went to the river to clean himself and change clothes, and a third time the same thing happened. After the third time, Èṣù was sure that Ôbàtálá would abandon his dangerous journey, but he did not. He continued on to Ọyọ. Upon entering the gates of Ọyọ, he saw a beautiful, lost horse and decided to bring it as a gift to his friend Ṣàngó. He caught the horse and as he walked into the city the king’s soldiers arrested him, believing he was the horse thief they had been looking for. They threw him in jail and forgot about him. Any appeal to be allowed to explain his side of the story was refused. Ôbàtálá decided to teach Ọyọ a lesson and with his mysterious magic he brought drought, barrenness and sickness to the kingdom. When he saw the misfortune, Ṣàngó went to his diviners to find a solution and they said that the origin of the misfortune was an old man kept in his prison. Ṣàngó immediately went to the prison and saw his old friend Ôbàtálá there. He ordered his immediate release, took him to the river to clean him up and ordered everyone to dress in white. Ṣàngó also dressed in white to honour Ôbàtálá, and together they became Òòṣàoko. A banquet was held in Ôbàtálá’s honour and stability returned to the kingdom. At this juncture, we should note that Òòṣàoko, Èṣù and even Ôrúnmìlà – as well as the odù giving birth to Ôbàtálá, Èjì Ogbè – were considered younger on earth, although they were elders in heaven. Ifá teaches that good counsel comes from whosoever has a good conscience and character; it is not about age. As the verse tells us:
Ọwɳ èwe kò tó pẹpẹ T’àwọn àgbàlagbá kò wọ kèrègbè Iṣɶ èwe bẹ àgbà Kó má ṣe kɚ The hands of the young ones cannot reach the shelf The hands of the elders cannot fit through the neck of a bottle If the young ones call upon the elder The elder should not refuse This verse is a call to gather together in harmony and mutual respect. In the end, humility is a matter of being great enough to consider another person’s opinion as useful and worthy. It holds implications for our legacy, the young should be taught in a spirit of wisdom and reason, our experiences in this journey will benefit their growth as much as those which they undergo. We make our world, heaven and hell together, and so we should consider wisely and discern the steps to take with a good mind and heart. In a way it all goes back to the egg, a potential awaiting birth, which we can influence for good and bad, both in its gestation and when the divine life form hatches from it. In this odù the egg was born, a medicine that could both remove and create obstacles. The egg was seen as a mercurial medium resting in the womb of the moon, waiting for daybreak. The egg is a product of the five-footed hen that scattered earth across the waters in Èjì Ogbè, and a symbol of orí (consciousness) and íwá (character). Ìwòrì méjì is the child of its father and mother, in this odù it is exposed to the marketplace and a whole range of influences. The egg is alternatively called àṣẹ or ẹyin, depending on whether it has been fertilized with Ìwòrì or not. The egg needs àtɚ (sperm) to become something other. The word àtɚ can be used as a prefix, in which case it connotes something ejected from afar. What happens here is the basis of Ifá alchemy, in which the whiteness of the sun represented by the sperm is fused with the lunar redness of the egg and allowed to gestate in the concealed blackness of earth. It is in this odù that alchemy was born. The main metal for this process is òjé (lead), which represents longevity because it doesn’t rot or rust. We find the same word, oje, used in reference to hormones that generate change, as well as any protective plasma. Lead when subjected to heat will behave like mercury, but is less volatile. Lead is considered the metal of character and consciousness because of its quality of softening under heat,
which is considered a sign of humility and hope. It ignites the idea that no matter how hard our consciousness is, the right amount of fire will lend it a more dynamic shape and fluidity. The result in this odù is the foetus; it is the merging of white and red gestating in the black, it is the alchemical essence, it is the mystery of new beginnings. It is the milk of the sun and the blood of the moon: Ôgán dádé When the crown of an anthill is destroyed Bɶɵni kò gbọdɚ jọba It will retain water in its stem Orúrù níí wɵwù ɵjɵ kanlɵ Orúrú (red flowered Peltophorum) is the tree who Orubu ẹfún bale dresses in clothes of blood Ó kó rúmú rùmù rúmú When white chalk falls on the ground A dia fún àsɶ tɶɶrɶ It spreads its fine dust in all direction Ọmọbìnrin ɚrun This Ifá divined for the weak menstrual flow A bù fún àtò tɶɶrɶ Who was a daughter of heaven Ọmọkùnrin ìsálAyé This Ifá divined for the weak semen Àsɶ tɶɶrɶ Who was a son of heaven A wá ọ kù We searched for you in vain O ò dé mɳ You refused to return O lawɳ lasɵ But you grew arms and legs Lo dọmọ And turned into an infant Gbɵjɵbí You are the offspring of blood A fɶọ kù We could not find you anymore O ò dé mɳ You would not return O lawɳ lasɵ But you grew hands and feet Lo ba dọmọ And turned into an infant Here is the very essence of Ifá, every human is a divine being on a human journey. The egg and the sperm came from heaven, and they refused to return – instead they commingled and grew hands and legs around the upright character of the palm tree or the bitter heart given forth by the orúpa tree.
ÒDÍ MÉJÌ
ɑe house of deep comfort Òdí méjì is symbolized by the buttocks, representing the meeting of equals. It is an odù focussing on what is hidden within you, deep down at the centre of your essence. The odù affirms the importance of the society in heaven, our divine reflection, and how our actions and attitudes on earth can obstruct this connection. Òdí counsels us to be solidly planted in truth in order to erect the axis or pillar that generates a connection between earth and heaven. Truth in this context means knowing where you come from. It speaks of firmness of character and identity. We see this in the various spellings of òdí where the accent shifts, giving ideas of enmity, malice, abnormal or errant behavior and muteness as the negative vibrations found where the two halves of the buttocks do not meet in agreement. The buttocks, the two halves that join into a comfortable whole, are a symbol of peaceful union, a place of rest and comfort, for the meeting of soul-mates and the frustration that causes enmity. Yet, it also announces discomfort, as this odù is also concerned with giving birth. The child of the first four odùs is called Máyámí, meaning ‘Do not abandon me,’ and represents the condition of receiving good fortune in its totality:
Ilé ní mo jókòó sí Ní gbogbo ire n wɳ tùurutu wá bá mí Mo jókòó àínàró Mo rire ọrɚ tó nwɳ tɳmí wá Díá fùn Òdí In my home I sat When all good things came marching towards me In my home I sat and I did not rise up to stand Prosperity came walking towards me This Ifá declared for Òdí This verse speaks of the great ease with which good fortune comes through this odù. It highlights the importance of being grounded and steady. Òdí also tells us of the challenges that come from having too easy a life and stresses the importance of practicing sacrifice in a spirit of gratitude and humility. In this story Máyámí practiced sacrifice, and blessings continued to come to her. She was never abandoned by the spirits who brought good fortune. Another story tells of Oníkì Ọlà, who was profoundly blessed. She was repeatedly told to make sacrifice to keep her good fortune, but considering herself so amazingly blessed, saw no reason to do so. She travelled from city to city and made her fortune, but her good fortune caused envy, and in each city was driven away by accusations of witchcraft. Yet in each city she found good men, and she became the mother of four children by four different men. But each time the pattern repeated itself: at some point she was forced to leave the city, under the accusation of witchcraft. Finally she returned to her city of birth, Ilé Ifɵ. Here she sought out an Ifá priest to make the sacrifice she had been told for many years she should perform. She was now very wealthy and her children were young men and had moved away. She didn’t know her children anymore, or their fathers, nor did her children know one another. She wanted to mend this situation, but the Ifá priest said it was too late: the dispersion was too far gone. This story serves as a warning that wealth is just one of several blessings and that we should not let it overshadow the others. It also serves as a reminder of the importance of building healthy community and relationships in conformity with the sign of this odù, the buttocks. The importance of love,
generosity and friendship are implied here as powers that counteract the development of pride and selfishness that are present as a negative vibration in Òdí. In the example of Yùngbá, who like Oníkì Ọlà was surrounded by wealth and good fortune, pride and self centeredness caused her to ignore advice and close relationships. She ended up very lonely and sad in her wealth. The positive reflex of Yùngbá is associated with the rat. Òdí tells that Rat was of royal descent, handsome and not afraid to work hard to achieve his goals. His underground home was a magnificent and cunning structure. Rat was very friendly and liked to show off his accomplishments and victories to his relatives – after all, he worked hard for everything he had, and he thought his efforts would inspire his relatives to build their own good fortunes. But his relatives did not become inspired to work on their good fortune, instead their envy and resentment grew daily. One day his relatives, consumed by envy, decided to report him to their king, Leopard. They went to the king and told stories coloured by their envy, stating that Rat should be expelled from the kingdom. Leopard considered the allegations serious and summoned Rat to defend his case. Upon receiving the summons, Rat went to an Ifá priest who told him that there was a plot amongst his relatives to cast him out of the forest, and he advised him to make sacrifice so that the matter would end in his favour. Rat made sacrifice and embarked on the journey to Leopard’s palace. The allegations were about the habits of Rat, that since he looked like a squirrel, he should dwell in a nest, and that living in a hole was not appropriate for him. Rat defended himself cleverly against these absurd allegations. He pleaded his case well and it was found in his favour, he was free to live where he wanted and in whatever way he found pleasing. The story tells us about the condition of the world, how good fortune does not necessarily inspire kindness and benevolence in people, but quite the opposite. Envy is a complex energy in itself. We tend to see envy as the desire to possess what someone else has, and this is correct enough, but it is also followed by the feeling that people blessed with good fortune do not deserve it. One verse says the following about this: Bí bá ndun’ ni Ká mɳ pé ndun’ ni
That which hurts someone Must be recognized as something hurtful
Ôrɚ dunni dunni làrankan eni Ôrɚ tó ndun babaláwo Níí dun Ifá Ôrɚ tó ndun Oníṣègún Níí dun Ọsanyin Ohun tó ndun Àjɶ Níí dun Òmùsù ídíí rɶ Diá fùn Ọrúnmílà Ifá nṣawo relé Ẹlɶjù Ẹbọ ní wɳ n ní kó wáá se
That which hurts someone rises from one’s malice within That which hurts a babaláwo Will also hurt Ifá That which hurts the herbalist Will also hurt Ọsanyin That which hurts the witches Will also hurt their votaries as they make good fortune This Ifá declared to Ọrúnmílà When he was going on a spiritual journey to the kingdom of Eléjù He was advised to practice sacrifice
First and foremost, this verse teaches the importance of always thinking and speaking with benevolence if we wish to attract good fortune. On a deeper level, it speaks of the nature of attraction – that good thoughts and words will attract goodness, while negative ones will affect our soul, and malice will take shape within us. The presence of malice shows itself in the desire to be hurtful towards other people. Ifá tells of three spiritual powers in particular: the spirit of wisdom, the spirit of medicine and herbs, and witches. These three are the usual scapegoats when people experience misfortune and seek to blame someone else instead of understanding a given situation. Going deeper, we realize that whatever is hurtful for someone will also be hurtful for that person’s spiritual double, the society of heaven. Malice breeds more malice. Ifá considers words as statements and statements are declarations of desire and wishes; a form of prayer. Words reveal who we are, and have the power to generate both good and evil, hence we find the taboo against gossip. Idle talk about people not present in a conversation is considered to be malicious. Gossip reveals malice, a desire to hurt someone, and is often motivated by envy.
Orí made sacrifice in this odù because it felt lonely, and so was given mouth, tongue, ears, eyes and a nose to bring about a harmonious gathering of the faculties. But as we all know, these can also lead to dispersion; for example, misunderstandings through hearing and hurtful words uttered as a result of errors of perception can occur. It is of paramount importance that we allow wisdom to be the guide of consciousness. Words can bless and they can curse, but intelligence, which was born here, can make the difference. All aspects of Òdí, both good and bad, riches and selfishness, generosity and envy, wit and seclusion, can be found in the many narratives that speak of Olókun, the owner of the marine waters. This spirit represents mystery and intelligence and is said to live at the bottom of the ocean. The bottom of the ocean is considered the buttocks of creation. Olókun is considered male in some traditions and female in others, and is said to manifest as dragons and snakes of the ocean, and as mermaids and mermen. One of the stories of Olókun tells that she was the source of amphibian creatures, and was unhappy with her condition, being neither earth nor water, but a bit of both. The story recounts how she fell in love with Òòṣàoko, the spirit of the farm, a quiet, wise and reserved spirit. Olókun went to an Ifá priest to see what her options were. She wanted to marry Òòṣàoko but was ashamed of her appearance. The Ifá priest told her not to worry and that she should make sacrifice, but she chose not to. Instead she assumed an earthly form and went to work for Òòṣàoko. In a matter of days Òòṣàoko and Olókun developed a friendship and she told him about her dual nature. Fascinated by this, Òòṣàoko told her secret to his friends and soon everybody knew about her strange condition. She became very upset and left the farm and decided to make the ocean her permanent home. However, at times she showed herself as a mermaid, a dragon, snake or other marine creature. She swore no one would know her true nature and in this declaration we find a vital theme of this odù; the balance between making yourself known, and how the world tempers this wish, leading to concealment or revelation and the act of demonstrating strength and prominence in the world. In relation to this theme we find the story that tells of how Olókun challenged Ôbàtálá to a battle of wits and strength for complete rulership of the world, the waters and dry land. Ôbàtálá sent his messenger, Chameleon, to speak on his behalf. When Chameleon entered the palace of Olókun he saw that he was dressed in rich and costly garments and jewels. In keeping with the nature of
Chameleon, he dressed in the same fine clothing as Olókun. When Olókun saw this, he became upset and went to change into even more beautiful clothes; and so did Chameleon. This happened several times, and on the seventh time, Olókun gave up and told the chameleon that the challenge was over: he was not interested in fighting someone whose messenger was dressed as beautifully as himself, and accepted the dominion of the ocean as being a kingdom sufficient for him. These two stories tell us about the presence of mystery in the world as much as they tell us about the dangers of pride and the nature of fame. Olókun represents the power of wealth and mystery, but it is also the spirit that brought intelligence to orí. Intelligence is represented by the crab because of its hard shell and claws that protect its mystery. Also in these two stories Olókun was advised to practice sacrifice, but he ended up not doing so because he saw himself as being so powerful and rich that it was not necessary. Here is an admonition to protect good fortune by practicing sacrifice and a reminder to avoid gossip. As we see in the narratives of Olókun, deception and plotting came into the world through the possession of riches and fame. This is the negative reflex to forming healthy partnerships and honourable concords. As we saw in the story of Rat, envy is the author of much of the plotting and deception in this odù. Òdí, who was a great warrior in heaven, brought the thunderstone (Ṣàngó) and the furnace (Ògún) to earth, and thunder became Òdí’s loyal protector. Òdí’s helpers in heaven were playfulness, pleasure and dance. When they came to earth, they constantly gravitated to the outside; they wanted to disperse themselves everywhere. Hence we see how division and scheming are born, but also the ability to spread out, to generate increase and growth. Before Òdí came to earth, he accomplished astonishing deeds in heaven and we find him victorious in all his works. One story speaks of him challenging death, who was a many headed beast, a dragon. Here the story reads like a version of St George’s battle with the dragon, but the battle does not end with Òdí slaying the dragon, rather he discovers that communion, generosity, and understanding is the key to making benevolent alliances. In an extension of the motif of St George and his pilgrimage through the Campo Stellare, it is interesting to see that it was in this odù that the sun (ajígúnwà) was born. Òdí tells us that the sun and its 200 needles were spread across a white cloth and turned into the starry heavens.
Stories of Oníkì Ọlà (who we met earlier in this chapter) appear in verses warning against setting one child against another. Brothers who don’t know each other end up fighting, a motif similar to the biblical story of Cain and Abel. These stories are concerned with how a solid foundation is generated by the harmonious gathering of two halves, and how dispersion, envy, wrath and egotism are born by refusing to allow this gathering to take place. This concept is similar to the symbolon we find in Plato’s Symposium. In the Symposium we learn that the world is broken, that we are parts gravitating towards one another to a primordial union, joining what was sundered in order to generate completeness. In Òdí, we see the consequence of the broken calabash as told of in Èjì Ogbè where consciousnesses were spread all over the world. Òdí emphasizes the challenge in bringing this primordial dispersion into a harmonious whole and as such, Òdí is the pulse of the populated world with all its challenges and blessings. The gun was born here. Gun was a son of Ògún. A story tells how Gun was consumed by feelings of dread and threat, of being surrounded by enemies. He was unaware of his powers and his father told him to speak if he wanted to avoid death. He spoke and a gunshot sounded and then many more, enemies died and the threat was dispersed. The manifestation of the gun in this odù speaks of a crisis in human society where dispersion has become antagonism and enmity. Salt comes to the world as a reminder of sweetness. But the neglect of sweetness and the adoration of salt brings about more bitterness, feuds and dispersion. As a consequence of this, we find epidemics coming into being, especially diseases that travel through the air and water. This world, the marketplace, is a place in flux where honey and salt provide the contrast that enables us to manoeuvre between these poles through the use of our senses and intelligence. The idea of human life as a journey of contrasts comes into manifestation here.
The journey of life is represented by the spirit of ‘the children of fishes,’ Yëmọja, the spirit most associated with this odù. She is a popular òrìṣà in the Diaspora and is found as patron in both Cuba and Brazil. Mother of the ocean and the lunar nights, the stella matutina, she is found as a protector of motherhood and as a solution for barrenness. She is the spirit of wealth; the author of the energy from which money was made, as well as a warrior and a sorceress. We can see in Yëmọja the archetype of the independent woman. We find her as a co-creator of the world, as mother of the òrìṣàs and as the author of the deluge that wiped out the first humans. She is portrayed as a witch, a diviner and mother of the stars. She is connected with children and family. She exemplifies the human condition, and the essence of this odù. When she decides to go and live with Olókun, the spirit of the ocean, she exemplifies the fluid, emotional temperament that moves humanity: inconsistent, peaceful, wrathful, hungry and full of all forms of abundance. Yëmọja is a free spirit, a symbol of the one who travels and finds good fortune, as in the following story which addresses the human journey and such phenomena as jealousy and freedom. Yëmọja was going to visit her fiancé Ògún. She left her village and went through the forest where she accidentally fell into a trap designed for catching antelope. Ôrúnmìlà rescued her from the trap and helped her gather together the gifts that had got broken when she fell, and mended them for her. A sweet atmosphere arose between them there in the woods, and they made love. In the morning she headed off towards her meeting with Ògún and paused in a village to eat and refresh herself, but a thief stole all her gifts. When she broke out in tears over their loss. Ṣàngó showed up, and asked her what the matter was. She told him that all her presents had been stolen, but Ṣàngó told her not to worry, and they went to the market together where he bought her more items than had been stolen from her. Once again a sweet atmosphere arose, and they went to his house to make love. The following morning, she was given a horse to carry all the gifts, and went on to meet with Ògún, her fiancé. She was very happy; she had many fine gifts and even a horse to give to her beloved. She arrived at the city of Ògún and walked proudly and happily to the market in search of her fiancé. She did not notice that Ògún was sitting in a tavern with his friends Ṣàngó and Ôrúnmìlà. When she appeared in the market, Ôrúnmìlà exclaimed to his friends that he had a night of love together with this woman that had just entered. Ṣàngó said that he
had as well, and, on hearing this, Ògún rose to his feet, red with rage, and declared with thunderous determination that his friends had been making love to his fiancé. He went over to Yëmọja and confronted her aggressively over the matter. She dropped everything, and told him that she was not interested in this abuse and would rather go to live with Olókun, the spirit of wealth who dwells at the bottom of the ocean. And so she did. There are several variations of this story and the themes are always the same. Yëmọja is a spirit who attracts wealth and riches, and wants to share herself. The story speaks of judgment and the freedom of the individual, of how Òdí created individual differences, and of how what might be good for one person could prove bad for another. It is a call to harmony through observing the beautiful diversity we find in the world. Not only this, but Òdí méjì as manifested in the form of Yëmọja is the very power that brings the penis and vagina together. She is the power of passion and sexual attraction, which is the harmonious gathering that does not only bring forth offspring, but also erotic pleasure. In this we find the root of dispersion and union. The erotic imagery typical of this odù is even stronger in the following verse: Adíndí Òdí Adíndí Òdí Díá fùn Òdí Tí nlọ sɳja Èjigbòmekùn Ó nsunkun aláìlóbìnrín Wɳn ní ki Èjì Òdí ó rúbọ Kín ni òun ó há ru báyìí? Wón ní ki ó ru ɚpɚlọpɚ oyin Ó si rú u Nínú oyin ti o rú náà Ni àwon awo rɵɶ ti mú Tí wɳn fi ṣe Ifá fún um Bí Èjì Òdí ti dójà Èjigbòmekùn Ìyálójà ló kɳ dìgbò lù Ó si ta ɚkan nínú àwon ìgò oyin Ti wón fi se Ifá fún um si i nídìí Léyìn náà ló bá ìyálɳjà lò pɳ Ó si gbádùun rɵ pípɚ
Ló bá di pé ɚpɚ èèyàn bɵrɵ síí jìjàdù Láti bá ìyálɳjà lò pɳ Ìgbá ti inúu gbogbo wɳn dùn tán Orin ni wɳn nkọ Wɳn nwí pé Ìyálɳjà ṣe ká lọ Oyinmọmọ Kò mɚ jɶ á lọ lɳjà Oyinmọmọ Great and powerful Òdí Powerful and great Òdí This Ifá declared for Òdí Who was going to the market of Èjigbòmẹkùn Who was in distress because he had no wife It was for this Òdí made sacrifice And what did he offer as his sacrifice? It was told that he offered an abundance of honey He made the sacrifice, an abundance of honey he offered His Ifá priest took some and made Ifá medicine from it It was in this way Èjì Òdí entered the market of Èjigbòmẹkùn He met the owner of the women of the market And he poured one of the bottles containing the Ifá medicine All over his private parts And he made passionate love to her In great joy and ecstasy he enjoyed her And as a consequence agitation was stirred Amongst many others who also wanted to make love to her When they all had made love to her and were satisfied and full of joy They begun to sing Owner of the woman of the market, we say You are the embodiment of sweetness We shall never leave the market Embodiment of sweetness This market chief, Ọòsá Õja, is the same spirit as Ajé Ṣaluga, because
dominion over the market is assigned to the spirit vested in either of these names. Like Yëmọja they are funfun, meaning that they are connected to the world of dreams and the beginning of the world. In this story it is Òdí, as the archetypical warrior knight of heaven, who enters the market and passionately makes love to Ọòsá Õja. This causes a ripple of desire, in which everybody else wants to make love to Ọòsá Õja, who appears to be dripping with honey and sweetness. In a related verse, we learn that Ajé Ṣaluga defecates everywhere, but that her defecation is always money or a sign of coming wealth. One verse says that if you are touched by Ajé Ṣaluga, abundance and riches will shower on you like ‘the droppings of pigeons.’ This signals that dreams of defecation are as much an omen of coming riches as a reminder not to embrace wealth too fondly. Ajé Ṣaluga is an important spiritual force. She is the sister of Egúngún and the first wife of Olókun, and is said to comprise part of the faculty of intelligence. In fact, another verse of Òdí méjì erases the distinction between Ajé Ṣaluga and Olókun and says they combine to form the ‘most ancient crown.’ When Olókun, the mystery of the bottom of the ocean, wishes to be known, he is declared by the presence of Ajé Ṣaluga in the marketplace, as the mother of sweetness and wealth. This is a reminder about the importance of togetherness, that it is in togetherness that we make sweetness. The greenwood is sacred in Òdí. Naturally we find all water plants, like lotus and lily, here, but the sacred trees of this odù are the coconut palm (cocos nucifera) and mangrove. Mangroves are sacred because of their remarkable ability to isolate salt, and coconut fruit because of their inner sweetness and rich water beneath their dark and hard surface. The odù also holds a particular affinity with Psychotria viridis and Banisteriopsis caapi, a shrub and a vine, that together generate yagé or ayahuasca. All these plants remind us that togetherness is what breeds beauty, health, long life and contact with one’s spirit double. The importance of togetherness is also demonstrated by the spiritual force known as Òge, who is born in this odù. One story tells of how Ṣàngó was poisoned after preparing a meal of pigeons using a ‘secret ingredient’ he was given by someone he met at the market. He didn’t realize that it was a poison, and as it started to work through his system he curled up on the floor in pain, crying for help. Òge came to his aid with the antidote. She is represented by the two horns of the antelope, and is believed to be the force that influenced the
formation of the Gëlëdë society. Her horns are both a remedy against barrenness and an antidote to malefica. The horns of the antelope, which are considered the presence of Òge, are associated with the cornucopia, as nearly all songs and prayers in her praise mention her infallible ability to bestow blessings. They emphasise how she is a dynamic and upright force which tempers people’s character. An Ifá proverb says: ‘When things are going well for them, that is when they start to misbehave.’ It is in this context that Òge enters as a power of rectification. Òdí reminds us that the human journey should be a good one: if it is not, the problem is in how we choose to walk in the world. We all want blessings and good fortune, riches and all good things. Blessings take shape as a result of togetherness, a kind disposition and through the cultivation, and finally possession, of good character. Mo dé rere Mo rín rere Èmi nìkan ni mo mò rin àrinkòórìn A ṣèṣè nkóhun ọrọ sìlɵ Ni mo wolé wɶrɶ bi omo olóhun Èmi èé ṣ’ọmọ olɳhun Ìrìn àrìnkò ni mo mɚɳ rìn I arrive well I travel well I am someone who travels and often finds good fortune When riches were placed all around I entered without hesitation, as if I was the child of the owner But I am not the child of the owner I am only someone who knows how to travel And find good fortune The sentence Mo dé rere at the beginning of this verse is tied in with ìwà rere, a good, calm and joyous consciousness, which is the spirit in which we should travel in order to arrive well. Òdí speaks of the importance of making our human journey as heroes in our own lives, possessed with the intelligence and wisdom to distinguish between wormwood, salt and honey. We must
appreciate that gathering together in harmony is the basis from which abundance sprouts. When your life gets better, mine does too. Quite simply, this odù says: do good and you will be recognized, not as a man or woman with a mission, but as someone with vision. In doing so, the judgment of others and the gossip born from envy should be forgotten, so that our thoughts and words will always be the thoughts and words of goodness. We can accept the mysterious journey we share with all our fellow voyagers, no matter the form within which their consciousness resides.
ÌRÒSÙN MÉJÌ
ɑe rivers of consciousness Whilst Òdí méjì manifests in powers such as olókun (ocean), olosa (lagoons) and òṣù (moon), Ìròsùn méjì represents the rivers that flow from these bodies of water and thence through the landscape. It leads us to the idea of creating a summit of truth and stability as a focal point, to guard the stability of our consciousness in the midst of this fluid landscape. Ìròsùn implies that good fortune will be ours as long as we understand and take control of all that flows forth from consciousness, whether it be in the forms of streams, rivers of lava or waterfalls. The menstrual flow is one of the most important of all rivers and flowing elements. This is expressed by a variety of river deities, such as Ọya, Yëmọja, Ôṣun and Ọbà. The menstrual flow is not only a token of fertility and renewal, but it also announces the mystery of the lunar cycle, and hence two concentric circles are sometimes used to represent this odù. The circle within a circle, the dream within a dream, the serpent rainbow and its colourful hues of light, are symbols which express the dynamic of this odù. The light born in Èjì Ogbè is subject to transmutation in Ìròsùn; the one becomes two and from this they multiply. We have a transition from the light of the sun to the light of the moon
in this odù, as this verse says: Iná kú feérú bojú Òṣùpá kú, ó fìràwɚɳ lɵ Ìràwɚ sààsàà níí ṣalátìlɶyìn fóṣùpá When the fire withers and dies it covers itself in embers When the moon fades away and dies, she leaves a trail of stars behind Few are the stars that shine like the moon This verse captures the great alchemical mystery of Ìròsùn, that everything changes, everything dies in the process of transformation, but the light that generated our unique consciousness, our orí, should always shine. It should shine like the moon, which is the heavenly luminary of possibility in this odù. In this we find an even deeper mystery, because it is here that we find the birth of the principle and ìmɳlɵ known as Ělà. Ělà is understood to be the son of Ìròsùn by Òjiji (shadow) in Ôrun, and it is this power that unfolds during the process of initiating an awo. A babaláwo/ìyánìfá is considered a child of Ělà in the image of Ôrúnmìlà. The name Ělà denotes a connection, a link, a circuit – a river if you will – that is rooted in the divine storehouse and is said to be the witness of destiny. This power is viewed as an invisible mist that permeates all emptiness with divine rays, a mystery that dwells within caves, and infuses the entire Ayé with wisdom. The power of Ělà runs through the earth as it does in the heavens, and is the force that gives us the memory of our fate. We remember our fate by developing good character, by insisting that doing good will allow the remembrance of who we are to flow like rivers of light from the shadows and spread goodness upon earth. This is not always so easy, because the human condition brings pain, trials and shadows and this is why a guardian of our consciousness is also manifest in this odù. Ìròsùn méjì is also known as Olósùn méjì in reference to the spiritual force known as Ôsùn. Ôsùn, also said to be ‘the one who listens carefully,’ serves as the guardian of our consciousness. This ìrúnmọlẹ is represented by the rooster, because of its defensive and watchful nature, and is the mediator between our wishes and our destiny: Ohun Orí wá ṣe
What Orí came to accomplish
Kò mà ní ṣ’alái ṣe é o
This is what it needs to accomplish
In Ìròsùn we find the crossroads where we, as spiritual beings, set out on our human journey. This journey is not always easy, it can be hard to rediscover our destiny. This is why we are given a warden for our consciousness here. Ôsùn never experienced a human journey, and thus he and Ělà retain the memory of that goodness which we came to earth to bring. It is in Ìròsùn that we find the mysteries of tribulation and forgetfulness, the reasons why we have no recollection of our true home and why the human condition is the way it is: a balance between the powers of the right and those of the left. Ifá tells that when Ìròsùn first came to earth he failed, because he had not made the necessary sacrifices. When he made a second attempt, he performed the sacrifices, offering a rooster and a tortoise for Yeye Múwɚ, the spirit of misfortune, and a he-goat for Èṣù. In addition to this, he brought yams, water, palm oil, peppers, okra and tobacco and went to the palace that stands where heaven and earth meet. He found his way to the divine chamber where he met Yeye Múwɚ and asked her to listen to his wishes and grant him blessings. Yeye Múwɚ told him that it was too early in the morning to make any wishes because there was no food in the house. Ìròsùn replied that he had brought a rooster for her, which she accepted, but then she added that she also needed okra, which he also gave her. One after another she asked for all the items which he had with him – except for the tortoise – and he gave her everything she required. She finally asked him to kneel down to state his wishes and be granted blessings. Knowing that it was forbidden to kneel down on the floor in the palace, he wisely knelt upon the tortoise and stated his wishes, while Yeye Múwɚ went to the kitchen to start preparing the food. While Ìròsùn was on his knees, stating all the good fortune he wanted on earth, Olódùmarè blessed him in Yeye Múwɚ’s absence, and said that everything which he asked for would be his. Yeye Múwɚ heard that something was going on outside the palace and, as she started to walk out from the kitchen, Èṣù appeared to Ìròsùn and told him to get going fast. When Yeye Múwɚ came out, she asked Olódùmarè where Ìròsùn had gone, and Olódùmarè replied that he had left for earth with all his good wishes granted. Yeye Múwɚ became furious and said that he could not go before he received a portion of bad wishes and choices as well. Olódùmarè responded that it was not his place to interfere with the wishes of people. Furious, Yeye Múwɚ ran
after Ìròsùn, singing a curse. He sang back that he had brought everything and that nothing was left out. As he neared the golden rope that would bring him to earth, Yeye Múwɚ realized that she could not stop him, so she stretched out her claws and damaged his spine with a curse. She said that, just as the eyes cannot see the back of their own body, so will he fumble around in darkness on earth in search of his good fortune. Ìròsùn fell to the earth with a resounding crash, and he found himself unable to recall his life in Ôrun. The injury to his spine caused him to forget about the wishes he had made in Ôrun, and to this day, we carry the furrow in our spine as a memory of Yeye Múwɚ’s anger and our forgetfulness of our divine constitution. This odù imparts another consequence of Yeye Múwɚ’s curse to us – namely that her children, the elénìní, came to the world of humans. These are elemental spirits generated and summoned by fear. They can be understood to be our own thwarting demons, as it is our worries, our anger and our depression that call the attention of these spirits of misfortune upon us. Yeye Múwɚ is the mother of the spirits of obstruction and misfortune, and we invite her children into our lives through arrogance, greed and ambition. Ifá understands the presence of these spirits to be rooted in fear. Fear is an emotional state born from the sensation of being in peril; an expectation of hostility, danger and failure. Fear abounds in the modern world, because its worldview is formed by negative conditioning. For those of a Christian persuasion, this negative conditioning goes back to Augustine’s dogma of original sin. The weight of this curse even surfaced in Freud’s psychoanalytic model of human development. Freud concluded that all actors in the Western world would enter adolescent life with a certain level of neurosis, which would impair their good fortune in a host of ways. In effect he described the elénìní becoming integrated into the social fabric and thus affecting the individual life. Modern Western man finds himself in a hostile world and his solution is to control and dominate it. But the truth is that it is ourselves who have become hostile and hateful in a world of abundance, generosity and kindness. We dominate nature, society, strangers and whatever we find alien in an attempt to diminish our fear. This fear is the result of the forgetfulness which we have suffered from since we took our first breath. Ifá constantly advises us to build good character, because through goodness and kindness, by believing that we are born good and blessed, we will spread goodness upon the earth and in
doing so we will deflect the elénìní and welcome good fortune. We will be a source of positive change in a world infested with the children of the spirit of obstacles. In several of the stanzas in this odù, we find such phrases as: ‘Let them hear around the world that I am a good and blessed person,’ and ‘When I wake up this morning I greet my orí, so I can receive all good fortune.’ These are about maintaining a constant remembrance of our good and blessed state, no matter how painful the trials life gives us might be. As we see from the story, Ìròsùn came to the world good and blessed but with a challenge to realizing this state, which was caused by his considering himself too wise and great to make ẹbọ, or sacrifice. It follows that arrogance is considered an impediment to good fortune in this odù. People under the influence of this energy can at times be perceived as wicked, and it is important that they should be attentive to the needs of others and avoid being boastful of their intellectual superiority, because this makes people feel bad, which in turn generates a negative energetic circuit. Ìròsùn thought he knew everything, and considered himself to have no need for others, but Ifá repeatedly tells us that this is a fallacy. No man or woman is enough in themselves, we need community, friends, spouses and children to sustain our good fortune and bring equilibrium to our lives. We always need those who are, or who we call, family, be they visible or invisible. Ení poroporo làá g’ódó Ejí poroporo làá g’ósùn Diá fún Baba bóo lɶjɳ o ba Ìpín rẹwi Tí nbẹ nígbà nráyè osóko Ẹbọni wɳn ní kó ṣe Ó gb’ẹbọ ó rú’bọ Kò pɶ, kò jìnnà Ire gbogbo wá ya dé tùtúru Ôrɚ ò kan Egùngùn o Kò kan òrìṣà Ẹlɶdáá ẹni l’ɚrán kàn One at a time we pound the mortar And in twos we pound camwood
These were lfá’s declarations to he whose name was ‘If you have a problem consult your destiny’ When he was in utter dilemma and confusion He was advised to offer ẹbọ He complied and before long All Ire came to him in abundance This matter does not concern Egúngún (ancestor) Neither does it concern the òrìṣà It is one’s destiny that the matter concerns This verse speaks of the importance of bringing ancestors and òrìṣà into one’s life, but before this can be done in a good way it is imperative that we should be conscious of our ẹlɶdáa (destiny). The verse begins with the image of hard substances being pulverised, and calls our attention to the fact that some part of the work on self comes from our own efforts, while the rest comes from acknowledging that we need the help of others to forge our destiny. This image is a symbol for how a dificult life gives way to tranquillity and satisfaction, how it is beneficial to be turned from a hard substance into an aerial and distinguished powder of magic and possibility. It is a call to become more agile and to operate in more dynamic ways in the world, just as a powder can seep into anything anywhere while still retaining its essence. The verse states that when this work is done, ancestors and òrìṣà can enter and fortify one’s destiny. The mystery of destiny belongs to the realm of Ělà and Ifá as the powers that guard against the inherent confusion of mind in this odù. Our consciousness needs to be calm to perceive the design of its destiny. Here the ability and intellectual strength to forge one’s destiny becomes a possibility. To forge one’s destiny can be hard work, which is why Ìròsùn also comes with a call for patience in this great work of self discovery. This mystery is encoded in the stories about a diviner called Ìgbà. Ìgbà was an awo in a small village in Ọyọ. He was not appreciated, and struggled for money and recognition in spite of being a very knowledgeable priest. When the kingdom was plagued with smallpox, the aláàfin (king) called upon his assistance. Ìgbà gave a sacrifice of okra to the river deity Ôṣun, along with other small sacrifices, and retreated to his humble farm in the secluded village. As a consequence, not only did the epidemic pass without causing deaths, but the kingdom experienced great success in all matters. The king went
with his entourage to Ìgbà’s village and rewarded him with gifts, recognition and esteem. In the various versions of this story, we find that Ìgbà started his work as a diviner with enormous expectations of the amount of success he would experience. After all, he knew everything possible to know, but he found no success, because he came across as wicked, selfish and arrogant. Over the years he was humbled, but this didn’t make him doubt himself or his work: rather a change of attitude occurred in which he decided that whatever he did, no matter how small, he would do well. It was this change in attitude that eventually brought him the esteem and fortune he was destined for. The name Ìgbà refers to a calabash of mystery, like the vessels or igbá that contain the secrets of òrìṣà; and it also means ‘time’ and ‘history.’ A calabash of mystery, as in the case of a vessel for an òrìṣà, is a divine ray made manifest. It is created from a particular energy with a particular history. This history is directed by Egúngún as the holder of ancestral wisdom. In this understanding we encounter ideas such as transition, lineage and succession taking place as each igbá that is passed priest to priest generates its unique history. Therefore egúngún lies at the root of the mystery of òrìṣà, because òrìṣà takes its shape upon the bones of ancestry and wisdom. If we feel that our intellectual capacity is outstanding compared to that of others, we can easily believe that we are superior to them, and this creates distance between ourselves and other people. Physical beauty can cause similar negative reactions. An example of this is found in the tales of the beautiful woman Awójigí (the mystery of reflection), who rejected all of her suitors because she found them inferior in beauty to herself and therefore not worthy of her hand. Awójigí used her beauty to manipulate her surroundings and gain favours by cultivating this separation between herself and others. When she was confronted with the possibility of the extinction of her memory and the loneliness which lay ahead, she changed her attitude. Her awo told her that: ‘No matter how big the mirror is, it cannot perceive the reflection of one’s future. One’s true mirror is one’s spouse and children.’ Reflecting upon this wisdom, she decided to marry one of the many men courting her and gave birth to a baby girl, just as beautiful as her, and thus her legacy was continued and she embraced a happy destiny of love. Ìròsùn is the odù of Ọyọ state in Yorùbáland. Ọyọ gained prestige through woodcarving and military excellence. Countless wars and invasions and many
ruthless rulers occur in the history of this state. By extension, this odù is the energy that sparked the birth of the famous fourth aláàfin (king) of Ọyọ, Ṣàngó. Intellectual activity is typified by àjàgùnmàlà (the starry house of the power of the warrior), the olúwo in Ôrun, which is the origin of this dynamic energy. It is in truth the energy that infuses the warrior with skill, determination and power. Ṣàngó was directly related to Ôranmiyán, the aláàfin of this state. Ôranmiyán was the son of Odùduwà, who became the first aláàfin of Ọyọ, followed by Agayu and then by Ṣàngó himself. These are all famous òrìṣàs in Yorùbá mythopoetics, which underlines the importance of egún (ancestry) as a prerequisite for becoming òrìṣà. The ìgbà of Ṣàngó will consequently be the product not only of the powers of lightning, but also of this particular history and succession, going back to Ôranmiyán, just as it stretches on to the present day priests of Ṣàngó. An important metaphysical principle is encoded here: that our orí is directly related to egún in such a way that we can become òrìṣà through our human journey. Ṣàngó is a great example of how ancestry, orí and destiny are the components that make òrìṣà possible. In this case by transformation through fire, and we see here the blueprint of the original ‘rite du passage.’
Ṣàngó is conceived of as an idea in Ìwòrì méjì; in Ìròsùn he gains his powers, thunder and lightning, and he sets out upon the path of destiny. In Ôbàrà méjì, he assumes kingship and he abuses his power, leading to his ritual suicide and elevation in Ôkànràn méjì. The essential nature of Ṣàngó demonstrates a coming together of energetic forces in time, and lead to the unfolding of his history, to generate his igbá or calabash of mystery. When we discuss Ôbàrà méjì, we will see how the power of the warrior king, exemplified by the ideal form of Ṣàngó, can turn into a poison in which power can arouse and intoxicate in such a way that one forfeits one’s destiny and instead reaps misfortune. In many respects, Ṣàngó typifies the fiery essence of the zodiacal sign of Aries, of which Bonatti said: ‘And this is the first being by which the fiery signs are said to act, and they even act in the fiery element’ (i.e. they act in a fiery way upon all things) (Bonatti 2007:30). The spirit known as Ọlɳgbun (the owner of the deep grave) came to earth as a consequence of Yeye Múwɚ’s curse, and manifested the potential for danger and games of chance. The verses describe this power as red, hot and dark, and say that its redness has a dry quality. This spirit represents the pit prepared for those who venerate their arrogance in such a way that they lose contact with the earth and turn their attention solely towards their inner divine fire as a solipsistic glory. It is also a warning that accidents can happen to anyone. One story tells of how Ôrúnmìlà fell into the clutches of Ọlɳgbun when he was travelling to a city to help the inhabitants. He had however made ẹbọ before going, and so he went on his journey with a large amount of cotton, as his diviner had told him to do. As he ventured through the woods he fell into a deep hole and was saved by the cotton he was carrying. He shouted out for help as he lay there, and it so happened that three women heard his lament and helped him from the grave. Some stories say that these women were Abúrù, Abóyè and Abɳṣíṣɵ, who became Ôrúnmìlà’s wives. Others say that they were Ọya, Yëmọja and Ôṣun, and both accounts are right. Abúrù, Abóyè and Abɳṣíṣɵ are of a similar essence to Ọya, Yëmọja and Ôṣun, but in this case they appear as powers of elevation and blessing. The phrase ‘Abúrù, Abóyè, Abɳṣíṣɵ’ is used to greet an awo, in reference to the female powers that elevated Ôrúnmìlà from the grave. These three names are a call for the awo to take the burden of the person greeting him upon his shoulders – a burden which the awo then lifts to Ôrun. It reminds us that the female powers elevate us from
darkness, a remembrance we find in the attire of Ṣàngó, who wears his apron in the manner of a woman to remind himself of the source of his support and aid; a remembrance worthy of any man. Danger in all its forms is made manifest in this odù and symbolized by the colour red, which we assign to anger and emotional turmoil. Red metals (gold, copper, bronze), red clay and osùn (camwood), as well as the colour red itself should be used with caution, in case they lead to accidents, anger, fire and thunder. Redness is a token of the appetite of Ọlɳgbun, and thus should be avoided when one sets out to find one’s self and pursue one’s fate. In the forest of mystery we find two trees that bring the good fortune promised in this odù. The first is the akòko (Chamaesyce olowaluana/Newbouldia laevis), a relative of Croton (Croton dictyophlebodes), which has the power to reveal treasures and good fortune. This tree is crucial for initiations into Ifá, just as it is for Egúngún, and it is often used to decorate the groves of Ògún and mark sacred places. It represents bounty and victory, and has remarkably calmative properties. The tree itself might not appear glorious, but its orchid-like flowers bear witness to its glory, as does its ability to adapt and remain healthy even through ruthless climatic changes. It is the very symbol of the odù, standing strong and bestowing medicinal bounty; irrespective of the conditions surrounding it, and whosoever decides to partake of its gifts. The other sacred tree in Ìròsùn is the banana palm (Musaceae family), which is a symbol of everlasting safety and truthfulness. The banana palm is the mirror axis between the society in heaven and that on earth, and is the tree spoken off repeatedly in this odù. What is curious about the banana palm is that it is not a true palm, it procreates by the mother axis rising from the centre of its roots to spread her children around her feet, giving the illusion that it is the same plant producing fruits again and again, while it is in reality a series of mirrors stemming from the mother. This natural capacity, to mirror, lies behind its association with àbíkú. This speaks about the society in heaven that mirrors the society in Ayé. Ifá believes that we all have a double in heaven, who can either call us back home or bless our journey on earth. It is at the foot of the banana palm that we renew our pacts and agreements to live long, and see our hair turn white. The idea of balanced opposites finds its form in this odù. An example is Crocodile, who complained about having only its big jaws and slow armoured
body, and so it was given a tail to move more effectively. Another balanced opposite is in the mystery of our two hands, we need to have the hand of welcome as well as the hand of defence in order to realize our blessings. Ìròsùn is the odù of paradox, and the spiritual force of contrast and paradox finds its expression in òṣùmàré and the spiritual concept of ɵbọra as related to Ẹgbë, the society in heaven to which we return through uniting our flesh and body with Ayé and ascending on the bones of egúngún. Ěbọra is also a term used for our spiritual doubles in Ôrun. Ěbọra are commonly understood to be either spirits of misfortune, or spirits that underlie the aggressive aspects of the warrior spirit. These are reflections of a deeper metaphysical mystery concerned with the stability of the earth. Ifá reveals that when Ayé endowed the earth with her spirit and soul, there was a need for forces that would stabilize it. The first of these spirits that would ensure stability was Egùngùn, which gave a bonelike structure to earth and marked the four seasons. Èṣù, Ògún, Ôsɳɚṣì and Ôranmiyán/Ṣàngó came to this crossroads of bone as powers to protect this stability. Òṣùmàré is the rainbow, symbolizing the bridge between Ayé and Ôrun. In some districts in Yorùbáland, he is also known as Ọlɳjɳ. This is a term of some ambiguity, as it means the ‘owner of rain,’ but it can also refer to him being the owner of time, as in the changing days of a week. It contains a further reference to his eyes showing themselves through rain; hence, when the sun and the rain appear at the same time, we have a manifestation of Òṣùmàré in the rainbow. Here is the power that influences all cycles and shifts in conditions, whether temporary or permanent. As such, this force influences the phases of the moon, the menstrual cycles, the night turning into day and even the biometric polarity inherent in Ifá divination as the active presence of Olódùmarè. Òṣùmàré is at times considered an ɵbọra, and given a particular alchemical secret that makes part of its calabash of mystery. This secret consists of turning mercury into a solid stone with the aid of five secret herbs flanked by seven metals. This mystery is related to that of Ọlɳjɳ as time keeper and historian. One story tells of Òjò (rain), who was a dark and sombre, but very generous man who gave his waters to friend and foe alike. He was reputed to be as ruthless as he was generous. He had a beautiful wife, Jòjòló, who gave beauty to fog, moisture and dew, and was his constant companion. It so happened that Iná (fire) came to earth and tried to seduce Jòjòló. She was intrigued and
decided to have a divination. The babaláwo said that there was no need to try a new husband just to discover that the one she already had was perfect for her, and advised her to make a sacrifice to Èṣù to avoid calamity. Jòjòló was very beautiful and much loved, so she decided to take a chance and didn’t make the sacrifice. She and Iná became lovers. The relationship was enormously exciting, but also uncomfortable, because the fire suffocated Jòjòló, and made her dry. After a time she tried to avoid Iná, who became infuriated and captured her in a ring of fire to make her his forever. Finding herself in peril she cried out to Òjò, who heard her and gave abundantly of his gifts. The fire disappeared and, rejoicing, she set off to reunite with her husband. As she embarked on her journey home, she fell into a pit of burning embers, to which Iná had retreated, a place where rain could not fall. She was burned and crippled, and from her ashen body were born the earthworms that go forth in search of moist soil. This story imparts many mysteries to us, one being the importance that Èṣù holds in the divine design and in that of our lives. It speaks of how generosity and kindness always defeat even the most fiery of opponents, and it also speaks of the need for sacrifice. In this case Jòjòló believed that her beauty and erotic appeal would save her from danger, and so she set out to follow her passions, discarding concern because of the arrogance born from her beauty. Many of the stanzas in Ìròsùn teach us to be careful in our actions, in case we do something that we will regret for the rest of our lives. Because of a feeling of superiority, whether of beauty or intellect, disaster strikes and humbles the self-centred traveller. This is poignantly illustrated by a story that speaks of how rats and mice became so fertile. They had become accustomed to do as they liked, there were few threats in the world which they could not hide. One day Cat arrived on earth. When Mouse saw Cat for the first time, he immediately recognized the danger, but instead of succumbing to fear, he walked past the cat and said, ‘What works for me might not work for you, what works for you might not work for me.’ Cat stopped Mouse and engaged him in conversation, asking what he meant by that. Mouse said that Cat might look upon him as food or something to play with, but this would make him lose sight of the greater picture. Cat just laughed and told him that he could end him any day with his sharp teeth and fierce claws, that it was in his nature to kill and eat – or play – with the mouse. Mouse questioned Cat, asking if that was all he was, just a hungry killing machine, or could there be more to their predicament
than this simple logic? Cat became annoyed by the philosophical rhetoric of Mouse, and told him that we all do what we are designed to do. He was larger and far more lethal than Mouse, so it was natural that Mouse should serve as play and food for him. Mouse responded that it might be true, but it was still important to pay attention to the bigger picture. Cat became even more annoyed, and was about to finish this conversation when he felt a sharp pain in his neck as the watchful viper behind him struck. Arrogance, and its repercussions, is the constant theme in Ìròsùn. In this odù, Ifá states the importance of setting aside a piece of land that remains untouched, so íwín can reside there. This is a testament of respect to Ônilé, and a call for harmonious coexistence. Everything begins and ends in igbódù, the forest of mystery. In this we find the lesson of taking what is ours and respecting what does not belong to us, we are the keepers of Ônilé’s mysteries. Having understood these lessons, we can come to appreciate a key stanza in this odù, which speaks about the beginning of the human journey: Funfun ni iyì eyín Gbágbà ni iyì ọyàn Ká r’ógun má mà sá ni iyì ọkùnrin D’Ifá fún Aídẹgbɶ Ọmọɵjɵ lògbò lògbó, tí í gbé Ikún d’ọmọ Ní’jó to f’ɵyìntì tí nsunkún àì r’ɳmọ bi Yèyé, yèyé ọlɚmọ Ôṣun fí ìwòròjò wẹọmọ rɵ Whiteness adds to the beauty we appreciate in teeth A full and sumptuous chest adds to the beauty of breasts When war comes and one rises to the challenge one proves manhood This Ifá divined for Aídẹgbɶ The blood of beginnings, her womb of beginnings that would give forth children When she was lamenting her lack of children Oh mother of mothers, mother of all children Ôṣun is the cool water of dew we bathe our children with
It is from here that we set out on our human journey bathed in honey, sweet water, and the goodness of the morning dew. It is also here that we need to bring confusion to rest and accept the lot that is ours; while we respect that which is not ours to take. Ìròsùn explains why the human journey is the way it is, and that inspires a desire in us to gather together in harmony and respect.
ÔWÕNRÍN MÉJÌ
ɑe sweet and bitter track Ôwɳnrín méjì is one of the most important and enigmatic energies amongst the pairs of odù. Its importance is derived from it being the repository of energy from which Èṣù Ôdàrà takes his àṣẹ. Èṣù Ôdàrà is the transformative power of Èṣù that shapes miracles and tragedy, and the matter he uses for shaping these great magical transformations is found in this odù. In other words, every manifestation and form of Èṣù will always have something to do with Ôwɳnrín. It is one of the most enigmatic odùs because of its potency for cataclysmic change, and is the power that promotes deep equality as the principle that sustains creation itself. While Ìrosùn denotes the good and blessed condition in which we start our journey on earth, Ôwɳnrín manifests hardship, and the ability to endure in times of want. One’s track towards good fortune is taken with determined and measured steps. Ôwɳnrín is represented by two triangles standing on top of each other, each with three points marked on their three sides. These represent the magnetic poles of Ayé, each pole bearing an imprint of the fiery and magnetic source of earth itself. The triangle marked with three points at each corner is a reference
to the mysteries wielded and secured by the Ọgbɳni society. While Ìrosùn brings the forces that ensure stability to Ayé, Ôwɳnrín brings the subtle magnetic forces that uphold this stability or annihilate it. The power of this odù is found at the nape of the neck, which is where the powers of Èṣù reside. The reference to the nape of the neck announces the importance of the cerebellum, which is also known as the primitive or reptilian brain. The cerebellum is responsible for motor control, coordination and precision as well as basic reflexes. When an organism is confronted with something that threatens it the cerebellum is activated. The cerebellum is intertwined with the central nervous system, the arbor vitae, a name referring to the evergreen tree of life in the garden of Eden which is also given to other evergreens, especially ferns and Thuja species in general. On a biological and metaphysical level, these parts of the brain, together with the pineal gland, enable us to experience a world outside ourselves, whether visible or invisible. The magnetic and electric current in the brain mimics the relationship between the core of the earth and the magnetic poles, and this explains why Ifá defines this odù as ‘the owner of cosmic cataclysm.’ Ôwɳnrín is clearly an energy that speaks of hardship, of the kind of hardship that sustains creation and good fortune. It is an energy that possesses immense knowledge and wisdom of the fundamental structures of creation, and in particular the secrets that cause Ayé to possess a regenerative stability that shows itself in death, decay and the promise of new births. The story of Mofɶɶní is pertinent to this energy. He was a strong man, intelligent and resourceful, but nothing worked out for him in spite of all his skills. Nonetheless, he worked on and kept faith until his mother died. Her death brought him many responsibilities, and he had no resources available with which to fulfil them. He saw no way out of this situation except to borrow money from a local pawnbroker. Before going to him, Mofɶɶní went to his Awo and asked for advice. His awo told him to give a rooster to Èṣù Ôdàrà and a pigeon to his orí. The awo also advised him to get some chickens and make a coop. When Mofɶɶní borrowed the money, the pawnbroker demanded that he should stay on his farm and pay off the debt with work, which he agreed to do. Mofɶɶní was a hard worker, and made the farm beautiful and lucrative. In the meantime, his chickens started to lay eggs. From the eggs came more chickens and even more eggs. His chicken coop became abundant, and promised to bring in enough money for Mofɶɶní to buy his freedom. But the
pawnbroker had no interest in loosing such a good worker and so one night he accidently fell upon the fence that secured the chickens and killed them all. When Mofɶɶní came to take care of his chickens the following day, he saw that they were all dead, and he broke down in tears. It was then that Èṣù Ôdàrà came to him, and told him that he should roast all the chickens and store them. Mofɶɶní did as Èṣù recommended and stored them in a safe place. That same day there was turbulence at the royal palace because the successor to the throne had fallen gravely ill. The diviners said that the remedy lay in finding 10 chickens from the same mother, that had been hatched on the same day and died on the same day. This was crucial for making the Ifá medicine that would save the life of the successor to the throne. Èṣù Ôdàrà entered the assembly of diviners and told them where to find what they needed. He then went to Mofɶɶní, and told him that someone would come asking for his roasted chickens and that he should charge a great deal of money for them, assuring him that they would be willing and able to pay. Not long afterwards, the royal retinue appeared asking for chickens. Mofɶɶní told them that the only chickens he had were already roasted because they all had died on the same day. The royal convoy told him that this was exactly what they were searching for and asked him the price for ten of them. He gave the price Èṣù had told him to give, which they gladly paid. The pawnbroker had watched all that occurred from a hiding place. When he saw that Mofɶɶní had gained far, far more money than he owed in debt, he broke down in tears, knowing that he would lose his magnificent worker. Not only did he lose his magnificent worker, but, as he had been obsessed with Mofɶɶní’s good fortune all this time, he lost his own. He was forced to work for Mofɶɶní, who from this day onward experienced only prosperity, wealth and increase. In this story, Ifá discusses the importance of need, which is understood to be a fire that moves us to do what needs to be done. In the tale of Mofɶɶní, we see the spirit of endurance fused with faith. Instead of sinking into failure, becoming depressed and falling in love with his misery, he didn’t give up. Ôwɳn irin níí mú abɶrɶwọ’ná Ôwɳn omi níí mú akèrègbè sọnù Ôwɳn ọmọ níí mú ọmọ wɳn j’alè Tí wɳn fi npé ebi ló n paá l’ode Ìdó Eni í pɚ tí kò gbɳn
Ká kuku fi wɳn wè yúnyun nínú oko Día fún Ôwɚn Tí wọn ó fi j’oyè iléé baba rẹ Ẹbọ ni wɳn ní kó sẹ It is when iron is scarce that we melt down needles It is lack of water that causes the calabash to get lost It is lack of ability to raise children that causes the child to steal So they could say that hunger drove the child to look for food in the city of Ìdó Those who are manifold but lack in wisdom They are like the yúnyun grass on the farmer’s land This Ifá divined for Ôwɚn Who was elected to take over the throne of his ancestors He was advised to perform sacrifice In this odù, we meet the ìrókò tree again. A man’s two wives had a quarrel over the cause of the younger wife’s child falling ill. A divination was performed, and it turned out that the senior wife had complained about the junior wife to some other women she had met in the market under the ìrókò tree. It so happened that a great gathering of witches was held in the crown of the tree that night, and they heard the complaints and lamentations of the senior wife and decided to give the younger wife’s child a critical illness. She was advised to make ẹbọ with a rabbit to the witches dwelling in the ìrókò, and the child recovered because of the senior wife’s efforts. The message here is that we need to be careful of what we wish for and that we should exercise caution over the kind of words we allow mind and heart to give shape to. Negative words call upon negative spirits by means of their shared element of air, just as good words call upon spirits of benevolence. In Yorùbá the word for a sentence is ɚrɚ. We find here a play on words so typical of the language, and even more typical of how words and meanings are expressed in paradoxes and contrasts in Ifá, as there exists a cult which is intimately related to this idea of the word as a formulation of will, desire and character, namely the cult of Ôrɚ. The cult of Ôrɚ is a nocturnal cult that walks with machete and bird wings on the bones of Egúngún and holds the power and authority of purifying cities, homes and districts of negative energies and presences. Not only this, but Ôrɚ
represents the very soul of Yorùbá justice and the members of this cult execute judgments made by the Ọgbɳni society. They play an important part in funeral rites, and possess the secrets that rejuvenate corpses for a short time after death. They are an extension of the Egúngún society, and hold the bullroarer as their sacred symbol, which gives them access to the various types of wind that brings life to bones. One particular set of winds holds tremendous importance: they are said to be the winds that make one disappear into igbódù, where one is taught directly by ìrúnmọlẹ. This secret is so profound that it has caused Ôrɚ to be associated with the lava at the centre of the earth, through typifying a similar hot wind that we find in the presence of lava. On subtle levels this is true, but the owner of lava is Èṣù Ôdàrà, who manifests in the laterite rock, the volcanic product turned into stone. It is the presence of these mysterious, subtle and destructive forces that causes this odù to be that which Èṣù models his àṣẹ upon, and which constitutes change and transformation. As such, we can say that it is here that secrecy has its root, along with the secret societies that guard the mysteries of nature. Èṣù is often understood to be a trickster spirit, but this is a simplification of his role: he is the divine linguist who was given the power of making our prayers, sacrifices and supplications acceptable. He possesses the necessary ambiguity of a power that challenges us to make choices in his capacity of being the very nature of transformation. Èṣù is the principle that makes choice possible, rather than a trickster spirit. There is always a code of honour in our dealings with Èṣù, a call to nobility in the fundamental sense of the word. By this I mean that a noble stance is one of excellence and dignity, an attitude towards life that enables us to accept and use the changes in the world stoically. There are many stories of how Èṣù came into the world, and one of them tells of his being the child of Ôṣun and Ôrúnmìlà, meaning that he was the product of wisdom fertilizing the potency for sweetness on earth. But the womb of Ôṣun also represents the period of mysterious transformation which any foetus goes through during gestation. The tale of Èṣù being gestated by the power of sweetness and honey would indicate that all trials and challenges we are confronted with in life will ultimately have the wisdom of sweetness as their goal. This fusion of Ôṣun and Ôrúnmìlà is also the particular combination of powers that constitutes the concept of àṣẹ. Ôwɳnrín is not the odù which gave birth to Èṣù, as some claim; that was
Ôṣɶtúrá, the subject of our concluding chapter. In Ôwɳnrín, we find that Èṣù’s expressions and his praise names, Elɶgbárá or Alàgbárá, are related to the type of power he draws from this odù, namely as the one who uses the scent and heat of what is as yet unformed (alà) in the essence of fire to shape life. This leads us to the root of a warrior ethos, as is told in one of the combinations of Ôwɳnrín, Ôwɳnrín-Ôsá: Elɶgbárá kiisá lọjọ ijà Ajágbuyí ni ti Elégbárá Ààrá kiisá lọjọ ijá Ajàgbuyíì niti Ààrá Ẹkùn kiisa lọjọ ijà Ajàgbuyì niti Ekun Emi ko maa sá lọjọ ijà Ki awọn ọmọ (ogun)èhin mi ma le sá lọjọ ijà Ki a gba iyì jiagba ọlá ninu ijà naa Elɶgbárá will not flee on the day of the fight A glorious fight belongs to Elɶgbárá Lightning will not flee on the day of the fight A glorious fight belongs to Lightning Lion does not flee on the day of the fight A glorious fight belongs to Lion I do not flee on the day of the fight So that my soldiers do not flee on the day of the fight We do not flee so abundant glory can gather around us This stanza carries a deeper message than standing fast, because the combination of forces we find here speak of being certain of who you are as you venture into the unknown, and of accepting everything as a challenge. Being fully aware of who we are requires us to use our skills and abilities to our benefit and to our opponent’s detriment. The stanza conceives of ‘the fight’ in a wider context. It is about the fight for self acknowledgement, and the fight against what threatens who you are. If we are true to ourselves, we will reap glory, but the way to make this discovery is to enter onto the battlefield, not only to answer the challenge of the enemies waiting there, but also the enemy within.
The ideal of the warrior is most poignantly represented by Ògún himself, the blacksmith and forger of metals. Yet, in this odù we meet a different kind of warrior, one refined by the rustic and fiery beating of Ògún. Erinlè is an òrìṣà who takes part of his àṣẹ from this odù. He is associated with the elephant, and is said to have been a very successful warrior, fisherman and herbalist. He is a renowned healer who works both the medicine of the forest and that of the waters. A certain finesse and facility in regard to nature is found in Erinlé, as it is in Òṣùmàré, who also surfaces in this odù, turning his head and tail into a full circle. Like Èṣù, they both hold a particular attitude towards life that turns the hardness in this odù into sweetness. Erinlè represents a balance between water and earth, just as Òṣùmàré holds night and day in balance. One must accept the cyclical nature of creation as one walks onwards, and extract the necessary blessings and lessons from steps already taken. Ôwɳnrín gives the lesson of being present in the moment, and receiving the moment in a state of calm anticipation. This is the spirit of the adventurer who does not linger in cities that bring ruin, but who has the ability to find rest when good possibilities in life open up, allowing wisdom to guide the way. Doing this, one’s very being will become a blessing not only to oneself, but also to others.
As the bridge between worlds, Èṣù Ôdàrà represents the very vehicle of salvation, hence his association with crossroads. He is the one who brings the morning dew which serves as food for Ônilé, and the air and fire that stir the world and influence our choices so that we can pursue our good fortune and grow wiser on our journey. He is the author of energetic currents, and, as the power that is present in the moment, he always oversees balance. An example of this is that good deeds receive financial compensation. Èṣù prevents us from getting something for nothing. The vehicle for Èṣù’s power, the mouth, is found in this odù. It is born here, and said to be the father of all sacrifice. The mouth is the organ we use to utter our sentiments, thoughts and desires. It is the messenger of wishes, curses and blessings, shaping thoughts and emotions into words. It follows that our words carry power and we should at all times watch what we say. With words we can hurt or elevate our fellow travellers. With words we give promises and our character reveals itself. The mouth is the father of sacrifice, because our words are the product of what we have digested in our hearts and minds. Ôwɳnrín constantly brings the importance of other people to our attention. We will always find our fortune – and misfortune – amongst them. One story that highlights this concerns ògbìgbò, the hoopoe, which is a bird sacred to Erinlè, Òṣùmàré, Ôṣun and Èṣù. Ògbìgbò was the leader of all birds and enjoyed everyone’s respect, but also someone’s envy. It so happened that Òwìwí (owl), a handsome, wealthy and debauched man, plotted to steal the wife of Hoopoe, his king. Even though he was constantly bedding beautiful women, he fixed his desire upon his king’s wife and managed to seduce her. They moved in together and were immediately scorned by all the other birds. Whenever Owl left his house, there was always someone there ready to beat him, or throw rocks at him. He became more and more nervous, and started to go out only at night. All his charm was lost to his anxiety, and his lover left him to contemplate his fate. Owl became resentful and started to blame his diviners, his friends, and everyone else for his plight, until one night when he realised that he was the creator of his misfortune. He tried to change his ways, but was too proud to offer the necessary sacrifice, and hence he became associated with bad omens and wicked business transactions. This odù comes with the message to not ‘wear another man’s apron,’ a warning not to steal another man’s possessions, and in particular not to steal
his spouse. Owl lusted after what was not his, even though he already had more than enough, which caused him to become a harbinger of bad omens. This odù also comes with the counsel of not being disappointed by people; rather, we should try to understand what is going on in the world and choose our confidantes wisely. We should be mindful of the importance of public opinion and how other people’s words can have an effect on our lives, because we never know who will lend an ear to negative remarks and complaints. This odù also brings the powers that sustain harmonious relationships. It speaks of the idea of soulmates, those two people who enter into a benevolent and beautiful unity when they find one another, such that one will suffer without the other. This is illustrated by ọpẹ èlùjù, the wine palm, who wanted to marry the man she had loved from the first moment she laid eyes upon him. This beautiful man was the calabash tree (Crescentia cujeta). The wine palm went to her awo for a divination and was told to travel to the city of her beloved. At the same time the calabash tree went to his awo and asked for advice on exactly the same thing: he wanted to locate and marry the woman he had met in his younger days, as he had been in love with her ever since. His awo told him to go to the city of Palm Vine and so he went to her city to find her. Midway between their cities they met, and received all possible good fortune and everlasting love. This love is seen in how palm wine (ẹmu) needs the gourd (akèrègbè) to hold it. This story also warns against people who try to separate the two, who are considered foolish and witless in trying to separate what is meant to be together forever. Àgbɳn (coconut) was created as a promise of good fortune to a very wealthy couple who wanted children but who had experienced problems conceiving. It was the falling of the coconut that announced the happy news of fertility. The couple went to an awo to see what they could do about the issue and were told to perform sacrifice. One part of the sacrifice was ɚgà (chameleon), which they were advised to rub over the woman’s pregnant belly for sixteen days in order to ensure the birth of a gifted and healthy child who would receive all good fortune. The pregnancy was an easy one, and she gave birth to a child who they called Ôgànrara in honour of the chameleon who facilitated his birth. Ôgànrara was most unpleasant to look at, his health was fragile, and he only provoked disgust and resentment in people. As he grew up it only became worse. He could not get work, nor make any friends. One day he decided to go to the babalawos and see what was going on. They cast opele for him and told
him that he had forgotten to bring his promised good fortune from heaven with him. He made ẹbọ after ẹbọ but with no result. He went from awo to awo to find a solution, until one day he found a conclave of six babaláwos who he approached for a solution to his distress. They took out their ìkíns and divined for him, and asked him about the circumstances of his birth and gestation. He told them what had occurred with his parents, and how no good fortune came his way despite his being rubbed with the chameleon for sixteen days. The conclave of babaláwos immediately realized what had gone wrong. They told him that he was a child of Olódùmarè himself, because the chameleon is the power of God on earth. He was advised not to try so hard, but rather to go home and wish for good fortune to come to him. He was advised to draw up a list of priorities and make his wishes in a realistic fashion. And so he did. Upon returning home he planned his wishes and desires in order of need, the first being to be liked by people. Soon after, he started to experience the goodwill of people, and found good friends. Wish after wish was fulfilled as he stated them, and it didn’t take long before he was surrounded by all the good fortune that he had been promised. The chameleon is important in this story, because he knows how to blend in with society and recognize red as red and black as black. He is not a turncoat; rather he is characterised by his capacity for discernment. One stanza is interesting in regard to this ability of discernment, as it concerns the influence of ‘the elders of the night.’ Ôgànrara goes to a wide variety of wise ones and he always receives good advice, but somehow he never manages to get the desired results. When he goes to the witches, or ‘Elders of the Night,’ we read the following: Ó tọ Ògé ẹyẹ Ayé lọ Ó tọ Kowéè eye Ôrun lọ Ògé ẹyẹ Ayé, kó máa ṣɳ jẹ, kó máa ṣɳ jê Kowéè eyẹ Ôrun, kɳ máa ṣɳ jẹ kó máa ṣɳ jɶ K’ɶyẹ Ọbàríṣà Méjì me baà f’ojú kan’raa wọn Ẹbọ ní wɳn ní kó ṣe He went to Ògé (Egyptian plover, Pluvianus aegyptius), the bird of the world He went to Kowéè (Egyptian nightjar, Caprimulgus aegyptius), the bird of heaven Ògé, the bird of the world, should be selective about where he looks for food
Kowéè, the bird of heaven, should be careful about who he associates with Lest two birds of Ọbàríṣà come into contact with each other. He was advised to perform sacrifice This verse pinpoints the problem; Ôgànrara was not selective enough, and was not careful enough about who he associated with. As a child of Ôwɳnrín, he had a direct link with these two birds associated with witchcraft, which carried a lesson that he needed to pay particular attention to. An admonition to take care is also given: ‘lest two birds of Ọbàríṣà come into contact with each other.’ Here we touch upon another deep mystery in this odù, namely how Ôbàtálá (Ọbàríṣà) is the mediator and owner of the two forces in the world that generate movement, àṣẹ and àbá. The sum of these is òṣò, the term denoting the presence of the sorcerous powers of night, but which also forms part of the mystery which an awo must understand in order to be effective in his divinations. The mystery of mysteries, generically called awo, is supported and understood through respect. It is about respecting one’s parents, elders, ancestors, friends and even one’s foes. In particular, one’s mother needs to be respected, which hints at the importance of the legacy one inherits through her side of the family, and further suggests the presence of very demanding and complicated mothers in one’s life, who must be seen as forces that help to mould our inner wisdom. There is a constant admonition to understand any challenge, to do whatever you can, and to take opportunities when they present themselves. But opportunities should not be taken greedily, but with care and understanding so that they may bring good fortune. It is in this odù that the idea of quality is born. Quality is forged through dedication, attention and care. It follows that this is the sort of slow fire we need to cultivate in order to forge our good fortune with measured attention. This odù comes with a warning to not take the easy route towards embracing good fortune, as thwarting the current conditions might impede one’s destiny. We must recognise these forces, but care must be exercised, as there is a tendency in this odù to associate with the wrong people and to hold unrealistic expectations. The two birds clashing is also an allegory of gossip. They must be kept apart. On a practical level this is an admonition to strive towards positive public opinion, meaning that one should not encourage birds to fight. If one
avoids this, one will attract the favour of the Elders of the Night, who will defend you against negative public opinion rooted in gossip and prevent unfair trials. But this demands an upright character, as given in the mystery of the ‘broken stones that did not bleed.’ Òkúta lá pàá mó ṣɵjɵ A dífá f’Ôwó Ọmọ abárúnjàrún Wɳn ní ó rúbọ fún ọmọ rɵ Nítorí ikú Gbogbo ọmọ márààrún ti Ôwọ Bí náà ló rúbọ fún Gbogbo àwọn ọmọ nàá si yè Ó ní: ọmọ Ọwɳ ki í t’ojú Ọwó kú ỌmọẸsɵ ki t’oju Ẹṣɵ rɚrun Kèè pɶ o Kèè jìnà Ẹ tètè wáá bá ni láìkú kangiri. Stone is what breaks suddenly without bleeding This Ifá divined for Hand The child of one who is given five fingers and keeps them all Hand was advised to sacrifice for her children Because death was lingering Hand performed the sacrifice for her five children And all the children survived She said: the children of Hand will not die in the presence of Hand The children of Foot will not die in the presence of Foot Very soon Not far from now Come and you will find us alive Strong and healthy will you find us This verse speaks about the securing of one’s legacy, of difficult beginnings that give way to miracles and good fortune. It is as if the invitation from the Elders of the Night is a constant temptation in this odù; there is a temptation to
thwart bad fortune by taking shortcuts of impermanent good fortune, rather than forging a skeleton of fiery power in the cauldron of life. This idea is further expressed in the importance of hands and feet, which represent balance and stability, the integration of arbor vitae and cerebellum moved to action. It is by our mind, heart, hands and feet that we are recognized as human beings. Still, there is an ambiguity here: the two triangles that form the symbol of this odù, which speak of a central balance for the actions of the right hand and foot with the left hand and foot, are in this case represented by the mystery of orí and ọkàn (heart), which must be in alignment if we are to function in an effective and good fashion. This alignment between orí and ọkàn mirrors the dynamic between Ôrun and Ayé. This mystery is encoded in the ambiguous plant known as étipɳnlá (Boerhaavia diffusa) which is, in this odù, both taboo and a teacher plant. Étipɳnlá possesses the properties of making land and people barren, but at the same time it is a sorcerous plant which possesses the power to attract what one desires, and is said to be especially powerful in attracting males. It also has remarkable medicinal properties: it is antibacterial, and fortifies the immune system. In this way, it represents the fine line between danger and destruction, healing and fortune, that is embedded in this odù. The idí tree (Terminalia glaucescens), a relative of almond, is also found here. Its leaves ward off death and the negative influences of ajogúns. But we find a certain ambiguity here too, as it is reputed to be a haven for íwín, spirits of nature similar to fairies and, to some extent, ghosts. It is antiseptic and generally useful for maintaining the hygiene of the mouth and soft organs. The idí also attracts elephants, the animal of Erinlè, which speaks of it being a tree of wisdom. There is an interesting dynamic to be found between these two trees, in terms of how they represent the energy of this odù. One verse gives us the following proverb: Ìdákísí ọnà níí ré èjo l’ẹyín, which means, ‘the hollow part of the well trod track is where the back of the snake turns crooked.’ This proverb is tied to the story of the horse (ẹẹsin) and the ram (àgbò) who were called to go to the court of the ọɳni (king) of Ifɵ. Before departing, they went to their awo and consulted him about what awaited them there. The awo told them that the king had been creating his own misfortune by neglecting tradition; that he had entered into such hubris that he saw no need for venerating ancestors or òrìṣàs, in fact he saw himself as being equal or superior to God himself. The awo told them to tell the king that he
needed to change his attitude and give sacrifice to Ifá, his orí and the ancestors, and change his ways. Horse and Ram set out with some anxiety over what would come from giving the king such a message, but when they came to Ifɵ they saw a city in shambles and a palace in distress. It was then they knew the king would listen to what they had to tell; that it was he himself who had brought this unfortunate condition upon his realm. The king prostrated himself before Horse and Ram and immediately made the necessary sacrifices. He fed Ifá, his orí and the ancestors, and he changed his ways that very night, and started to treat his people with respect and generosity. It didn’t take long before the kingdom experienced growth and good fortune. This story tells of the importance of keeping one’s orí balanced and of continuing the legacy of one’s ancestors. The diviners coming to the king of Ifɵ to set things straight are represented by the Horse and the Ram, animals that have a marked relationship to royalty and in particular to Ṣàngó. We find here a combination of the spark of spirit, represented by the ram, and the wise consideration of this spark, in the form of the horse. Ram and Horse represent a call to embrace traditional values and to be humble towards those whose shoulders we stand upon, namely the dead, egúngún, the sum of ancestry. This story speaks of the importance of lineage, succession and the traditional world view that need to be in place to truly understand the powers that are active in the world. This odù speaks of the mystery of alignment as the source of balance, of the importance of solid foundations and balanced understanding as what supports the equilibrium of the world. It is the power that supports the magnetic poles of the earth inviting alignment and harmony of heart and mind so we can discern what is good and bad for us and accept the existence of both.
ÔBÀRÀ MÉJÌ
ɑe fork in the road Ôbàrà méjì means both a rope and the state of being in possession of a dual consciousness, ‘two-headedness.’ This condition is represented by all animals that belong to this odù having cloven hooves. It also speaks of the delicate balance between the ruler of a kingdom and the population. It is an odù of immense prosperity and wealth, both material and intellectual. We find the umbilical cord and the hangman’s noose here, symbols that bind destiny with both grace and disgrace. One proverb from Ôbàrà méjì says: ‘Disgrace (kàsàkàsà) is the father of success (késekése),’ meaning that our early failures should teach us wisdom so that we can understand the path to success. The ‘devil’ truly resides in the details. It is essential to order our passions and actions with a calm mind to achieve success. From Ôbàrà méjì onwards, we find a subtle meta-mathematic, a particular dynamic of reverse reflexes is played out from here until the last odù, Òfún méjì. The odùs pair up in a mutually reflective way. In the case of Ôbàrà méjì, its reverse reflex is the following odù, Ôkànràn méjì, and the same applies to Ôkànràn méjì in relation to Ôbàrà méjì. This means that Ôkànràn méjì holds the remedy to what might be problematic in Ôbàrà méjì and vice versa. The
next four pairs of odù méjì have a similar relationship; it is in Ôbàrà méjì that we find the keys and clues to this relationship between the remaining odùs in the many proverbs relating how one needs the other, and how we cannot accomplish our destiny in solitude. We must embrace other travellers on our journey, and this journey comes with the potential for disgrace as much as for success. The importance of interdependency for achieving success is emphasized in the following stanza: Ôtunwẹsìn, Òsìnwẹtún niowɳṣe nmọ Li o dífá fún Ondero Nigbati igi Awùn mbọwa we orí rẹ Wọn ni: orí re a d’orí rere Nitorinaa ki ó rú Àgùtàn ẹyẹlé ati iyun Ó gbɳ ó rú Wɚn niki ó so iyùn na mɳ kanrinkan To ọun yo maa la fún wiwe ara rẹ ‘The right hand that washes the left,’ ‘the left hand that washes the right’ These are the riches of increase that make the hands clean These were the awos who made divination for the Awún tree On the day Awùn was going to wash Ondero’s head They said he would find prosperity They said he should offer A sheep, a pigeon and beads made from coral He did as he was advised They told him to tie the beads to the sponge He had set aside to clean himself with This verse speaks of ondero, a bird that prefers to stay on the ground despite being able to fly. It abandons its eggs to be hatched by the sun or volcanic heat. The young birds fly immediately after hatching, and are left to defend themselves against snakes and predators as best they can. This bird symbolizes the individual stepping into the world. It is a symbol of one hand helping the other, as air and earth help this bird to find itself, support it and challenge it. The verse speaks of a perfect order and balance, and the serenity and wisdom necessary for discernment.
The sacrifice consists of a sheep, a pigeon and coral beads. In Ifá doctrine, the sheep represents our connection with ancestry and is usually given when we seek to ward off death. The pigeon represents the power of loyalty, long life and creativity, whilst the coral beads represent royal achievements and glory. The awùn tree was told to use these to clean the consciousness (or head) of a bird who lives simultaneously in two habitats, earth and air. Awùn is an ambiguous spirit, being considered both a ‘devil tree’ and a ‘god tree.’ He represents someone who already possessed a double or divided consciousness, and so was ideally positioned to solve a similar issue for another. Awùn is an impressive tree that can grow as tall as 60 metres and possesses great medicinal properties. The bark can be used to make a tincture that expels the afterbirth, but its most impressive property is as an antidote to poisoning by snake, scorpion and rat. By extension it can be used as a treatment for most microbial venereal infections and also malaria. It has recently been discovered that it contains large amounts of anti-HIV antibodies. In Ôbàrà, the royal palm (Ceiba sp.) came to Ayé with his sisters, Frog and Coconut Palm. Like the royal palm, both Frog and Coconut Palm made sacrifice in order to be fertile and prosperous. Ôbàrà méjì brought prosperity to the world, but people’s envy, jealousy and bad manners surfaced with it, because it challenged poverty, teaching that no one was destined to be poor in means, spirit or in resources. Each of us can pursue a road to wealth by understanding our qualities. Ôbàrà gave the world the fire that enables us to set goals and pursue them, which for many is a provocation, as people tend to choose suffering in preference to pursuing unpredictable possibilities. Ôbàrà méjì, more than any other odù, admonishes us to make our lives better, so we can make other people’s lives better. Shared prosperity will accumulate just as much as shared suffering. Ìyɵrɵ, who is born in this odù, is one of the enchanted children of Ôrúnmìlá activated through the recital of the divinatory chant known as ìyɵrɵ. These enchantments are odù Ifá poetry sung in a specific metre sacred to Ifá, which enables specific àṣẹ to be activated. Ìyɵrɵ is similar to ọfɚ and ògèdè, which are rhythmic chants following specific tonal structures with the purpose of activating àṣẹ, often with dramatic and instantaneous effects. Ọfɚ is used to activate plant genii, medicine and can be used as a vehicle for enabling all forms of possession. We might loosely refer to these tonal poetic songs as invocation. As such the function is different to that which we find with oríkì
(praise chants) and àdúrà (prayers), which are used in homage and supplication to spirit. This odù speaks much about Ọlɳfín, commonly understood to be an epithet of Olódùmarè, like ẹlɶdàa (the force that creates/generates) and òrìṣà (the consciousness of all parts). This subject is quite complex, and it is important to gain an understanding of it when we seek to comprehend the mysterious energy of Ôbàrà méjì. Ọlɳfín is commonly considered to be associated with the sun and to represent the concept of divine law, and, through this, it is intimately related to Odùduwà as well. Some traditions see Ọlɳfín as a form of Odùduwà. In the force needed to generate creation, and the shards of consciousness needed to generate an intelligible and ensouled creation, we find the principle of divine law. The idea of divine law in Ifá is similar to that which we find in the concepts of dharma and rta, the forces that uphold cosmic order. Indeed, the following passage from Rigveda speaks of this: ‘O Indra, lead us on the path of Rta, on the right path over all evils.’ Indra has similar traits to those of Ṣàngó, who came to power in this odú. Indra was a leader of gods/devas, and he possessed the powers of the thunder. He rode on a white elephant and was the brother of Agni, the fire. As Vajrapani, Indra was appointed to be the one who should guard the dharma, in spite of his tendencies towards womanizing and drunken and aggressive behaviour. In this image, we recognise Ṣàngó, a prominent military leader who enforces justice by the use of thunder and fire. Ṣàngó is always called to stand close to Ôbàtálá, whose animal is the elephant, so that his military and royal power can be ruled by a wise and tempered consciousness, rather than the fiery ways to which he is more prone. Ôbàrà conferred immense amounts of power and knowledge upon Ṣàngó. However, it is the odù which enforces divine law, as we see in one of the praise names of Èṣù associated with it – Èṣù Ọlɳfín àpèká lúù – translated as ‘ Èṣù is the one who enforces the law.’ This means that deviations from the cosmic laws established by Ọlɳfín provoke a confrontation with Èṣù, as he is the spirit set to enforce and guard the cosmic possibilities and ensure that their unfolding is in conformity with what the cosmic law permits. Ifá is adamant about the rich possibilities within the cosmic order and encodes them in the 256 odùs, representing the cosmic matrix and helix. When we speak of cosmic law and concepts such as dharma, we need to recognize that Ifá is preoccupied with living our life so that we can experience ultimate
fulfilment and happiness. It follows that we are born with a given constitution that leads to some courses of action bringing fortune to us, and others misfortune. We are reminded to act in conformity with this constitution and not to defy it. Doing this, we notice that when we make our destiny and walk the world with measured and gentle steps, our good fortune will tend to spill over and bless others as a consequence. Hence Ifá tells us that Ôbàrà’s name in heaven, which represents a perfection of this energy, is ‘He who sits quiet and does not commit offence.’ Ôbàrà came to the world to show us that material wealth depends upon the efforts of the person in question. He came as a force to fight poverty by making us realize that worth does not lie in the material world, but in the effort and thought behind it. This action of Ôbàrà stirred up the resistance of Ikú (Death), who plotted to kill whoever was bringing prosperity to the world. He was not aware of Ôbàrà’s identity but, knowing that whoever had angered him was a skilled awo, he arranged for a trial of the most prominent diviners in heaven, in which death would come to whoever failed the test. He sent out a message to the awos, one after another, concerning a horrible illness which had affected him and which no one seemed able to cure, and he invited them to heal him within seven days. But there was nothing wrong with Ikú, he had deceptively dressed up in the clothes of his wife Àrùn, the spirit of illness. He gave the awos kola nuts and wine, which were in reality eggs and sheep’s urine, as part of the trial. Those who failed to recognize the true identity of these substances had violated taboo, and were consequently sent to Ikú’s prison: it wasn’t too long before he had a fine gathering of diviners there. When the invitation came to Ôbàrà, he immediately went to his diviner for advice. His diviner said that he should offer a goat to his orí and another goat to Èṣù and give each of these òrìṣàs a ladder. He was told to wear his idé, an enchanted necklace. Ôbàrà did as instructed and went to Ikú’s palace, where he found the king of Death on his throne, reeking and in a horrible state. Ikú invited him to have some wine and kola nuts. Ôbàrà sang an enchantment over them to affirm that they were really what they seemed. As he did so, the putrid smell of urine rose from the calabash, and the kola nuts turned into eggs. Ôbàrà became upset and told Ikú that he would not put up with this sorry excuse for hospitality. Ikú apologized for the incident and pleaded with him to stay, as he was truly in need of his healing. Ikú brought true wine and good kola nuts to him and served him generous portions of food. As Ôbàrà was sitting there
eating and drinking, Èṣù came to him. Ôbàrà shared his food with Èṣù, who told him to continue with the healing of Ikú, and to agree to whatever terms Ikú might offer. Ôbàrà did as advised, and embarked upon his seven day attempt to cure Ikú. Ôbàrà made many medicines, magical soaps and charms for Ikú, but Ikú didn’t take any of them, and appeared to become worse each day. Èṣù had however climbed to Ikú’s bedroom with a ladder, from which he could see that he removed the dress of illness every night, and was in fact remarkably healthy. On the sixth day, Ôbàrà became upset, as Ikú was looking even more sick than ever, but that night Èṣù came to Ôbàrà, and told him that he should climb the ladder which he had placed outside Ikú’s bedroom. Ôbàrà did so, and saw that Ikú was healthy and possessed of great vigour. Ôbàrà became furious, but Èṣù told him to take the clay gourd from the side of Ikú’s bed, because it contained the vestment of his illness. Ôbàrà did this and went to sleep, so that he could be well rested before the fatal seventh day. Ikú woke the next morning and reached out for his garment of illness, but could not find it. He looked everywhere in desperation, but had to conclude that someone had stolen it. Meanwhile a great crowd of people had gatherered in his palace awaiting the result of Ôbàrà’s medicines, but Ikú was reluctant to show himself. It was only when Ôbàrà went to his bedroom and threatened to bring him out that he emerged and took to his throne. He was very, very healthy, and acknowledged Ôbàrà to be the conqueror of his illness and rewarded him with great amounts of precious stones and jewellery, kola nuts and many other things. On his way back home, Ôbàrà encountered Èṣù yet again and shared his newfound wealth abundantly with him, and gave him another goat in gratitude for helping him with this most delicate situation. Another story telling of the presence of death, dread and terror concerns the hoopoe (àgbìgbònìwɚnràn), who was famous for bringing loss and disaster to households. Hoopoe would take his coffin and place it in front of the door of the house he sought to destroy. Calamity would affect the household, and the death of the owner of the house would follow. After ruining several households, he felt that it was time to target Ôrúnmìlà, but before setting off with his coffin he decided to make a divination. The awo told him that he should abandon his plans, because his wicked desires would undoubtedly rebound on him as a curse. The awo told him that he needed to make ẹbọ to Èṣù with a he-goat and money to avoid disaster befalling him. Hoopoe ignored the advice and decided instead to plan his attack on Ôrúnmìlà more carefully.
Whilst Hoopoe was contemplating the best moment to bring his coffin to his victim’s door, Ôrúnmìlà was visited by bad dreams of death and agitation, and when he awoke he rushed to his awo for a divination. It so happened that his awo was the same one that Hoopoe had been consulting. The awo could tell that the dreams were true, that his life was in danger and the stability of his household threatened. The awo gave him a description of his enemy, without revealing his identity, and told him to make ẹbọ with a goat and some money. He advised him to be careful of people who protended to be his friends. Ôrúnmìlà made the sacrifice, and in the night he had the same dreams. He awoke, and knew that something wicked was on its way to his door, so he sat down in his gateway awaiting the destroyer. Sure enough, in the darkest hours of the night, Hoopoe flew to Ôrúnmìlà’s house, and landed in front of him. Hoopoe told Ôrúnmìlà that he had brought him a gift, and asked his permission to set down the coffin. Ôrúnmìlà denied him permission with powerful words and incantations. But Hoopoe insisted that he should have it anyway, so he tried with force to lift the coffin off his head, but was not able to do so. The coffin had become stuck there, and his wicked adventures came to an end, along with his reputation. This is one of many stories speaking of the importance of dream and it was in Ôbàrà méjì that dreams came into the world, as did clairvoyance and second sight. Ôbàrà is the odù in which the atmosphere was created. The atmosphere is known as òyì ojú-áyé, a dense substance composed of gasses that generates vertigo which is understood to be enclosed by a membrane that serves as a covering and container; the igbá, if you will, of the unfolding of the spirit of earth. Atmosphere is the vehicle that enables powers, spirits and prayers to move around, hence ‘vertigo’ is here synonymous with spiritual atmospheric activity. The ajogúns are among the powers associated with this. In the following story these hostile forces are tied to the faculty of dreaming Ifá tells of a time when three ajogúns were wrecking havoc in all Yorùbá cities and inflicting them with illness, loss, despair and many other negative conditions. These ajogúns were sent in the form of a he-goat, snake and a pigeon by the king of witches in Ôrun. Their prime target was Ôbàrà, but first they made a trail of terror in order to reach him. When they were about to reach his city, Ôbàrà experienced dreams warning him of death and danger. He made a divination, and Ifá told him to make a sacrifice of a rooster, a rabbit and mashed yam and to give a he-goat to Èṣù. Ôbàrà did as instructed, and
when he had prepared the sacrifice and gone to leave it in the designated places, Èṣù went to the ajogúns and told them that Ôbàrà was outside, and that this was their chance to get him. As the three spirits made ready to confront Ôbàrà, Èṣù went to him, as he was in the process of offering up prayers over the sacrifices at a junction in the road, and told him that he should get going because evil was on the way. Ôbàrà immediately got up and went to his house. Soon after, the three spirits came to the junction and met Èṣù there, who told them that Ôbàrà had run away like a coward before he had offered up the sacrifice to the ìrúnmọlẹs and invited them to eat. The three ajogúns accepted the invitation, unaware that what they were eating was taboo, and thus they were slowly poisoned. When they had finished eating, they asked Èṣù where the house of Ôbàrà was and Èṣù pointed them in the direction. They went on their way, full of determination, but became more and more ill until they fell dead in front of Ôbàrà’s house. When he saw this, he sent a message to all the kings in Yorùbáland that the threat was over, and he was rewarded handsomely in return by all sixteen kings. This is a key story in Ôbàrà, because it ties in the main factors which made Ṣàngó become an example of how the powers of Ôbàrà can influence a person for good or ill. It so happened that Ôbàrà was very gifted: he could predict events, and because of this he managed to take advantage of situations and became a much respected man. But he had one weakness, alcohol. When he drank, the spirit of boastful self glorification entered him and he revealed his friends’ secrets to anyone who would listen. A sure way to popularity and also to disgrace. This odù reminds us over and over again of how important it is that someone destined to become a king should always placate his or her orí and stay away from confusion and trouble. As the proverb says: ‘The fly that keeps itself high up in the air will not be caught by traps on the ground.’ Ôbàrà, being so full of wealth and movement, can easily lead to confusion, and the proverb given above is usually followed by another that says: ‘A fly who knows no greed will never die in a calabash of wine.’ Ôbàrà is closely associated with Egúngún and Ẹgbë, and because of this the banana palm is important in this odù. The banana palm is a symbol of long life, a tree ascribed with the knowledge of the visible and invisible realm and of how human beings move from one realm to the other. Pópóọlá recounts the following odù (2008: 446) about applying wisdom in one’s pursuits:
Tribulation accounts for fetching blue-dye water And suffering accounts for grinding soaked Ìyà l’ɚgí ní lílɚ corn Ká l’ɚgí l’ɚgí After grinding the soaked corn without end Ká re nu ígbẹ lɚɳ fẹ wé For one to go to the forest to fetch leaves Ká fi’gba bọnu bí aṣégi And then break into a howl like a wood-cutter Obí l’ọmọ èèyán n tà Kola nuts are what responsible people sell Día fún Ôṣunfúnunlɶyɚ This Ifá divined for Ôṣunfúnunlɶyɚ Tíí ṣ’aya Àgbọnnírègún The wife of Ôrúnmìlà Tí òun àti Ôrúnmìlà nṣawo When she and Ôrúnmìlà were going to travel re bi ajo to jìn gbọọrọ bi in order to gain prosperity from Ifá ọjọ In a faraway place, far away as the end of a Ẹbọni wɳn ní ki wɳn ṣe day They were advised to perform sacrifice Ìṣé l ‘omi aró ní pípọn
Ôbàrà introduces the restless desire to acrue wealth and fame in the world, but this urge is accompanied by the need for patience. This theme is encountered in a story which tells how Ôbàrà was respected as a diviner in the court of Ọlɳfín, although this never took the form of any significant financial reward. Ôbàrà did what he was asked by the king, no matter how meagre the reward, in the knowledge that he was destined to be wealthy. He was sure that doing the right thing would eventually reap its rewards. His wife, however, was not happy with the situation, and constantly harassed him over the modest condition of their lives and their lack of progress. Ôbàrà tried to reason with her, but her impatience just became more feverish. In spite of the erratic restlessness in his home, he diligently studied Ifá, and went every fourth day to the court of Ọlɳfín to perform divinations for him. One day, Ọlɳfín decided to give Ôbàrà a reward. He presented him with four giant pumpkins and a trolley to carry them on. The pumpkins were enormous and insanely heavy, and they were not what Ôbàrà wanted. Yet in spite of this, they were a gift from his king and food for his household. He came home late that day because of his heavy load, and found his wife standing in the doorway of their simple abode, cursing
him from afar. Ôbàrà entered his house gently with the four giant pumpkins and made a happy face, saying, ‘Look, what an abundance of food we received today,’ but his wife was not interested in the pumpkins, and started to berate him with an intensity he had never experienced before. He tried to reason with her, but it was of no use. At last she calmed down, and in the state of peace and tranquillity, which was perhaps mere exhaustion after harassing him for hours, he asked her if she could go to the kitchen to prepare one of the pumpkins so that they could eat. She flew into a rage at this, and told him that she would not prepare any of those pumpkins and that he could go to the kitchen to make food himself if he wanted to eat that useless gift. Discouraged and hungry, Ôbàrà went to the kitchen and took one of the pumpkins and cut it open, and from it there came a flow of jewellery, money and costly things. Astonished, he took the second pumpkin and cut that open, and the same thing happened. It turned out that Ọlɳfín had filled up all four of the giant pumpkins with all the valuables and money he could fit into them. This made Ôbàrà a rich man, in both wisdom and wealth. It follows that the pumpkin is particularly sacred to Ôbàrà; it represents peace, patience, comfort and progress. This story is about giving value to everything. It carries a message about blessings, and how they can come from things that we find insignificant, and do not give much value to. As such, it is a call to be appreciative of everything, because fortune moves in mysterious ways. In a commentary on this story, Pópóọlá (2008) speaks about the attitude of Ôbàrà contained in the idea of adìbò, which we can translate as ‘covering one’s strength,’ or possessing a power that is not necessarily used. In spite of the torments Ôbàrà’s wife subjected him to, he never became aggravated with her. He tried to reason with her, but he never used force to bring an end to her complaining, cursing and accusations. Adìbò references the Yorùbá proverb: ‘A house without a wife is not a home.’ Adìbò is a word of restraint and patience, of holding back passion in favour of acceptance of one’s condition, not allowing it to colour you black with grief or red with anger but rather white with understanding. Ôbàrà tells us that for the wise one, no wife is problematic, it inspires one to understand the outcome of the friction between a calm male and an agitated female, and how this can lead to failure or success. Ôbàrà represents the idea of choice that is balanced between self doubt that masks itself as arrogance and self certainty that needs no mask. In some versions of this story, the wife of Ôbàrà realizes her irrational ways,
and in others she leaves him in shame, whereupon he takes a new wife who supports him in his ebbing and flowing, but constantly comfortable, situation. These variations need to be interpreted symbolically, because in relation to ‘home’ and ‘wealth’ we also find the spirit of eríwo, which is literally the filth that generates blockages and is expelled by the body. Our clinging to the filth of error, our desire to hold onto our failures, our urge to make our trespasses a part of our personality, all form part of this concept. For the Yorùbá people, this term is a vernacular way of speaking about the assumption that the result of a bad action has not been caused by your personality, but rather by a situation that plays itself out. Your involvement in the failure is related to an inability to recognize the filth you have expelled from your life as somehow being related to you. Eríwo is explained as residing in a hunger or thirst: a thirst and hunger for being more than you are, an appetite which makes everything dry, like the dead skin cells that your body constantly sheds. We are in a state of constant renewal, and need to accept our mistakes in order to avoid greed. We should expel what does not pertain to our own person and path and acquire a more precise focus. We need to give up the ‘dross’ even if it has value, because what is worthless for you might be your friend’s road to success and vice versa. This is why Ôrúnmìlá is the spirit that possesses the concept of eríwo. It is as much about one man’s poison being another man’s remedy, as it is about acknowledging that my road to fulfilment is not yours, even if our tracks might occasionally cross.
The Western world assumes, if not demands, that if you are rich in the realm of matter, you should be poor in the domain of spirit. Ôbàrà says that you can have both, but in a way that is appropriate for you. It reminds us that if one person speaks well of you, you may be sure that there will be two others who mutter envious curses. People do not like to see others outshining them, and it is in this realization that we make a knot in our own web of fortune and misfortune, each according to their cunning, as masters and mistresses of our fate. Ôbàrà speaks of the community’s responsibility to set an example for the next generation. A Yorùbá proverb tells: ‘It is when the irókò tree is young that we should prune its branches,’ a reference to being diligent in the education of the coming generation. This is only worthwhile if the educators are conscientious in the example which they present. Ôbàrà is concerned with politics, and is the odù that incarnated Ṣàngó as a chief. In the records of the historical Ṣàngó, the aláàfin of Ọyọ state, we find a great general with brilliant tactics, a man given to fascination with sorcery, and possessed of great appetites for women, food and beauty. Here is the immense prosperity which Ôbàrà brought to the world. With the success of Ṣàngó came hubris. The force that gives birth to a Julius Caesar can also produce paranoid and despotic tyrants, such as Idi Amin. In the case of Ṣàngó, one of his last noted feats was the execution of one of his many wives who he, as judge and jury, found guilty of infidelity. The verdict was also executed by him alone, a demonstration of ruthless power and total solipsism. He took the convicted wife to the centre of the market, tore out her heart with his bare hands and consumed it. Shortly afterwards, he was himself judged by his Ọgbɳnis and Ìyàmís and was commanded to commit suicide. Ṣàngó fled into exile, and only Ọya followed him to the gallows from which he returned to Ôrun. His ritual suicide, which is the way to remove a bad king in Yorùbá society, took place in the odù Ôkànràn, which follows Ôbàrà, but all the choices leading to his end were generated in this odù. Prior to his demise, we find that Ṣàngó, through hard words and even harsher judgments, ensured his father’s suicide and his mother’s near suicide, when he wrongly accused her of being a slut, which she turned into a ‘curse of the mothers’ upon him. This odù generates greatness, and greatness requires a calm and contemplative consciousness. Hence, one Yorùbá proverb states that Ṣàngó without Ôbàtálá begets tyranny.
This idea is also found in the earth sign of Ôbàrà, which begins with the influence of Èjì Ogbè in the first single lines, which calls upon accumulation in the three lines that follow. Ôbàrà holds the power which enables us to use everything at hand to our advantage, and as a means of generating wealth. It comes with the accompaniment of backbiting, slander and enmity, and holds out a constant invitation to participate in this negative energy, which leads one to lose prosperity for the sake of arrogance and rash choices. Ôbàrà counsels thinking before taking action: Ṣàngó needs Ôbàtálá as Ôbàrà needs Èjì Ogbè. In this we find the formula for ideal political power in Ifá and Yorùbá society. It is necessary to possess the power to spread abundance and prosperity, but to balance this with an acceptance of all things. This calls upon generosity, and a recognition that a community is more than one person. A balance must be found between one’s personal needs and the good of the community. This larger perspective finds its microcosmic reflex in the individual balancing his or her own needs and the desire to be loved by the world.
ÔKÀNRÀN MÉJÌ
ɑe crossroad the heart gave Ôkànràn méjì is often conceived of as a dark odù because it was here that Ṣàngó committed suicide and that Ôṣɳɚsi accidentally killed his mother. Ôkànràn means ‘what flows from the heart.’ It can be interpreted as a combination of òkàn and oràn, meaning ‘difficulties and problems are bound to happen.’ Ôkànràn is a reflex of Ôbàrà, just as Ôbàrà is a reflex of Ôkànràn. These two odùs have a strong symbiotic relationship, in which Ôkànràn is both the explanation of Ôbàrà and the sum of the wisdom which it brings us. As we recall, Ôbàrà is a very active energy, the force of the impaired head that invites confusion. This state is reflected in the proverb which says: ‘We have consulted Ôkànràn méjì, so I am getting up from where they are speaking badly about a friend and I am going to sit in a better place.’ Ôkànràn is concerned with how to avoid wickedness. This odù teaches us how to avoid wickedness and how to reap the blessings of wealth and authority in Ôbàrà. We always exert attraction in relation to where we are on our path. Bad people will find bad people and good people will find good people, but sometimes it is not easy to distinguish a friend from a foe, and we might find
ourselves entertaining friendships with the hyenas of the world. Even as we grow wise in knowledge we can make such errors, and sometimes we are loved because those who love us do so from selfish love. As we see gatherings of wicked people who seem to accumulate followers, we can grow frustrated in anticipation of the disaster and cruelty being prepared for us. But wickedness only sprouts wickedness and before too long it will collapse upon itself like a dead star. The wicked tend to raise flags because, driven by the spirit of gluttony, they seek to dominate through associations, councils and various confederations. They come with pure faces, playing upon people’s desire to make the world better, which is the bait they use to invite good people into their company. Goodness calls out as well, but rarely do we see it putting out flags. Goodness speaks softly. Goodness never insists upon changing the world before we have changed ourselves. Where the wicked seek to establish societies, they also seek to conceal their wickedness in the skin and lustre of what they are not. The sweet talk, the favours with a price, and the constant talk of needing to defend ourselves against evil, to become a closed group in order to guard our interests; these are steps on the road of intimacy that should be trod with care. Goodness does not need protection. No council is needed to ensure that goodness is done. It is like the sun, that sees no wickedness where it blazes and shines in its fiery purity. Ôkànràn is broadly about discernment, it is deeply related to the heart and emotions, but more than anything it explains the mysteries of any dyadic relationship or polarity. This is why a metaphor for Ôkànràn is a pair of magnets, in opposition or conjoined, or two pieces of iron joined together, a token of a strong bond being the best defence against enemies and negative forces. This odù tells us how sadness can help us master difficulties. It is here that remedies for a barren womb are sought. The àràbà tree (Ceiba penantra) is an aphrodisiac having major associations with spiritual forces such as íwín and ẹgbẹ; it signals the meeting point between two worlds or forces. Àràbà was subject to the envy of the other trees. He was a melancholy spirit who did not have belief in his own greatness. He came across as arrogant, and so the other trees wanted him eliminated. But Èṣù saved him and the conspirators against him were chopped down. Most trees arrived on earth in this odù. Many of them refused to make ẹbọ, but this was not the case with Àràbà. He made ẹbọ before coming to
earth, but his enemy Ìrókò did not, because he felt omnipotent and strong, and was sure that his intimidating presence would protect him from any danger. When they arrived on earth, Aràbà was rewarded with prestige, but Ìrókò on the other hand was turned into timber. It so happened that Ìrókò’s hubris and refusal to make the necessary sacrifice caused Èṣù to decide to end his fierce reputation. He went to several cities close to where Ìrókò was living and told people that this strong and beautiful tree was not dangerous, but that it was excellent material from which to make doors and woodwork. At first people were reluctant, but when Èṣù took up the axe and led them out to show them just how little they had to fear, they followed him to Ìrókò. His majesty was truly intimidating, but as Èṣù struck Ìrókò with the axe the people realized that he was only a tree after all, and they took up their axes and turned him into timber and artworks. Ôkànràn speaks of the presence of enemies and traitors, and warns us of the negative effects of taking punitive actions. One has more to gain in complicated situations by limiting oneself to threats and intimidation in order to mark boundaries. There are two stories of interest in this regard. One speaks of how Ṣàngó and Àgbò (Ram) decided to take up farming together to make their fortune with yams, bananas and tubers. Ram was quite well off, but Ṣàngó was not in a good financial situation, so Ram decided to enter into this partnership more to help his friend than himself. When they found a promising spot, they went to an awo to ask if the land was good for planting. The awo told them it was excellent, and so they embarked on their venture together. The land was bountiful and before long, large amounts of fruits and vegetables were ready to be harvested. They were both full of joy at these great results, but when they came to make the harvest, they found to their dismay that somebody had already been there in the night and stolen more than half of their crops. They went to the diviner to see if they could find out who the thief was, and the awo said that it was someone very close to them, and told them to make a sacrifice to Èṣù at the farm. When they were about to leave, the awo took hold of Ram and instructed him to watch the ẹbọ throughout the night. They made the prescribed sacrifice to Èṣù, and stayed watching the crops as night fell, when both got hungry and decided to end the vigil and go home to eat. And so they parted in the night and agreed to meet the next morning. But once he had eaten, Ram decided to go back and complete the vigil. He returned to the farm and what he saw overcame him with a great sadness; for there he found Ṣàngó and
a bunch of bandits taking away the entire plantation. Ram became infuriated, and ran screaming at Ṣàngó challenging him to fight. They fought until daybreak, when Ṣàngó decided to run away from this shameful situation. But the rumours of his disgraceful acts ran faster than his legs and from village to village he was confronted by people asking why he had treated his best friend in such a disgraceful way. The charges and gossip did not end until Ṣàngó decided to end his journey and return to Ôrun. It is in this odù that Abíafìn descended into the world from Ôrun, and became known as Ṣàngó. Abíafìn was born into the royal family of Ọyọ, and in his naming ceremony (ìkọsɵdáyé) it became evident that he was very close to the ìrúnmọlẹ Ṣàngó, both in fate and personality. Ìkọsɵdáyé means to ‘place one’s feet on the earth,’ and consists of a reading for a child’s destiny in which its name is discovered. The name given reflects the fate and aspiration of the person. As Abíafìn grew up, he demonstrated such excellence in leadership, and so many similarities to the ìrúnmọlẹ after whom he had been named, that people ceased to be aware of any difference between the king who became òrìṣà and Ṣàngó himself. It should be mentioned that the success of Abíafìn was due to his friendship with Ôbàtálá and the importance he gave to always keeping his orí calm. But there are other spiritual forces that must be discussed in relation to Sàngo in this odù, as they will more clearly illustrate the dynamic between ìrúnmọlẹ, òrìṣà, ènìyàn, and egún.
Jàkúta (the stone thrower) and Ọràmfɶ (saviour of Ife) represent wrathful and protective aspects of Ṣàngó directed towards the annihilation of enemies. Although these powers are sometimes seen to be the same as Ṣàngó, they are not. Jàkúta and Ọràmfɶ are ìrúnmọlẹ, and are the primordial powers that resonated with the spirit and vibration of Ṣàngó and caused him to become a divinity. As such Ṣàngó, the fourth Aláàfin of Ọyọ, was elevated as an òrìṣà in the likeness of the celestial power known as Ṣàngó upon his death. In this we see the traditional Yorùbá idea of what an òrìṣà is. An òrìṣà can be a shard of a greater consciousness in itself, but òrìṣà is also a state reached by living a remarkable life in harmony with the celestial forces. It follows that in order for a spirit engaged in its human journey to become òrìṣà, he or she must live life in a conscious and active way, in harmony with celestial ideas and vibrations, so that death brings the moment of transfiguration. This means that òrìṣà is a spiritual force, established by death. It is from the bones (egún) of one’s experiences that one rises into recognition as òrìṣà. This is a metaphysical dynamic that involves a spiritual afflatus, the human condition, death and rebirth. Rebirth can involve a return to earth where the journey is taken yet again, or it can be a reincarnation in the form of òrìṣà. It is necessary to attain the condition of egún in order to become òrìṣà, but not all egúns actually become òrìṣà. Èṣù, Lord of the Crossroads, is active here as the divine linguist. Thus, language is born here as a vehicle of communication, prayers, curses, blessings and confusion. The following verse addresses several of these themes: Bɶlɶbọ ò pe ni Àsèfín ò yẹ ni: Ôràn tí ò sunwɚn Konko nṣojú A díá f’ Èjí Ôkànràn Tí nrele Itilɵ Wón ní ki Èjì Ôkànràn ó rúbọ Nípa nkan baba rè kan Tí wón fɶɶ gbà lɳwɳọ rɵ Ò sí rú u Ìgbà ó rúbọ tán
Ó si ní ìṣɶgun Ó ní bɶè gɶgɶ ni àwọn òún wí Bɶlɶbọ ò pe ni Àséfín ò yẹ ni Òràn tí ò sunwɚn Konko nṣojú A díá fún Èjì Ôkànràn Tí nrelé Itilè Ẹ sáà jé ó mɳọ rìn Ẹ jé ó mɳọ yan Èjì Ôkànràn donílɵ Ẹ jɶ ó mɳọ rìn Ẹ jɶ ó mɳọ yan If there is someone the host does not invite to his festive gathering It is not his right to go there anyway When a man does shameful things He shows a hard and shameless face This Ifá divined for Èjì Ôkànràn When he was going to the city of Itelɵ It was said that Èjì Ôkànràn should make sacrifice So that certain belongings of his father Would not be taken by thieves He made the sacrifice And after making the necessary sacrifice He became victorious against his enemies He said it was exactly as the priests of Ifá had predicted If there is someone the host does not invite to his festive gathering It is not his right to go there anyway When a man does shameful things He shows a hard and shameless face This Ifá divined for Èjì Ôkànràn When he was going to the city of Itelɵ Leave him alone so he can walk calmly in peace Leave him so he can move freely and with dignity Èjì Ôkànràn became an owner of his city
Leave him alone so he can walk calmly in peace Leave him to walk freely and with dignity This verse has an alternative rendering, found in a story about a struggling awo with a good heart. In the alternative we learn that awo Ôkànràn had divined for a person and prescribed the necessary sacrifice and set a time for him to come and make the ẹbọ, but the client didn’t show up. Instead of accepting the client’s decision, he went to his house to confront him. It caused embarassment to the client, and damaged the awo’s reputation. Clearly this has an admonition not to charge people with their shortcomings. It also speaks of the finer nuances of personal interaction, both on a professional and social level. Not only this, but such behaviour also calls upon the attention of the Elders of the Night (the Ìyá Mis) and Èṣù’s negative vibration in a way that can often block our good fortune. This is illustrated by another story that speaks of Àkùkọ díe Ôtàngàlànjà, which means ‘The big and solid rooster.’ He was a very talented awo, but he was also very young, in his early 20s. In spite of his youth, his reputation was already quite legendary, and he always experienced success, which brought him even greater popularity. He grew so confident about his great talent that he decided to challenge the diviners of the king to a competition of knowledge and skill. His main objective was to force the elder babaláwos to let the younger ones take on prominent positions amongst the royal diviners, because some of them, like himself, were clearly more skilled and talented than many of those holding important positions at court. Before he set out on his mission, he went to his awo and asked for advice. His awo told him that he should approach this mission with humility and respect lest he would be disgraced. He was asked to make a sacrifice, not that he needed to humble himself for anyone when he knew better and was more skilled. His awo told him to think better on this and blessed him. Àkùkọ díe Ôtàngàlànjà grew offended with the elderly babaláwo, and swore never to set foot in his house again. Nevertheless, he had someone deliver the materials for sacrifice along with some money for him on the following day. A few days later he went to the king’s court, convinced that his greatness would be recognized. Once there, he lost no time in showing off his great skills, and he took control of every aspect of the diviners’ work, in a patronizing way, to call attention to his own excellence. The diviners at the king’s court let him act out
his great hubris until he was satisfied with his display of knowledge and skill. As he was about to take his leave, confident that he would soon be called to be the chief diviner, some of the awos at the court gathered together and cursed him (though some accounts tell that they blessed him). Àkùkọ díe Ôtàngàlànjà went home, but already on the road things started to go badly for him. Rain damaged most of the goods he had been given by the king, and at home his work as a diviner started to fall apart. Nothing he did led to the desired results and clients were leaving him, along with his good reputation. Seeing the negative turn his life had taken, he went back to his awo, whom he had sworn never to return to, and asked in a spirit of humility how his situation could be rectified. His awo told him that he should change his attitude and demanded that he give up his beautiful tail feathers to be used as a part of the sacrifice. He did so. His awo called upon Ôbàrà Méjì, and from that moment on, his disgrace was turned to recognition and he regained his reputation. This story demonstrates the theme of not going where you are not invited, as well as the deep relationship that exists between this odù and Ôbàrà. In this case Ôbàrà is the lucky charm of Ôkànràn. We can understand this relationship as being represented by the left and right eye, and the manner in which these are connected to second sight. The right eye sees only wealth and possibility, while the left sees only gloom and negativity. Second sight is the power of discernment, which arises from intuition that pulsates through the heart. It is only with the eye of the heart that we truly ‘see’ the world. When a human being does not have this capacity, the world is perceived in terms of black and white, good or evil. Second sight and intuition invite the shades and nuances necessary for understanding that everything is as it is supposed to be, because we are, after all, the authors of our own fortune and misfortune. The concept of the dyad and of polarity is further explored in the relationship between Ṣàngó and Ọya, as exemplified in the following verse: Ôkànràn kan níhìín Ôkànràn kan lɳhùún Ôkànràn dí méjí, a dire: A dia fún Ṣàngó, Olúòrójò ‘Bámbí, ọmọ Arígbọọta ṣɶgun Nígbà ti nlọọ gbo Ọya níyàwó Wɳn ní ki Ṣàngó ó ṣe sùúrù o
Wɳn ní obìnrin ti ó nlọọ fɶ Ní kàdárà ju òun gaan akára lọ Ṣàngó ní òun ò níí rúbọ Ó ní bóo ni kàdárà obìnrin òun Ó ṣe ju ti òin lọ Bí Ṣàngó ba ti ju edùn si ibi kan Gbogbo aráyé a si figbee rɵ bọnu Ṣùgbɳn bí Ọya, obìnrin rɵ Bá pa èèyan Méjì lɳjɳ kan ṣoṣo Eni kan kò níí gbó Bí ó wù ú A fé lu igàná A wó pa èèyàn mɳlɵ Bó wù ú A wó pa èèyan lọ beere Ṣùgbɳn bi Ṣàngó ba pa ẹyọẹni kan ṣoṣo Gbogbo aráyé ní ó gbɚɳ Ó ní bɶɵ gɶgɶ ni àwon awo òún Nṣenu rereé péfá Ôkànràn kan níhìín Ôkànràn kan lóhùún Òkànrán di Méjì, a dire A dia fún Ṣàngó, Olúòrójò ‘Bámbí, ọmọ Arígbọọta ṣɶgun Nígbà ti nloo gbo Ọya níyàwó Ayá rorò jọkọ lọ ò Ayá rorò jọkọ lọ Ọya ló rorò ju Ṣàngó Ayá rorò jọkọ lọ ‘When we see one Ôkànràn on the road and we see another Ôkànràn on the same road The sign is Ôkànràn Méjì which means good luck.’ Was the awo who consulted Ifá for Ṣàngó also called Olúòrójò (‘The king who doesn’t see the rain’). (Olú) Bambi (‘Mighty one who aids before the child is coming’),
the source of those who use two hundred thunderstones to overcome their enemies. When he was going to take Ọya for his wife Ṣàngó was told to be careful Because the wife whom he was going to marry Would be more successful than him But Ṣàngó refused to make sacrifice He was curious about how his own wife Could be more successful than him. If Ṣàngó threw thunderstones at some place Everybody started screaming his name But if Ọya, his wife Killed two people on the same day, No one would know about the incident Unless she wanted it to be known She would blow a strong wind against a wall And the wall would fall on people and kill them If she wanted to fell trees upon people and In this way kill them. But if Ṣàngó kills one person Everyone will hear of the incident He said it all came to pass exactly as the priest of Ifá had said They were using their voices to praise Ifá: When we see Ôkànràn on the right, And we see another Ôkànràn on the left The sign is Ôkànràn Meji, which is a sign of good luck Was the Awo who consulted Ifá for Ṣàngó, also called Olúòrójò Bambi, the source of those who use two hundred thunderstones To destroy their enemies When he was going to take Ọya for his wife The wife is more dangerous than her husband. the wife is more dangerous than her husband. Ọya is more dangerous than Ṣàngó The wife is more dangerous than her husband. It is important to observe the balance between partners in a relationship. The
reason why Ọya is hailed as stronger than Ṣàngó is not only because of her more subtle methods, but because she is related to the ìmɳlɵ known as Ayélalà, the sum of the ancestral mothers who manifested the tornado. Because of this, Ôkànràn is particularly concerned with respect for woman and insists upon her importance in a healthy marriage or partnership. This includes the need to be careful and selective over who one chooses as a companion in general. Ôkànràn is an energy tied in with twin births, the sensual and the erotic. We see this in how ọmú (the female breast) came to earth, not with the sole purpose of feeding infants, but also to be caressed and to ‘enjoy life.’ Ọmú went for divination before coming to earth and was told that she would do well to attach herself to woman exclusively, and that if she made the necessary sacrifice she would not only be given the gift of nurturing infants, but would also be adored, caressed, cherished and admired. She complied with the diviner’s recommendation and so it was that the breasts became a source of pleasure, lust and satisfaction. The principle of seduction is found in one story recounted by Pópóọlá (2008:554), and in a different rendering in Osamoro (1986:142), in which it is portrayed as a power related to snakes. The story speaks of Nìnì, the daughter of Boa Constrictor, who was amazingly beautiful and even more seductive. She decided to put her charm and beauty to use, and became notorious for her skills in seduction. She was not interested in keeping a man for marriage, for her seduction was just about conquest, and man after man fell for her beauty and charm. She just wanted to be adored. One day she went to the local diviner to see how she could become even more seductive and beautiful, but the awo told her that it was time for her to change her ways before it got too late for her to have a man and children. But she was not interested in that, and saw his recommendation as a judgment on her free and easy way of life. Beside this, she was a very fertile woman and was constantly pregnant with someone’s child. As she rarely knew who the father was and also because she didn’t want a child, she used her herbal skills to end pregnancy after pregnancy, venereal affliction after venereal affliction. Time passed, and sure enough, the moment came when she wanted to settle down and have children, but it was too late. All the strong herbs which she had used over the years had left her barren, and she had difficulties in finding a man who would stay with her. Eventually she found one, but no love, and life was a lonely journey for her. It follows that we find here herbs of venereal properties and also abortive
ones, and the odù also comes with advice to take care in using and administrating them. The story recounted by Osamoro Ibie is a different one, but with the same idea, a beautiful serpentine wife, who refuses offspring in favour of maintaining her seductive powers. And here an Ifá poem is quoted that reads: A snake begets a snake Like a witch begets a witch From its mother’s womb The snake inherits the venom sac Just as the witch sucks Witchcraft from the mother’s bowels This poem brings woman, snakes, witchcraft and the power of seduction together into an important principle of odù. In so doing, it emphasizes the importance of carefully assessing those we keep company with. Like Ôkànràn, it has much to say about the quality of woman and how erratic a woman can be, because she is a force of nature in touch with the ancestral mothers. Those who one verse describes as ‘liberated women, who are like tornadoes’ are not to be blamed for their behavioural pathology. Rather, if a man is experiencing problems with his wife, he either made a poor choice (i.e. he married someone not compatible) or he is demonstrating his incapacity to placate and appease her. This makes reference to Ayélalà, Ìyàmí and Ônilé as powers of possible devastation which are constantly appeased, venerated and cherished. The same point is made in another story that speaks of how Ôkànràn married a very beautiful, very talented but very jealous woman, namely Odù, but his patience, care and love tamed her jealousy Twin births are prominent in this odù, which are related to Ẹdún, the Columbus monkey, that came to earth as a beautiful and serene woman. She experienced problems in becoming pregnant, but with the help of Ifá and herbs, she became fertile and gave birth to several pairs of twins. Twins are related to the mystery of Ẹgbë, the society in heaven, where our double resides while we undertake our human journey. In essence, we are all twins, as ènìyàn is the reflection of the heavenly double. This metaphysical condition can lead to good guidance as much as it can lead to the phenomenon known as àbíku, infant death syndrome. Àbíku means ‘born to die,’ and signifies a state in
which the human being is constantly being called back to his or her Ẹgbë in heaven, thus bringing the human journey to an early conclusion. Since the human experience is seen as a field of teaching and a blessing, it is important to make the necessary sacrifice in order to establish a pact with the Ẹgbë in Ôrun so that the child may stay on earth and complete its journey. Monkeys represent the presence of the supranatural in the world, a mystery that goes deep within the secrets of egúngún. Ôkànràn is an odù that speaks of ‘heaven upon earth’ as much as it speaks of the condition of the world at large. Many stories in this odù use allegories related to chickens and roosters to describe this marketplace we know as our world, in particular when showing how fertile it is. It here that the melancholy Rooster made sacrifice in order to find a good spouse, and he did indeed find Hen. However, it is also here that we find the ants making sacrifice so that they can freely bring destruction and devastation on households by taking and consuming what they want. Dogs are important here too, as guides, friends and protectors. But above all, we find the concept of funfun leke, the wind, manifesting in all her forms, such as the tornado (Ọya) Ayélalà, the sum of the ancestral mothers. In Ôkànràn we find all the sadness in the world. We find the idea of enmity in the presence of snakes and the arrogant attitudes of people. We find the dark side of ambition and power, and death at the end of the rope given by Ôbàrà méjì. Ôkànràn is the darkness that calls upon the light, the misfortune that insists on fortune, the bitterness that reminds us to go out and seek honey. Ôkànràn is Lamurudu’s (the biblical Nimrod’s) tower of Babel as much as it is the spirit of any renaissance or renewal. Ôkànràn is truly about what comes from the heart, as we realize that we are the authors of our own misfortune and fortune. Ôkànràn assumes that we are the general of the legion of souls that makes us who we are. A good general sees only situations, and exploits their possibilities to his or her benefit, in order to achieve victory. In Ôkànràn, we find confusion brought on by lack of understanding, and by the nature of language; we find the accumulation of the wickedness initiated in Ôbàrà méjì through greed, ambition and wordly power; and we find Ṣàngó coming to earth to deal with this wickedness, and create space for the arrival of Ògúndá méjì, which brings war, victory and clear roads.
ÒGÚNDÁ MÉJÌ
ɑe relentless pathmaker Ògúndá méjì is the power that manifests the spirit of strength and iron. It is the power of the organization of groups, such as the society of hunters. Ògúndá méjì means, ‘that which cuts into two equal parts’ in reference to a story in which Ògún resolved a quarrel between two men over which of them best deserved a fish they had obtained. Ògún took his cutlass and cut the fish in two, giving half to each of the men. It is in reference to this story that Ògúndá is said to be made up of half of the strength of Ògún, and half the wisdom of Ôrúnmìlà. In Ògúndá we find the secrets of life force offerings, blood, fire and virility. Ògúndá is passion and virility as found in war and the act of lovemaking, as well as victory over passions and war. It is an odù that tells of the importance of the oath, and of the importance of honour for the warrior and hunter. The dog is the symbol of the loyalty expected from a true man, a skilled hunter and an accomplished warrior. Ògúndá méjì is also known as Oko méjì in honour of the Yorùbá city of Oko, where Ògúndá manifested suddenly in the form of Ògún.
Baba dó l’Oko Baba bà l’Óko Baba f’ɵyín t’igi akòko pòròpòrò
Baba set up a dwelling in Oko town Baba descended to Oko town There he rested in comfort against the akòko tree
Ògún came to earth by virtue of the akòko tree (Newbouldia laevis), a tree sacred not only to him, but also to Egúngún and Ẹgbë. It is frequently used in rites of initiation to Ògún and any of the spirits associated with hunting and in childbirth, as it possesses the property of facilitating delivery and expelling the placenta. This tree was found in the city of Oko. The centre of the cult of Ògún is the city of Iré, although it was in Oko that he first manifested. We find an interesting play on words and place here that will help us understand Ògún better with okó (the penis), òkò (a projectile) and okó íbọn (the trigger of a gun). Ògúndá imparts that Ògún suddenly appeared on earth. This is related to other stories that speak of him not having a mother or father, but of being adopted. These are themes that indicate the presence of ìrúnmọlẹ and not a human being. The conditions surrounding Ògúndá’s arrival on earth, are meticulously detailed by Osamoro in Ifism (1986). This account speaks of how Ògúndá had to run from Ôrun after accidently watching Olódùmarè eating; to watch the owner of Ôrun engaged in this activity was a huge taboo. Consequently Ògúndá ran away from Ôrun, snatching one of Olódùmarè’s flags with him as he went to descend into a womb of his choice. He chose to be born in circumstances in which he could express Ògúndá méjì in the best ways. Hence he was born in the form of Ògún. Ògún incarnates Ògúndá on earth. Ògúndá represents virility and creativity in the guise of the first blacksmith, who forged tools to clear paths in the wilderness and to hunt, tools also used for warfare. Ògún forged the spine that enabled the human being, whom Ôbàtálá had created, to stand erect and gain muscles and strength. Ògún became the father of fire and he shares the compulsiveness and tendency of destruction found in the passionate essence of fire. Ògúndá opened the way for soldiers, butchers and thieves. As the first blacksmith, he also became the first surgeon, a trade ruled by intellect, creativity and metal, and so became associated with the force that cuts the umbilical cord and enables the infant’s journey on earth to begin.
This odù holds the power of making roads in the wilderness, in reference to finding a solution even if the situation appears to be impossible. It is a power that brings fast results, because Ògúndá moves with the enthusiasm of fire. Ògún is represented by any weapon and any product forged by a blacksmith. Palm wine, efun (white chalk), obi (kola nut), gin, roosters, snails, turtles, dogs and roasted yams are amongst his favourite food and drink, together with oguro (the palm wine from the pako tree); whilst he is antagonistic towards ejo (snake), adin (palm kernel oil) and adie (hen). His preferences tell us of Ògúndá méjì; so we should take notice of the loyalty of dogs, and the help they can provide in hunting; the hard shell of the tortoise and snail, and their longevity; and how these three animals are attributed to Ônilé (the spirit of earth), Ôsányìn (the spirit of medicine) and Ôbàtálá (the spirit of purity and calmness). We should observe how Ògún rejects adin, the oil made from the sacred ìkíns of Ifá, which represents ignorance; and the energy of snakes, which symbolizes betrayal. By analyzing the sacrificial items benign to a power and its taboos we can gain an idea of the essence of a given energy. Here we have an energy that is steady and calm, directed towards healing and wisdom, but the presence of alcohol denotes a fire that adds to a force that is already the source of fire. As a result, strength and courage can become boastful and ill directed. Ògúndá speaks of how a road was opened between Ôrun and Ayé, to provide the invisible and visible world with a means of communication. It signals the beginning of order and organization in social communities. Another consequence of the road being opened was the arrival of all good things in the world, but obstructing forces also entered by the same route; human society welcomed both. The odù tells how Ôrúnmìlà and Èṣù discovered that the guardian of good fortune was a cripple placed at the junction between Ôrun to Ayé. When they found this guardian asleep there, they began to summon all good fortune to descend upon the earth. After they had spread good fortune across the earth, the spirits descended. One group, in particular, Ôrúnmìlà wanted to bring to earth; these were all students of Ifá and were said to bear horns on their heads. This group of students were inclined to mischief. Ôrúnmìlà wanted to give these beings a chance to experience good fortune, so he gave them a task. He set eight rules that should not be broken. He told them that if they accomplished this, and refrained from what was forbidden, they would not only reap good
fortune and joy, but they would also become powers of fortune for others. They accepted his terms. But upon entering the world they announced to Ôrúnmìlà that each and every promise had been broken. And so it happened that the Abìwo Kɚnkɚ opened for the arrival of the spirits that we know as ajogún to come to earth. There is more to this story, but this should suffice to explain how the spirits of conflict, misfortune and suffering came to earth and how they called upon the spirits of àjɶ, which will be detailed in the next odù, to follow suit in order to work upon the passions of men. In Ògúndá, we find the story of the second attempt to turn Ayé into a suitable habitat for human beings. The story goes that Ògún was appointed to lead this second attempt. He was accompanied by 400 spirits who would inhabit the world, but Ògún did not make any ẹbọ or consult with Ifá before going, he relied solely upon his own strength and cunning. When they arrived on earth, the 400 ènìyàn he brought with him became hungry, but he had no food to offer them except for the bark of trees, and so they started to slowly die of starvation. Ògún went back to Ôrun and declared the task impossible. Olódùmarè then sent Olókun, another self assured and proud ìrúnmọlẹ, who was also given 400 ènìyàn, 200 men and 200 women. Olókun did not make any ẹbọ or consult with Ifá and thus came equally unprepared to earth. When they arrived, the ènìyàn that came with him became hungry, but he had only water to offer them and so they started to die. Olókun returned to heaven, declaring the task impossible. Ôrúnmìlà was then given the task. Seeing the failure of Ògún and Olókun, he decided to proceed with caution, and asked his faithful companion Òpɵlɵ (the divining chain) what he should do. Òpɵlɵ advised him to bring a variety of seeds and plants and foods to earth, and told him that he should also make a sacrifice to Èṣù so that he could follow him on his mission. Hearing about this, Èṣù went to Ògún and Olókun, telling them that Ôrúnmìlà was about to travel to earth. Ògún ran to the crossroads of heaven and caused a thick forest to grow in the path he had made from Ôrun to Ayé in order to hinder Ôrúnmìlà. As Ôrúnmìlà came to the crossroads of heaven, Ògún challenged him, but after some discussion, allowed Ôrúnmìlà to pass, on the condition that he would support the few followers of Ògún that remained alive and feed them with trees and greenwood. As Ôrúnmìlà started to descend, Olókun challenged him, closing the path with waters, but that complication was resolved, as Ôrúnmìlà promised Olókun that he would find sources of nutrition and water for his
devotees on earth too. When he arrived on earth, Ôrúnmìlà instructed his followers to make straw huts, plant the seeds, and place the animals he had brought in places fertile with greenwood. From one day to the next, the seeds gave forth harvest and the animals produced young. It was a miracle. Soon enough, the followers of Ògún and Olókun appeared, searching for food, but they were first given sticks to chew on and water to drink and it is in memory of this story we all begin the day with chewing sticks to clean our teeth and rinsing our mouths with water. It so happened that Ôrúnmìlà completed his task. He fed his people and expanded their lands, but as they were increasing he told Èṣù to go to heaven and bring back his faithful wife Òpɵlɵ. Èṣù did as he was bid, only to find upon returning to earth that a hut had been made for him in his absence and that his favourite foods were waiting for him there. Èṣù danced in joy and praised Ôrúnmìlà and his kindness, promising loyalty to him. Seeing that Ôrúnmìlà did not return to heaven, Ògún and Olókun became curious, and decided to go to earth to check up on what was going on. At the crossroads of the earth they met Èṣù, who told them of Ôrúnmìlà’s success. They both became humble and went to Ôrúnmìlà, and greeted him on their knees and swore to support his cause. Naturally we find many plants assigned to this odù, and we also find Ôsányìn here, where he is given the rulership of plants. Ferns are important in Ògúndá, as are palm fronds; the latter are said to be the material first used to make clothing. Sugarcane is said to be the first food of mankind, symbolizing victory and sweetness; it is sacred to both Ôbàtálá and Ôṣun. The willow is assigned to this odù in memory of Olókun and his attempt to create a habitat and share the properties of comfort, endurance and wealth with the catfish.
The iyá tree (Daniellia oliveri, also known as the African Copaiba Balsam tree or Gum Copal) came to earth in this odù. It is used for incense and the oil that protects and shines wood. The gum wards off mosquitoes and is a protection against bad luck and malefica. The tree has a variety of medicinal uses: it is diuretic, a painkiller and a bactericide, and used to treat everything from depression to venereal diseases and menstrual pain. It symbolizes the ascent from poverty to wealth, and is related to finding solutions to any situation. Iṣìn (Crotolaria retusa) is a complicated plant found in this odù, representing loss of fortune, as is kanranjángbón (Soleanum sisymbriifolium and related species) which is reputed to steal people’s luck. Hence these are both ajogún plants and are of a malefic disposition. This odù is about victory, but it also about relying on strength alone to achieve victory. One verse imparts the following message: Gbòngbò sẹ wɚrɚkɚ fi wɚrɚkɚ Jana A día fékùn Níjɳ ti nlọ oko ọdẹ Oko ọdẹ ti òun nlọ yìí Òún lè ríṣe bɚ mbɵ? Ni ẹkun dafá sí Wón ní kí ó rúbọ elénìní Ẹkùn ní ta ní ó selénìní òun ẹkùn? Ó ní òun ò níí rú Láìpɶẹkùn kọrí sóko ọdẹ Èṣù di atɶgùn Ó tɵlé e Ìgbà ti ẹkùún dóko ọdẹ Ló bá ri ìrá Ó si pa á Njɶ ki ẹkùn ó máa dá ìrá ní inú lu Ni Èṣù bá já èso igi àfɚn kan Ó sọɳ mɳẹkùn ní bàrá ìdí Bí ó ti bá ẹkun ní bárá ìdí tán Ẹsɶkẹsɵ ni ẹkùn sá lọ Kí ó tôo padà dé
Èṣù ti gbé ẹran lọ Ìgbà ti ẹkùn padà dé Tí ó wá ìrá títí ti kò ri i Ló bá tún wá ẹran mìfí lọ Ṣúgbɳn bákanáà ló já si Ìgbà ti ebí wáá bɶrɵ síí pa ẹkùn Eré ló sá rúbọ Ìgbà tí ó rúbọ tán Ó tún padà lọ si oko ọdẹ Èṣù kò si dɶrú bà á mó Ijó ní njó Ayɚ ní nyɚ Ó ní gbòngbò se wɚrɚkɚ fi wɚrɚkɚ Jana A dia fɶkùn Níjó ti nlọ oko ọdẹ Wɳn ní ó káakí Mọlɵ Ó jàre Ẹbọ ní ó ṣe Kèè pɶ o Kèè jìnà E wáá bá ni ni tìṣégun The wooden trunk is crooked in such a way that it Coils across the road This was the Ifá divination made for the lion On the day he was walking in the forest hunting For animals He asked if the expedition which he was going on Would give good results He made divination for this reason He was told to perform sacrifice so he could triumph Over the powers of misfortune But the lion boasted that no one was sufficiently brave to go against his goals He said he would not make sacrifice. Soon after, the lion went into the forest to hunt
Èṣù turned into wind And followed the lion When the lion entered the forest, He saw a deer in distress And he went to kill it But as he was about to slaughter it Èṣù plucked a fruit from the Àfòn tree And threw it against the lion’s thigh As soon as he was able to move his leg The lion ran away Before he returned Èṣù had removed the prey When the lion returned He searched for a long time without finding the prey He sought out another animal But the same thing happened And he grew increasingly hungry He decided to make the sacrifice After he made the sacrifice He returned to the forest to hunt animals And Èṣù was not there to torment him He began to dance He danced in rejoicing He said, ‘The wooden trunk is crooked in such a way that it Coils across the road’ Was the diviner who cast Ifá for the lion On the day that he was going into the forest to hunt animals He was told to take care of the gods They said it would be a great help if he practiced sacrifice It was not long after Not far away Come and see us victorious This odù is about patience and strength, as shown by the lion, but also recognizing that this is not always sufficient. By taking the shape of the wind, Èṣù sabotages the success of the lion in order to teach him the lesson of
humility. It stresses the importance of recognizing that the world is a mysterious place, that our success is never only our own. The lion is hunting in the field called Ode, which signifies a wild and untamed territory, but is also a name given to the hunter as someone who can dominate this territory; hence the first chieftain of Ode was Ògún, who is both the woods and their patriarch. Divination by reading entrails was born in this odù. The fisherman’s net also belongs here, as do all traps set to catch prey. Rabbits, which represent the restlessness inherent in Ògúndá, are born in this odù. Snakes are also given their poison here, except for the boa constrictor, which represents the presence of Ôbàtálá, and invites tranquillity and patience in contrast to the raging attack of vipers. This constellation of powers counsels the need to measure strength, and the importance of tempering one’s internal fire. Internal fire cultivated in a calculated and serene way can be harvested as understanding, but fire acted upon without contemplation leads to attack and eventually to war. One of the medicines used to help cultivate this fire is ọṣẹdúdú, accompanied by other magical soaps known as ọṣẹèrò. These are made from the ashes of plantain, cocoa and other plants, which have a soothing effect in themselves, are used to carry medicine and magic, prepared and turned into powders that are then fused with the ọṣẹdúdú. With the aid of calmative medicines, the inherent fire of the warrior and hunter is turned into a diplomatic force. Fire is important in this odù. Iná (fire) was the child of Ògún. Ògúndá tells us that when Iná was born, he was destined for fame, renown, friendship and power. Iná however only made a part of his prescribed sacrifice, and asked for renown and fame. He was at first quite happy with his renown as a destroyer, and enjoyed his fame and took as much advantage of it as he could. But as time passed, he realized that everyone feared him and no one dared to come close to him. He found himself lonely and angry and finally decided to make the remainder of the sacrifice, but his fame as a dangerous person still stuck with him. The lesson extracted from the story of Iná indicates that in order to balance the energies of this odù it is important to give attention to orí and to take the necessary time to consider our actions. Acting in haste is always a recipe for disaster, or at least for unwanted consequences to manifest. A proverb in this odù says: ‘The stone you throw at a palm will return and hit you.’ We should not allow the recklessness of youth to disgrace our old age.
The proverb speaks of the nature of the one we seek to harm; an upright person will repel mischief and aggression and return it on the wicked one. Ògúndá advises one to be the erect palm and not the thrower of stones. One oríkì to Ògún speaks of this condition with a lament typical of the ìrémòjé, which are the special chants of his cult (Barnes, S. (ed.) 1997: 129): Ojɳ Ògún Ṣí lo, ṣí lo, ṣilo ní má sẹ aiyé Dùgbè dùgbè a gba ode oòrun kɵkɵ Ipé npé jú a si kùn fé kún Òtòpàkó a ṣi kùn fẹ jɵ Paranganda ní dà fọmọ ódó Abiri, abihun à ṣimu òrìṣà Mo rí fàájì rẹ On the days when Ògún is angered There is always disaster in the world The world is full of dead people going to heaven The eyelashes are full of water Tears stream down the face A bludgeoning by Ògún causes a man’s downfall I see and hear; I fear and respect my òrìṣà I have seen your (bloody)merriment Such descriptions and praises go hand in hand with songs and prayers acclaiming his excellence as a hunter and his skill and wisdom. We also find songs to Ògún which are impressively sexual in character, praising his huge and long member, as well as his equally impressive capacity for producing semen. These songs naturally emphasize the concept of virility conjoined with blood and fire. Rage, bloodlust and the killer instinct belong to this odù, but so too do the diplomat and patient hunter who has learned the art of ‘astral travel.’ Ògúndá warns that we should not behave in such a way that doing good becomes tiresome. We must appreciate the good deeds which people perform, or even attempt for us: Gúnnugún ṣoore mápálórí mápálórí
Àkàlàmàgbò ṣoore màyogɵgɵ màyogɶgɵ Ọjɳ míí jɚɚmí bíí k’éni ó má tiɵṣoore mɳ Ọrɳṣoore ṣoore ọrɳ ò l’éwé l’orí Àfòmɳṣoore kò l’égbo Díá fún Òkété Tí nlọ rèé tẹ Ọká n’ifá Ẹbọ ni wɳn ní kó ṣe The Vulture did good deeds, but got bold doing the good deeds The Black Vulture did good deeds, but got gout doing the good deeds When we wake up some days we do not wish to make the good deed The cactus also did good deeds, but he was not given leaves as a reward The bird weed did good deeds, but was never given roots This was the Ifá divined for Rat When he was going to initiate Cobra into Ifá He was told to practice sacrifice The tension between rodents and snakes is a familiar theme. Ifá advises us to be careful over who we are helping, because lack of appreciation will make good deeds tiresome to perform. The stories which expand upon this verse tell that eventually Rat was eaten by Cobra. Ògúndá is rich in stories speaking of ratlike and snakelike persons, and advises us to be careful with people because both offence and forgiveness are born in Ògúndá. The shadow side of victory is that it inspires hubris, excessive confidence in one’s abilities, as demonstrated in the story that tells of how Ògún lost the igbá íwá (the calabash of character) to Ôrúnmìlà. The story relates a challenge given to several ìrúnmọlẹ: the first who managed to reach Olódùmarè on a given day would be gifted with the igbá íwá, the secret of creation. Ògún was one of the many ìrúnmọlẹ preparing for the contest. When the day came, he was the first to wake up and readied himself to go to Olódùmarè to claim the igbá. As he was preparing, he remembered he had previously set that day aside for an elephant hunt, and so he decided to send a slave in his place. The slave was called Ìdá and was a very good runner. Ògún gave him a rooster, corn beer, kola nuts and cowry shells, and told him to hurry off to Olódùmarè and present these gifts from him. Ìdá started to run, but after some time he decided to take a break at the foot of the Ìsin tree. The fruit appealed to him
and he started to eat – and he ate and ate, and the more he ate the more hungry he grew. He stayed there all day and only when evening came did he realize that his mission was a failure. He jumped down from the tree and ran off as fast as he could to Olódùmarè, but when he arrived it was far too late and the igbá íwá had been given to Ôrúnmìlà, the first to approach Olódùmarè that morning. At first Ògún blamed his slave for the loss of the calabash, but when the slave pointed out that of all the 400 ìrúnmọlẹ that took part in the challenge Ògún was the only one who sent a slave in his place, Ògún realized that he had brought this upon himself and he accepted his loss. Ògúndá speaks of worldly ambition and how success can also invite recklessness and self-serving attitudes. Ògúndá is certainly victory and strength, demonstrating its glorious prominence, as much as the shades of restless passion it invites into our lives.
ÔSÁ MÉJÌ
ɑe mysteries of the birds of night Ôsá méjì means ‘run away,’ and it is also said to be the screech or cry of mysterious birds. Ôsá also signifies restlessness, nervousness, the flickering field of the soul and emotions. It is a dramatic odù that tells of the merging of the visible and invisible world in Ayé, and the capacity for spirit or astral travel. Here we find Ọya; and the winds are born here, be they breeze, storm, tornado or monsoon. Because of these phenomena, Ôsá is associated with dramatic, if not cataclysmic change. These winds are what enable the power of the word to become effective in the form of enchantments. They also have a relationship with breath itself, but in this odù they have more cosmic dimensions. This wind is known as àjàláiyá, and refers to the winds that can result in tornados. The concept of àjɶ is found here, both as a force of abundance and royalty and as something destructive and outlandish, but it is always powerful. Ôsá announces the arrival of the stranger, and given that Ôrúnmìlà was himself once a stranger, this odù imparts the importance of
welcoming what is strange and unfamiliar and understanding the wisdom it possesses, rather than rejecting it. The dramatic and destructive qualities of this odù are detailed by Osamoro Ibie (1986), who tells us that Ôsá was named Ubiquitous Wind and ‘He who does what he wants and means what he does.’ The àjɶ came to earth by chasing after Ôsá, screaming ‘òsásá’ after him, and trying to devour him. Ôsá decided to take refuge in the forest and gather food to give to Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà, their queen. He prepared the food for them to eat so they would leave him in peace. The àjɶ flocked around the offering, but as Ôsá was sneaking away from the àjɶ, he was spotted by them and the chase resumed. However, Ôsá had prepared the sacrifice close to the gate that led to Ayé and so he entered the visible world; but the àjɶ came after him. He ran and ran until he found a womb he could hide within. As he jumped into the womb, awaiting the moment of gestation, he realized that he had chosen that of an Ìyàmí priestess. Ibie tells us that this situation was caused by Ôsá neglecting to make sacrifice to orí and Èṣù, which led to him being stuck at a river that marked the crossing between the worlds. The river crossing is the location for another story detailing how the àjɶ came to the world. Ôrúnmìlà invited the àjɶ to reside within his entrails as he crossed the river, to bring them into the world. They agreed to this, but upon arriving at the other side, Ôrúnmìlà the spirits told him that they would rather stay in the moist warm comfort of his entrails and feed upon him until he died. In distress, Ôrúnmìlà sought the counsel of Èṣù, who told him to prepare a meal of intestines and raw liver, rich with palm oil, and offer it to the àjɶ. He did as Èṣù advised, and managed to expel them from his intestines. In this way the àjɶ arrived on earth. The Yorùbá word àjɶ is associated with movement and trade. We might understand it as a marketplace of night unfolding in silver rays. This nocturnal marketplace is conceived of as a gathering of long beaked and predatory birds. The wood dove (kùkù) also enters this marketplace to bring the blessings of wealth. In the New World and the modern West, the concept of àjɶ has been equated with ‘witch.’ This is true, if we understand what a witch is, in African terms. Àjɶ is considered to be a power which some people possess by inheritance, initiation or by birth. It is considered to be an excess of àṣẹ (natural power), and therefore it must be kept under control and in balance to avoid damage to
its wielder and the community alike. We find the word ènìyàn being used in relation to àjɶ. This term is applied to human beings, and usually defines a person who has awakened to his or her spiritual capacity. The word is also applied to one who possesses the power to cause catastrophic change, as encountered in Ôsá. Such a person is known as ɵlɶye, ‘woman of the birds.’ They are for the most part women, although men can be adopted into these mysteries on rare occasions. If we look at the folklore connected to ɵlɶye, we find a host of sinister traits, such as anthropophagism, like the ghouls. These are people born with special powers, they have an innate capacity for spirit flight, and they tend to be oracular and clairvoyant. Àjɶ is the primordial emotional depth of womanhood. It is not a generative force, but quite the contrary. Honeysweet Ôṣun represents the generative powers and fertility. Àjɶ, and their mother Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà, are barrenness and otherness, femininity prior to the first blood, and the lament upon the last. Àjɶ is rhizomatic, like the fungus, manifesting in peaks of power here and there, whilst its true essence is a phosphorescent network of subterranean possibilities that may or may not come into manifestation. Ìyá mí tótó, Àjɶ Ònépo nílé fèjè ròfó Ìyá mi tótó, Àjɶ o o, ìbá
My great mother, who knows Àjɶ You who have palm oil in the house, but prefer to fry Your vegetables in blood My great mother, who knows Àjɶ, we salute you
This odù tells of how two male òrìṣà, Ôbàtálá, and Ògún, and one female, Odù, came to earth to sculpt and mould it. Olódùmarè gave the power of sculpting and artistry to Ôbàtálá and that of metallurgy to Ògún. To Odù he gave the power of giving life: he gave her motherhood, and told her that she was the sustainer of the world. She would sustain the world with a particular calabash. Inside this calabash was a bird. She declared that she would use this magnificent àṣẹ to fight those who disrespected her and to defend those who adored her. This bird was àjɶ, and when Òdú takes hold of this bird, she becomes Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà, which means ‘My mysterious mother, owner of the
birds of night.’ Mothers’ milk was born in this odù, ascribed to the àṣẹ of the collective of the spirits of mothers, Ayélalà, which means ‘The earth/world is dreaming itself.’ This is why Ôbàtálá declares the following in this odù, which announces the descent of the birds of the otherworld upon the earth: Ôbárìṣà ní kí wɳn ó máá fi ibà fún obìnrin Ó ní ti wɳn bá ti nfi ìbà fún obìnrin Ilé ayé yìo máá tòrò Ẹ kúnlɵ o ẹ kúnlɵ f’òbìnrin o Obìnrin l’ó bi wa K’áwa to d’ènìyàn Ọgbɳn ayé t’óbìnrin ni E kúnlè f’obìnrin Obìnrin l’ó bí wa K´áwa tó f’ènìyàn Ôbárìṣà (Ôbàtálá)said that people should always respect women greatly For if they always respect women greatly, the world Will be in right order Pay homage; give respect to women Indeed, it is woman who brought us into being Before we were recognized as human beings The wisdom of the world belongs to women Give respect to women then Indeed, it was woman who brought us into being Before we were recognized as human beings Naturally, the gift of motherhood comes with the intense field of ensouled emotional variables that take place during menstruation, gestation and the menopause. These are peak tides for the secrets of motherhood to rage and rave in its raw state. Hence, àjɶ are ‘birds’ that dwell, infest and feed upon our emotions and taint or heal our soul. In this lies the admonition found in numerous verses and proverbs which advise us – and especially males – to prostrate ourselves before odú (the womb) and woman, pay her respect and make ipese, the sacrifice that calms the womb. There is a proverb that speaks of the nature of the otherness represented by women in their menopause and the
powers which they acquire at this point: ‘As long as a woman can generate, the womb owns her, and later, when barren, she owns her own womb.’ This means that she is no longer a woman, but ‘something else,’ the powerful other. It is said that Ìyàmí is ‘seated upon Odù,’ that she crowns the feminine powers, or that Òdú is an Ìyàmí. She is also referred to as Ìyàmí Ělɶye, ‘The owner of the birds’; Ìyà Àgbà, ‘The elderly woman is respectable’; and Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà, ‘My mother the powerful sorceress or witch.’ This raises some controversial issues, since witchcraft is associated with antisocial acts, as well as a natural power accessible to women and members of societies such as Ẹgbɶ Ělɶye and Ẹgbɶ Ìmùlɵ, in which the secrets of manipulating supernatural powers are preserved. Antisocial witchcraft is said to stem from àjɶ burúkú, but there is also another type of ‘witch’ referred to as àjɶ rere. The difference is one of character. The word burúkú refers to everything that is bad, broken and corrupted. For instance the term orí burúkú signifies a person incapable of making choices which are good for him or her, who is considered bothersome and destructive to themselves and society. On the other hand, rere, used interchangeably with íwá pele, refers to a state of contentment and happiness, in which one’s character is good and one is a benevolent part of society. The Nigerian historian Lawal comments in this regard that, because women were less physically strong, they were blessed with a special form of cunning, ọgbɳn ayé, which carries the further connotation of deceit or slyness. Still, the importance of character, and of maintaining a calm and good consciousness is stressed at all times. Even today we have proverbs amongst the Yorùbá referring to the influence of àjɶ being like ‘birds nesting in a person’s hair.’ This is most telling because hair has the symbolic meaning of something untamed and wild, that which entangles and must be directed if a positive growth is desired. Because of this, the orí (consciousness/the physical head) is often adorned by beautifying the hair itself and fashioning it with care, as a way of appeasing and calming it. Ìyámí is considered the ancestral progenitor of the female sex, just as Òṣò is the progenitor of the male. This would perhaps mean that while Ìyámí represents supreme and transcendent womanhood, so Òṣò represents supreme and transcendent maleness. Òṣò is said to take his àṣẹ from the realm of Èṣù, placing this deity in the realm of transformation and change. One can understand Àjɶ and Òṣò to be the same essential power, but drawn in different directions by the rhythm of creation and so becoming differentiated, as primal
maleness and primal femaleness. One can see this in their cults: Òṣò is deeply related to the cult of Orìṣà Oko, the òrìṣà of the farm and is said to serve as a judge and middleman in cases of accusations of witchcraft. He is considered to be a calm and tranquil force, just and wise with a deep knowledge of witchcraft and sorcery. The birds of Ìyàmí are predators, whilst the vulture is sacred to Òṣò. They are forces of cosmic balance which Lawal (1996) sees as: ‘a dynamic interplay of such opposites as heaven and earth, day and night, male and female, physical and metaphysical, body and soul, inner and outer, hot and cold, hard and soft, left and right, life and death, success and failure and so on.’ The birds and animals especially sacred to Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà are: àṣá (the dusky thrush), àkàlàmàgbò (the vulture), òwìwí (the owl), ɵlúùlú (the larkheaded cuckoo), parapandù, (the pennant-winged nightjar), àgbìgbònìwònràn (the hoopoe), kɚlɚbɚ (the white spotted black bird), alátagbà (the grey backed hawk), kólíkólì (the plantain eater), ẹyẹ ìgbò (the egg eater); ológbò (cat), ajá (dog), àgùntàn (sheep), asín (smelly rat), òkété (giant rat). These animals are revealed in Òfún méjì, the last odù, in a tale about the greedy man Èrùúbàmi. In this story, Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà used these animals as messengers for various disturbances that provoked overwhelming dread in the greedy one. There is a belief in the New World that some form of enmity exists between the àjɶ and Ifá – but, in his capacity as the great peace maker, Ôrúnmìlà understood the necessity of such powers and how this abundance of àṣẹ can benefit mankind. This mystery is guarded in the society of Ọgbɳni, where the traditional dynamic of power between the left and right hands is understood and used. Further, the weight and quality of colours is also preserved here, because the potential for all manifestation comes in the colours of red, black and white, which are degrees of mercy, coldness and fire. Why is it important to understand these powers, why are they so integral to the work of Ifá, and why are these disruptive forces present in the world? The explanation of this mystery is marvelous and wonderful, and one ray of its magnificence is found in the following verse: Ọgbọn kan nbẹ ní kùn ọmọ àṣá Ìmóràn kan nbẹ kìkùn ọmọ àwòdì Ôkan nínúù rẹ Ọkan ninúù mi Ọkɚɚkàn níkùn
ara wa Ṣefá fún Ôrúnmilà Ifá nlọ bá àjɶ mulè Mɚrɵrɵ Wɳn ni nítorìi kìnni Ò ní nìtorì kì nkan òun lègún gɵgɵɵgɵ ni The hawk has one wisdom The falcon possesses a different knowledge One in my mind One in your mind One in each mind These were the declarations of Ifá to Ôrúnmìlà When he was going to enter into a covenant with the witches at Mɚrɵrɵ They asked him why he was doing this He said that it was for his life to be perfectly organized The ọòrɳ tree (Drypetes sp.), also known as ɚsá, is a source of success here, and we find this name as an alias for plants like ọrɳ (Nesgordonia papaverifera) and ayè (Sterculia rhinopetala). All of these are said to initiate cycles of success, even though they grow at a slow pace. Traditionally, veneration is made to these plants by giving up some of one’s body hair to them, especially from the armpit and pubic region. This giving up of hair represents a renouncement of wickedness. We find toxic and hallucinogenic plants here, as well as strange and unusual, i.e. carnivorous, ones. Daturas and lilies have their place in this odù. These are all plants that challenge us to approach them in a spirit of understanding; reckless use of them can bring insanity or death, though in truth they possess a unique wisdom. Ôsá provides several stories about the kind of trouble and turmoil the ìyàmís or Elders of the Night can cause. One of these speaks of how Ilé Ifɵ was haunted by all sorts of problems. People became both poor and barren for apparently no reason, veiling the city in unhappiness. The citizens of Ilé Ifɵ called upon Egúngún to come to their aid, after all, he was the straightener and held the wisdom of ancestry. Egúngún came to earth and, as he was about to start the work of sorting out the problems of the people, the àjɶs flocked around him and attacked him. He sank to the ground and declared that his
mission had failed. Realizing that Egúngún had been defeated, the people called upon Ògún to help them. Ògún heard their call and went to an awo for divination. The awo told Ògún that the situation was very delicate, and that he would be defeated unless he made the necessary sacrifices, one of which was to feed the àjɶ. Ògún saw no reason to feed the Elders of the Night and went to earth; only to be defeated in the same manner as Egúngún. Seeing the defeat of Ògún, the elders of the city called upon Ôrúnmìlà for help. Ôrúnmìlà went to an awo for divination, and was told that he needed to feed the àjɶ and his Ifá before dealing with the problems in Ilé Ifɵ. Ôrúnmìlà did as the awo advised and went to earth and managed to sort out the situation through his prowess in establishing pacts, limits and agreements between the Elders of the Night and the citizens. This story is related to the importance of hospitality in Ôsá, and the need to avoid judging people based on their appearance and social position. Ilé Ifɵ suffered because the citizens were not interested in appeasing hostile forces nor in recognizing the embodiments of radical àṣẹ represented by the Elders of the Night. These spiritual forces are more hot and intense than any others, therefore it is important to understand how to relate to them in ways that release the milk of mothers and the fertility of the womb; rather than causing catastrophe by mistreating or ignoring powers that can harm as much as bless. Pɚɚkɳ nídìí Ó fihà jókòó A día fóge Ó nsunkún ọmɳ rode Ìgbónná Ògé ní òún le rɳmọ bí lode Ìgbɳnná báyití Wɳn ní kó rúbọ Ó sì rú u Ìgbà tí ó bímọ tán lóde Ìgbɳnná Tí inúu rɵɶ dùn tán Ó ní bɶɵ gɶgɶ ni àwọn awo òún wí Pɚɚkɳ nídìí Ó fihà jókòó A día f’ Òge Ó nsunkún ọmɳ rode Ìgbɳnná Yóó gbè yín o
Òge Bí à ṣàì gbọmọọ rè jɶɶjɶɶ The calabash where we keep the osún Is supported at its base And there she is seated on both sides Was the Ifá cast for Òge When she was crying from lack of children in the city of Ìgbónná Òge was told that If she someday wanted children She must practice sacrifice She did as she was told After she had made it she gave birth to children in Ìgbɳnná She was happy And she said, it all came to pass just as the Ifá priest had said The calabash where we keep the osún Is supported at its base But is dependent on the two sides This was the Ifá cast for Òge When she was crying for the lack of children in the city of Ìgbɳnná She will bless them all Òge will bless them With ease she blessed their children Ôsá warns against being ruled by passion and allowing arrogance and hubris to develop. In relation to the latter we find the story of the ɚsìn (cormorant). Ôsá speaks of a time when the birds came together to elect a leader, who had to be chosen on the basis of the traits he possessed; courage, intelligence and elegance were deemed especially desirable. After debating the election for a long time, they finally decided that Ôsìn was best suited to be their leader. When this declaration was made, Ôsìn rose to the challenge but it didn’t take long before his head became swollen with pride. In his self glorification, he started to issue laws and commandments, such as proclaiming that his tree was for his use alone, and that no bird was allowed to rest there unless duly invited. He also declared that no one should ever challenge his pronouncements, because he was after all, the most intelligent of all birds, so
how could anyone possibly add anything to whatever he decided? After this, he started to issue impossible and tyrannical taboos of food and dress, and became intensely rigid in his commands. Naturally this stirred unrest amongst the birds, and before long a conspiracy started to form. The conspirators decided to cover his tree in gum arabic so that he would become stuck there and die from starvation and neglect. However, on the very night when the conspirators decided to act out their plan, Ôsìn was plagued by nightmares and ill omens and at the break of dawn he flew to the house of his awo to consult with Ifá. His awo told him that he had offended all the birds with his behaviour and that only a change of attitude and a demonstration of humility could solve his problem. His awo told him to give sacrifice to the àjɶs. Ôsìn immediately made the sacrifice, and called the birds to a conclave in a grove in the forest. Here he humbled his pride and asked forgiveness for his behaviour, declaring that all his laws were no longer to be observed. Seeing that Ôsìn genuinely repented, the birds responsible for the conspiracy came forward and forgave him. The others followed suit. They warned him not to go to his tree, because it was coated with glue, and advised him to take up residence in the iyá tree along with the rest of them instead. Ôsìn agreed, and declared that the birds needed a council to discuss the matters that affected them, and from that day he demonstrated the qualities he was elected for and reaped respect. It is from this story that we have the Ifá proverb: ‘Hard green bananas will eventually become sweet and soft.’ Pride is one negative ray in this odù and another is the excess of passion and the justification that comes with it. We find this theme expounded on in a story in which Ôbàtálá takes a lover, which goes like this: Ôpɵhɶ, the seventh child of the leader of the witches, was spoiled by his mother and they were very close to each another. This was because he was the consequence of the great sacrifice she had made in giving up the other six children that came before him. Ôpɵhɶ’s mother was very influential, and ensured that her son lived in fine conditions, and arranged a marriage for him with a wonderful and beautiful woman. As mentioned, Ôpɵhɶ was very close to his mother and he spent more time with her than with his wife. Time passed and Ôpɵhɶ’s wife became increasingly sad, lonely and isolated. She started to go out more, following the advice of one of her friends. And so she went in ever greater frequency to the market and to visit friends and relatives. Before long, she met Ôbàtálá in the market and it was love at first sight. Ôbàtálá was married to Yemòó himself,
but that relationship was not going well, so he found himself in the same situation as Ôpɵhɶ’s wife. Hence they allowed love to develop between them and as their passions became stirred, they grew more and more careless and greedy in their infatuation with each other, until their desire became so strong that they decided to move in together. Before doing so, Ôbàtálá went to his awo for divination. His awo told him that he was about to take something that was not his, and that even if it was easy enough to take, holding on to it would cause tremendous problems. He was advised to make sacrifice to save his life and to give up on the project, but in his lovelorn state he was incapable of giving up Ôpɵhɶ’s wife, although he did offer the sacrifice. The lovers moved in together in a hidden place, but when his wife did not show up that night or the morning after, Ôpɵhɶ became worried and started to search for her. After two days, he met Yemòó, who had been left by Ôbàtálá, and she told him where his wife was. Ôpɵhɶ went straight to his mother and reported the disgrace and it didn’t take long before all the witches knew that Ôbàtálá was in big trouble. Ôpɵhɶ’s mother, however, refused to do anything or to comment on the case, and this made the other witches weary and upset. They called a secret meeting and there they decided to destroy Ôbàtálá and his house. They declared that anyone who tried to help him would also be destroyed and so they set out to tear Ôbàtálá to pieces and feed upon him. As the witches arrived at the house where Ôbàtálá and his lover had hidden themselves, they started to chant and sing curses upon him. Ôbàtálá looked out from the window and saw the witches flocking, and decided it was time to flee. He took his silver cutlass and his lover with him, and ran to the house of Ṣàngó for help and protection. But as they entered the house of Ṣàngó, the witches were already too close and so all three had to run. And in this way they ran from house to house, òrìṣà to òrìṣà, until they came to the house of Ôrúnmìlà. Ôrúnmìlà was awake when they arrived, as terrible nightmares had disturbed his sleep since the àjɶs approached Ôbàtálá for the first time that night. In order to expel the bad dreams, he had put out food for the àjɶs covered with gum arabic, as instructed in his dreams. As Ôbàtálá and his lover came to his house along with a host of òrìṣàs, and with the àjɶs in pursuit of them, Ôrúnmìlà realized the meaning of his dreams, and told Ôbàtálá and his lover and all the òrìṣàs to enter his house and to rest assured that nothing ill would come to pass. The àjɶs flocked around, screeching, cursing and chanting. All this convulsion and noise caught the attention of Èṣù, who came to the house of his friend
Ôrúnmìlà. Èṣù immediately understood what was happening and went to the àjɶs and greeted them. They greeted him back and Èṣù told them that Ôrúnmìlà had prepared food for them, and suggested that they take their fill before the fight, so they could rip apart the òrìṣàs with full force. The àjɶs laughed and took delight in the fact that Ôrúnmìlà would feed his enemies before being ripped apart by them, and so they descended upon the food and became stuck in the glue. Seeing that the witches were trapped, Èṣù knocked on the door of Ôrúnmìlà s house and told him that the àjɶs were stuck in the sacrifice and that he should come out and take care of the situation. In gratitude, Ôbàtálá gave Ôrúnmìlà his treasured cutlass and he went out and beheaded all the àjɶs. He came back in and announced the victory and Ôbàtálá gave him his cutlass as a gift. Ôrúnmìlà had used the iyá tree (Daniellia oliveri), which came to earth in Ògúndá, and its gum, to attract and bind the àjɶ.
The story uses Ôbàtálá as an example to illustrate the gravity of hubris, that when it comes to passions, even the spirit of purity can succumb to temptation and err. Knowing that such forces exist in creation should inspire a certain modesty and care in how we conduct ourselves in the world. Ôsá carries the message that it is not the fault of àjɶ that we attract them, they are simply acting in accord with their nature, rather, it is we who attract them through our acts and choices. This message also imparts a piece of advice, that borders upon taboo, namely never to blame a woman for one’s misfortune. This is because all women have a natural connection to these forces, and a constant practice of sacrifice that will appease àjɶ is performed by treating women well. A tale of Ògún and his marriage to Mɳbówú gives an example of how accusing one’s wife of being the source of misfortune leads to disaster. The story tells how they were both struggling to make ends meet before their marriage, and how this situation became even worse after they were wed. Ògún experienced diminishing success in his hunting, and could find no buyers for the products of his forge. He grew increasingly frustrated with the situation, and came to believe that it was his wife who was the source of his misfortune. His wife experienced an equal lack of success in her trade and she similarly blamed Ògún. She began to remember her other suitors and, in recalling them and envisioning how successful she could have been with any of them, she began to hate Ògún. One day Mɳbówú reached the end of her patience and started to harass, hit and finally scar Ògún with a nail, to which he responded by beating her up. She decided to leave him, but first went to an awo for a divination. The awo told her that it was not good to leave her husband, and that she was so preoccupied with money that none could enter her life. The awo pointed out that she was blessed with all other good fortune but that the good fortune of money would only come if she and her husband were to treat each other with love and pay attention to their relationship. Only this would attract the good fortune of money. She was advised to give sacrifice to the Elders of the Night, which she made without delay, and decided to give the relationship another chance. Ògún followed suit and in their togetherness they slowly created a path for abundance to come to them. In a short time their relationship grew in love, harmony and wealth. The message in this story is found in the following verse, woven into a greater wisdom of Ôsá:
Ôsá yòóò, babaláwo ayé Ló dífá fáyé Wón láyé ó fẹbo ọlàá lɵ Ẹbọ ajogún ní ó ṣe Njɶ àwá mbẹ À mbɵ Àwá mò mò mbẹ láyé o Ayé ò níí parun Ôsá, the vividly bright, Ifá priest of the earth Was the diviner who made divination for the earth He said that the earth had to stop practising sacrifice under the pretence of becoming wealthier He said earth should instead make sacrifice for protection against enemies We are certainly living, And we’re imploring That while we remain on earth The earth will not be destroyed Ôsá is conflict, but also its resolution. It is an odù that addresses the essence of flight. The flight from bad fortune, the flight from good fortune, the flight towards confrontation and that away from complications are all spoken of here. They call for calm meditation upon our actions, especially in situations that affect our passions and our pride. None of us are free from being boastful or overcome with passions, which is why Ôbàtálá is used as an example here, to underline that even the best of us can fall prey to them. Don’t be the cause of your problems, but rather be like akẹṣẹ (cotton), which was born in this odù. If we are like cotton, we will find a solution to every predicament and will appeases what is destructive. Cotton is associated with kindness and the ability to delicately bend in the wind without being destroyed. This provides the way to resolve the situations caused in Ôsá.
ÌKÁ MÉJÌ
ɑe wicked cobra of fire Ìká méjì means ‘wickedness.’ The source of this wickedness can be found in the word ka which signifies a movement that brings together something or someone. Awo Fa'lokun understands this concept to be related to the act of gathering personal power in the use of breath and words. Ìká is the power present when we try to make sense of our selves. It is an odù that speaks of the implications of self affirmation and how this directs accumulated personal power, or àṣẹ. This power has the potential to be a source of tremendous protection and abundance when directed by a person of good character. It was in this odù that Òkè (mountain) came to earth. Before he set out, he was advised to make sacrifice, as he would surely be surrounded by enemies. He did so, and stood rock solid no matter how much his detractors tried to throw him down. Although Òkè came to earth in this odù, he was really from Òfún méjì, the beginning of light, and represents uprightness, truthfulness and forgiveness as the protection against evil plots. This is a complex odù that speaks of the consequences of being subject to hostility and of how bitterness can fill our heart with vengeance, hatred and mischievousness. Ìká speaks about the very premise for the existence of
wickedness lieing in a negative use of personal power. This makes us attract a type of spirit known as alújonù, meaning ‘to beat what is dwelling within,’ whose presence manifests in emotional sickness and the presence of selfgenerated ‘demonic’ forms that encourage hostility. These spirits are attracted by the sensation of fear that compels us to perform wicked acts; acting in this way we invite them into our soul, which they start to torment. Scapegoating and blaming indicates the presence of these ghostly spirits. When someone is deliberately engaging in gossip, cursing and plotting the demise of others, the negative presence of Ìká is full blown. Ìká represents someone who points fingers and toes at others and seeks to harm them. Toes here are a reference to snakes, because it was in this odù that snakes acquired fangs filled with venom. The big toe, which is similar in shape to the head of a snake, represents our connection to our ancestors. Ìká speaks of lost opportunities, of how the experience of good fortune slipping through one’s fingers starts to feed resentment as a vital part of the gathering of personal power. It is an odù in which you win the battle but lose the war. We find here (more correctly in Ìkáwórì) the presence of inúkògún, the self injurer, he who is crooked within. He is described as someone who throws ashes at other people without realizing that he is gradually becoming more and more black through his self hexing. Ìká denotes a lack of strategy and lack of horizon. Its energy is of acting on an impulse of unwaranted self protection, perceiving the world as a hostile environment, and yet declaring victory in a war with self in which you defeat yourself and prevent good fortune from entering your life. Ìká is the odù in which Ọbalúwayé brings the hot and fiery winds of disease. It is here that the vengeful aspects of the powers of Ògún and Ṣàngó are unleashed. It is not an energy dealing with justice, but vengeance and retribution, rooted in a misconceived need to protect one’s soul and self. Many stories tell of how the òrìṣà expressed this quality, but we always learn that their attitude only led to sorrow and disgrace. Ìká is like preparing poison for your enemies – and friends – and consuming this poison yourself in an attempt to take down your detractor. Ìwà (character) is crucial here, so attention to developing good character and orí is what balances these forces and brings forth their benign rays. Naturally it was in this odù that bloodshed, war and warlords came into being; as one verse says: ‘Nothing was enough for the world, except for
suffering.’ This observation is related to a man called Ẹlɶmɚṣɳ, whose name refers to birds dwelling in the osè tree (baobab). This person represents the spirit of the warlord, and Ìká speaks of how he went for divination. The reason for his request was that he found so much pleasure in war and bloodshed that he wanted to know if he could always delight in it. His awo told him not to worry about this, because the world was so agitated and unruly that only unrest and suffering would satisfy it: The spirit of the warlord came to Ifá For divination He wanted to know if there would be enough War and battles for him to delight in The awo said he should not worry With shedding blood and finding glory in battles There would be plenty for him to do Agitated and unruly is the world Only unrest and suffering Will satisfy an unruly world Wickedness brings more wickedness and to take delight in it excludes good fortune from your life. This is due to the principle of increase, so prominent in Ifá; you attract what you are, and the types of energies prominent in your life will multiply. So, the same energy that breeds discord and wickedness is a vibration that increases fear and confusion. In regard to this, Awo Pópóọlá recounts the story of a city known as Ìkamògún in the following verse: Àkíké-ṣọ gi ṣàà, awo ilé Ôrúnmìlà Díá fún Ôrúnmìlà Níjɳ tí Baba nṣ awo re’lé Oníkamògún Ọmọ a ká wórpkó orí ẹja mu bọ nu Ẹbọ ni wón ní kó wáá ṣe ‘The axe that penetrates the tree with great force,’ the awo of Ôrúnmìlà Was the one who cast Ifá for Ôrúnmìlà When he was about to go to the city of the king of Ìkamògún on a spiritual mission
The children of‘He who eats the head of a fish in one go’ He was advised to offer sacrifice This city was famous for its wickedness, which was exalted as a virtue even in the names that its inhabitants gave to each other. They were constantly in discord, and had gone from making witty and piquant remarks about one another to elevating offence and provocation into an art form. When Ôrúnmìlà came to the city and saw how the people addressed each other, and the cruel and demeaning ways in which they treated one another, he immediately addressed the issue and told them that this was a part of their misfortune. Ôrúnmìlà went on to the palace of the king and was invited in. He was told that the king was making sacrifice to his orí and that he should go and find him. Ôrúnmìlà went through the palace and in the seventeenth room he found the king feeding pangolins (akika) to his orí. The king welcomed Ôrúnmìlà and asked him to cast Ifá for him, and Ifá revealed that wickedness was ruling the city, and that this was caused by the inhabitants’ love of it. Ôrúnmìlà said that they should immediately cease treating one another in such demeaning and hurtful ways to no longer attract wickedness. The king was told to never feed pangolin to his orí as this would brew a wicked consciousness. The king did as Ifá advised and, in turning away from wickedness, the people invited sweetness into their city. The king established a cult for Àkíké ṣọ gi ṣà, ‘the forceful axe that penetrates trees with one blow,’ a praise name for Ṣàngó. The story is full of deeper meanings, which will be addressed. It speaks of an environment of hostility, where everyone was pointing fingers at everyone else. Sarcasm and cruel jokes were abundant, a situation represented by the king offering pangolin to his orí. The pangolin, or scaly anteater, curls itself up into a protective ball when threatened, and is protected from attack by its hardy scales. Feeding pangolin to his consciousness reveals how even the king felt threatened by the climate in his city, that he was constantly seeking to defend himself and develop a thicker skin against the offence given by his citizens. He was carrying out these activities in the seventeenth room, meaning in the house of Èṣù, utilizing the powers of magic and transformation to protect himself from his own people. This story is contrasted by another which demonstrates how orí should be treated in relation to the energy of Ìká. This story tells of a man called Kerennàsì. He was a careful man, always cautious in his conduct and always mindful of his actions. He stayed away
from any form of conflict, confusion and wickedness. He did what he could to ensure that he would live long and peacefully, but he was troubled by witnessing all the worlds turmoil and difficulties. This made him wonder if he would ever manage to not invite wickedness into his life. He went to his awo and asked what he could do to ensure a long, peaceful life. The awo told him that this would be his lot and made 201 ritual incisions (gbɶrɶ) on his head, which he filled with Ifá medicine. Ìká méjì tells us that Kerennàsì outlived all of his contemporaries. The only sadness he experienced was that of seeing his friends and loved ones grow old and pass away, but his own life was calm and placid until his equally peaceful end. The verse tells that he grew to be 3000 years old. Ìká associates him with the ṣaṣara (raffia palm) on account of the endurance and strength of its fibres which can be used to make ropes, houses and even bridges. The message is clear, live life in a calm and measured way, in which one is merely a spectator and not a participant in wickedness; this generates a calm space for the orí. However, this story also places great emphasis on the need to pay attention to one’s consciousness. Ìká is clearly an energy which is inclined to generate turbulence for the orí. This is demonstrated in the need for Kerennàsì to receive 201 incisions on his head, indicative that he was in need of the protection and attention of the 201 ìrúnmọlẹ to be able to fulfill his goal. Ìká méjì came to earth with three orís, or a triple consciousness. One was said to be lodged in the neck and the other two at each shoulder. Ìká speaks of this condition as one of instability and a lack of consistency, in which our perception of self and others is distorted. This leads to self deception and disorders of perception typified in the condition we know as schizophrenia. On a cosmic level, Ìká represents the ikoríta meta, the great crossroads where Ôrun and Ayé meet, the place where Èṣù dwells, and where we make decisions and choices. Hence fear, indecisiveness and confusion appear to be the negative elements in the presence of choice that spawns wickedness. In short, wickedness is caused by making choices that cause our consciousness to be overcome by negativity. Negativity and wickedness is often illustrated by the presence of hair and creeping plants in the corpus of Ifá. This association is one of several reasons why initiation to òrìṣà or Ifá usually calls for the iyawo to give up their hair. It is a symbolic declaration of giving up one’s evil ways. This is further emphasized in how the Yorùbá people – and African nations in general – have
an almost intuitive response to treating the hair well and ensure that it is either removed altogether or serves as a decoration for the consciousness, a way of beautifying one’s mind by decorating the ‘calabash’ that served as its house. Hair, weeds and creeping plants, in fact anything with the capacity to besiege and dominate a place, belongs to the vibration of Ìká. Some of these plants need to be discussed in greater depth. Peanuts (ɵpà) are born in Ìká, and are associated with subduing what is good. Ìká tells how Ěpà wanted to find a place in which she could reproduce in peace, because wherever she went she was cleared away. She went to her awo, made divination and the necessary sacrifice, and was told that she would indeed take dominion over any place where she decided to settle. Hence one verse in Ìká speaks of how she took control of the farm and caused the demise of the farmer’s land, making it impossible to plant anything but peanuts. Ěpà is a symbol of besiegement, as is the creeping plant known as aagba (Stachytarpheta indica), which wanted a quiet life in the forest. It made ẹbọ, and, like Peanut, took domain of everything in the forest. Ìká represents the powers we find in any creeping weed that seeks to control a domain by subduing and suppressing all others. It is a symbol of domination, but a weed is still a weed, and having the ability to extend yourself over a wide area is not synonymous with being wanted, useful or beneficial for anyone other than yourself. Similar symbolism applies to the aforementioned aagba (Stachytarpheta indica), which is a type of vervain that has proved efficient as a blood cleanser and in regulating high blood pressure, and íjòkùn (Mucuna poggei), a type of climbing vine with oblong seed pods, a relative of peas and beans. Both of these have a tremendous capacity for besieging the environment into which they are introduced. So, if we examine the plants associated with Ìká, we see the tendency of wickedness to spread across the land and strangle everything good and fragile, noble and worthy, in its self centred appetite for dominion. But because of this, the peanut has a quality that makes it a ward against evil plots. The peanut represents dominion and, conversely, resistance in its capacity of entering the earth as a flower that breeds underground. So naturally, Ìká méjì is, like any méjì, both medicine and poison, just as the peanut symbolises both the spread of wickedness and resistance to it. The capacity for endurance, however, is represented here by èrùwà (the fresh grass) and the ɚpɶɵrɶ bird (the browneared bulbul, Microscelis amaurotis), both of which serve as symbols for
surviving war, devastation and antagonism. Ìká is a vibration that signals the presence of detractors and enemies, and a power that uses these debilitating forces to our advantage. We take advantage of these forces when we are able to use opposition and hostility, criticism and negativity, as means to define our station in life. Ìká speaks of a condition in which we are surrounded by enemies, but the work at hand is to see oneself as òkè, the mountain. It is about forces that demand that we make informed and considered choices, to possess a clear consciousness and act in conformity with who we are, no matter what. We must stand strong in the midst of enemies – and we can only stand strong when we are true to ourselves – and the truth of self is always a good truth. By extension, we can allow wickedness to enter, or shut it out. This idea is represented by the door, also born in this odù. But the door was weak, it needed three nails and a frame to become truly solid. The power of Ògún is needed in the form of the nails that attach the door to a frame. The house the door is attached to is a reference to orí, which raises the question of what the door affixed to the house of your consciousness is hiding and protecting.
Ká gbà á níbùú Kà gbà á lóòró A día fáàsɵ gàgà Tí nlọ ogun Ìlúrin Wón ní ki Ààsɵ rúbọ Ó kɚ Kò rú Láipé ni àárɵ ba kọ lù ú Ìgbà ti ó di pé kò lee dide mɳ Ló bá lɚɳ sare rúbọ Wɳn ní ki ó ru ɚrúkọɚ kan Àti sɶrin mɶrin Sérin náà ti ó ru Ni àwọn awoo rɵ kó sí i lára Tí bem láraa rɵ dòníolónìí Ò ní ka gbà á níbùú Ká gbá á lóòró A día fáàsɵ gàgà Tí nloogun Ilúrin Gbarin kó o dìde Ààsɵ, gágà Gbarin kó o dìde
Let us travel by extension Let us travel by width Ifá divined for the Door When he was going to war in the city of Iron Door was told to make sacrifice He refused He did not sacrifice Before long, he became ill When he could no longer stand He ran to make the sacrifice He was told to offer a goat And four pieces of iron The pieces of iron that he offered Were nailed to his body And they are still there today He said: Let us travel by extension Let us travel by width Was what Ifá divined for Door When he was going to war in the city of Iron Take the pieces of iron and stand up Stand tall, Door
Just as Door made sacrifice to become strong, so did the cat. Cat was bullied by everyone and was pushed around all the time, especially by the rats who never gave her a minute of peace, trying to eat her and disturb her. One day when she was particularly tired, and so upset that she was contemplating suicide, she went to her awo for divination. She told her awo that she was miserable, fortune was always slipping away between her paws and she had no means to defend herself. The awo told her to make a sacrifice of razor blades and knives to Èṣù to enable her to stand her ground. She did as instructed, and was given claws; in this way she was able to get back at the
rats that were terrorizing her. Ìká is about gaining tools for defence, but when defence turns to vengeance we need to question if we are applying the right tools to the situation at hand. The story of Cat is associated with Iná (fire). Fire was the child of Ògún, but he was not appreciated. He was always feared for what he was. Over time, people started to use him for their own ends and it is actually in the story of the sacrifice Fire made that we find the kernel of Ìká, because this odù is fiery and nocturnal. It speaks of fire given form through words and action. It is a force of denigration and protection, an energy so complex that humankind finds it difficult to use constructively. Ìká speaks of the challenges which confront each human being on their journey on earth. It speaks of the wish for recognition, the search for self and identity, bound to the gathering of personal power. It emphasises how misdirected this energy can be if we don’t ensure that our character and consciousness are good, in the sense of attracting good, because Ìká is also concerned with increase. Ìká is the energy that reveals itself in wickedness, procrastination and misanthropy as much as it is the force that generates endurance and determination. Another story from Ìká illustrates these matters well. It is the story of Ténlé Olú, who was so plagued by misfortune that he considered going into the woods to hang himself. This man had nothing but a simple shelter and two sets of clothing. He had no money, no wife and not even friends. He went to his awo and asked when his misfortunes would end. He was told that luck would come his way, but that he needed to sacrifice two pigeons. He had no money and so he decided to sell one of his garments and purchase the pigeons. His awo made the ẹbọ for him, and told him that good fortune was surely coming his way. Ténlé Olú waited one month, two months, three months, but when nothing occurred in the fourth month, he decided that his awo was a liar and went into the woods to commit suicide. He went into the forest with a rope in search of a suitable tree to hang himself from. As he entered the forest he met Èṣù, who asked him what he was about to do. Ténlé Olú said he was going to hang himself, and Èṣù responded that he thought it was an excellent idea and that he knew a perfect tree for this purpose. Ténlé Olú accepted the guidance of Èṣù and together they went deeper into the forest. The further they ventured, the stronger a rotten odour of decay became, and Ténlé Olú wanted to stop and find a tree close by to kill himself, but Èṣù urged him to walk on just a bit
more. Ténlé Olú accepted the advice of Èṣù, and went deeper into the forest, and the stench became more and more intolerable until they came to the source of the rotten odour. Two elephants had died there after fighting one another. Seeing this Èṣù said, ‘Perhaps it is time to reconsider your suicide and instead take all this ivory and build your fortune?’ Ténlé Olú wasted no time and took all the ivory with him to sell at the market, and this was the turning point for him, where misfortune turned into good fortune. In this odù the elephant is important, as it is a symbol of Ôbàtálá. Ôbàtálá is in turn a symbol of the power that brought consciousness to the world. The importance of consciousness, and particularly the type of consciousness ascribed to the elephant/Ôbàtálá is important in Ìká. Another story relates how a city in chaos needed to sacrifice an elephant to get out of its misery. It seemed an impossible task, but the tortoise came up with a plan that was actually based upon deceiving the elephant to come to the city to meet its death. The elephant was naturally reluctant to go to a city of wickedness, but after being seduced by the talk of the tortoise, he went along and found his death. As a result of this, the city prospered and wickedness evaporated. The story tells how Tortoise managed to bring the needed sacrifice to a city in violent trouble. The tortoise was not accorded much value, being slow, old and awkward, but it was nevertheless this creature protected by a hard shell (representing wisdom and cunning) which enabled the capture of a ‘good consciousness’ for the city. The lengthy narrative tells of how the city managed to mobilize itself in a positive way around the tortoise to help him in his plan. It is a tale that speaks of cooperation and respect, especially for the elderly and weak, as the tenets for gaining a good orí. It is only when we work together that we can bring goodness in abundance, symbolized by the elephant. When we work together, we can make the impossible possible and reap its benefits. Community is about recognizing individual talents and refraining from judging anyone as useless, as everything has its place, if we have a wide enough perspective to see how everything fits together. Ìká teaches that positive reinforcement is a far better incentive than punitive action. And yet, the verse speaks of the mystery of control, direction and what we should do in order to reach our goals. It is only proper that it was in Ìká that the ènìyàn, the first humans, made sacrifice in order to gain control of their environment. So
we find that the same energy that brings the fire of the individual, the fire of ambition and finding position, is the same energy that motivates us to take dominion and control, whether of self or others. Fire is the son of Ògún, it is a child of strength with an elemental nature and it is our constitution and character that directs this force, whether in useful or destructive ways. One verse expresses this dilemma: Òpópó mɶta ilé Ilá Òpópó mɶta ɚnà Ojùmù odò Méta dé’lé, mɶta ò dé’lé There are three roads to Ilá town And there are three tracks towards the village of Okùmù-odò Three lead home, three do not Choice can invite procrastination, selfishness, stubbornness and wickedness. These are born from hopelessness and self hatred. Ìká is an odù that speaks of this feeling of being lost, and warns against self sabotage, which takes shape in negative behaviour or indulging in useless pursuits. One verse is of interest in this regard. It tells of the king of Ìwéré, who was encouraged to make ẹbọ because death was after him. The king however had other things to do, and always put it off, finding excuses for not doing it. One day when he was walking towards his palace, he suffered a heart attack on the road. He was found in time, and taken to the house of his Ifá priest who immediately produced the necessary material for ẹbọ, ensuring the survival of the king. The first part of the verse is as follows: Èèyàn wérewère a ta iyere Èèyàn rádiràdi a sí máa t’ádi Èèyàn bíí were níí bá asínwín pàdé Día fún Oníwèéré Wón ní kó wáá ṣ’ẹbọ Kó má báa ṣe déédé ikú ojú ɚnà The person who sells iyere (locust beans) is awkward The person who sells àdí (palm kernel oil)is quaint
It is an encounter between a mad man and a lunatic This was the Ifá cast for Oníwèéré Who was told to offer ẹbọ So Death would not find him on the road This verse hinges on a play between what is popular in the market, the locust bean and what is far less popular (and actually an Ifá taboo) palm kernel oil, suggesting that the king was not taking anything seriously, but rather indulged as much as he could in whatever pleased him, not caring whether it was good or bad for him. In a way, the king displayed an attitude of someone who had given up on life, someone who concluded that life was just a game of chance. But luck is something we prepare ourselves to receive by forging our fate. The verse speaks about taking responsibility for our life and choices, and of community. While the king neglected to do what was necessary, his diviner intervened and saved his life. This verse is sometimes applied to Ôsányìn, the spirit of herbs, who comes to fruition in the next odù. Nevertheless, the fire embedded in this sorcerous spirit originated in Ìká. Being born in Ìká reveals that he too came to earth with the need to learn his place in the world and to learn humility so that he could pursue his destiny with fervent ardour and concentration. The need to find one’s place is prominent in this odù. Here we find the àdán (bat) making ẹbọ in order to be fertile and find a place where she could be free from harassment. She made the ẹbọ and became fertile. She became a symbol of the good mother, and the love of children and the protective power which a mother holds. Fire here is conceived of as protective. Òkúta ni ò ṣeé ṣàlégbɶ A dia fún yindinyindin Tí nfomi ojúú ṣògbérè ọmọ Wón ní yindinyindin ó rúbọ Wɳn ní ɚpɚ nire ọmọ fún um Ó sì rú u Ìgbà ó rúbọ tán Ó ní bɶɵ gɶgɶ ni àwon òún wí Òkúta ni kò ṣeɶṣàlégbɶ A dia fún yindinyindin
Òun ṣá ni tídin Ayá mɚmɚ mbí o Ọkọọ rɵ npɚn Yindinyindin ṣá ni tìdin ‘The stone is not an appropriate tool for working on the artistic craft of an artisan’ Was the awo who made Ifá divination for The ant larva hidden in the anthill Who was crying for the lack of children The ant larva was told to make sacrifice So she could have many children She made the sacrifice After making the sacrifice She said it all came to pass exactly as the priest of Ifá had told ‘The stone is not an appropriate tool for working on the artistic craft of an artisan’ Was the awo who made Ifá divination for The ant larva hidden in the anthill That was the relative close to the worm The wife is giving birth And the husband is carrying it all on his shoulders The ant larva is certainly a relative of the worm From the stories of the ant larva and the bat, we see that Ìká speaks of finding your place in an environment that does not necessarily appreciate you. In both cases it speaks of endurance as much as it speaks of battle, fear and revolt, as when ants invade a garden, or a bat confusedly enters the house. It is about finding your place, and the turmoil that occurs when we are dislocated, such as when a warlord invades a neighbouring land, or simply being somewhere detrimental to one’s good fortune. Ìká is commenting on social positions, as much as of individual destiny. These elements are encoded in the spirit of Ôrɚ and the concept of taboo. Ôrɚ came to earth in this odù. His parents were told beforehand that a great spirit would be born, that he would be renowned for good and for ill, and that upon his birth they had to give the child a hand of Ifá to ensure that his travels in the world would be for the sake of good. The cult of Ôrɚ is the nightside of
that of Egúngún, the ancestors. By nightside, I mean that it is related to the communication with ancestors as it takes place in the enigmatic environment of night, which symbolises what is hidden. His name, Ôrɚ, means ‘word’ and is hence a reference to the power composed of breath, intent and direction. This ‘word’ is also related to Ôṣɚ, which holds the power of sorcery, by using the word in secret ways. Ôṣɚ is a secret cult of sorcery, as is that of Ôrɚ. The former uses the power of the word found in Ìká, but this power is exercised in another odù, Ìrẹtɵ, which will be detailed two chapters hence. The stories of Ôrɚ reveal a clear and directed force, loyal and somewhat rigid in his insistence on law and character. One tale imparts how he was betrayed by his wife, and his rage was so great that she had no choice but to run away with her lover, never to be seen again. This exemplifies one of many incidents that identify Ôrɚ as the embodiment of justice, law, ethics and morals. These are quite simple in a traditional Yorùbá society: develop good character, adhere to taboo, and be a person of your word. We can understand Ôrɚ to be the force that executes the content of our words in relation to our ancestry, because his cult is deeply tied to that of Egúngún and funerary rites. His function is to purify society and to re-establish the straight way of Ifá when crooked ways have proliferated. The masked processions of Ôrɚ use the bullroarer to announce their nocturnal and purifying dance through the village, calling upon snakes and àjɶ (in this context related to Ọya, or rather her mother, the tornado) to reinstate order and oath. Hence, taboo is a mediating force that establishes a code or law. So, in Ìká the concept of taboo and law is established, while in the following odù, Òtúrúpɚn, the reason for it, and its remedy is divulged and explained. Chief Fama (1993: 10–13) has given an excellent presentation of these matters. I will therefore resort largely to her work in presenting laws and taboos. A taboo is largely a negative law that aims to compel good fortune to manifest. If what is taboo is avoided it encourages one to be open to good fortune, as what brings misfortune is not a part of one’s actions and thoughts. A taboo is something that we deny in favour of something else; it is the rejection of what impairs good fortune. The principle of taboo presented in the form of laws is from Ìkáfún, and the verse reads as follows: A d’ífá fún àgbààgbà mérìndínlógún Wɳn nrelé Ifɵ wɳn nlọ rèé tọrọ ogbó
Àwon lè gbó, àwọn lè tɳ bí Olódùmarè ti rán wɳn ni wɳn dá Ifá si Wɳn ni wɳn á gbɳ, wón á to ṣùgbɳn kí wɳn pa ìkìlò mɳ Wɳn ní kí wɳn má fí esúrú pe esúrú Wɳn ní kí wɳn má fí esùrù pe esùrù Wɳn ní kí wɳn má fí òdídɵ pe oode Wɳn ní kí wɳn má fí ewé ìrókò pe ewé oriro Wɳn ní kí wɳn má fí àìmòwɵ bá wọn dé odò Wɳn ní kí wɳn má fí Àìlókò bá wọn ké hàín-hàín Wɳn ní kí wɳn má gba ònà èbùrú wọ’lé Akálá Wɳn ní kí wɳn má fí ìkoódẹ nu ìdí Wɳn ní kí wɳn má su si epo Wɳn ní kí wɳn má tɚ sí àfɚ Wɳn ní kí wɳn má gba òpá l’ɳwɳ afójú Wɳn ní kí wɳn má gba òpá l’ ɳwɳ ogbó Wɳn ní kí wɳn má gba obìnrin ògbóni Wɳn ní kí wɳn má gba obìnrin ɚrɶ Wɳn ní kí wɳn má s’ ɚrɚ ímúlɶ l’èhín Wɳn ní kí wɳn má sán-án ìbàntɶ awo Wɳn dé’lé aye tan ohun ti wɳn ní ki wɳn má ṣe ni wɳn nṣe Wɳn wá bɵrɵ síí kú Wɳn fi igbe ta, wɳn ní Ôrúnmìlà npa wɳn Ôrúnmìlà ní òun kɳ l’òun npa wɳn Ôrúnmìlà ni àìpa ìkìlɚ mɳọ wɳn ló npa wɳn Àgbà re d’ọwɳ re Àgbá mi d’ọwɳ mi Àgbà kìí wí fún ni tɶlɵ ki ó to kan ni Ifá was divined for the sixteen elders They were going to the city of Ifè to ask for long life Would the secret of long life be revealed to them, was what they asked of Ifá It was revealed that the sixteen elders (awos)would live long and enjoy good health, But that they had to observe the sixteen laws of Ifá to ensure their goal The awos were told never to say that a yam is a yam The awos were told never to call special beads special beads They were told never to call the parrot a bat
They were told never to say that ìróko leaves are oriro They were told not to swim if they didn’t know how to swim They were advised to be humble and never self serving They were advised never to enter the house of Ifá with deception in their heart They were advised never to use the sacred parrot’s feathers to clean their behinds They were told not to place their faeces in the palm oil They were told to never urinate in the calabash in which palm oil is made They were told not to take the walking cane from a blind man They were told not to take the cane from an old man They were told to leave the wives of the elders alone They were told to leave the wife of a friend alone They were told not to discuss secrets in hidden places When the sixteen elders went to earth they did all the things They were told to refrain from They started dying, one after another They cried out in despair, accusing Ôrúnmìlà of murdering them Ôrúnmìlà said they were dying because they did what they were not supposed to do Wisdom is upright, abundance is found in proper conduct The wisdom to comport myself properly, to be upright is my responsibility A wise one does not announce his arrival The verse gives advice on how to succeed in our human journey. If we summarize it, we end up with some simple guidelines, which will attract good fortune when they are followed: · · · · · · · ·
Don’t claim to possess knowledge you don’t have Don’t give your opinion unless asked Don’t make what is common appear special for the sake of advantage Don’t allow your personal and limited truth to contaminate others Don’t pretend to be someone or something you are not Be honest with yourself and with the world Don’t pretend to be a friend when deceit lives in your heart Don’t make what is sacred profane and filthy
· · · · ·
Don’t be a menace to the weak and old Don’t take what is not yours Don’t indulge in gossip Don’t betray your word and oath But do recognize your enemies
If you do break these laws and find misfortune hunting you down, don’t accuse God, don’t accuse your friends or your enemies, but rather accuse the enemy within, the wickedness in your soul. In confronting the challenge, rise above all this and attract what is good for you, which is done by paying attention to two rules of life: don’t entertain slander and insult; and be conscious that you are here on earth because you desire a long, happy life, and so make choices that affirm this choice and desire.
ÒTÚRÚPÔN MÉJÌ
ɑe secret path of truth Òtúrúpɚn méjì is concerned with ancestral wisdom, the mystery of gestation, and is by extension the energy of endurance and health. The name Òtúrúpɚn is composed of the words òtú, which means ‘endurance’ and ‘hidden or secret paths and ways,’ and pɚn, ‘to be in truth’ or ‘to manifest truth.’ This odù teaches us to possess the necessary endurance to pursue the path of truth, no matter how veiled it might be. The guiding force of this search is found in the alternative name of this odù, Ọlɳgbɳn méjì, meaning ‘the owner of the wise one,’ in reference to the use of the intellect. This odù details the contrasting forces that make it possible for wisdom to develop. The central message of this odù is presented in the following verse: Ọlɳgbɳn kanò ta kókó omi sétí aṣọ Ômɚràn kan ò moye èèpɵẹ lɵ A dia fórí Abù fúnwà Orí ní ire gbogbɳ lè to òun lɳwɳ báyìi? Wɳn ní ó rúbọ
Ó si rú u Ìgbá ti ó rúbo tán Ó si ní gbogbo ire ti ó nfɶ Ó ní bɶɵ gɶgɶ ní àwon awo òun Nṣẹnu rereé pefá Ọlɳgbɳn kan ò ta kókó omi sétí aṣọ Ômɚràn kan ò mọye èèpɵẹ lɵ A dia fórí A bù fúnwá Orí pɵlɶ o Orí àbíyè Ẹni orí bá gbẹbọọ rɵ Kó yɚ Not even a man who owns wisdom can tie water into a knot At the hem of his clothes And no sage knows how to count the number of grains in The sand covering the earth This Ifá divined for Orí (Consciousness) Who also divined for Ìwà (Character) Orí asked the awo if he would have all good things in life He was told to practice sacrifice He did as he was told As he was practising sacrifice He received all the good things he wanted He said it came to pass exactly as the Ifá priests told Use your good voice to give reverence to Ifá Not even a man who owns wisdom can tie water into a knot At the hem of his clothes And no sage knows how to count the number of grains in The sand covering the earth This Ifá divined for Orí Who also divined for Ìwà Orí we salute you You are the one who allows children to be born alive He who practices sacrifice is accepted by his orí
In the blessing of plenty he will rejoice This verse calls upon us to practise humility, which we do by paying attention to consciousness, character and the practice of sacrifice. The underlying idea is encoded in a part of an oríkì from this odù: ‘Be truthful, do good, be truthful, do good, it is the truthful ones who the divinities support.’ This verse also implies that achieving this goal involves conscious attention and the practice of sacrifice. To practice sacrifice in this context, applied to orí (consciousness) and ìwà (character), means the constant work of developing good character through truthfulness and endurance. It is through this type of sacrifice that we can eventually possess wisdom. The verse also comments that orí is responsible for children being born alive, a mystery of the funfun (white) spirits directly related to gestation, such as Koori and Ooge, spiritual phenomena such as àbíku (infant death syndrome) and ìbeji (twin births), which are in turn related to Egúngún, Ôsányìn and Ẹwà. It is an odù encoded in the placenta of the gestating womb. It stresses the limits of what we can know and at the same time it emphasizes the importance of seeking wisdom and truth, no matter how occult and evasive the paths towards them might be. It is about establishing a balance between endurance applied to good goals and the arrogance born from feeling intellectually superior. One story tells of how Ôrúnmìlà was asked to travel to the people of Àánú. At the time of the invitation, he was going through a rough patch. He didn’t have much money, nor a wife or family that might help him on his journey. Consequently, he went to the house of his students for divination and the above verse appeared. His students told him that no matter how wise he was, he now needed to attract compassion, so he should not be too eager to show off. He was told to feed his Ifá and to make a sacrifice to Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà. He sold some of his belongings to gain the funds to perform the ẹbọ and ensure a successful journey. The sacrifice being made, he went to Àánú and gave his full attention to the help required by the people there, and the city prospered. Ôrúnmìlà always made it clear that he could not have done this for the people there if it hadn’t been for their compassion and help, which led to them showing their appreciation for his work in such magnitude that he became a very rich man. Òtúrúpɚn is about servitude and it is a lesson in humility. The humility spoken of is not a matter of abasing yourself, but of modesty. It is about
realizing that we all have our battles and anticipating this in sweet comprehension when we meet other people. We can realize the blessing of a good intellect, whilst acknowledging that it has its limits. A good mind might know how to plan a garden, but other forces are needed to actually make it manifest. In this odù we are called to remember our heritage, and this memory rests not only at the feet of Egúngún, but also in the presence of the frailty of gestation. Gestation is a delicate matter, an act surrounded by good will and hope, but at times death and deformity occur. The entire process is a meditation upon our own mortality and becoming, a phenomenon of creation that should inspire us to be modest and sweet in the content contemplation of our achievements. Indeed this odù speaks of the bones of the body as much as of the secrets of the placenta, and in this intuition and endurance is born. The odù speaks of health and immunity, of plants that heal and herbs that kill. It is here that Ifá says the Elders of the Night took residence at the heart of the forest; or, in other words, at the centre of mystery itself. This mystery repeats itself in the commencement of menstruation on the 28th day, the lunar, or hidden, cycle of events. Surely, the blood flowing is spoken of in Ìrosùn, the vehicle in Òdí, but the reason is veiled in the night of Òtúrúpɚn. This enigma is glimpsed in a most mysterious verse of Ifá: Pááká ṣɵyin kúngíí Ó hogójì nlɵ A dia fún eníyán A bù féniyàn Wɳn ní ki àwọn méjèèjì ó rúbọ Eníyán ní bi òún bá dele ayé Òun ó maa ba ti gbogbo eníyán jɶ ni Eníyán náàá ní bi òún bá dele ayé tán Ohun ti ó bá wu òun ni òun ó maa ṣe Wón ní kí òun náà ó rúbọ Kò rú Ìgbà tí àwon méjèèjí dele ayé tán Ló bá di wí pé bi èèyàn bá bimo sílè tán Eníyán ó pa á Gbogbo nnkan ti eníyán ní
Ni àwon eníyán mbà á jɶ Ni eníyán bá padá lọ si oko aláwo Ó lɚɳ rubo Wɳn ní ki ó lɚɳ dá eégún Ni ó bá bɳ sínu ɵkú Ó nlọ koroó mɳ àwọn eníyán Ó ní bɶɵ gɶgɶ ni àwọn awo òún wi Pààká ṣɵyìn kúngíí Ó hogójì nlɵ A día fún eníyán A bù fénìyàn Àwọn méjèèjì ntìkòlé ɚrun bò wáyé Eníyán ni Enìyàn ni The pààká (Egúngùn masquerader)masked with a hump on the back Took forty cowries from the floor Was the one who divined Ifá for the witch He also made divination for the human being Both were told to perform sacrifice The witch said that whenever she came to earth She would destroy the work of human beings The human being said that whenever he came to earth He would do whatever gave him pleasure. He was told to make sacrifice But he refused to do so When the two came to earth If the human being brought forth a child The witch would attempt to kill it All things pertaining to human being Were damaged by the witch So the human being returned to the Ifá priest To make the sacrifice he had neglected The awo told him to do as Egúngún And he dressed up for the masquerade, And began to sing using veiled and offensive language against The witches
He said it was exactly like their priests The pààká masked with a lump on the back, Who took forty cowries from the floor Said he who made Ifá divination for the witch And also made divination for the human being When both were coming from heaven to earth This is a witch Despite the form of the human being The witch will never give rest to the human being If we read carefully, we see that the witch was not asked to make any sacrifice. The human, however, was asked to make sacrifice but refused. Later, seeing that life was not as good as expected, the human decided to make the sacrifice, but did so with bad words, resentment and hatred towards the witch. Humankind seeks pleasure, and curses whatever challenges it. The reality is that the forces that challenge what we have are those which test us, so that we can retain what is good through endurance, and leave what is bad. But as we see, humankind desired only pleasure and not worth, and any force that challenged the hunt for pleasure was deemed hostile. The pain announcing menstruation is a reminder, and signals the presence of the witches. This odù is not an odù of witches, but of their memory and mark. In the same way that the witches left a mark of monthly agony, Ôrúnmìlà left his ìkíns and òpɵlɵ, instruments of wisdom, in his place as he left the earth. That he left his tools of divination serves as a reminder that Ifá is a practical tool for solving situations and problems. Òtúrúpɚn méjì tells that Ôrúnmìlà left for Ôrun through Olókun Alòyó, meaning through the secrets of the ocean. Witches in Ifá are related to our emotions, that which comes through our breath, thought and mind. It is these which call upon àjɶ (witches) and ajogúns (spirits of difficulties). The Yorùbá language does not have a specific word to designate stored up feelings; so the emotional part which Western man fills with worry, insecurities, pleasure and desire does not really exist in Ifá. There are really no Yorùbá words to describe the emotional content of a human being, apart from pleasure and vengeance. Everything else is lodged in thought and behaviour as the faculties that generate emotions in the human being, and so it sometimes happens that àjɶ and ajogúns will be invited in. This odù, the truth finder, is about using the intellect and being calm about
what we invite into our soul. Our soul consists of breath and thought, and it is through these faculties that we invite or deny entrance. What we invite with thought starts to grow in our hearts and takes the shape of emotions. The developing emotion takes on the quality of the thought that invited it in, meaning, if abundance was the energy beneath your thought this is what you will plant in your soul, but if worry and hatred is what you invited in, the child of these thoughts will be emotions that add to your obstacles. Òtúrúpɚn méjì directly follows Ìká méjì, which tells of wickedness, and therefore signals the importance of making our good fortune in the midst of hostility and wickedness. This condition is represented by the scrotum. The relevant verse speaks of how Ôbàtálá, Ògún and Ôsɳɚṣì wondered about where to place the seeds for regeneration in the design of the human being. Ôbàtálá said that they should place them between the thighs, because they would both be protected there and nurtured by the heat needed to keep the semen alive. When Ẹpɚn (scrotum) was made aware of his destiny, he objected and said that he was a delicate being, and the legs would certainly crush him. Ôbàtálá said it would nevertheless be so, and assured Scrotum it would be fine, that his enemies would never be able to hurt him, that this was the best place for him. Ẹpɚn made sacrifice to ensure his good fortune and indeed, he found what Ôbàtálá had said to be true. He was kicked left and right, but the legs were not able to hurt him. The lesson of this story is that it is important to realize who and what we are, and not pretend to be something we are not. Òtúrúpɚn méjì contains a wealth of stories speaking of the importance of being true to yourself, no matter what that is, and to avoid pretence of any sort. We find a reminder of this in a proverb from the odù: Ìpɶpɶ idí ló fára jọ akika
The bark of the Idi tree has the appearance of Pangolin But appearance doesn’t make it act like the Bɶɶni ò leè ṣe bí akika Pangolin The idí tree (Terminalia glaucescens) possesses antifungal properties and is widely used for oral hygiene. It is also associated with the story of two friends who were together in all things, through good times and bad times, and shared everything. One day they decided to go to their awo to ask if their friendship would always be this good, and what would come of it. The awo told them that
good things were coming to them both, but that they should make sacrifice to ensure that these would not create a rift between them. Only one of them made the sacrifice and good fortune came to him in greater haste than to the other. Envy surged in his friend, who started to plot against him, reaping shame as his reward: Eni eni ntún ṣe é là Tíinú fìí bi nío?
When one’s friend experiences success How is it possible to be angry?
Here the odù touches upon how selfishness, pride, egotism and arrogance are activated by one’s failure to use the intellect as a guide to doing what is right and good. What is right and good is to work upon one’s own good fortune and fate and not to occupy oneself in measuring the success of others and making judgments over whether they deserve it or not. We should instead learn from successful people. When you envy a friend, it is time to turn your gaze inward and interact with him, or her, as a teacher of prosperity and fate. This humble turn will bring about the greatest ẹbọ, the change of attitude.
In this odù, we find the story of a man referred to as ‘He whose mouth is as strong as the akika tree.’ This man was endowed with great strength and a great mind, and so he decided to abolish the world from his life, finding everyone else inferior and pathetic in comparison to his own greatness. He had no friends, nor a wife, no-one was deemed worthy of his company. He worked hard day and night, but saw no end to his efforts; no matter how much he worked, more work seemed to pile up. One day he decided to go for a divination, and his awo told him that he needed to change his attitude towards people. The awo told him that he was himself the author of his problems and told him to make sacrifice and welcome people into his life. He did as he was told, and his life took a turn for the better. He found a good wife and many good friends gathered around him. The story speaks of the need for community and the importance of avoiding focussing on people’s imperfections. Everyone has their own struggle, and the more we aim towards making other people’s lives better, the more our own will improve. The akika tree (Lecaniodiscus cupanioides) is extremely hardy and prefers secluded and rocky terrain where it affixes its root betweens stones and rocks. The tree is a relative of yohimbe (Pausinystalia yohimbe) and is used in similar ways, namely to fortify erection and male sexuality, as its testicle-like fruits suggest. It has many other medicinal properties, including for oral hygiene. Nearly all trees and herbs in this odù have a relationship with the mouth and its cleanliness. It is a reminder to watch our words, because they are born from our thoughts, which are born in turn from our placement in the world and sense of identity. Just as this odù speaks of the importance of friends, it also speaks of the importance of measuring the people you associate with and the presence of bad advice – again, a reminder to keep the mouth clean in reference to the words you speak. It also speaks of deception by friends and disappointment in them. This theme is demonstrated in the story of how 165 snails marched towards their deaths. The snails went to an awo and asked what was going wrong with their journey and were told that they had a friend, calling himself ‘Slippery Road,’ who gave bad advice about where to go. They were advised to identify Slippery Road and not to listen to him any more. They did as the awo said, and the deaths ceased once Slippery Road had been recognized. This odù deals with false friends, with arrogance and hubris, with people
who turn themselves into victims of circumstance by not changing their attitude. It also speaks of ancestry and tradition in contrast to fluctuating and changing social norms. This is underlined by the many stories which tell of Ôrúnmìlà and Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà as the powers that secure balance in life. This balance is a mystery on several levels. On the first, of how wisdom balances forces that create chaos; on the second, of the importance of getting rid of what is useless to our progress; and on the third, of the tension between tradition and innovation, where what is obsolete needs to make way for renewal. This tension between tradition and change is repeated in a story that tells of how Òtúrù (Truth-Walker) married Ěrín (Laughter), and another that speaks of how he married Eyelé Òwèwè (Beautiful Pigeon). In both these stories the truth-walker married women who were extremely beautiful but also quarrelsome and deceptive. In the first story Òtúrú experiences great bliss and joy in his marriage, but it turns sour within a few months, because his wife refuses to take anything seriously. She doesn’t involve herself in building up the prosperity of their home, but is always searching out company and gossip. She is however very charming, and whenever Òtúrú asks counsel from family and friends he is silenced and told that he has the perfect wife. One day Ěrín leaves him and in her absence the truth starts to emerge, but alas, it is too late. In the second story the truth-walker turns into Òtònpòrò, a selfish hothead who objects to his wife’s easygoing ways. The couple are advised to develop ìwà rere and seek counsel from Egúngún so that wickedness and selfishness can be abolished in favour of obtaining a better perspective on the situation; and the story ends happily. Òtúrúpɚn méjì speaks of the human condition, of the arrogance that develops as a consequence of living in an environment perceived as hostile, and of the hubris and hardiness of soul that can come into being when we exchange compassion for misanthropy. It speaks of this state as one in which bad decisions are made, and false friends given power. This is the root of deception and disappointment. These themes are found in the mystery of Egúngún and its allied societies, Agẹmọ and Ôrɚ, as well as in the essence of Ôsányìn and Ẹwà. Ẹwà, or Ìyáwà, whose name means ‘Beauty’ or ‘Mother of Beauty,’ exemplifies the balance between beauty and wisdom. She is a reminder of ìwà, as represented by a beautiful, and curious, woman. Ẹwà is a river deity, associated with springs, and is linked with Ôsányìn, Ọbalúwayé and Òṣùmàrè.
She is described as both the rays of the sun as well as fog and mist and the colours of the rainbow. She is seen in the chameleon’s ability to change in conformity with its environment: she is not the change, but the potential for transformation. She is also associated with cemeteries; her physical beauty will decay, so it is necessary to develop inner beauty. In this she is related to Egúngún as a force of mystery, symbolized by the fog and mist (which in Ifá represents the fertility of night), the mysterious dimensions we cannot fully understand, only perceive, appreciate and use. A legend tells that on account of her beauty she was constantly visited by men who asked for her hand in marriage. None of them saw beyond her amazing physical beauty, no one saw that she was the mother of character. Time passed and the whole affair made her sad, and so she went to her awo for a divination. On meeting Ôrúnmìlà, she realized that it was wisdom she wanted, and so she made sacrifice to become wise. Before long she started to dissolve into rays of sun and rainbows, mist and fog; she became wisdom resting within character. In Òtúrúpɚn we find Ôsányìn and Ọbalúwayé together with all the powers of the forest. It is an odù of justice, strength and mystery. The mysteries spoken of here are those of gestation and what is hidden from full understanding by the placenta. Òtúrúpɚn carries the message that to know and to fully understand are not the same thing. It is here that Egúngún speaks loudly, and it is here that the bones of Egúngún and the secret justice veiled in words belonging to Ôrɚ maintain an association with the mysterious forest accessible to Ifá. Ìbábá awo Egúngún Ìkɚkɚ awo Ôrɚ Gbangba l’ Ògèdèngbé n´sawo l’awo Ilé Ôrúnmílà The ways of Egúngún lie in secrets In a well guarded darkness we find the secrets of Ôrɚ Open are the many roads to the house of Ôrúnmílà
ÒTÚRÁ MÉJÌ
Love’s gentle harmony Òtúrá méjì is named after a man known as Òtú. This man was a spiritual pilgrim, always searching for enlightenment. He was devout in his practice and kept diligently to his spiritual routine. Whenever he made sacrifice he always doubled up on what he was told to offer or do. As a consequence, Òtú experienced tremendous abundance both from the dwellers in Ôrun and from those in Ayé. He was blessed with abundance, prosperity and all the good things which life on earth would give, just as he was blessed with unparalleled understanding and insight about the ways of heaven. Hence, this odù is commonly applied to prophets. Chief Adewuyi says the meaning of the name Òtú relates to an active search to gain freedom by attracting peace, love and harmony. Àrá, the second part of the word making up the name of the odù means ‘body,’ and thus we have the meaning of the ensouled being searching for freedom and becoming filled with harmony. The idea of a prophet in Ifá is related to the capacity of passing on foresight. The Yorùbá word for a prophecy is àsọtɶlɵ, which signifies ‘matters concerning the future which happen beneath a veil or cloth where a given
condition is addressed in mysterious ways.’ This odù announces the arrival of Muslims, or strangers, into Yorùbáland. In the corpus of Ifá, the Muslims accomplished mastery of Ifá due to their spiritual discipline. The Muslim kasan (kaftan) represents the cloth of Ôbàtálá, which serves as a reminder of the importance of clothing yourself in whiteness and seeking contemplation and spirit communion to attract harmony and understanding. In relation to spiritual discipline, one of the verses in the combinations of Òtúrá (Òtúrárëtɵ) says: Tún’ra re té Reconstruct yourself Bí a bí ni, àá tún ra ẹni Because of your birth you need to be bi Àmúwòn, Àmúwòn Brought into being again He who knows the mystery of moderation and Ení mọ ìwòn, kìí te balance Is the one who will not be disgraced The verse stresses the inherent quality of this odù, that is, the ability to shed one’s skin and to ascend in wisdom and understanding through the possession of humility, direction, and an upright character. It is here that Èṣù came to be praised as ‘the upright one,’ which will be further addressed in the final chapter of this book. Òtúrá méjì is particularly favoured by Olódùmarè, Ôrúnmìlà and Èṣù on account of this constellation of virtues, along with the capacity to examine all things in order to disclose wisdom, power and destiny. In Òtúrá we find several references to mythological themes and ages, for it is an odù of fairytales. One of these is referred to by Osamoro Ibie (1986), who recounts a lengthy story in which Òtúrá fought a dragon in a way strikingly similar to the popular legends of St George and his chivalric deeds across the Campo Stella and his slaying – or taming – of the dragon. It is significant that this legend is found here, in relation to another deed ascribed to Òtúrá – namely how the first ìmɳlɵ he brought from Ôrun to earth was Ělà. Ělà is commonly translated as ‘the spirit of salvation,’ ‘the pure one’ or simply ‘grace.’ Ělà is the spirit of Ôrúnmìlà – in other words, Ôrúnmìlà is an incarnation of Ělà. Ělà himself is described as mystery and is said to be manifest in the sparkles of light found in caves and subterranean tunnels, which
represent the mysterious and hidden dimensions of wisdom itself. This odù also tells how Òtúrá made ẹbọ at the four corners of the world when he came to earth, and established the necessary equilibrium and harmony between the elemental powers which support Ayé, symbolized by the four corners of the divination tray. In the practice of this ẹbọ he established the presence of orí alà within Ayé. The orí alà, or igbá alà, holds the memory of the prophetic dream, and this is what was spread throughout the caves that were prepared as a dwelling for Ělà. This being done, the veins of the earth became rich with wisdom and oracular potency. In relation to this story, Pópóọlá makes mention of ọgbà itɵrò, which he translates as ‘the Garden of Halcyon in Ôrun,’ that serves as a memento for what Òtúrá established on earth. This refers to the kingfisher and to Alcyone, the star considered to be the leader of the Pleiades, and the ọgbà itɵrò is the dream of the first Eden. And here, in the field of stars, is the theme of St George and his adventures, where the myths of the kingfisher and the Pleiades provide a stellar background for Òtúrá and what it attracts. It is pertinent to take a closer look at these themes. The halcyon is the kingfisher, a bird sacred in this odù. We know from Greek legends that the kingfisher represents abundance, peace, protection and love. The legend tells how Alcyone, the daughter of Aeolus, the ruler of the winds, upon finding her husband drowned, drowned herself in the ocean. She was resurrected as the kingfisher and upon her resurrection, her father decreed the winds to be still on the seven days before and after the December solstice. These are known as Halcyon Days and are associated with the mythical idea of the kingfisher making a floating nest on the ocean where its eggs could gestate and hatch without threat from wind or beast. Alcyone was adored by the Nereids, especially Thetis, and other sea nymphs and mermaids. Alcyone is the leader of the Pleiades, the seven sisters. Her name means ‘The queen who wards off evil winds’ and is related to the Garden of Hesperides. These garden motifs are interesting because Òtúrá speaks of a first creation of the world, a golden age infused with nymphs, beauty and love. Pópóọlá comments that Òtúrá is venerated by the ìrúnmọlẹs and Olódùmarè on account of his efforts in this first creation. The original designer of the first creation was Ôrúnmìlà. It was perfect, and the world was inhabited by ènìyàn, but these spirits in human form were taken back for a reason not clearly stated, and another type of ènìyàn was placed on
earth instead. Òtúrá was appointed to be the overseer of both these phases, and his efforts and wisdom in executing, planning and supervising the design led to his being celebrated and to his association with harmony, love and perfection. Òtúrá is first and foremost concerned with design, perfection and character, themes found in a story said to occur in the time when ‘the trees were our ancestors.’ This odù speaks of the ẹrinmọdo tree (Ricinodendron heudelotii), also known as njangsa. It is a majestic tree with thick and deep roots and a prominent crown on a greyish trunk that can reach 50 metres in height. The seed kernels are used both as oil and as a flavouring agent, having a taste reminiscent of a slightly peppery groundnut. Its medicinal qualities are many; an infusion prepared from the bark is used to drive away poison and illnesses, such as fevers and malaria. The presence of the tree is beneficial for the soil and it is rarely plagued by pests and insects aside from a few types of caterpillar which exist in symbiosis with it, amongst them the moth Imbrasia obscura whose markings, reminiscent of two red eyes on its dark wings, make it the subject of legends which tell of what is strange. The myth of Ẹrinmọdo tells of how her beauty and majesty attracted enemies, leading to her not having any success in spite of her many wonderful qualities. This was in the time when the trees were our ancestors. She didn’t perform any evil, nor wish ill upon her enemies. Time passed and the conspiracy against her became more serious, so she decided to go to her awo for divination to see what could be done. The awo told her to make a sacrifice so that she would become the queen of her enemies and rule them. She did as the awo advised, and in a short time her enemies came to her with their suffering and appointed her the ruler of all the trees, accepting her beauty and majesty to be eternal. This story serves as a reminder that one should show exemplary character at all times and not wish one’s enemies ill, no matter how wicked they are, because often those who do wickedness do so because they suffer inwardly. We are told more of Ẹrinmọdo and the presence of wickedness in another story, in which we meet an ìrúnmọlẹ called Alukandi, ‘He who travels back and forth bringing news.’ Alukandi was appointed to be Olódùmarè’s overseer of human affairs and to report back on what was going on across the earth. Alukandi executed his assignment dutifully, and reported everything he saw. As time passed, Alukandi grew bitter and confused at the state of the world. He couldn’t understand why these people were fighting and bickering, destroying nature and behaving in selfish ways. Why should they be allowed to live? He
brought his concerns to Olódùmarè, but Olódùmarè told him that he should not interfere. Alukandi accepted Olódùmarè’s words, but his bitterness grew into hatred until, one day he asked for the power to kill and dominate. Olódùmarè gave them to him. He gave him the power ọfɚ àṣẹ, which is the power of the word, the power of enchantments and àbìlù (curses) represented by the atàáré (alligator pepper). Alukandi assumed human shape and he took form in the midst of the market. Here he spoke to the people, telling them that mercy, pity and grace had come to an end, and it was now time for retribution. Having stated this, he started to kill them. He spread fear and havoc everywhere. The day after the mass killing, people came to the market to collect the bodies of their loved ones. When they saw that Alukandi was still there, they approached him and tried to reason with him, but he responded, ‘I, Alukandi, am here now, and whoever I want to kill, I will surely kill.’ Tragedy spread across the city as Alukandi killed off the population one by one in an attempt of rid the city of wickedness. The confusion Alukandi created drew the attention of Èṣù, who went to the market to see what was going on and tried to reason with him. Alukandi told him that his powers were given by divine decree and that he would do what was best for the earth. After an attempt at dialogue, Èṣù told him that his assignment was to oversee, not to interfere, and so he went to the ìrúnmọlẹs and told them about Alukandi’s misuse of his powers. Other ìrúnmọlẹs went to the market to witness what Èṣù had reported, and when they saw that Alukandi was indeed misusing his powers they made sacrifice to Èṣù and asked him to take the powers away. The very same night Èṣù went to the sleeping Alukandi and stripped him of his powers. On the following day, he went to the market once again with his intent to kill the wicked, but this time nothing happened. People rapidly noticed that his powers were lost and saw him for what he truly was, a man consumed by bitter hatred, and so they turned against him and sent him back to where he came from. The story of Alukandi mirrors that of Ẹrinmọdo, speaking of the consequences of acting against wickedness in a spirit of self-righteousness and vengeance. Òtúrá brings us the message that wickedness will eventually collapse in on itself and highlights the importance of maintaining an upright character when confronted with it. Alukandi is someone who has been consumed by the negativity of the world and has turned to vengeance and terror; whilst Ẹrinmọdo represents one who seeks to deal with a hostile situation in a way that does not feed and increase negativity. In Òtúrá it is
taboo to wish evil upon our enemies, and at times it is said that this taboo is only for people born in this odù, but in truth, this is a taboo for any awo. The reason for this is that the awo has access to powers that bring cataclysm, but these powers should never be used lightly. In fact, Ifá is adamant that if violence appears to be the way to deal with a situation, then you have not investigated the range of solutions deeply enough. Rather, it is a guiding rule for the awo to behave like Ẹrinmọdo. Another proverb from Òtúrá tells us: ‘ Èṣù is the father of the lie, but Òtúrá is its mother.’ Òtúrá is so beloved by Olódùmarè and Ôrúnmìlà that all forms of power can be attracted in this odù; with this comes the temptation to manipulate events and misuse powers. Òtúrá is the power that can reduce the wickedness in Ìká to nothing or magnify it a thousand times by the use of the word and tongue. In Ìká the word was born, but in Òtúrá the secrets of using the word with power and direction are revealed. Hence, this odù speaks about how lies will attract the negative vibrations of Ìká into Òtúrá and generate wickedness. This odù is concerned with the virtue of remaining sweet and comforting, being a solace in the world, in spite of the ways in which people misbehave. Òtúrá speaks of the necessity of recognizing the existence of enemies and detractors, but the importance of not responding to them on the same terms. We need to make sure that their negativity does not affect and contaminate us. In recognising our detractors, we need to acknowledge the power of the word and use our thoughts, tongue and breath to bless the world, whilst watching our own tongues. Òtúrá is not only concerned with the lie, but also with the overuse of words, hence it is important to avoid gossip and protect secrets here. This theme is illustrated by the talkative squirrel: Ayóóró ẹnu Ayòòrò ẹnu Èbitì ẹnu ò tásé Ẹnu ofóró níí pofóró Ẹnu ofòrò níí pofòrò Ẹnu fórofòro níí pòfóró A dia fún ɚkɶrɶ Tí yóò múlé lɶbàá ɚnà Wón ní kó mɳ mọọ fí gbogbo ohun ti ó bá ri
So fún èèyàn mɳ Òkéré ò gbɳ Ìgbà ti ó yá Ìyàwó ɚkɶrɶ bimọ méjì lɶɵkanáà Ìgbà ti inú ɚkɶrɶ dùn tán Tó di ọjɳ kan Ó ní ɚkɶrɶ bímọ méjì Ilé kún tɶtɶɶtɶ Gbogbo èrò ɚnà Ẹ yà wáá wò ó Ìgbà ti àwon ayé gbɳ Wɳn yà bɳ sínú ìgbɶ Wɳn nawɳ gán ilé ɚkɶrɶ Wɳn si tu u wò Ìgbà ti wɳn ó dèɶ inú ilê ɚkɶrɶ Wɳn bá ọmọ méjì ti ó bi náà Ni wɳn bá mu wɳn lọ sílé Ìgbà ti àwon ọmọ ayé dele Wɳn fi àwon ọmọ ɚkɶrɶ léri iyán Wɳn si bá ọbɵ lọ The long, slick tongue; The mouth does not keep secrets; The trap set by mouth never fails to catch victims; It is the language of the jungle babbler; It is the language of one who talks so much that it will kill him; Talking too much is what turns the eavesdropper into a killer This was the Ifá divined for Squirrel Who had made a nest near the road He was warned to be very careful Because he could not keep secrets He was warned not to talk about what he saw To others But the squirrel did not heed the advice It was then that it happened Squirrel’s wife had two children at the same time She was very happy,
One day He said: ‘The squirrel has two sons, A house full of children All travellers passing on the road Come and see them.’ When humans heard this They jumped through the forest They caught the squirrel nest And examined it When they looked inside, They found the two cubs And took them home When they got home They placed the young squirrels on top of pounded yam And they disappeared into the stew The verse speaks about being careful with our words, because not everyone we meet seeks our well-being, and sharing joy and love can sometimes call upon their negative manifestations, misery and envy. At the same time, Òtúrá advises treating everyone we meet well. One proverb says: ‘Ifá does not recognize king or beggar, as the machete does not recognize its maker.’ It is about being aware of the energies at play so that we can avoid judgment, regret and hatred. If we assess a situation properly, we will understand how to conduct ourselves, so that harmony can reign. In the story of the squirrel who shared his joy at the birth of twins, his happiness invoked the envy of the barren and the hatred of those who saw him as undeserving. The temptation towards lies and deception enters with a natural ease. When these situations occur, we need to be aware that falsehood is transient and that truth will always overcome it, as long as we are patient. This reminder should serve as an encouragement to give other people a chance and to be an example of good character ourselves, so that we can attract those who are drawn towards good character, and distance ourselves from those who impede good fortune. Òtúrá warns against speaking too loudly about one’s good fortune even as it invites us to exercise hospitality and generosity. We never know the true identity of the guest who comes to our house or the beggar to whom we give charity. Òtúrá confers immense power, but it is not always necessary to
exercise the power one holds, in this way the odù symbolizes the ideal of a ruler. These qualities are given to the àràbà tree (Ceiba pentandra), which is taboo in this odù. This tree is a renowned leader, and yet taboo here as Òtúrá is the odù of the wise counsellor and not the odù typically given to royal fame and dominion. Òtúrá is the architect and the traveller, the inventor and designer, the wisdom of the crown. It is in this odù that the designer of individual consciousness, Àjàlá, is found. His name means ‘dog of whiteness’; the dog being associated with Ògún and Ônilé, representing both comfort and the hunt. We might understand Àjàlá as being the force that invests our consciousness with the ability to search and hunt for our destiny as much as the faculty of finding rest and joy in whiteness and peace. Àjàlá is not only a divinely skilled artist, but is also described as a drunkard and a debtor. This fusion of extraordinary talent and the confusion and carelessness of his drunkenness leads to not all the orís or heads he makes being of a good quality. Since he is constantly in debt it is also possible to bargain and bribe him, but this is not a guarantee that he will give you a good orí. A good orí is a consciousness naturally inclined towards peace, tranquillity, harmony and love.
We choose our fate (karada) before Olódùmarè, with Ôrúnmìlà and Èṣù as our witnesses. When going to the house of Àjàlá, the choice of orí can complicate or facilitate our human journey. Ifá speaks here of how challenges are necessary in order for us to realize our fate. What happens in Àjàlá’s sculpting grove is quite typical of the human condition. In Ifá, fate is not a preordained script, rather it is associated with the accomplishment of abundance, joy, happiness and love and the 256 patterns (odùs) available for us with which to reach the fullness of what life can give. Our consciousness is fashioned in Òtúrá and born or given in Èjì Ogbè. When we enter Àjàlá’s workshop, we have already stated our purpose to Olódùmarè. In other words, we have defined the odù in which we want to incarnate as human beings. The odù of birth gives a certain quality to our journey which is regulated by taboo and recommendations. Each odù is regulated by a precise and unique rhythm that can be inhibited or cultivated. If we possess good character, we will possess all things. If we are peaceful, loving and joyous we will naturally attract our fate, which is to be happy, content and accomplished. Òtúrá recommends meditation and regular fasting as tools to develop good character, especially in periods of confusion and doubt, as these bring clarity and abundance. These solutions are inspired by the Muslims, who became exemplars of good character and devotion in this odù. Both the kasan and the minaret are attributed to Òtúrá; the kasan represents the cloth of whiteness that brings dream and prophecy, and the minaret represents the prayerful upright character so important in this odù. Òtúrá is occupied with discourse and diplomacy, philosophy and social theories. It is from the influence of Òtúrá that Èṣù received the praise name ‘The divine linguist.’ All these features are represented by the àlùké (Eurasian woodcock). She was a very hardworking bird, and Olódùmarè took great delight in watching her. She always did her work dutifully and paid attention to her spiritual life, but she felt that she enjoyed no increase as a result, and so she went to her awo for a divination. He told her that she was blessed, that she should continue as she did, to work hard and observe her spiritual disciplines, but that she should also love and respect others, no matter whether they deserved it or not. She did as she was advised and experienced success, popularity, abundance and
wealth. This bird is sacred to Olókun and Ajé Ṣaluga, spirits of wealth that are present in this odù and can provide monetary abundance and prosperity. Òtúrá is as much the odù of true love as it is of misanthropy. There is a tendency here to be so disappointed with humankind that we reject goodness and invite bitterness to take its place, but the odù also reveals that finding your soul-mate is a cure against these misanthropic tendencies. We find here the story of Sálúbàtà (the sandal) who felt he was incomplete. One day he met Ẹsɵ (the foot), and he just knew that they were meant for one another. Ẹsɵ was in a similar situation; she needed to be cared for and protected. The day she met Sálúbátà she knew he was the one. Sálúbàtà, however, was not in any rush and waited first to have his divination carried out, and it was only when the awo told him that he was right in his sentiments that he went to search for Ẹsɵ and proposed to her. Before long, they were joined in matrimony and the bliss of love made them inseparable. Sún kẹrẹ Gbà kẹrẹ Díá fún Sálúbàtà Tí nlọ rèé gbé Ẹsɵ n’ íyàwó Ẹbọ ní wɳn ní kó wáá ṣe Ò gb’ɶbọ ó rú’bọ Kò pɶ kò jínnà Ẹ wá bá ní b’áyɚ, ẹ wáá wo’re o
Move your legs in gentle ways So the legs can move in majesty This Ifá divined for the Sandal When he was going to take Foot as his wife He was advised to perform sacrifice He did as he was advised to do And in a short time he sung Come and join us in the bliss of togetherness
The verse speaks not of rushing forward in the hope of finding good things, but rather, of walking gently towards our good fortune. Òtúrá is about attracting goodness in a spirit of acceptance and wonder. Of developing a sense of mystery in relation to the world, and engaging in interested participation with it. An attitude of judgment or condemnation will restrict the natural flow of abundance towards Òtúrá. We might say that the possibility of luck was born in this odù, for luck is not random, it is something that arises because we are in the right place at the right time with the necessary skills to harvest abundance. Luck is not about what we deserve, as was said in the proverb given earlier: ‘Ifá does not recognize king or beggar’; it is about
character as an attractor of good fortune. Luck is complicated, because nothing provokes the unlucky more than another’s luck. The energy of Òtúrá calls upon misanthropy and weltschmerz, not only because of the tendency of the unlucky to blame the lucky for their own misfortune, but because in Òtúrá the misty memory of our condition as a spirit that had not experienced a human journey is present. In this odù, we find the calling of the Ẹgbë in the Ôrun, to remind Òtúrá that the peace he or she seeks in the human journey is already present in the place where he or she came from. As such, Òtúrá concerns the pain of life as much as its beauty. Òtúrá is a warrior who goes to war with flowers and poetry as much as with curses and enchantments for devastation. Òtúra has much to say about how to deal with adversity, and how to sweeten one’s enemies. Òtúrá is the natural scapegoat, because the still and fixed light becomes a stable focus for those failing in their journey. So instead of addressing the dim light within, they meet the shining light outside in a spirit of aggression and hatred. In these encounters, Òtúrá needs to be the source of sweetness and light and avoid dimming its own brightness in response to attacks from the envious ones. I would like to paraphrase a verse from Òtúrá in this regard. It tells how Òtúrá became overwhelmed by the conspirators against him, and responded with a random attack. His attack killed a vicious person, who had dressed himself in long clothes to conceal his wickedness. At his death, Truth and Falsehood started to argue. Truth argued that he was more powerful by virtue of his knowledge and goodness than Falsehood. Falsehood countered the argument by saying he was stronger, smarter and more widespread than truth. Truth told Falsehood that he was right, that he was smart and strong and was found everywhere, but that the slow and gentle ways of truth would defeat him in the end. Falsehood agreed to this. So, indeed, conspirators and detractors are born here, but in a particular way, as failures in their own cause, their own fates, unable to discover the path of peace, joy, and contentment. Conspirators will suffer the consequences of attacking Òtúrá as long as Òtúrá blesses them and showers them with goodness. Repay evil with goodness, as this will bring shame on the detractors. This entire complex is illustrated in a verse in Òtúrá that speaks of Ọbalúwayé, Èṣù Ôdàrà and Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà coming into the world. When these powers came to the world, Olódùmarè arranged a meeting with them. He suggested to Ọbalúwayé that he might wish to be the custodian of money and wealth on earth, but Ọbalúwayé responded that he had no interest in
this, rather he would like to drain the wealth of the humans and suck their marrow dry. In the same way, Olódùmarè suggested to Èṣù that he could be the one to ensure love between couples, but Èṣù replied that he would rather be the force that pulled them apart. Then Olódùmarè suggested to Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà that she might be in charge of gestation and childbearing, but she told him that she would rather feast on the babies both inside and outside the womb. After these three forces had been presented with divine counsel but had made other decisions, Olódùmarè called Ôrúnmìlà and suggested that he should be in charge of blessing people with long life. Ôrúnmìlà accepted and also asked if he could receive the boons which had been rejected by the other three divinities. Olódùmarè said, ‘So be it,’ and invested Ôrúnmìlà with the power to give long life, wealth, healthy children, love and harmony. When he came to earth Ôrúnmìlà enjoyed all possible success and veneration, whilst his fellow ìrúnmọlẹs became feared and despised as they enacted what they had decreed for themselves upon the world. They also grew jealous of Ôrúnmìlà and the praise and love he reaped for his activities and soon they plotted to take him down. Ôrúnmìlà, however, had ominous dreams on the night his detractors gathered together to make plans to kill him. Upon awakening, he went to his awo who told him that he needed to honour his detractors, and prescribed the necessary sacrifice. Ôrúnmìlà did as he was told and went to the houses of Ọbalúwayé, Èṣù and Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà, offering up money and food. In each of their houses he paid tribute to them, saying that what he had was only possible because of them. In being attentive to his detractors, and recognizing his enemies, he managed to establish a pact of harmony and community with them. It was by showing an attitude of gratitude and humility that Ôrúnmìlà gained the friendship of Èsù. Ôrúnmìlà knew who he was, and that he was the one who held everything, but he didn’t make any fuss about it; rather, he paid tribute to the source of his blessing. No matter whether we interpret the story as one of forgiveness, fate or luck, the message is the same: if you want to embrace your own good fortune, you need to eschew bitterness and take a positive interest in your life and path. Òtúrá is an energy that brings increase, even to the word; hence the taboo of wishing ill upon people, and of speaking ill of them. Òtúrá is havoc and destruction veiled in the kasan of peace. Òtúrá is pure light gestated and cultivated, veiled in whiteness, and constitutes a divine power that can be both used and misused.
Òtúrá reminds us that wisdom can be found in the most unlikely places, whether a castle, tavern or at a bus stop. Òtúrá recognizes detractors and enemies, but does not judge them, because judging brings on melancholy and misanthropy. This is caused by searching hopelessly for peace and love in the world, when in fact they reside in the marrow and soul of each and every one of us. Òtúrá is about perspective and nuance, the all-pervading and unconditional love that, like the rain, falls upon the just and unjust. So, we should accept our human journey as a shared venture and avoid judging and punishing misbehaviour. Ifá says that misfortune is commonly caused by a debilitated consciousness (ibí orí) or negative patterns of behaviour rooted in one’s family (ibí egún). Òtúrá typifies the mindset of a saint, as someone who experiences the world, yet does not judge it, no matter how bothersome it might be. Òtúrá is love, harmony and gentleness, which are the pillars of togetherness and growth that attract good fortune and abundance for us all.
ÌRĝTĚ MÉJÌ
ɑe author of fate Ìrẹtɵ signifies forcing, dominating or conquering good fortune. It speaks of us as the authors of our fate, just as it speaks of the presence of adversity that inspires us to develop good character. Good character is not something that miraculously happens just because we want it, it is a constant practice, and naturally we will be confronted with difficulties and trials. It is here that we find the true purpose of ajogún. These spirits that bring death, misery and poverty, are here to show us ‘the other way,’ so that we can make the better choice. Ìrẹtɵ tells us that these spirits are owned by Èṣù, yet they entered into the world by means of the roads which Ògún opened between the invisible and visible realm. Ìrẹtɵ speaks in this context about the use of the drums to call upon all kinds of forces, summoning spirits of destruction as much as constructive and benign ones. A story tells of an awo called Olùkótún who went to the city of Otún (righteousness) to expel the ajogúns with ọfɚ àṣẹ (enchantments) and Ifá medicine. The citizens were told to cease using the drums for three years so they would not attract death to their dwelling places. This verse is related to the City of Vice (Ode Ote) where the people had no peace or health. Ifá went
to this city, and told them to practice the sacrifice of Òtúrá, meaning the practice of love, and the absence of vengeance and wickedness. The adverse reflection of Òtúrá is transformed in Ìrẹtɵ through situations in which it provides the answer to the complications experienced. These themes are expanded upon in the following verse: Bùtùbútù ɚnà Ijɵṣà lọmọdéé fíí ṣeré Bí ò bá kómọ ní rírìn ẹsɵ A kɳmọ ní yíyan A dia fún Ôrúnmìlà Ifá nlọ lèé fɶ Moranín Tíí ṣe ọmọ Òòṣà Igbòwújìn Teégún, tòòṣà ní ndú Mọranín Ôrúnmìlà ní òun ni òun ó fẹẹ Wɳn ní ẹbọ ní ó rú Ìgbá ti Ôrúnmìlà rúbọ tán Ọwɳọ rè ni Mọranin já mɳ Ìgbà ti inúu rɵé dùn tán Ó ní béè gégé ni àwon awo òún wí Bùtùbútù ɚnà Ijèṣà lọmọdéé fíí ṣeré Bí ò bá kómọ ní rírìn ẹsɵ A kɳmọ ní yíyan A dia fún Ôrúnmìlà Ifá nlọ lèé fɶ Mọranín Tíí ṣe ọmọ Òòṣà Igbòwújìn Mọranin ó padà wáá fé mi Àyàmɚ ṣe bi n ò soyùn mókó Tínútèyìn ni labalábáá fíí Olódùmarè Mọranin ó padà wáá fɶ mi Àyàmɚṣe bì n ò soyùn mókó The fine sand with which children play on the road to Ijèsà Teaches some children to walk And teaches others to move gracefully This Ifá divined for Ôrúnmìlà, When he was going to marry Mọranín,
The daughter of Òòṣà Igbòwújìn (a praise name for Ôbàtálá, referring to the sweetness hidden in the forest) All deities tried to conquer Mọranín, to marry her But Ôrúnmìlà said that he was the one who would marry her He was told to make a sacrifice After Ôrúnmìlà performed the sacrifice He managed to marry Mọranín He was very happy He said it happened exactly as the Ifá priests told The fine sand with which children play on the road to Ijèsà Teaches some children to walk And teaches others to move gracefully This Ifá divined for Ôrúnmìlà When he was going to marry Mọranín The daughter of Òòṣà Igbòwújìn Mọranín come here and marry me I have decorated my intimate parts with beads of iyùn (red coral) The butterfly shows his abdomen and his spine to Olódùmarè Mọranín will come back and marry me I have decorated my private parts with beads of iyùn This verse is found in the story telling of the city of Vice. The inhabitants of the city were utterly selfish and indulged in whatever debauchery appealed to them. Ôrúnmìlà arrived in the city and realized that hedonism and gluttony were responsible for the people attracting misfortune. He used two parables to illustrate what was going on. In the first, he spoke of the sand on the road to Ijèṣà, a city some 30 km west of Ilé Ifɵ, a reference to the road and journey being the same for each of us, but by the same means given to all, some of us learn to move gracefully, while others walk in the world as best they can. The other element in this verse, his marriage with Mọranín, the daughter of the sweetness hidden in the forest, tells of valuing others and especially those we meet in love. The reference to Ôrúnmìlà decorating his intimate parts with red coral is a reference to the abundance that lies in finding one’s soulmate, and also to respect, if not revere, one’s partner and be aware of the nature of the bond of love. In other words, he is bringing in the forces of Òtúrá to combat the tendency of Ìrẹtɵ to attract ajogúns.
Finally, the verse speaks about how every Ifá initiate becomes iyawo, the bride or wife of Ôrúnmìlà. The verse illustrates the respect, love and care he holds for each and every one of his wives as an example we should live by. Ìrẹtɵ is concerned with resisting the temptation of selfishness, because Ìrẹtɵ, being the good fortune we worked to manifest, comes as a result of hard work. It is a product of effort, and something we tend to guard and save, but Ifá is as adamant in stating that sharing is the formula for increase as it is in emphasizing the counsel in Òtúrá about not bragging about one’s good fortune. The greatest vice in Ìrẹtɵ is selfishness, and self-serving people restrict goodness. One Ifá proverb says: ‘An elder who eats his food in disregard of others will carry a burden to his home,’ and the odù tells us that such a person should not be helped when his greed undoes him. He needs to realize the need for help before we offer our assistance. It is a warning against gluttony in all its forms, for it will alienate the selfish one from true friendship and community. Ìrẹtɵ is rooted in a conflict between what is known and unknown, which leads to restricting goodness by jealously guarding one’s achievements. This temperament can give way to gluttony and selfishness, the will to dominate, and unbridled worldly ambition. In this field rebellion is born as a consequence of learning to walk the world and understand its quarters and rhythm. Some walk gently to the rhythm of creation, whilst others march steadfastly to the beat of their own drum. Ìrẹtɵ is about walking towards good fortune as much as it is about the missteps and failures that occur on the path of life. It is concerned with wrong choices and false friends. It is about taking over the world and being out of sync with it. This means that in this odù we find the ability to adapt to harsh conditions and the reminder that the secret of prosperity is about seizing every new day as an opportunity. In this respect, the opportunist and the wayfarer are the same, they make their fortune upon the same sand which they walk upon. It is an odù that speaks of temptation – and temptation is what ajogúns are. No doubt it is the ownership of these forces that gained Èṣù his diabolical reputation. There is no devil in Ifá, however. It is important not to preceive the devil as a force outside yourself. Èṣù and the ajogúns are not your enemies, even though they confront you exactly as though this is what they are. These spirits bestow misery, death and obstruction because it is their nature to do so. The
gift of ajogúns is only bestowed if we give in to their temptation. The temptation lies in each and every situation that offers an opportunity to develop good character. In every challenge, in every friction and misunderstanding, in every choice, these spiritual forces wait close by, ready to be invited in, and they celebrate every moment in which they are not invited, knowing that the temptation they represented was resisted. We need to understand these spirits, not as a demon host that desires death, confusion and misery. They do bring these things, but they want us to deny their gifts. In this way they hold the power of Ìrẹtɵ, through being spirits that wish to retain what they have and not share it. As we know from our human realm, people who possess riches, love and abundance can, at times, speak too much of their good fortune, and this generates a field of temptation giving rise to feelings of envy, regret and hatred in us. It is in these emotional communications that we call upon ajogúns as our very own challengers. We might say that Ìrẹtɵ has a natural tendency to attract the negative vibration of good things in its hunt for good fortune, in the form of temptation and negative emotions.
Ìrẹtɵ has much to say about carrying burdens. Not only those which the selfish person takes home by denying help to others when difficulties arise, it is also about taking on the burden of the world, and doing what is good and right no matter what the reward or repercussion. This is illustrated by igún, the vulture, who offered to bring the sacrifices of humans to Olódùmarè. One story tells how the earth was about to be destroyed and Igún had to take an urgent message to Olódùmarè in order to stop the planned annihilation. He dutifully went to Ôrun using every shortcut imaginable and averted the destruction of Ayé. He returned to earth expecting praise and reward but, contrary to his expectation, nobody took any notice of him, nor did they gave him any credit for saving the world; they merely commented on how ugly and filthy he was with his bald head and black wings, a head that has become bald after carrying ẹbọ to Ôrun and feathers that had become black from being exposed to intense light and heat. There are two other stories that illustrate these matters well, the first was told to me by Chief Adéwuyì. A farming couple called Oniyagbe and Omojinkun inherited a good piece of land which they started to cultivate. The harvest was good, actually better than good. They rejoiced in their success, but their happiness was overshadowed by Omojinkun’s infertility. No matter how much they tried to have children, it was to no avail. They decided to focus on farming, and grew in abundance, until one day a couple of monkeys invaded their plantation and started to destroy the fruit of their labours. Oniyagbe decided to go to his awo for divination, and his awo told him that the monkeys had also been coming to him for divination, and that these events were truly related. The awo advised Oniyagbe to make a sacrifice and then to hide himself under cover of the trees of his plantation, because he would surely witness something mysterious. Oniyagbe went to the plantation as the night fell, and before long he saw a male monkey appear, eating carefully of the corn he had planted while he sang: The owner of the farm should not die And the tree of Ògùnbɵrɵ (Leucaena leucocephala)should not fall By this time next year I shall be able to dance Gbantete gbantete (the rhythmic sound of the drum)
Oniyagbe was not only perplexed by what he witnessed, but also happy to hear that the monkey was actually a protector of his life and fortune. As the song fell silent, he saw a female monkey arrive and she greedily ate whatever she wanted, carelessly singing: If the owner of the farm could die Let him die If the tree of Ògùnbɵrɵ could fall Let it be By this time next year We shall look for another farm to eat and harvest We shall also seek another tree to stand on Gbantete, gbantete When Oniyagbe heard the curse of the female monkey he took out his revolver and shot her. He brought the monkey home to prepare for food, but as he cut her open, he witnessed yet another mystery: the white beads of Ôbàtálá (which are called ṣeṣefun) were in her womb. He took the ṣeṣefun to his awo, who told him that his wife would indeed become pregnant, and instructed him in a procedure involving the ṣeṣefun to ensure the fertility of her womb. Just as the awo had predicted, Omojinkun became pregnant and a male child was born to the couple. This story speaks of the importance of carrying good words and good thoughts in our minds and mouths because they attract goodness, whilst the curses uttered by the female monkey brought about the end of her life. The other version of this story tells of how Oniyagbe responded to monkeys invading the plantation by killing them and chasing them away. But this only made matters worse, as the monkeys became more and more furious at him, and called more of their kind to carry out even greater destruction. With his plantation in ruins, Oniyagbe went to his awo for a divination. His awo told him that he would only achieve peace and fortune by speaking with the monkeys and giving over some of his plantation to them. With some reluctance he did as the awo advised and struck a deal with the monkeys, he would plant food for them in return for peace and protection. Thus he gained good harvests, protection and wisdom. There is also the story about Ôṣun, who is symbolized by the igún or vulture.
This story is a continuation of the one which tells of how Igún reaped ingratitude after saving the world from destruction. It tells of how the vulture decided to stay and continue his duty, despite people’s ingratitude for his unselfish work, because he realized that he was not the servant of humans, but of Olódùmarè. If Olódùmarè decided that people needed the vulture’s assistance he would continue to offer it. The story tells of a time of turbulence and misfortune in Ilé Ifɵ. Ôṣun spoke strongly about the reason for the problems in the city, saying that they were caused by people failing to show the necessary respect and regard for women. Her fervent insistence on this matter generated enmity and it didn’t take long before people began to accuse her of being the cause of misfortune, especially of the illness of their children and the lack of fertility in the city. When the day of confrontation came, she denied their accusations, and asked for her husband Ôrúnmìlà to come and reason with them, but they accused him of supporting his wife in a biased way and decided that they should both be banished from the city. Ôrúnmìlà was disappointed with this outcome and went to one of his students for a divination. His student told him that everything would be fine, they would be justified and the culprits would be exposed. He told Ôrúnmìlà to make sacrifice to Èṣù and to the ìyàmís. He did as he was told, and that very same night Èṣù went to the gathering of the ìyàmís, telling them how much he hated Ôṣun and how much he wanted her dead. The ìyàmís were very happy to hear this, because Ôṣun had been a constant obstacle to their plan of killing off the children in the city. Èṣù stirred them up and spread confusion and bickering amongst them; they became loud in their accusations against one another, which drew the attention of people living nearby to where they had gathered. Èṣù left the gathering while the ìyàmís were fighting amongst themselves, and called the attention of the people who had come to that place, and helped them realize the true source of the city’s misfortune. And so it happened that the true culprits were exposed and the one wrongly accused was vindicated. Ôṣun however refused to return to the city and said that if they needed what she had to offer, they would have to use the plant ɚdúndún (Kalanchoe crenata) in her place. Ìrẹtɵ has the capacity to attract the negative vibration of good things, and it sets us the challenge of holding on to fate and what is right. Through it, we learn to see adversity and negativity as teachers and guides. It is here that we find such proverbs as: ‘It is when the tree is young that we should prune its
branches,’ and: ‘If the tree is huge and tall, and we seek the top leaves, we should cut it down from the root,’ which reminds us to end negativity before it grows out of proportion, and that at some point wickedness will fall. This means that Ìrẹtɵ is an odù that promises a life free from trouble and chaos so long as we are familiar with these forces. The àjɶs spread out into the world here, which is in harmony with this odù being that of Ônilé, the spirit of Ayé, our world. In this way we can comprehend our world as a marketplace where we make our fortune in relation to our understanding of what we attract into our lives. The swamp and marshes were born here. The swamp represents disease and illness, and it also represents the hopeless condition of being swallowed by the world and negativity, which happens if we allow depression to rule us. In these instances we need to look at the frogs and toads and how they make clever use of an unfriendly environment, turning the swamp into a comfortable home. It is tempting to state that if you watch the toads for a year, you will understand Ìrẹtɵ! The toad is always on the hunt for its good fortune, food and mates, it is capable of being still for a long time. Its capacity for being still and alert testifies to patience, which is the quality that brings orí rere, a good consciousness. The toads have a few enemies, of which the snake is the most important. Quite appropriately, this odù speaks of how the toad – and also the vulture – initiated the snake into Ifá, but then realized it was not a good idea. The snake is associated with Ìká méjì and the concept of wickedness. Thus encountering the snake in Ìrẹtɵ signifies that we need to be careful and patient in order to avoid inviting wickedness into our lives, whether in the form of enemies and false friends, or as negativity and poison in general. Rather, like the toad that turns what it has into a haven, and the vulture who realized its duty is to Olódùmarè, we should always be patient and avoid making judgments. Such themes are represented by atóka (the lapwing) a symbol of a restless mind, worries, and the way in which faith brings success. Just as the vulture realized that he was not doing what he did for humans, but for the greater good, so the lapwing represents what is done for the greater good, but is abhorred and ridiculed. Still, the lapwing does what it does with little concern for opinion. Another bird, restless and jumpy, prone to heart palpitations and headaches, is akápò (the quail), which serves as a symbol of protection against the threat of ikú (death). It is ironic to realize that this feeble bird, the restless relative of
pheasants, symbolizes Ṣàngó as he is hunted down by Death because of the agony caused by his own scapegoating, bad decisions and lack of understanding. This leads Ṣàngó to realize that justice is not about delaying forgiveness, nor is it about any ‘might is right’ ideology. Rather, it is about his hawklike powers becoming jumpy, like a quail with a heart attack in the making, confronted with Ikú. This odù teaches that the world is like the eéran grass (Digitaria debilis), which is invasive and tends to attack every noble plant. We must protect our noble status, for in a world like ours, eéran, which is a symbol for the spirits of àjɶ, has been given a cosmic sanction to tempt us into the realization that doing good is what brings abundance and a happy fortune. This dilemma is represented by the ɵgɶ tree (Manihot esculent), the tree of prosperity, also known as manioc. Ìrẹtɵ tells of how this tree is guarded by a ram, a goat, a dog and a rooster that will take down anyone who tries to climb it, because whosoever scales the tree will be prosperous. The verse tells of several people who attempt to climb the tree only to fail. Ôrúnmìlà, however, goes to his awo to make a divination to see what he must do in order to gain good fortune. His awo tells him to feed and befriend the guardians, and in doing so he will be able to climb the tree and harvest prosperity. In truth there was no tree to climb, just an illusion bestowed upon a shrub a few feet tall that was made impossible to climb by the presence of its guardians. Ôrúnmìlà had to recognize and appease the obstacles to his good fortune. He needed to realize how to walk towards his goal, because good fortune was well within his reach. Ìrẹtɵ tells of the importance of ordering our priorities, especially in relation to spirituality and wealth, given that the concept of ambition is born here. Ìrẹtɵ speaks of the importance of friends being present in our lives so we can accumulate good fortune. This is demonstrated in the tale of Ọlábérinjọ, who left his hometown in search of fortune in another city. He had one friend in that city, but this friend was too busy to introduce him to other people and help him establish his trade. It was frustrating for him, being a stranger in a strange land, and speaking in a dialect not understood by many. But he decided to stay strong in his search for good fortune and did not curse his struggles, and so it happened that luck found him one day as he was fetching water. Here he met another stranger who was in a similar position to himself and together they made plans for how to prosper. As they were discussing these matters a third
person entered the conversation and as they spoke a plan came into being. They recognized one another’s skills and strengths and carefully planned their venture based upon them. Alas, it so happened that some of these skills were more appreciated by other traders, and so envy started to grow amongst the three friends. They were however wise enough to seek counsel from Ifá and their awo when they noticed that tension had developed between them, and their awo told them that success would be accomplished as long as they stuck together, because shared fortune is preferable to that gained through renouncing your friends. This is encoded in the following verse: Ìwọɚtɵ Èmi ɚtɵ Ôtɵ di méjì ó d’òdodo gbákogbáko Día fún Al’orí ire má l’ɶsɵ ire Ẹbọ ní wɳn ní kó wáá ṣe If you mark one leg Mark also the other leg When one marks one and the other they become two Then you have marked the two legs (Ìrẹtɵ) This Ifá divined for the one who had a good consciousness but had weak legs He was advised to perform sacrifice This verse also speaks of the essential nature of Ìrẹtɵ, being a hunter for good fortune, with a mind that recognizes it, but does not always possess the wisdom to move the legs in a rhythm that invites fortune in. This verse speaks of the importance of harmony, of how the left side and the right side should be in harmony with a joyous and interested consciousness. This is accomplished through the practice of patience. In this regard, we find the story of a man called Alórí, who had a good orí but weak legs and came to earth after wishing all good fortune for himself. He was very skilful at making quality products, but these took time and care, and he was confronted with his buyers’ impatience and complaints that he charged too much for his products. He became concerned and went to his awo for divination. His awo told him that he was doing everything correctly, but that he needed to pay attention to his legs. His awo prepared an oṣɶ èrò for him that
he used to wash and clean himself, especially his legs. As he did this, good fortune came to meet him. The story speaks of the importance of presenting oneself truthfully, which calls upon honesty, not excuses and scams. In this case, Alóri knew his products were of a very high quality but he failed to demonstrate this. His walk (or presentation) was not in agreement with what he offered. The story suggests that Alóri was too shy or reserved in stating how good his products were, and thus his ‘legs,’ caused him not to achieve his promised success. This story also tells of the balance between what we have to offer and its quality. If what we have to offer is good, we should speak well of it. We should not feel timid in stating our satisfaction of what is good, whether it is material or spiritual. Ìrẹtɵ is about what we have to offer, which is something we should speak of, whilst our accomplishments should be kept quiet, as advised in Otùrá, because of envy. To praise the quality of what you have to offer invites a very different energy from that which you invoke by expressing satisfaction in your life and personal achievements. There is clearly a tendency in this odù to pay attention to wickedness and wrongdoing. But it speaks of the importance of defining and solving your own problems before you attempt to solve those of other people. You can never offer the remedy to a problem you haven’t solved yourself. It tells how confrontation and accusation are always tokens that you have not walked gently in the world, and it announces a healing of the soul. Another story speaks of the time when Ôrúnmìlà was in charge of the world, together with Èṣù and Ôbàtálá, who were his students and confidants. It is a variation on the themes presented in Ìká and Òtúrá. The story tells that Ôrúnmìlà also brought two messengers, Òjíṣɶ Ayé and Ìgàngàn Ifɶ (forces of contrast), who would report what was going on in the world to him. As time passed and they saw how people misbehaved, they grew bitter and wanted to see the human race wiped out. And so they started to report what was going on in the earth falsely, to ensure that wickedness was punished. Problems started to mount up on the earth, confusion, fighting and disagreements were plentiful, and Ôrúnmìlà, Èṣù and Ôbàtálá could not understand how such chaos was possible. They went to their awo for divination, who revealed that the two messengers were responsible for the chaos because they reported their sentiments and not the facts. The two messengers were discharged and sentenced to death due to their falsity, and this created further chaos. The people of Ilé Ifɵ accused Ôrúnmìlà of being the author of misfortune by
sentencing the messengers to death. Accusation upon accusation piled up as they refused to listen to reason and responded with physical aggression towards Ôbàtálá and Èṣù. It all ended with Ôrúnmìlà, Èṣù and Ôbàtálá deciding to leave Ilé Ifɵ, declaring that no spirit worker or awo would ever help the people in the city when they had gone. The people were happy to see the three of them leave. Ôrúnmìlà, Èṣù, and Ôbàtálá found a place deep in the forest where they made huts in which to live, and dedicated their lives to the cultivation of wisdom. In their absence, the city entered a dire crisis. Poverty and barrenness became widespread, but worst of all the rain ceased to fall and the sun scorched the fields. As matters became worse, they desperately sought a diviner. They went to diviner after diviner, but no solution was offered. Finally they found one who took pity on them, and he told them that the cause of their misfortune was the offence they had committed against their benefactors. They had replaced reason with anger, and they were themselves the authors of the pain and misfortune they were suffering. He told them: Alákàn níí rín Ìkɚkɚ Níí rín Ìbábá Día fún wɳn l’Ótu-Ifɵ Níjɳ Ajogún ká wɳn mó’lé pitipiti
The crab walks in mysterious ways Hidden in the darkness This Ifá divined for the people of Ótu-Ifɵ When the ajogúns had embraced them fully
He told them to offer an antelope in sacrifice. They immediately started to search for an antelope, but none was to be found. Finally, after weeks of searching, they encountered one. The antelope, however, noticed the agitation of the hunters and ran away from them. She ran deeper and deeper into the forest and they followed her as best as they could, but they lost her. Searching in the depths of the forest they found the three huts of Ôrúnmìlà, Èṣù and Ôbàtálá. Curious about who would build huts so deep in the forest, they threw a stone at one of them. Ôbàtálá came out of the hut, looking around for who had thrown the stone, and the hunters stepped forward and threw themselves down upon the ground before him, begging forgiveness. On hearing the commotion, Èṣù and Ôrúnmìlà emerged from their huts. The pleading and begging became more fervent. Ôbàtálá was not impressed, telling them that it was he who had withheld the rain and allowed the sun to scorch them so that not only would
bird, mammal, rodent and fish die, but in particular the ungrateful human beings. Ôrúnmìlà and Èṣù stepped up and argued that they, as humans, were dependant upon the same things, so in exterminating the food for humans and humans themselves he would also present problems for them. Ôbàtálá listened to Ôrúnmìlà and Èṣù, and released the rain, allowing the natural balance to be reinstated. It was on this day when ajogúns dominated the world that he was praised as ‘The White Death.’ This narrative encompasses the whole of Ìrẹtɵ. It speaks of the world being perfect as it is, and questions the amount of interference we should exert in order to change its course, no matter how bad it looks or how much power we have to effect such a change. The verse speaks of chaos, misery, loss and sadness being conditions that invite us to cultivate good character. It also tells of the negative consequence of accusations and judgment: to blame and to scapegoat. The Ifá verse serves as a reminder that we cannot really know everything and that it is not necessarily correct to assume that something external is the cause of our misfortune. Just as the crab moves in a different manner from human beings and hides in dark places, we should realize the difference in the world is an echo of a cosmic rhythm in which what is good for one person is bad for another. Our world is generated by the combined forces of Ôsá and Ògúndá, and Ìrẹtɵ is the indwelling spirit of our world and condition. This odù speaks of the challenges caused by this energetic fusion. Ôsá is the marketplace and Ògúndá is the power of the hunter revealed in the promise of victory. In other words, our world is truly a marketplace where we all are the authors of our fate, we are all hunters after good fortune. On account of this, Ìrẹtɵ pays attention to the legs, which represent ancestry, the memory of who we are and the capacity of walking the world gracefully, as we unleash blessings and situations that challenge us to be better men and women. The crab is a symbol of Olókun Asorandayọ, which is the memory of the wisdom Ôrúnmìlà left on earth as he went to Ôrun in Òtúrá méjì. He left the crab as a symbol of misfortune transformed into joy. We must recognize that we cannot know everything, and that avoiding passing judgment can open up the ‘mysterious walks of the crab’ to our understanding. Hence the crab is taboo in this odù, it is set aside for contemplation. The walk of the crab should stimulate reflection concerning our own movements in the world. This mystery is related to a popular story that speaks of the alágemo, the chameleon. In it, we learn that Ôbàtálá sends Chameleon as his representative
to speak on his behalf in front of Olódùmarè. Olódùmarè dressed up in marvellous garments, to show off his glory, and Chameleon dressed up in the same fashion, just as he did when Ôrúnmìlà was challenged to measure power with Olókun in Ìròsùn méjì. Seeing how Chameleon was equally well dressed, Olódùmarè changed into even more spectacular vestments, and Chameleon mimicked whatever he dressed in. This went on for a few rounds until Olódùmarè decided to give praise to Chameleon and to the wisdom of Ôbàtálá. The verse speaks about adapting one’s self to any environment. It tells of the importance of allies and friends, in order to possess what fate has in store for you and to demonstrate that if heaven and earth are in harmony, good fortune will ensue. Ìrëtɵ is the odù of Ônilé, the spirit of the earth, and the odù that gives any medicine the power to work. Medicine, óòogún, can both heal and kill. Discernment is one key, while the other is to pay attention to what you possess: Ìgbà fí ó rúbo tán Ó si l’ɳlá Ò lówó lɳwɳ Gbogbo ire ti ó nwá pátápátá Ni ó tɵɶ lɳwɳ
After she started the practice of sacrifice She gained honour She gained wealth All good things that she was searching for She captured securely in her palm
ÔṢě MÉJÌ
ɑe sweetness of mystery Ôṣɶ méjì is an odù of inspiration, beauty and wealth and is usually attributed to the work carried out by spiritualists and priests. It is related to the concept of abundance. The word ɚṣɶ signifies ‘triumph’ and also ‘cleanliness’ and is related to great achievements in which the power of ‘doubt’ is, at times, invited in as a contrast to the greatness and abundance spoken of here. The reference to ‘victory’ is due to Ôṣɶ having many enemies both in Ôrun and on earth. Ôṣɶ however made sacrifice in order to become victorious over them. This relationship is represented by the story that tells of how the diviners Alàtiṣé Ilé and Alàtiṣé Oko went to Ejigbomekun, the land of Ôṣɶ, to initiate him into Ifá. He was asked to bring 20 sticks (ògúnɚpá) along with his sacrificial materials. Two of the sticks would be used for the sacrifice. ÔṣɶÔṣɶ gathered everything together and, as he went to his diviners carrying the load on his head, he fell, and the sticks reserved for use in the initiation broke in two: hence ɚṣɶ also means something broken, as in the proverb, ‘two sticks broken in the middle is what we call Ôṣɶ méjì.’ A reference to shared wisdom increasing the abundance of the one who shares. The proverb serves as a reminder that no matter how strong something seems to be it can always be
broken: this applies to sticks as much as it does to enemies. This odù speaks of the disastrous consequences of breaking one’s oath, one’s word or one’s commitments, no matter what disagreements or disappointments are involved in the situation. A proverb related to this odù says: ‘We should not gossip about a friend, because of our pact. Even if the friend is of one mind and you of another our path should not deviate. Every monkey has his place as every soul has its own path.’ This verse is encoded in the alternate name of Ôṣɶ méjì, which is Ôṣɶ Òlúbàdàn. I will paraphrase the story of Òlúbàdàn from Pópóọlá’s (2009) thorough presentation of this key verse. Iná (fire) went to Ifá in pursuit of a cure for her barrenness. Ifá told her that a fertile time had come, that she would be blessed with a male child and so it came to pass, within the year she gave birth to a baby boy. In the naming ceremony for the child, it was revealed that the child was a babaláwo from heaven who had incarnated. He was to be named Ìnàki, in honour of his mother, and placed in the care of the babaláwos for training. As a young man he became very proficient in Ifá and especially in curing infertility, which caused women to flock around him. It was indeed grace that he gave, because his Ifá medicine was always very simple, consisting of scrapings of brass, powdered yam and iyerosun to carry the enchantments of this odù. Ìnàkì was very successful, and his students became equally successful. One student in particular, Òpó, came to be as great as his teacher. It was Òpó who the elderly Olúbàdàn (the king of Ibadan) approached for aid in his attempt to father a child on his equally elderly wife. Òpó prepared the Ifá medicine to be given to his wife and she became pregnant, giving birth to a healthy child named Atie, meaning, ‘Born from the elderly.’ Olúbàdàn asked Òpó for the same thing the following year and once again he fathered a boy. Three years later, Olúbàdán approached Òpó again, saying that he wanted more children, and again Òpó prepared the medicine and again Olúbàdàn’s wife became pregnant and this time gave birth to a girl, named Nnkan, ‘Something.’ This girl turned out to be Apetẹbi, the wife of Ifá, sent from heaven, and he was told that she should only marry a practicing awo to keep good fortune close to her. When the time came, Olúbàdàn wanted to offer her hand in marriage to Òpó, but he was not to be found anywhere, and so she was offered in marriage to Òpó’s good and wealthy friend, Olówo. Olówo however was not a practicing awo and thus the taboo concerning the girl was ignored.
Olówo was a celebrated military general and he came to love Nnkan very much and took her with him to all his battles. It so happened that after several years of marriage Olówo was faced with a challenging battle. In order to arrive at the battlefield he had to cross the Ôṣun river, but the river was overflowing, and it was impossible to pass. Olówo went to the river, and told Ôṣun that he didn’t have anything to offer, but if she made way for them, he would give her something when they returned. The river parted and let them pass. They returned successfully, but the river was once again full upon their return. Olówo threw honey and palm wine into the river, but they were rejected, he threw she-goats and jewellery into the river, but they were rejected. Everything he threw into the river was rejected. As he stood there, frustrated and confused by the rejection of Ôṣun, his commander approached him and told him that he had promised to give ‘something’ (nnkan) to Ôṣun, and that only giving Nnkan to Ôṣun would ensure success. In disbelief he gave his wife to the river, expecting her to be rejected, but the river accepted her. The consequence of the sacrifice of the daughter of Olúbàdàn led to a blood feud between the two families that became legendary all over Yorùbáland. We see here how Ôṣɶ is concerned with the dynamic between ‘victory’ and ‘being broken.’ In this story we have different kinds of victors and we have the presence of a woman who causes a great feud and breaks the two families that were once united. It emphasizes the importance of the oath, and how easily we are dethroned and destroyed by carelessness and promises made in haste. It demonstrates the dire consequences of doing what needs to be done and thus stresses the fragility of words, promises, relationships and social positions. We can see the importance of woman in this story, and as we shall see later, the concern with fertility, children and womanhood in general, makes this a feminine and venereal odù that speaks of how everything is shifting, like the moon. We find here the presence of female forces like Ôṣun, mother of Èṣù and wife of Ôrúnmìlà; Yemòwó, wife of Ôbàtálá and source of artistic creativity; and Ajé Ṣaluga, wife of Olókun, associated with beauty and wealth. These forces hold the potential for beauty, creativity, wisdom and abundance. It is an odù much concerned with feminine powers that calls upon the presence of Ôsá méjì in the form of birds (àjɶ). Ôṣɶ speaks of woman as a source of abundance and how maltreatment of woman is a source of poverty. One story tells of the beautiful and elegant Aje
Ṣaluga, who was possessed of a good and quick mind. She came to the world responsible for financial wealth, sure that this would attract much benevolence and kindness to her. Ôṣɶ méjì tells us that she had several relationships with different men, all of whom mistreated her and did not give her any value besides venerating her beauty. She became tired of constant failure with men and went to her awo for divination to see what she could do to find a good husband who would see her for what she was. She was advised to make a sacrifice in order to attract a good husband. At the same time, Ôrúnmìlà was struggling with poverty; he had a lot of clients, but no-one would compensate him financially for his work. This situation had gone on for quite some time and so he went to his awo to see what could be done about it. His awo told him that he should not worry about any of this, that his good fortune would come to him through a woman, but that he needed to make a sacrifice. On the day of the ẹbọ, he came to his awo’s house, and saw Ajé Ṣaluga, who was also there to make her ẹbọ. During the ẹbọ, Ôrúnmìlà asked if this was the woman who would bring him abundance and she in the same fashion asked if Ôrúnmìlà would be the man who would treat her well and understand her. Ifá affirmed this and before long a marriage was arranged between the two. Things immediately started to change for them, and they prospered greatly together, having children, money and all good things in life.
Ôṣɶ speaks of how prosperity is brought about by the use of intellect, care and cunning, and addresses the use of force. This is illustrated by several examples that use wrestling to typify the energies of this odù. Wrestling is popular in rural Yorùbáland and is done as exercise and to demonstrate one’s strength and agility as a husband for a prospective wife. It represents the balance between strength and softness needed to bring forth harmonious togetherness. Ôṣɶ is an odù that speaks of the union of what is broken and how sameness and difference can enter into a higher union. We might understand Ôṣɶ as being a mirror with two observers, one on either side of it, each of whom sees themselves in the other. The presence of the mirror is a reference to the beauty and supremacy integral to this odù. It also warns that beauty and deception walk hand in hand, as illustrated in Ôṣɶ méjì by stories that speak of the presence of false friends who are attracted to beauty and wealth alone. This can bring about confusion over whom one can trust, and hence disappointment with people is a recurring theme in Ôṣɶ méjì. These issues are demonstrated in the story about another beautiful woman, Lápàde. She was not only beautiful, but accomplished in all ways. At a young age, she decided that she would marry a babaláwo and devote herself to her family, which she did. She was praised for her beauty and revered as a symbol of female accomplishment. However, she was disturbed by nightmares and fears concerning her future. She feared death and she feared betrayal and abandonment. One day, she went to her awo to ask for a divination to see if her bad dreams were rooted in worry, or if they were omens foretelling disaster ahead. The verse recited to her was the following, as collected by Pópóọlá (2009): A kíí fí ípɳnjú bá babaláwo gbe’lé A kíí fí ípɳnjú lé babaláwo bɳ s’óde Ẹni to bá fí ípɳnjú bá babaláwo gbé’lé Ẹni to bá fí ípɳnjú lé babaláwo bɳ s’óde Olúwaarɵ yóó t’ẹsɵ bọ gíyàn èèrùn Díá fún Lápàde, ọmọ òròrò ẹwà Èyí to nfí ọgbɳn inú pa’wó Tí Ikú nfí ọgbɳn inú wá kiri
Ẹbọ ní wɳn ní kó wáá ṣe Ò gbɶ’bọ, ó rú’bọ Kò pẹ kò jìnna Ẹ wá bá ni làikú kangiri Aíkú kangiri làá bá ní lóṣɶ Ôpɵ Ikú bi o bá wọ’lé Kí o bèérù awo Bí Iná bá Jô koríko ilê A bɵɵrù àjà You cannot harbour malice and live with a babaláwo You cannot chase away a babaláwo with malice If there is someone who lives with a babaláwo and harbours malice If someone chases away a babaláwo with malice The one doing this will fall into a hole of burning embers This Ifá divined for the Beautiful One She who used her wisdom to attract wealth And whom Death in great cunning was stalking She was told to practice sacrifice She did as she was told And as the sacrifice was done She started to sing Join us in the middle of blessings for longevity This is what Ifá brings to his people Death, if you try to enter a home Be weary of the awo If fire can burn the grass around a home Be sure its roof is made of fear The ‘roof of fear’ spoken of in this verse is a reference to the èkan grass (Imperata cylindrica), which is sacred in this odù and used to enhance fertility. But there is more to this grass, which is also sacred to Ôbàtálá. It is highly flammable and is used to thatch roofs and to stabilize the soil. The Japanese ‘blood grass’ is an ornamental relative of this medicinal weed, whose roots and shoots also serve as food. The èkan grass is used by two of the birds sacred in this odù – àparó (partridge) and olongo (orange cheeked
waxbill) – to build their nests. They nest on the ground, making these nutritive and medicinal nests vulnerable to mites, ants and predators. Partridge is taboo in this odù, because of its relationship with financial success as a bird sacred to Ajé Ṣaluga. The olongo holds an even deeper symbolism, as it represents both beauty and cunning, evident in its acrobatic and elegant behaviour. It is a beautiful and smart bird and is contrasted with ògòngò (the ostrich) which represents agility and strength. One verse in this odù speaks of a time when Olongo did not have her beautiful colours, but was rather insignificant. Olongo admired the ostrich with her long legs, speed and grace, being herself one of the smallest birds in the world. One day, the ostrich announced that she would set out on a journey and asked the other birds who would accompany her. Olongo was excited at the opportunity, and said that she would come with her, but she also went to her awo to make a divination. She asked if giving support to the ostrich in this journey would make her become as strong and fast as her. The awo told her that this was not Olongo’s place; rather, she should pay attention to her own special talents, because she was Olódùmarè’s symbol of beauty and prestige. Olongo was asked to make a sacrifice of coloured cloths and a goat. After the sacrifice was made, Èṣù came in the night and turned the feathers of Olongo to the beautiful reddish brown and gold she has today. She went with the ostrich on her journey, and they reaped praise for the strength and beauty that could only occur through their harmonious togetherness. Beauty requires support, because it is fragile and delicate. This kind of beauty supported by strength and wisdom is attributed to Ajé Ṣaluga and Ôṣun as apetẹbi (wives) of Ôrúnmìlà, where beauty and wisdom joined together provide truth and abundance. It is in this odù that Ôṣun is celebrated as the perfect wife of Ôrúnmìlà, as the embodiment of beauty, elegance and eroticism. The erotic contains the mystery of making use of cleanliness and sweet scents to generate attraction. This odù speaks about finding the other who completes you, just as it speaks of giving away your beauty for nothing out of disappointment and fear. It was in this odù that Ôṣun, in the absence of Ôrúnmìlà, took care of his clients who had come to Ifá for counsel and help, giving cowry shell readings and medicine made from cool water. As the owner of the cool, healing waters, Ôṣun brought the mystery of ìgèdè, a healing ritual that uses the enchanted force of the river, and is performed in every initiation to òrìṣà. In a story from this odù, the òrìṣà and ìrúnmọlẹ used the powers of ìgèdè resting in the river to wash away the signs of old age and restore their
vitality and vigour. Ôṣɶ méjì speaks of the miraculous properties of cool water. This mystery is always performed when, for instance, the àṣẹ of leaves is made into healing waters called omièrò. The leaves are prayed over and then macerated in alcohol and cold riverwater to extract their properties. Ôṣun is the water that invites such properties to infuse everything, and because of this we find the presence of micro-organisms, bacteria and viruses in this odù, representing contamination and dispersal. Ôṣun encompasses the mystery of water as a force of healing, beauty and origin. She is associated with the depths (ibu) of all sources of fresh water, as she is the symbol of the womb that brought forth the first human beings on earth in a state of beauty, health and prosperity. She represents menstruation, while Yẹmọja represents the use of fertility in giving birth and milk to children. The emphasis on Ôṣun as the owner of menstruation, and hence fertility, is veiled in her praise name Ìyáàmi Akoko, meaning ‘supreme primordial mother,’ a reference to one who holds the secret of birds, as disclosed in Ôsá méjì. Ôṣun, both in her primordial state and as the chosen wife of Ôrúnmìlà, possesses wisdom in great measure, and is the owner of the cowry shell oracle. This relationship is emphasized in the following verse, which also underlines the importance of Ôṣun’s waters and how what is meant to be together should not be broken. Òjììji ò bɵrù ɚfin A día féwé Ti nlọ lèé gbóbi níyàwó Ìgbà ti ó yá Ewé ní òun ò fɶ obì mɳ Ló bá ko obi ìyàwóo rɵ sílɵ Ìgbà ti obìí lọ tán Ló bá bɵrɵ síí gbẹ Ìgbà ti ɚràn náà ò wɚ mɳ Ni obìí bá tún padà wáá fɶ ewé Nígbà náà ní ó tôo wáá bɵrɵ síí yẹɶ Ó ní Òjììji ò bɵrù ɚfin A dia féwé Tí nlɚ gbóbi níyàwó
Ěrò Ìpo Ěrò Ôfà Ìgbà obíi lóun ò féwé mɳ Ṣe bi gbígbẹ ní ngbẹ ‘The shadow is not afraid of a deep hole’ Was the one who made Ifá divination for Leaf When he was going to marry Kola Nut After some time Kola Nut said she did not want to stay with Leaf any more And so she divorced Leaf After leaving Leaf, the Kola Nut began to dry up When things became unbearable Kola Nut returned to Leaf And it was only through this that she became healthy again She said, ‘The shadow is not afraid of a deep hole’ Was the one who made Ifá divination for the Leaf When he was going to marry Kola Nut Travellers of Ipo Travellers of Ofá It was when Kola Nut separated from Leaf She began to dry up The theme of isolation, of reacting to good advice badly and separating yourself from others due to disappointment is frequently found here, as in the story of yèrèpè (the velvet bean, Mucuna sloanei). The story tells that he came from humble beginnings and no one took much notice of him. He was often neglected when he was young, but as he grew up people became more attentive to his humble wisdom. When he came of age he was considered a very wise man and the dwellers in the forest saw in him a future king. The elders decided that he would be offered the royal staff, because surely he would rule the forest with humility and wisdom. Learning this news he went straight to his awo, asking about how extravagant the celebration should be. The awo told him that perhaps this was not the right approach to the matter, that he should rather be concerned whether he would find success in his position. Yèrèpè was mightily
offended by his awo, because he had been contemplating malice and wickedness in his heart. He had played the part of being humble and wise for many years in the hope that he would be given the opportunity to get back at those who had wronged him in the past. His heart was full of pain and affliction and it was this which he wanted to inflict on people. As soon as he was installed as king, he started with the elders and sprinkled the dust of his nettles on them, generating pain and itching, so horrid that only palm oil on their naked bodies could ease their suffering. This was just the beginning of his reign. In a short time he had managed to drive everyone away from him and he became a despised and hated king, whose only friend was his own desire for vengeance. Eventually the dwellers of the forest had enough of him and decided to end his reign, and so in the night the elders went out into the woods and set fire to Yèrèpè. In flames, consumed by regret, he died. The story of Ajàgùnnà highlights some other themes of importance in this odù. Ajàgùnnà was a general who was installed as the chief of Ìbàdàn due to his great cunning in the art of war. The more he was praised for his accomplishments, the more his people started to resent him. He was accused of being too stern and demanding, and he constantly met with criticism and opposition from his own people, and even his own family. He could not understand why victory against his enemies should generate such hostility amongst his own people. He went to his awo to obtain some perspective on the situation and was told that this was a lesson, in order that he would understand how difficult human beings were. He was instructed to make sacrifice to Èṣù and feed his Ifá, and the awo told him that he needed to come to terms with what it meant to be a leader. Ajàgùnnà became confident about how to solve this situation and decided that the best thing to do would be to move away from all these difficult beings. He went into the forest and found a well hidden ìrókò grove which he cleared in order to build a house for himself and his family. The people in the city told him that this was not the best course of action, as he had just cut down the trees which the Elders of the Night used to have their meetings in. Ajàgùnnà was distrustful of their advice, after all these people were full of envy, lies and accusations, so why would they tell truth about this? Ajàgunnà moved into the house with his family, and not long afterwards the Elders of the Night came to have their monthly meeting, only to discover that Ajàgùnnà had occupied their place and cut down their trees. They gathered in another grove close by and decided that Ajágùnnà had to die for his
recklessness, along with his family. In a few days Ajàgùnnà became ill and his condition rapidly went from bad to worse with no cure being found. It didn’t take long before death came to him, and when death arrived, Ajàgùnnà asked to be given another chance. He told Ikú that he had learned his lesson; he had come to accept that human beings would never be satisfied. He pleaded with Ikú, promising that he would no longer be disappointed, but rather follow the ways and recommendations of Èṣù and Ifá. A part of a verse telling this story says: Olórí Ilú ṣòro Ifá gbà mí Ọmọ ènìyàn ṣòró o
To be in a high position comes with difficulties Ifá, rescue me The children of men are very difficult
The story tells of how confusion and emotional resentment can cause our isolation from the community, and how choices made when we are in a negative emotional state can lead to more bad choices. Hence, salvation lies in acceptance. In isolating himself from his people, Ajàgùnnà managed to anger the Elders of the Night and was afflicted with àjɶ. This affliction was something which he provoked by allowing disappointment and a negative emotional state to dictate his choices. One bad decision leads to another. This theme is further spoken of in relation to the tree ògùngun (Adansonia digitata), better known as the baobab, which is sacred here and is related to omens. The Yorùbá name means something that is repeated and gives resonance; the presence of this tree in the world invites us to read omens in nature. The baobab is a loner, and can live up to two thousand years. It illustrates the prestige found in this odù, but also the tendency to seclusion, as baobabs are rarely found together, but stand alone, guarding their fruits and their many wonderful healing properties in solitude. Many of the stories in Ôṣɶ speak of disillusion turning into a hatred of the world: this takes the place of the sweetness and prosperity spoken of in this odù. In some situations we see it take the form of self imposed isolation from the world, at others of a vengeful spirit that seeks to inflict pain upon it. These themes are exemplified by the scorpion’s sting. Òjògán, the scorpion, gained his sting and poison in this odù. The story tells of a time when he was bullied and harassed by many enemies. One day he went to his awo to search for a
solution to this situation, and the awo told him that he should make sacrifice to Èṣù with needles and spikes along with poisonous herbs and a goat. Òjògán did as he was told and, as soon as the sacrifice was made, Èṣù took a needle from the ẹbọ and filling it with poison, fitted it to his tail. He was told to sting whoever tried to attack him and he brought about the death of his enemies and was praised as: Tí yóó máa f’iru ṣɶ’gun ọta rẹ (He who conquers his enemies by virtue of his penis). At times, this odù is about giving up on life and allowing oneself to succumb to venereal indulgence or illegal activity. In this context, we find a story about two thieves. They became thieves because they didn’t see any progress in their work and so decided to embark upon a life of crime as a shortcut to wealth. They experienced success for some time, but ended up being shamed by their own people and with their reputations ruined they never managed to embark on anything useful, they were simply marked for life. In this odù, any form of illegal work is always spoken of as a consequence of becoming impatient with waiting for good fortune and desiring a short cut to it, or as the result of giving up on the world and seeking retribution in a self-serving spirit. This is entailed in the concept of ojúkòkòrò, which is the Yorùbá word used for ‘greed,’ ‘envy’ and ‘avarice.’ The word itself means ‘to see the world as an insect.’ Hence to display these attributes is synonymous with the invasive effect of micro-organisms and viruses, it is considered a spiritual illness that jeopardizes our good fortune. These tendencies are found in a story collected by Ibie that speaks of how Ògún, Ọbalúwayé, Ṣàngó and Olókun came to earth in pursuit of wealth. They invited Ôrúnmìlà to take part in this expedition, but he declined and told them that he preferred wealth to find him. These ìrúnmọlẹ went to earth and started to dig for treasure. Ògún had brought all the necessary tools, and was the first to dig. He dug deep, and at some point the earth covered him in an avalanche of soil, and he was rejected from the earth with four cowries placed on his chest. Ọbalúwayé went after Ògún and started to dig, but as he got too deep, an avalanche of earth covered him and the earth rejected him with sixteen cowries on his chest. The same fate befell Ṣàngó and Olókun. All around the corpses were heaps of treasure and the cowries that they had dug up. Noticing that the ìrúnmọlẹ were late returning, Ôrúnmìlà asked Ifá what was going on and was told to make sacrifice of two ladders and some other things. He climbed down to earth on the ladders and saw his dead friends and the heaps of treasure and
money, which he brought back to Ôrun. He gave to the family of each of the deceased compensation in conformity with the cowries on their chest and he himself became a rich man. Hence, this odù is also known as Ôṣɶgùn, which is a term describing the use of excess of strength in the pursuit of what is beautiful; in this case wealth. This form of greed tends to bring out what is treacherous in people, a dark ambition that makes us exclude and hurt others so we can enjoy an abundance that is not always our own. Ibie (1986:236) summarizes well the essential message in this odù: The rainbow cuts the sky wholly And not in halves It is a wicked bird that tries To prevent other birds From flying in the sky My guardian angel Let me prosper along With my contemporaries
ÒFÚN MÉJÌ
ɑe calabash of charaɐer Òfún méjì is often represented by the egg, a reference to the closed calabash of creation and character. The possibility of all things is found in Òfún, hence we have a Bini proverb stating that it was this odù that gave each of the other odùs its laws or vibrations. Òfún means ‘to give out whiteness’ and is also known as Ôràngún méjì, a reference to the progenitor of the Yorùbá people, the force that enabled the wisdom of Ifá to spread throughout the world. Ôràngún is described in the following way: A fún yinyin A kàn yinyin Ôyinyin a kàn bì àlà
What is sparkling in brightness Brightness that spreads out Whiteness that shines in brightness
According to Yorùbá history and genealogy, Ôràngún was the fourth son of Odùduwà, the first king of Ilé Ifɵ and the ancestor of the Yorùbá people. This fourth son was actually named Fagbamila, but received the nickname Ôràngún, which means ‘uprightness rests within’ in reference to his perfection in all ways. Ôràngún received a cutlass named Ogbo (the Elder) from Odùduwà,
which he used to clear sixteen paths in all directions from Ilé Ifɵ to ensure the spread of Odùduwà’s legacy. This repeats a theme concerning kingship that we saw earlier in the case of Ṣàngó, the fourth ruler of Ọyọ state. Again, we are met with the fourth taking on a particular position. The fourth odù is Òdí méjì, which is associated with the concept of àtúnwá or rebirth. In other words, Ôràngún brought a mythical principle to perfection through the birth of a ruler who contained the mystery of creation within himself, and who was truly of an upright character. We can therefore understand Ôràngún to be the force that succeeded in spreading the message of Odùduwà, whose name means ‘character is from the womb’ or ‘character rests in the darkness of the womb.’ Here, Ifá is revealed ultimately to be a philosophy of character, and its diversity. Òfún speaks of three types of people: the achievers, those who follow them, and the bystanders. It adds that those who are wise in their achievements will always be recognized by their calm and joyous disposition. From this, we can see that Òfún, as the progenitor of our world, provided it with two things, upright character and diversity. Òfún states that human beings came to this world to do good, to be wicked, or to do nothing, and this demonstrates the three principal temperaments represented by the three colours, white (calmness), red (vibrancy) and black (darkness). The social classes were born from these temperaments, and with social division there came envy and judgment, ambition and aspiration, as well as resistance to one’s fate. Òfún states in one verse that ‘Ifá is sweeter than honey,’ which serves to remind us that any fate is destined to be a happy one, and that each of us is the author of our fate. Our destiny is a search for fulfillment, happiness and abundance, but fate is a power that invites constant choices as to which act is best suited to this end. These ideas are represented by the parrot, a most important bird in Òfún, where he is a symbol of nobility. One verse speaks of how the parrot wanted to be seen as being more than merely beautiful, and made sacrifice to Èṣù. Èṣù invested him with all kinds of powers and instructed him in how to reap the good will of several òrìṣà. He became seen as a powerful assistant, a noble power in his own right, through giving loyal and unfaltering assistance to Ôbàtálá. Consequently his red tail feathers are used in all initiations, as a sign of spiritual authority calling upon clarity of mind. Òfún speaks of how man is free to choose between good and evil, and stresses the importance of understanding plants and animals as aids in how to
apply wisdom in our choices. It is an odù that speaks of how everything is connected to its source. Òfún méjì tells of the two poles of creation are a splendour of dazzling light that originates from a single source, and of how our experience in the field between the splendour on the right, and that on the left, creates a landscape of contrasts and extremes. The human journey is embarked upon in this field. We learn through the accumulation of experience and the practice of character that the legs of Òfún stand solidly in light and in darkness, and understand that we are beings of upright character. Òfún is the source of light. Light was made manifest in Èjì Ogbè, which opened the road for the human experience riddled with choice, oaths and oath breaking, commitments and the breaking of commitments, love and hatred. Our being and our experiences are reflections of various forms of light, rays, frequencies, perceptions of the possibilities released by Òfún, as the world was created for the sole purpose of leading us to a realization of that original light and whiteness in which our character was born. The beginning and end of the human journey rest in the realization of an upright character. In one verse, the state of the world as generated by Òfún is said to be as follows: Ayé yíí ayé yíí ò ṣẹ o Ayé ní nfọn na eérú Ayé yíí ayé yíí o ṣẹ o Ayé ní nro ka l’éépɵ Ayé yíí ayé yíí o ṣẹ o Ayé yíí ayé yíí ò ṣẹ o Ayé náá níí sọgbá d’ògbun Ayé yíí ayé yíí ò se o Ayé náá níí fon’ná Ògúlùntu Tí wɳn fi njó raa wɳn Día fún gbogbo ɚkànkànlénú irúnmọlɵ Wón pé jó lɚɳs’àjọ Ẹbọ ní wɳn ní ki wɳn wáá ṣẹ The world, the world overflows with wickedness The world is what gathers ashes in place of fire to cook with The world, the world overflows in wickedness The world is what turns sand into food for others
The world, the world, wickedness is everywhere The world is what turns the calabash into a hole The world, the world is spreading wickedness everywhere The world is what gathers red hot stones to press on the bodies of others This was the Ifá divination made for the 401 irúnmọlɵs When they were uniting together in harmony They were told to practice sacrifice This verse refers to the story of the broken calabash in Èjì Ogbè, in which the calabash of character was brought from heaven to earth and dropped, as Ôbàtálá stepped onto the mountain of the world, and its contents were spread everywhere. Thus, Ifá teaches that our world is broken, that we need to reassemble the shards of wisdom into their original unity, both on a personal and global level. The restoration of the world is assigned to the founding of the Ọgbɳni society, which is attributed to this odù. The Ọgbɳni society is a council of Ifá elders who venerate Ônilé and have been assigned the duty of mending the world by aligning themselves with its wisdom. Dr. Abosede Emanuel (2000) revealed some parts of the myth of the foundation of Ọgbɳni in his book on the ‘Odù Ifá.’ He writes of how Òfún met a limbless woman at the gate of Ôrun on one of his journeys between heaven and earth. Òfún took pity on the woman, and asked her to return to earth with him, so he could heal her and make a dwelling for her there. She agreed and they went with him. When they came to the triple junction that separated heaven from earth she asked Òfún to stop and told him that her condition forbade her to dwell in the city or to travel during the day. As they were waiting at the crossroads, Aṣipa, the guardian of the junction, came and helped them cut a road through the thicket until they found a grove where they made a hut which he decorated with palm fronds for her to live in. This hut had no natural entrance and the akòko tree was planted there to mark its location. The dwelling of the limbless woman was called Iledí, meaning ‘The entrance of the house is strange.’ After settling the woman in her reclusive dwelling, Òfún went to his confidant, Apena, to speak with him. Apena had been looking for a wife, and Òfún thought the limbless woman would be perfect for him. Apena agreed and went to her hut to ask her to marry him. She agreed on the condition that he swore an oath never to reveal her condition to anyone and that any visitors coming to her had to be blindfolded, except for Òfún and his court of
Ifá priests (which refers to Ọgbɳni members). The marriage between the limbless woman and Apena was good and they had two children. The first one was named Ogbo, the Elder, in reference to wisdom, and the second one was called Oni, a word signifying to take deep possession of something, which we might translate as ‘keeper.’ It is from the names of these two children that we derive Ọgbɳni, ‘Keepers of the wisdom of the Elders.’ We find this mystery encoded in the way in which the Ọgbɳni society is organized. The elder of the Ọgbɳni society is a woman. She is initiated to Odùdùa, ‘The primal womb.’ Odùdùa is not Odùduwà, but rather the first fruit from Odùdùa taking the form of the progenitor of the Yorùbá people. The owner of Odùdùa in the Ọgbɳni society has a close rapport with the head of the Ìyàmí society, and they are in constant dialogue. The chief of Ọgbɳni has two assistants, Apena and Gesi. Apena is a priest of Ôbàtálá who acts as Odùdùa’s right hand (otun), bestower of abundance and fortune, while Gesi holds the power to regulate taboo and secrecy, as represented by the left hand (osi). Ọgbɳni venerates Ônilé, but Ônilé is venerated through the spirit known as Ědán. The Ọgbɳni word is usually translated as ‘staff’ and refers to the upright character of Ogbo as well as to the erect penis attributed to Òòṣàoko as a symbol of prosperity and victory. This is associated with the new planting of yams after the fields have been burned and made ready to receive seeds. Ědán is the embodiment of upright character.
One verse from Òfún speaks of Ědán as: ‘the one who will mend the world, as if repairing a broken calabash.’ This verse also speaks of how Ědán was Ôrúnmìlà’s companion in Ôrun, which has an association with two of Olódùmarè’s children, Ìwà (Character), and Eṣàn (Retribution). Òfún holds that good character is rooted in the possession of inner peace, patience, love and forgiveness. Baba Adéwuyì writess in his as yet unpublished magnum opus Secrets of Odù Ifá: ‘the mark (Òfún) signifies the establishment of darkness rooted in a mystical phenomenon.’ This means that we need to develop our inner light and realize our true spiritual origin in order to find our way in darkness, which is the practice of character. As another verse says: If the earthworm pays homage to the earth the earth will give it access a little child never pays homage and is found to be destroyed in consequence of it This odù speaks of the first creation of the world and of how when Òfún was confronted with the wickedness on earth he called upon Ôṣɶ to rule the world with him. Òfún himself was stern, merciless and kept ruthlessly to what was right and pure, while Ôṣɶ took delight in punishing all wickedness. At some point the inhabitants of earth grew tired of their despotic ways and gathered together in an attempt to expel Òfún and Ôṣɶ from earth. Following this incident Òfún, together with Ògún and Olókun, decided that Ôrúnmìlà should be the chief of the world. Ôrúnmìlà brought the spirit of Ělà to earth, and allowed its wisdom to penetrate the earth as it had done in heaven, so that everything in creation could be wise. Ělà, however, preferred to dwell in caves and subterranean tunnels where she holds communion with Odùdùa. Ělà was the first babaláwo of Ôrun, the principle of wisdom itself, whose name is usually translated as ‘heaven knows salvation,’ in a call to human beings to bring divine wisdom into their lives so that the darkness can become enlightened. Òfún explains why we tend to see the world in dualist terms, as the right and the left hands fighting each other. This is caused by the panorama of human experience spanning from darkness to light. Òfún is the closed calabash of
mystery, but when the mystery is exposed, experience generates various forms of perception and philosophies in accord with the concept of diversity found here. The return to origin is made possible through téfá, Ifá initiation. Téfá takes place in Igbódù, the forest of mystery. This word speaks of a place where Igbadù is present, either in the forest where she is naturally encountered, or in a designated space where she has been brought into presence. Òfún imparts that the first name of Odù was Ôrɚ Iṣekúṣe, meaning ‘the profound word reveals itself in crooked ways and acts.’ In this first form she was taken to a place called Igbódù in the forest to be raised. This is where everyone who undertakes initiation into Ifá goes. Òfún is about union and perfection, and how diversity is a necessary experience to achieve this realization. This realization is accomplished by unifying the top and bottom of the calabash, to see everything as variations originating from the one. Ifá accomplished this by entering into marriage with Odù and in this unification a profound realization of the harmony encoded in the world was revealed to Ôrúnmìlà in the 256 odù Ifá. It was from this alliance that Ôrúnmìlà realized that the secrets of upright character were to be found in the brightness of primordial light and the cool waters of origin, as one verse says: Adéyẹrí lawo Aláràán Adétutù lawo Àjífɚrɚgbogbolà A dia fún Ôrúnmìlà Ó jí ní kùtù Ó nlọ Lee gbólómitútù níyàwó Ayé Ifá tutu jomi lọ Ayé Ifá tutu jomi lọ ò Ayé Ifá tutu jomi lọ Afèdèfɵyò ló gbólómitútù níyáwó Ayé Ifá tutu jomi lo Adéyẹrí, the crown befits this head, the Ifá priest of Aláràán, Who vested the Egúngún in immaculate clothes Adétutù, the crown is very cold, the priest of Àjífɚrɚgbogbolà, Who wakes up to the benefit of everyone
Were those making Ifá divination for Ôrúnmìlà Who woke up early in the morning To marry ‘She who only bathes in cold water’ The world of Ifá is colder than water The world of Ifá is certainly colder than water The world of Ifá is colder than water ‘He who speaks all languages’ was the one who married her ‘She who only bathes in cold water’ The world of Ifá is colder than water The brightness of Òfún is found in the ojú (eyes). The eyes were created by Ôbàtálá to be the pathfinders of the body and soul. Great responsibility came with this position and as such the eyes became the guide of the human being. In Ifá, the eyes are related to days and hours and the experience of first light. The word ojú is related to the days of the weeks and the months of a year and denotes a capacity for observation. The eyes point the way and observe the world, but the use we make of the experience of the world which the eyes transmit to us falls outside their domain. The eyes do not judge, the orí is what judges. As mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, this odù is concerned with diversity, social roles, and classifications. Consequently, it also speaks of succession and timeliness. It speaks of how phases within our life can be as shifting as social positions. We find here a story about Ôràngún, who was childless in spite of his greatness. He had many wives, but was not able to father a child with any of them. He went to his awo for a divination and was told that he would indeed father a child. It would be a male child that would be be prestigious and famous. Before the year was out he indeed fathered a male child who was called Ariwoọlá. However, at the naming ceremony of the child, Ôràngún was told that Ariwoọlá would outshine his already glorious father. Therefore Ôràngún decided to send his child out from the city of Ìlá to be raised by people he could trust not to reveal his royal heritage. Ariwoọlá grew up rapidly, and gained prestige, honour and followers and was treated as royalty. When he came of age he decided to visit his father in Ìlá and he dressed up in whiteness, glory and splendor with a host of followers in his train, to bear witness to the visit. As Ariwoọlá entered his father’s city the people of Ìlá said that a king even greater than their great king Ôràngún had
arrived. None of them knew this was the son of their king. They welcomed Ariwoọlá as a true king and his father realized that the time had come for him to abdicate the throne to his son, which he did. Ariwoọlá entered the history of Yorùbá as one of their greatest kings ever. The verse speaks of the importance of making room for new powers and acknowledging that one’s work has been done so that it is possible to move on to new experiences as much as it speaks of the importance of accepting the shifting state of Ayé. Òrángún demonstrated greatness in his acceptance and the manner in which he avoided resistance; in this way he perpetuated his legacy and name for the benefit of all the people. Acceptance and resistance are related to Olóríre, the Lucky One. Òfún imparts that the concept of luck – to be at the right place at the right time with the means to take advantage of the situation – rests in a spirit of acceptance and interest. The Ifá medicine known as ọṣẹèrò was created here as a means of attracting luck and expelling resistance. Ọṣẹèrò is a combination of enchantments and powders fused with black soap (ọṣẹdúdú) that expels negativity and creates an opening for luck and good fortune. This remedy was offered to Olóríre at a time when people were trying to kill him out of envy, and he wanted to find an alternative solution to retaliation. He used the ọṣẹèrò and their hostility soon turned into praise and fame. This avoidance of hatred and enmity is in contrast to the story of Ěrùúbàmi. Ěrùúbàmi was a manufacturer of bean cakes and was well known for the quality of her products. She was, however, greedy and jealous with her bean cakes, and refused to give anything for free to anyone, even if they were hungry or in order to demonstrate the good quality of her products. One day the chief of the witches came to the market where Ěrùúbàmi was frying bean cakes and begged her for a taste. Ěrùúbàmi refused, but the witch insisted and pleaded until Ěrùúbàmi told her to get lost, as she was not in the market out of charity. As night fell, the chief gathered the other witches together and told them how she had been shamed in the market by Ěrùúbàmi. They decided that she had to be punished for her lack of generosity. The night after the incident, the witches sent the birds and animals over which they had control to reside around the dwelling of Ěrùúbàmi and, from then on, terror, dread and nightmares infested her life. In a matter of days she had withered away from fright so much that she expected death at any moment. It was then that she went to her awo for divination. Her awo told her that this situation had been generated by her insulting behaviour and lack of charity, and that she needed to make peace with
the witches by offering them bean cakes for free for the next three days. She did this, and on the third night the birds and animals which had been sent to torment her departed. After this, she returned to the market, only to discover that her business was gone. Another person had taken over her business, the people preferred to buy from them and were no longer interested in what she had to offer. This is an important story as it highlights compassion, generosity and charity. We are all in the same situation, the human journey, and on this journey a helping hand receives help in return. The attitude displayed by Ěrùúbàmi attracted a negative vibration. The story says that the witches caused this situation, but in this particular incident it was not àjɶ that came to her, but another spiritual intrusion, which is known as èèmò. Èèmò is a disruptive force that takes joy in inspiring pain and sorrow and feeding bodily filth in order to ignite feelings of dread, fear and negative mental states. This is an interesting class of spirits, as they are reputed to inspire antinomian and rebellious attitudes which are seen as an illness of the soul that attracts false friends or as Òfún says: ‘companions of common darkness.’ No matter how much we try to change the wicked ones we need to be prepared for the persistence of wickedness, as it is something we attract on the human journey. It is a consequence of bad choices. If bad choices are perpetuated, more will follow. You are bound to find yourself in hostile environments as life progresses, and every hostile situation invites acceptance and resistance, retribution and blessing. In every predicament in which the emotions are hot and provocation is close, a calm and cool character will always provide the best solution. The following verse captures this well: Bágbɳn ó ṣoro a tìdí bọlé Bídà ó ṣoro a téèkù bàkɚ Kòròwò àgbagbà ni wɳn dífá fún Nígbá ti nje nírɚgbun ɚtá Wɳn ní ki àgbagbà ó rúbo Ó si rú u Ó si ṣɶgun àwọn ɚtáa rɵ Ó wáà nyin àwọn awoo rɵ Àwọn awoo rɵ nyin Ifá Ó ní bágbɳn ó soro
A tìdí bọlé Bídà ó ṣoro A tèèkù bàkɚ Kɚrɚwɚ àgbagbà ni wɳn dífá fún Nígbà ti njẹ nírɚgbun ɚtá Ôrúnmìlá ló dòsùrùnsùrù Oba Aládé ntorí ɚtáá bọmi ‘When the wasp seeks to sting, she points her anus to her hive When the sword seeks to strike, its handle points to its sheath’ Was the one who made divination for the tall banana palm When she was living among enemies The banana palm was told to make sacrifice And she did As a result, she conquered her enemies She praised the priests of Ifá And the priests of Ifá praised Ifá She said, ‘When the wasp seeks to sting, she points her anus to her hive When the sword seeks to strike, its handle points to its sheath’ Was the one who made divination for the tall banana palm When she was living among enemies Ôrúnmìlà said he would repeatedly plunge into the water The head of the enemy There is one story which combines those elements of luck, cleanliness, acceptance, generosity and resistance which occur in the stories of Ěrùúbàmi and Olóríre, and addresses the importance of love. This story speaks of how Ôrúnmìlà was going to marry Ijó (Dance), Ayò (Joy) and Adùn (Sweetness). He was advised to treat these women with respect, recognition and love. Initially he did so, but as life went well for him he became careless, with everything from his personal hygiene to attending to his clients and business. Whenever his wives tried to reason with him he told them to back off and leave him be. One day they had enough of his attitude and left him, and with their departure, all things joyous, sweet and worthy left his life. In this story, Ôrúnmìlà’s bodily hygiene was addressed, on the basis that all other issues of soul and mind would be resolved by taking care of the cleanliness of his body.
Ôrúnmìlà solved this problem by collecting 201 Ifá leaves: he reduced these to ashes while reciting words of power over them and mixed them into black soap. He made a ceremony for his orí and his Ifá and washed his ìkíns and his body and committed himself to cleanliness of body, mind and soul. In doing so, he accepted love, joy, sweetness and good fortune into his life. A part of one verse says: Fífɶ tí a fé ni la fí n bá níí ṣe Mímɚ ti a mọ’ni la fí n bá níí lò B’ɶni ò tilɵ fɶ ni mó B’ɶni ò tilɵ m’ɚníyàn mó Kí kálukú máa dá ṣe iṣɶ araa rɵ It is the love we share that makes us bond with one another It is the recognition we give one another that kindles goodness within If love is found to be wanting And if we do not recognize one another Let us all walk separate roads Òfún is concerned with the abuse of power and with overestimating one’s capacity for both giving and resisting. It provides us with many stories of the failure of good intentions, or of aspirations that are not fully achieved. Òfún speaks of the importance of completing our tasks and setting worthwhile goals which we can pursue diligently. In doing good for others, remember to first do good for your family. Around 70 herbs, shrubs and trees are associated with Òfún. The three which are most important and sacred to Odù, and indispensable to Ifá in general, are: Ôdúndún (Kalanchoe crenata), an edible plant with many medicinal properties. It can be used to speed up recovery from wounds and respiratory problems. It serves as a remedy to remove irritation from the eyes and is associated with gentleness and sweetness spreading across the earth. It thrives best in the forest in dark, humid places, but can thrive under the sun in dry soil. Tɵtɵrɵgún (Costus sp.), a plant sacred to Ôbàtálá. It is a relative of ginger and saffron, and is associated with ancestry and ancestral wisdom. This species of plants is one of the few that exists in a healthy symbiosis with ants.
The plant provides cover for the ants and in return they protect the seed bulbs instead of consuming them. The plant is used to ward off death and enemies, as demonstrated by its medicinal use of curing bites from poisonous snakes. Rinrin (Peperomi pellucida), also known as Pepper Elder, is used to wash the eyes of the awo before seeing Odù, hence it is thought to be the plant used to build the hut of the crippled woman who became the chief of Ọgbɳni. It has several medicinal properties, one of which is to combat inflammation, irritation of the eyes, and a host of other impediments ranging from rheumatism and fever to gout and renal disorders. The plant is edible and rich in nutrients. It prefers humid places and possesses an extraordinary capacity to spread out and take over abandoned and rocky areas. What these plants have in common is a capacity to spread out and enter into amiable liaisons with whatever climate and soil they are confronted with. They demonstrate the importance of standing upright, overflowing with qualities that bring health, joy and clarity of mind. These plants are like mountains of power and healing and the mountain is ever a symbol of upright character, as the following verse states: Àtɶlẹsè abara pɶlɶbɶ A día fún ẹni-apáòká Ẹni apáòká lorúkọ à á pòkè Ogún ọdún òní o Òkè mbẹ láìkú gbọingbọin Gbọingbọin mò ni tòkè
‘The soles of the feet are always flat’ Was the awo who divined for ‘He who cannot be subdued’
‘He who cannot be subdued’ is another name for the mountain Today and for another twenty years The mountain will be alive and as strong Òkè, òkè gboingboin forever Ọgbɚn ọdún òní o The mountain will always be so strong Òkè mbẹ láìkú gbọingbọin The mountain, the mountain, Gbọingbọin ni tòkè which is firm and strong Òkè, òkè gbọingbọin Thirty years from now The mountain will remain strong forever The mountain will always remain strong forever The mountain, the mountain
will always be strong and firm
ÔṢěTüRÁ
Èṣù & the design of the world Ôṣɶtúrá holds a unique position in the corpus of Ifá. It is this odù which enables communication between the visible and invisible realms through the intervention of Èṣù. As the bridge of communication, it is the odù that makes it possible for magic to work and prayers to be answered. It speaks of the birth of Èṣù as a companion of Ifá. Ôṣɶtúrá is the seed of beginning, the fiery seed that caused the 16 primordial powers to interact and generate the 240 omo odù, or combination odù. Hence Èṣù can be considered the + 1 to the sixteen méjìs. Ôṣɶtúrá directly addresses the foundation of creation and discloses the mystery of beginning. It is proper therefore to conclude this book with a few words on Ôṣɶtúrá, as this will place the tail of the serpent in its mouth. The universe came into existence from one source which then divided into four vibrations, the first four odù. This source of the odù is known as òyígíyigì, meaning ‘stone of beginning.’ These four odù interacted with one another and generated the additional twelve odù, giving sixteen in total. The power that caused òyígíyigì to separate into the first four odù and then to interact with each other to generate the sixteen odù méjì, and then the 240 omo
odù, giving 256 vibrations in total, was caused by the potency known as Èṣù, the seed of generation and creation, separation and coagulation. Ôṣɶtúrá speaks of how creation and the earth were endowed with these energies by the work of the 401 ìrúnmọlẹ, who aided in the harmonious establishment of the energies vibrating from Odù. The first harmony they established was the forest and in the thicket of the forest they cleared a grove where Odù would dwell. This place was called Igbódù, ‘The forest of Odù’ or ‘The forest of mystery.’ This place was also known as Igbó ɚrɚ, ‘The forest of mysterious and powerful words,’ and became associated with the power of prayers, songs and enchantments. They then made another clearing and called Egúngún to dwell there. After this, a third grove was made sacred, which was the forest of Ifá, and then a fourth, which was made sacred to òrìṣà. These places of veneration were also known as ojúbɚ, which encompasses the idea of ‘a forest of sight’ that demands respect. Ôṣɶtúrá tells us that the ìrúnmọlẹ sent to ensure this primordial order was Ôṣun. She was elected because she was so brimful with ìwà pele that Olódùmarè gave her a crown of crystals so she could reflect these magnificent powers in all directions. The ènìyàn, however, were reluctant to accept Ôṣun and treated her with little regard. The story speaks of a turning point; in some versions, it says that the people of the world refused to build a hut for her, leading to her isolation in the forest; and in other versions it speaks of how she was refused food. I will use the latter version, which speaks of a time when the people of the world were sending her animals to cook. After a successful hunt there was much food to prepare, and Ôṣun made many wonderful dishes. She brought these to the feast held to celebrate the success of the hunt. Although she had prepared the food, she was not allowed to join in the feast. As a result of this disrespect, Ôṣun called upon the powers of Ìyàmí Àpákì (great mother who nurses the vulture) to block good fortune. With the presence of this power in the world, nothing the ènìyàn did produced any results. They felt as if Olódùmarè had turned his back on them. As the situation went from bad to worse, the people of the world went to Ôrúnmìlà for divination and it was Ôṣɶtúrá that appeared for them. Ôrúnmìlà brought four of his students with him and prepared to go to Olódùmarè to clarify the matter. On the way he met Èṣù, who told him what had been going on and how to remedy the situation. Ôrúnmìlà returned to the world and told the people that they needed to make amends for the disrespect they had shown to Ôṣun and offer her full
participation in all the affairs of men, and to acknowledge her dignity. As the verse says: Olódùmaré níkí wɳn lo fímò ṣe tirɵ Wɳn wá padà wá sílé ayé Wɳn wá fìmɚṣe t’Ôṣun Nígbànáà gbogbo èro àti ìṣe Wɳn bɵrɵ síí gún Nítorínáà, a fímɚ jɶ t’Ôṣun Yèyé wa a bá wɳn pé nímò
Olódùmaré told them that they should go and give due respect to Ôṣun They returned to earth and they gave due respect to Ôṣun it was then their efforts gave success and things started go right for them Because of this we give due respect to Ôṣun Our ever present mother
They did as they were told, and Ôṣun dismissed the powers of Ìyàmí Àpákì, declaring that she accepted their change of heart. But she also said that she would leave the earth as a consequence of their last offence. Before her departure, she foretold that she would give birth to a male child who would take her place and that she was in need of the assistance of the awos of the world to make this happen. For nine days and nights they aided her gestation, because the seed she carried was female, but it was paramount that the child should be born a male to ensure success in its work on earth. On the ninth night she gave birth to a male child. Ôrúnmìlà came with his diviners and they all went to the forest of Odù to divine the name this child would be called by, and what destiny he would incarnate. Before the divination, the awos of the world said that his name should be Àṣëtúrá, meaning, ‘we begot this power,’ while Ôṣun said that she preferred him to be known as Akín Ôsɳ, ‘powerful one who sows discord.’ As the odù that came up for the child was Ôṣɶ on the right and Òtúrá on the left, Ôrúnmìlà said that he would be known as Ôṣɶtúrá. Ôṣun agreed, but added that he should also be called Akín Ôsɳ, because great powers resided in him. Ôṣun said that they would now respect the seventeenth among them, because without him, nothing would bear fruit. Ôrúnmìlà agreed and declared the work to be done well. Ôṣun left the world, but when Ôṣɶtúrá was still very young a drought harmed the earth. Three years passed without rain and the situation grew
critical. The people of the world went to Ôrúnmìlà for a divination to see what could be done. They were told that an offering had to be prepared to Olódùmarè and Ayélalà (the community of female powers in Ôrun). They were told that Èjì Ogbè and Ôyɵkú méjì had to bring the ẹbọ to the doors of Ôrun but that Akín Ôsɳ Ôṣɶtúrá had to deliver it. They were reluctant to send the young boy on such an important errand and decided that one of the sixteen méjì odù should go instead. Each méjì tried to enter Ôrun in succession, but the doors were closed to them. They then admitted that the task should be given to the youngest of them all, Ôṣɶtúrá. Ôṣɶtúrá went off to prepare himself for the journey, but on the way to his house he met a spirit that presented himself as ‘very ancient and mysterious.’ This spirit told him that he should abstain from food before going on this journey in order to reap all the honour and respect promised him. He did as advised, and as he set off for Olódùmarè he met Èṣù, who asked him where he thought he was going. Ôṣɶtúrá said that he was delivering a sacrifice to Olódùmarè on behalf of the people of the world. Èṣù offered him food to eat before the journey, but Ôṣɶtúrá said that he had been advised by a mysterious spirit not to eat anything beforehand and asked if Èṣù had any other advice to offer him. Èṣù smiled and told him that everything would be fine, that he would find the doors wide open, and that he himself would follow him on the journey. As promised the doors were wide open, and they entered into the presence of Olódùmarè and delivered the sacrifice. In return, Olódùmarè gave bundles of rain and many other secrets to Ôṣɶtúrá. As they started the journey, Ôṣɶtúrá dropped one of the bundles of rain and the earth was again made fertile and abundant. When Ôṣɶtúrá arrived at the world, he saw crops and plants in full bloom, the rivers full and joy everywhere. When the people saw him they approached him in gratitude and respect and conferred honour and dignity upon him, just as they had promised his mother Ôṣun. In addition to this, they brought him many gifts, a hut and food. Ôṣɶtúrá gave these gifts and the larger part of the food to Èṣù Òdàrà in gratitude for his wise counsel and companionship, declaring that Èṣù should always be served first, because the mission would not have been successful without him. Hence the last part of this verse in Ôṣɶtúrá says the following about the powers vested in Èṣù (Bascom 1969 a: 466): ‘Sore throat takes the good from the plate’ Was the one who cast Ifá for all the people on
Earth when they were afflicted with illness. Èṣù Says that the sacrifice will be effective if they will Do as he says. The people of earth came and made sacrifices From that day on, the world began to be good And from this story we have the following orin (song) that celebrates this function of Èṣù: Èṣù bɚ wá bá wa ré ìkóríta Èṣù gbà A gbé ẹbọ rè ìkóríta Èṣù gbà Lègbàrà gbé ẹbọ rè ìkóríta Èṣù gbà Ọba ló ni òpó Èṣù Ôdàrà ló ni ìkóríta Èṣù gbà Jé a mu àṣẹ bɚ ìkóríta Èṣù gbà, Jɶ a mu àṣẹ bɚ ìkóríta Èṣù gbà
Èṣù come here and follow us to the crossroad Èṣù, receive it Lègbàrà, bring the sacrifice to the crossroad Èṣù take it The king belongs on the throne Like Èṣù Òdàrà belongs to the crossroads Èṣù receive the sacrifice And take it to the crossroad Receive it, Èṣù So the return to the crossroad Is done in powerful ways Èṣù, receive it
The birth of Ôṣɶtúrá brought harmony between the forces of Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà, the àjɶs, and the sixteen primordial forces. In this capacity, Ôṣɶtúrá embodies the concept of salvation more commonly associated with Ělà, the spirit of Ôrúnmìlà, in the form of retribution and answers to petitions and pleas. Ôṣɶtúrá states that salvation and answered prayers are possible because of woman, as exemplified by Ôṣun, first apetẹbi (wife) of Ôrúnmìlà. It is here that we see how woman has access to the àṣẹ of abundance and àjɶ, the spiritual forces that hinder good fortune. Due to the importance of woman in this odù, we also find the belief that the appearance of a woman at the moment of performing sacrifice is a manifestation of Ôṣɶtúrá, confirming acceptance of the work performed. This belief is related to another story in this odù, which is more explicit in
detailing the nature of the mysterious union of Ôṣun and Ôrúnmìlà which gave birth to Ôṣɶtúrá. In this story the child is called Tí Ôṣun Tù Wá which means ‘A part of Ôṣun and a part of Òtúrá.’ This mysterious story speaks of how Ôṣun was so beautiful that all the ìrúnmọlẹs desired her, but no one managed to get close to her. Ôrúnmìlà however, with the cunning aid of the ìrókò, managed to establish a field in dreams in which a union occurred. This union in the realm of dreams eventually led to the marriage between Ôṣun and Ôrúnmìlà. Ôṣɶtúrá is the child of this mysterious union, which gave Èṣù praise names such as Ôdàrà, ‘Mysterious and powerful magician.’ Èṣù has 201 praise names defining qualities of his expression, many of them refer to his being the issue of a mysterious union, whilst others apply to his function. Some of these praise names are: Ẹlɶgbà/ Ẹlɶgbárá: ‘Powerful one who knows the powers that generate success/salvation’; Láàlú: ‘The famous one’; Ěbìtà Ọkùnrin: ‘Strong man solid as the first rock’; Alágbára: ‘He who influences people’s lives so that they can become stronger’; Alágógo Ìjá: ‘Lord who holds the bell of discord’; Bàrà: ‘Owner of power/àṣẹ’; Alakétu: ‘Chief of Ketu Land’; Látọɳpa: ‘Perfect one who established the order of the worlds’; Yangí: ‘Owner of the first stone’; Ẹlẹbọ: ‘He who brings the sacrifice’; Okòtó: ‘Owner of all things infinite’; Okoburú: ‘Owner of the wicked cudgel’; Iná: ‘Fiery one’; Ẹlepo: ‘He who drinks/owns palm oil’; Laroyɶ: ‘He who gives humble reverence to the Mothers.’ Ôṣɶtúrá is always involved in the conclusion of any sacrifice, because it is only through this potency that the road between the realms can be opened and communication made possible between the world of men and the invisible world. One famous verse speaks of the intense relationship we find between Èṣù, Ôrúnmìlà, Odù and àjɶ; and of how Èṣù is the force that transforms misfortune into fortune and brings about stability and order. This verse is borrowed from Epega and Neimark’s The Sacred Ifá Oracle (1995: 528): Akakanika, Akakanika, Alakakanika, Alapasapa ijaka’lu Ẹyẹkan fo fẹẹrẹfẹ o wọle Akakanika li a ape Ifá Alakakanika li aape Odù Alapaṣapa-ijaka´lu li aape Èṣù Ôdàrà Ẹyẹ kan fo fẹẹrẹfẹ o wọle li aape Ajé ọmọ Olókun sande Ọba olubu-omi,
Ôgɚ Ọwoni Èṣù Ôdàrà, iwọ liotẹ ilú yi do Iwo nikiijẹki ebi kiopa Aláwo ilú Iwo nikiijẹki ebi kiopa Onísegùn Ilú Iwo nikiijẹki ebi kiopa Adáhunse ilu Emi Aláwo ilú yi ree Emi Oníṣegùn ilú yi ree Emi Adáhunṣe ilú yi ree Èṣù Ôdàrà majẹk’ebi pa mi ati bẹẹbẹẹ Akakanika, Akakanika, Alakakanika, Alapasapa ijaka’lu ‘A bird flew violently into the house’ Akakanika is the name given to Ifá Alakakanika is the name we give to Odù Alapasapa-ijaka’lu is the name we give to Èṣù Ôdàrà ‘A bird flew violently into the house’ is the name we give to Ajé, child of Olokun sande, owner of the waters Ôgɚ Ọwoni Èṣù Ôdàrà, you established this town You delivered the babaláwos in this city from starvation You delivered the doctors of this town from starvation, as you did with the herbalists I am the babaláwo of that town I am the doctor, herbalist and babaláwo of that town Èṣù Ôdàrà you will not let me starve (and so on) As we see from this brief presentation of an intense mystery of 201 layers, Èṣù is the product of beauty and wisdom and is the force that ensures stability in the world. Èṣù executes the task of Ôṣun, to oversee the order of the worlds. This order is maintained by the action performed in every situation in which we make a choice, represented by the crossroads. The work of Èṣù at the crossroads is primarily about making us realize the right choice and act upon it, and secondly, to make us realize that whether we wish to be, or not, we are part of a community. This community is with the Ẹgbë in Ôrun, with nature, with spiritual forces and fellow human beings. Ifá is a philosophy of character, and it is the cultivation of good character
that enables us to make the right choice and attract abundance and stability into our lives. It is by cultivating good character, with one foot in beauty and the other in wisdom, that we will walk the world gently and find Èṣù as our companion on this bittersweet, yet always blessed journey that we undertake as spiritual beings in human form, as ènìyàn, and accomplish the challenge presented in the following verse in Èjì Ogbè (Karenga’s translation): Mo ṣípá; mo yan gede A dífá fún Ôrúnmìlá Wɳn ní Baba ò ní lè rẹrù rɵ dalɶ Èmi nìkán ni n ó rẹrù mi dalɶ Mo ṣípá; mo yan gede I lift up my arms and walk in joyful satisfaction This was the teaching of Ifá for Òrúnmìlá They said Baba would not be able to carry Out his responsibilities to the end of his life But I will carry out my responsibilities to the end of my life And so I lift up my arms and walk with Dignity and measured movement
Glossary Àbíkú Literally ‘born to die.’ It refers to the concept of reincarnation, specifically concerning a child that returns to earth, but which is constantly called back by its ties to the society of beings in heaven; see: Ẹgbẹ; hence the phenomenon known as infant death syndrome. Adé Crown. Adému Food offerings. Àdúrà Prayer. Àfɚṣẹ Incantation/enchantment. Àgbá Elder, wise person, old person. Agbo Medicine. Àjɶ A reference to the powers of Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà, the ‘Powerful mother who owns the birds of night.’ These powers are associated with birds and ‘hot’ emotions. Ajogún Spirits of misfortune that bring loss, poverty, death. Álá Light that illuminates in a spiritual sense. Àlà Dreams, whiteness, white cloth. Apetẹbi The wife of Ifá, a reference to a woman who is married to a Babaláwo. Àṣẹ Spiritual and dynamic power that has the potential to cause change. Aṣọ Cloth. Awo Secret, mystery, also used in reference to the Ifá diviner, see: Babaláwo. Ayé Our Earth, the place where humans, ancestors and spirits meet. Ayélalá The collective spirit of ‘the Mothers.’ Baba Father, also a reference to any person old enough to be the father of the one who is calling the person. Babaláwo Father of Secrets, the name given to experienced elder Awo/Ifá diviners. Burú Something destructive, negative, wicked. Dafá Ifá divination. Dúdú Black, blackness, darkness, concealed. Dùn Sweetness.
Ẹbọ Sacrifice, offering to Egún or a spiritual force. Ěbọra A reference to the spiritual forces that assisted in the creation of Earth and took on protective roles in creation, a word denoting bravery and courage. Éègun Human bones. Efun/Ẹfun White chalk. Égún/Egún Ancestor. Ẹgbẹ Companion, society, community; also a reference to the society of peers in Ôrun/heaven/the invisible realm. Èmí/ɵmí Breath, spirit of life. Ènìyàn Enlightened/empowered human being. Èpè Curse. Ẹpọ Palm oil. Ewé Herb, plant, leaf. Funfun Whiteness, also a reference to the class of spiritual forces related to primordial consciousness and light, such as Ôbàtálá and Olókun. Gbɶrɶ Incision, cut, mark made with a sharp object. Ìbà Homage, reverence, praise. Ìbeji Twins. Ìbó Ifá pathfinders, used in divination to define the orientation of a reading. Ibòji Comforting shade. Ide Beaded bracelets indicating that a form of initiation has been done. Igbá Calabash, container. Igbámɳlɵ Calabash of light/whiteness. Igbó Forest. Igbódù ‘Forest of mystery,’ a reference to the process of initiation. Ìkín The sacred palm nuts used in Ifá divination. Ìkɚlè Realm. Ikú Death. Ilé House, ground. Ìmɳlɵ Splendour of brightness/knowledge. Iná Fire. Ìráwɚ Stars. Ire Good fortune. Ìrúnmọlẹ Primordial and timeless beings from the primordial brightness. Ìwà Character.
Ìwà rere Good, joyous, calm, content character. Íwín Spirits of the Wood which are attributed qualities similar to those of a ‘ghost’ or a ‘fairy.’ Ìyàmí Powerful Mother. Iyawo Wife, also a term used to define those newly initiated, as the term is also used for the newly wedded. Ìyɵròsùn Divination powder. Lálá Dreaming. Méjì Two, pair. Ọba King. Obi/Obì Kola nut. Ọfɚ Word of power. Ogun War, battle. Ọjà Market. Ojú Eye; to see. Ọkàn Heart. Oko Farm. Oluwo Ọgbɳni Chief diviner. Ọmọ Child. Omi Water. Onílé/Ônilé ‘Owner of the house/earth/ground,’ praise name for the spirit of Earth. Óògún Magical medicine. Ôpɵlɵ Wife of Ôrúnmìlà; also the name given to the divining chain of the Awo. Ọpọn Divination tray. Orí Consciousness, head, summit. Oríkì Prayer. Orin Song. Òrìṣà Spiritual force in nature. Òrò Word, also the name for the spirit of the word identified with law, justice and social regulation.. Orógbó Bitter kola nut. Ôrun The invisible realm where ancestors and the immortal spirits live, mankind’s true home. Ọṣẹdúdú Black soap.
Òṣì Left. Òṣó Spirit of mysterious and powerful transformation. Osùn Red camwood. Ọti Alcoholic liquor. Ôtún Right. Owó Money/cowry shell. Oyin Honey. Pupa Red, redness. Rere Kindness, gentleness. Sùúrù Patience. Ṣòótitọ Truthfulness. Tutu Cool, calm.
Seleɐed Bibliography Abimbọla, Wande (1997). Ifá: An Exposition of Ifá Literary Corpus. Athelia Henrietta Press, New York, US. ——— (1977). Ifá Divination Poetry. Nok Pub, Nigeria. ——— (ed.) (1975). Yoruba Oral Tradition. Ibadan University Press, Nigeria. Abosede, Emanuel (2000). Odun Ifa (IFA Festival). West African Book Publishers Limited, Nigeria. Adekson, Mary, O. (2003). The Yoruba Traditional Healers of Nigeria. Routledge, US. Adeoye, C. L. (1979). Àsà Àti ìse Yoruba. Oxford University Press, Nigeria. Adewuyi, C. www.akamara.com.br Awolalu, J. Omosade (1996). Yoruba Beliefs & Sacrificial Rites. Athelia Henrietta Press, New York. Babayemi, S.O. (1980). Egúngún among the Oyo Yoruba. Board Publications Ltd, Ibadan, Nigeria. Barnes, Sandra, T. (ed.) (1997). Africa’s Ogun. Indiana University press, Indiana. Barros, José Flávio Pessoas de (1993). O Segredo das Folhas. Universidade do Rio de Janeiro, Rio de Janeiro. Bascom, William (1969a). IFA Divination: Communication between Gods and Men in West Africa. Indiana University Press, Indiana. ——— (1969b). The Yoruba of Southwestern Nigeria. Waveland Press, Illinois. Bastide, Roger (1978). The African Religions of Brazil: Towards a Sociology of the Interpenetration of Civilizations. Johns Hopkins, Baltimore. Bockie, Simon (1993). Death and the Invisible Powers: The World of Kongo Belief. University of Indiana Press, Indiana. Boethius (2010). The Consolation of Philosophy. Harvard University Press, US. Courlander, Harold (1973). Tales of Yoruba Gods & Heroes. Original Publications, New York, US. ——— (1996). A Treasury of African Folklore. Marlowe & Co., New York. Deleuze, Gilles (1995). Difference and Repetition. Columbia University Press, US.
Drewal, Margaret Thompson (1992). Yoruba Ritual. Indiana University Press, Bloomington. ——— & Henry John Drewal (1983). Gelede: Art and Female Power among the Yoruba. Indiana University Press, Indiana. Edwards, Gary & John Mason (1985). Black Gods:Órísà Studies in the New World. Yoruba Theological Archministry, New York. Elebuibon, Ifayemi (1994). Apetebii, the Wife of Orunmila. Athelia Henrietta Press, New York. ——— (2000). The Healing Power of Sacrifice. Athelia Henrietta Press, New York. Ellis, A. B. (1894). The Yoruba-Speaking Peoples of the Slave Coast of West Africa. Chapman and Hall, London. Epega, Afolabi A. & Phillip John Neimark (1995). The Sacred Ifa Oracle. Harper Collins, San Francisco. Fakinlede, Kayode, J. (2003). Modern Practical Dictionary. Yoruba – English. Hippocrene Books Inc., New York. Fálàdé, Fásínà (1998). IFÁ: The Key to its Understanding. Àrà Ifá Publishing, California. Fama, Chief (1992). Fundamentals of the Yoruba Religion (Òrìsà Worship). Ilé Òrúnmìlà Communications, California. ——— (1994). Sixteen Mythological Stories of Ifá. Ilé Òrúnmìlà Communications, California. Fatunmbi, Fa’lokun (1992a). Awo: Ifá and the Theology of Orisha Divination. Original Publishing, New York. ——— (1992b). Esu–Elegba: Ifá and the Divine Messenger. Original Publishing, New York. ——— (1994). Ìbà se Òrìsà: Ifà Proverbs, Folktales, Sacred History and Prayer. Original Publishing, New York. ——— (2001). Dafá. Awosina Publications, Ohio. ——— (2006). Family Spirit. Athelia Henrietta Press, US. ——— (2013). Ebora: Ifa and the Hero’s Journey (The Metaphysical Foundations of Ifa Vol. 2) CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform. Frisvold, Nicholaj de Mattos (2006). Arts of the Night. Chadezoad, US. Guénon, R. (2001). Symbols of Sacred Science. Sophia Perennis Press, US. Herbert, Eugenia W. (1993). Iron, Gender and Power: Rituals of Transformation in African Societies. Indiana University Press, Indiana. Hounwanou, Remy, T. (1978/97). Lê Fa: Un Géomancie Divinatore de Golfe du Benin. Lês Nouvelles Editions Africaines, Cotonou, Benin.
Ibie, C. Osamoro (1986). Ifism: The Complete Work of Orunmila. Efehi Ltd., Lagos, Nigeria. Idowu, E. Bolaji (1994). Olódùmarè: God in Yoruba Belief. 2nd edition. Original publishing, New York. Johnson, Samuel (1920). The History of the Yorubas. Routledge & Kegan Paul, London. Joseph, Ifawumi (2003). The Ogboni Society Iconography and Metaphysics. Ifogbontaayese Newsletter, issue number 8, Oyo, Nigeria. Karenga, Maulana (1999). Odù Ifá: The Ethical Teachings. University of Sankore Press, USA. Karp, Ivan & Charles S. Bird (eds.) (1980). Explorations in African Systems of Thought. Indiana University Press, Indiana. Lawal, Babatunde (1996). The Gèlèdé Spectacle. University of Washington Press, Washington. Màkindè, M. A. (1983) ‘Ifá as a Repository of Knowledge.’Odù: A Journal of West African Studies, 23: 11–121. Màkindè, Olù (1984). Fundamentals of Guidance and Counselling. Macmillan, UK. Mason, John (1985a). Black Gods: Òrìsà Studies in the New World. Yoruba Theological Arch-ministry, New York. ——— (1985b). Four New World Yoruba Rituals. Yoruba Theological Archministry, New York. ——— (1992). Orin Òrìsà: Songs for Selected Heads. Yoruba Theological Archministry, New York. Moura, Carlos Eugênio Marcondes de (ed.) (1994). As Senhoras do Pássaro da Noite. Universidade de São Paulo, São Paulo. Mudimbe, V. Y. (1988). The Invention of Africa: Gnosis, Philosophy and the Order of Knowledge. Indiana University Press, Indiana. Odùgbemi, Ifáshade (n.y). Ifá Ìwè Odù Mimo. Nuevosescritores, Venezuela. Peel, John, D. Y. (2000). Religious Encounter and the Making of the Yoruba. Indiana University Press, Indiana. Plotinus (1991). The Enneads. Penguin, US. Pópóọlá, S. Solágbadé (1997). Practical Ifá Divination. Athelia Henrietta Press, New York. ——— (2009). Ifá Dídá. Àsèfín Media, Lagos. Prandi, Reginaldo (2001). Mitologia dos Orixás. Companhia da Letras, São Paulo, Brazil. Ray, Benjamin C. (1976). African Religions: Symbol, Ritual & Community.
Prentice-Hall, NJ. Salami, Sikiru (1990). A Mitologia dos Orixás Africanos. Editora Oduduwa, Brazil. ——— (1999). Poemas de Ifá e valores de conduta social entre os Yoruba da Nigéria. Ph.D dissertation. University of São Paulo, Brazil. Santos, Juana Elbein dos (1975). Os Nagô e a Morte. Editora Vozes, Petrópolis, Brasil. Santos, Orlando (1993). O Ebó No Culto aos Orixás. Pallas, Rio de Janeiro. Thompson, Robert Farris (1983). Flash of the Spirit. Vintage Books, New York. Turner, Victor (1967). The Forest of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual. Cornell University Press, Ithaca. Verger, Pierre Fatumbi (1998). Notas Sobre o Culto aos Orixás e Voduns. Editora da Universidade de São Paulo, Brazil. ——— (1995). Ewé. O Uso das Plantas na Sociedade Ioruba. Companhia da Letras, São Paulo.
Index A Ààjà ref1, ref2 àbá (ideas) ref1, ref2, ref3 àbíkú (infant death syndrome) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 àbìlù (curse) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12 Abimbọla, Wande ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 Abúrù, Abóyè, Abɳṣíṣɵ ref1 adìbò (restraint) ref1 adin (palm kernel oil) ref1, ref2, ref3 àgbọń (coconut) ref1, ref2, ref3 Agëmọ society ref1 àjàgùnmàlà ref1 Ajàgunnà ref1 Àjàlá ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 àjɶ (witch) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48 Ajɶ Ṣaluga ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7 Ọòsá Õja ref1 ajogún ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25 akápò (student of Ifa/treasurer) ref1 àkún (coral beads) ref1 Alchemy ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6 Al-Razi ref1 alújonù ref1 Alukandi ref1, ref2 ancestry ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24 Animals alágemo (chameleon) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 ref6, ref7, ref8
àdán (bat) ref1, ref2 akika (pangolin) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 cat ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 crab ref1, ref2, ref3 crocodile ref1 dog ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9 elephant ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6 ekún (leopard) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 fish ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9 òbúkọ (goat) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref13, ref14 he-goat ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 horse ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 ìkookò (hyena) ref1, ref2 lion ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 monkey ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 monkeys ref1, ref2, ref3 mouse ref1 ɚgà (chameleon) ref1 pig ref1 rabbit ref1 ram ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6 rat ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10 scorpion ref1, ref2 snail ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7 snake ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23 boa constrictor ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 python ref1 spider ref1, ref2 squirrel ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 toad ref1, ref2 tortoise ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 àpè (prayers) ref1 apetẹbi (wife) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 àrá (body) ref1 ará ɚrun ref1, ref2 Àrònì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 àṣẹ ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37,
ref12,
ref13,
ref14, ref26, ref38,
ref39, ref40, ref41 àseofò (enchantment) ref1 àtárì ref1, ref2 àtɚ (sperm) ref1 àtúnwá (rebirth) ref1, ref2 awo ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref49, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59, ref60, ref61, ref63, ref64, ref65, ref66, ref67, ref68, ref69, ref70, ref71, ref72, ref73, ref75, ref76, ref77, ref78, ref79, ref80, ref81, ref82, ref83, ref84, ref85, ref87, ref88, ref89, ref90, ref91 Awo Fa'lokun ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8 Awo Pópóọlá ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10 awon pupa ref1, ref2, ref3 Àyàlá ref1, ref2 Ayé ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref49, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59, ref60, ref61, ref63, ref64, ref65, ref66, ref67, ref68 Ayélalà ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6
ref14, ref26, ref38, ref50, ref62, ref74, ref86,
ref14, ref26, ref38, ref50, ref62,
B babaláwo ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13 Bascom, William ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 beauty (Ẹwà) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33 Birds adìẹ (hen) ref1 akápò (quail) ref1 àlùké (Eurasian woodcock) ref1 àparó (partridge) ref1 atóka (lapwing) ref1 ẹtù (guineafowl) ref1 igún (vulture) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 kingfisher ref1, ref2 ògbìgbò (hoopoe) ref1, ref2, ref3
ògòngò (ostrich) ref1 olongo (orange cheeked waxbill) ref1, ref2 ɚsìn (cormorant) ref1 òwìwí (owl) ref1 pigeon ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 rooster ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11 blacksmith ref1, ref2 blood ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27 Boehme, Jacob ref1, ref2 Boethius ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 Bruno, Giordano ref1, ref2, ref3 bullroarer ref1, ref2 C calabash ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref26, ref27 Chief Adéwuyì ref1, ref2 Chief Fama ref1 consciousness ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref49, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59, ref61, ref62, ref63, ref64, ref65, ref66, ref67, ref68, ref69, ref70, ref71, ref73, ref74, ref75, ref76, ref77 cowry shells ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref13 mérìndínlógún (cowry shell divination) ref1, ref2 creation ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59, ref60, ref62, ref63 crossroads ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17 curse(s) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18
ref13, ref25,
ref12, ref24, ref36, ref48, ref60, ref72, ref12,
ref13, ref25, ref37, ref49, ref61, ref13, ref13,
D dafá (reading) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 death ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53 devil ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6 Diaspora ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 dragon ref1, ref2, ref3 dream ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12 dúdú (black) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
ref13, ref25, ref37, ref49,
E ẹbọ (sacrifice) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref49, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59, ref60, ref61, ref62, ref63, ref64, ref65, ref66, ref67, ref68, ref69, ref70, ref71, ref72, ref73, ref74, ref75, ref76, ref77, ref78, ref79, ref80, ref81, ref82, ref83, ref84, ref85, ref86, ref87, ref88, ref89, ref90, ref91, ref92, ref93, ref94, ref95, ref96, ref97, ref98, ref99, ref100, ref101, ref102, ref103, ref104, ref105, ref106, ref107, ref108, ref109, ref110, ref111, ref112, ref113, ref114, ref115, ref116, ref117, ref118, ref119 adimu ref1, ref2 ètùtù ref1 ìpèsè ref1 ìrúbo ref1 ɵbọra ref1 èèmò ref1 èèwɚ (taboo) ref1, ref2 efun (white chalk) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 Ẹgbë ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12 Ẹgbë Ode (hunters’ society) ref1 egg ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8 egún (bones) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9 Egúngún ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42
egúngún masquerade ref1 Èjì Ogbè ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28 Ělà ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14 Elders of the Night ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9 Ẹlédàa ref1 ẹlɶdáa (destiny) ref1, ref2 elénìní ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 ɵlẹýe (woman of the birds) ref1, ref2 Èmí (breath, spirit) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 emotions ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9 enchantments ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14 ènìyàn ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17 envy ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17 ɵpà (peanuts) ref1 èpè (curses) ref1, ref2 epidemics ref1, ref2 ẹpɚn (scrotum) ref1 Erinlè ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6 eríwo (filth) ref1, ref2 ɵsɵ ref1 esèntàyè (naming ceremony) ref1 Èṣù ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref49, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59, ref60, ref61, ref62, ref63, ref64, ref65, ref66, ref67, ref68, ref69, ref70, ref71, ref72, ref73, ref74, ref75, ref76, ref77, ref78, ref79, ref80, ref81, ref82, ref83, ref84, ref85, ref86, ref87, ref88, ref89, ref90, ref91, ref92, ref93, ref94, ref95, ref96, ref97, ref98, ref99, ref100, ref101, ref102, ref103, ref104, ref105, ref106, ref107, ref108, ref109, ref110, ref111, ref112, ref113, ref114, ref115, ref116, ref117, ref118, ref119, ref120, ref121 divine linguist ref1, ref2, ref3 Elɶgbárá ref1, ref2 Èṣù Ôdàrà ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9 trickster ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4
Ẹwà ref1, ref2, ref3 F fertility ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11 funfun (white) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16 funké (attraction) ref1, ref2 G Gëlëdë society ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 geomancy ref1 gestation ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14 gossip ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12 gun ref1, ref2, ref3 H hair ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6 honey ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13 I ìbeji (twins) ref1 ìbò ref1, ref2 igbá (calabash) ref1, ref2, ref3 igbá íwá (calabash of character) ref1 igbámọĺɵ (calabash of light) ref1, ref2, ref3 Igbó ref1 igbódù ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10 igbó ɚrɚ ref1 ìgèdè (healing ritual) ref1 Ìká méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23 ìkín (palm nuts) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10 ikoríta meta (the great crossroads) ref1, ref2 ikú (death) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21 Ilé Ifɵ ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16 ìmọĺɵ ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17 iná (fire) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12 ìpàkó ref1, ref2
ref13,
ref13, ref13, ref13,
ìpònrí ref1, ref2 Ìrẹtɵ méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19 irọkɶ (Ifá tapper) ref1 Ìròsùn méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17 Olósùn méjì ref1 ìrúnmọlẹ xi, ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28 ìwà (character) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23 ìwà pele ref1, ref2, ref3 ìwà rere ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10 iwájú ref1, ref2 íwín (fairy beings) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 Ìwòrì méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9 Ìyàmí/ìyàmí ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19 Ìyàmí Àpákì ref1 Ìyàmí Òṣòrɚngà ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12 iyawo (the newly initiated) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 Iyemòó ref1 àjɶ funfun ref1 ìyɵrɵ (divinatory chant) ref1 ìyɵròsùn (divination powder) ref1, ref2, ref3 J Jewesun (Jesus) ref1 K kasan (kaftan) ref1, ref2, ref3 khatt al-raml (sand cutting) ref1 ilm-al-raml ref1 kingship ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6 L láyé-láyé ref1 M màrìwò (palm fronds) ref1, ref2, ref3 market/marketplace ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11,
ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33 Máyámí ref1 medicine (óògún) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32 menstruation ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6 moon (òṣù) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10 motherhood ref1, ref2, ref3 mothers ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10 mouth ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8 Muslims ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 N nails ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 Nana Bulukû ref1 neck ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 New World ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7 Nnkan (something) ref1 O Ọbà ref1 Ọbalúwayé ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13 Ôbárá méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10 Ôbàrà ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17 Ọbàríṣà ref1, ref2 Ôbàtálá ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref49, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59, ref60, ref61, ref62, ref63, ref64, ref65, ref66, ref67 Òrìṣà Áláse ref1 obì (kola nut) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9 ocean ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13 Òdí méjì vii, ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21 Odù ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12 Ôrɚ Iṣekúṣe ref1 Odùdùa ref1, ref2
Odùduwà ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7 ọfɚ/ọfɚ àṣẹ (enchantments) ref1, ref2, ref3 Òfún méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22 Ôràngún ref1, ref2, ref3 Ôràngún méjì ref1 Òfúnwónrín ref1, ref2 Ôgànrara ref1, ref2, ref3 ọgbà itɵrò ref1 ọgbọń ayé (cunning) ref1 Ọgbɳni society ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9 Keepers of the wisdom of the Elders ref1 Ọgbòrí ref1 Òge ref1, ref2, ref3 Ògún ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59, ref60, ref62, ref63, ref64 Ògúndá méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20 òjé (lead) ref1 òjò (rain) ref1, ref2 ojúbɚ ref1 ojú (eye) ref1, ref2, ref3 ojúkòkòrò (greed, envy) ref1 ọkàn (heart) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 Ôkànràn méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16 òkè (mountain) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 okra ref1, ref2, ref3 okùn (beads) ref1 Olódùmarè ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59 Ọlɳfín ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 Ọlɳgbun (owner of the deep grave) ref1, ref2 Ọlɳjɳ ref1
ref13,
ref13, ref25, ref37, ref49, ref61, ref12,
ref12,
ref13, ref25, ref37, ref49,
Olókun ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31 ol’ òrìṣà ref1, ref2 Olòrun Àlá ref1 omièrò ref1 omi tutu ref1, ref2, ref3 Oníkì Ọlà ref1, ref2 Ônilé ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21 Ědán ref1, ref2 Òòṣàoko ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 Ôpɵhɶ ref1 òpɵlɵ ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7 ọpọn Ifá ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 Oramfe ref1 Ôranmiyán ref1, ref2 orí (consciousness) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref36, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref48, ref49, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref60, ref61 orí alà ref1 orí rere ref1, ref2, ref3 oríkì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 òrìṣà ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59, ref62, ref63, ref64, ref65, ref66, ref67, ref68, ref69 òrìṣàbo ref1 Òrìṣà Ìgbò ref1 Òrìṣà Ito ref1 òrìṣàko ref1 Òrìṣà Oko ref1, ref2, ref3 ɚrɚ (poison) ref1 Ôrɚ society ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6 Ôrun ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23,
ref12, ref13, ref24, ref25,
ref12, ref13,
ref10, ref22, ref34, ref46, ref58,
ref11, ref23, ref35, ref47, ref59,
ref12, ref24, ref36, ref48, ref60,
ref13, ref25, ref37, ref49, ref61,
ref12, ref13, ref24, ref25,
ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref49 Ôrúnmìlà xii, ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref49, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59, ref60, ref61, ref62, ref63, ref64, ref65, ref66, ref67, ref68, ref69, ref70, ref71, ref72, ref73, ref74, ref75, ref76, ref77, ref78, ref79, ref80, ref81, ref82, ref83, ref84, ref85, ref86, ref87, ref88, ref89, ref90, ref91, ref92, ref93, ref94, ref95, ref96, ref97, ref98, ref99, ref100, ref101, ref102, ref103, ref104, ref105, ref106, ref107, ref108, ref109, ref110, ref111, ref112, ref113, ref114, ref115, ref116, ref117, ref118, ref119, ref120, ref121, ref122, ref123, ref124, ref125, ref126, ref127, ref128, ref129, ref130, ref131, ref132 Ôsá méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21 Ôsányìn ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24 ọṣẹdúdú (black soap) ref1, ref2, ref3 ọṣẹèrò ref1, ref2 Ôṣɶ méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16 Ôṣɶgùn ref1 Ôṣɶtúrá ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16 òṣò (sorcerers) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6 Ôsɳɚṣì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 òṣùmàré (rainbow) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 Ôṣun ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42 Ìyáàmi Akoko ref1 ọtí (gin) ref1 Òtúrá méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22 Òtú ref1 Òtúrúpɚn méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15 Ôwọńrín méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11 Ọya ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14,
ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20 Ôyɵkú méjì ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16 òyígíyigì (stone of the beginning) ref1, ref2, ref3 P palm oil ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13 palm wine ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 Paracelsus ref1 penis ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 Plants aagba (Stachytarpheta indica) ref1, ref2 African bowstring hemp ref1 akẹṣẹ (cotton) ref1 ayè (Sterculia rhinopetala) ref1 eéran (Digitaria debilis) ref1 èkan grass (Imperata cylindrica) ref1 èrùwà (fresh grass) ref1 étipọńlá (Boerhaavia diffusa) ref1 ferns ref1 íjòkùn (Mucuna poggei) ref1 ɚdúndún (Kalanchoe crenata) ref1, ref2, ref3 ọrɳ (Nesgordonia papaverifera) ref1, ref2 òrògbó (bitter kola nut) ref1 pumpkin ref1, ref2 rinrin (Peperomi pellucida) ref1 ṣaṣara (raffia palm) ref1 solanum ref1 sugarcane ref1, ref2 tɵtɵrɵgún (Costus sp.) ref1 weeds, ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8 yèrèpè (Mucuna sloanei) ref1, ref2 Plato ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 Pleiades ref1, ref2 Plotinus ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 poison ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13 R rainbow ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 ritual suicide ref1, ref2
S sacrifice (ẹbọ) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref49, ref50, ref51, ref52, ref53, ref54, ref55, ref56, ref57, ref58, ref59, ref60, ref61, ref62, ref63, ref64, ref65, ref66, ref67, ref68, ref69, ref70, ref71, ref72, ref73, ref74, ref75, ref76, ref77 salt ref1, ref2, ref3 Ṣàngó ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35, ref36, ref37, ref38, ref39, ref40, ref41, ref42, ref43, ref44, ref45, ref46, ref47, ref48, ref49 Jàkúta ref1 Ọràmfɶ ref1 ṣeṣefun (beads) ref1 Sirius ref1 Ìráwɳ Alɶ ref1 ṣòótitọ (truthfulness) ref1 sòtítò (truth) ref1 sperm ref1, ref2, ref3 Spinoza, Baruch ref1 stella matutina ref1 St George ref1, ref2 sun ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15 Àmɚká ref1 sùúrù (patience) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4 T taboo ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref25, ref26, ref27, ref28 téfá (Ifá initiation) ref1, ref2 Tí Ôṣun Tù Wá ref1 tobacco ref1, ref2 Tobí Ode ref1 tornado ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6 Trees akòko ref1, ref2, ref3 apá (Afzelia africana) ref1
àràbà ref1, ref2 awùn ref1, ref2 ayùnré ref1 ayùnré (Mimosa pudica) ref1 bamboo ref1 banana palm ref1, ref2, ref3 calabash tree ref1 coconut palm ref1, ref2 ɵgɶ (manioc) ref1 ẹrinmọdo (Ricinodendron heudelotii) ref1, ref2, ref3 idí (Terminalia glaucescens) ref1, ref2, ref3 ìrókò ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10 iyá (African copaiba balsam/gum copal) ref1, ref2, ref3 Mangrove ref1 ògùngun (baobab) ref1 ọòrɳ (Drypetes sp.) ref1 ọpẹ èlùjù (wine palm) ref1 ọpẹ (palm tree) ref1, ref2 orúpa (Hymenocardia acida) ref1, ref2 osè (baobab) ref1 osùn (camwood) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5 pèrègún (Dracaena arborea) ref1 royal palm ref1 willow ref1 yohimbe ref1 tutù ref1 V Venus ref1, ref2, ref3 Àguala ref1 W wàjí ref1 wind(s) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16 witch (see also àjɶ) ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9 witchcraft ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24, ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30 womb ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21, ref22, ref23, ref24,
ref13,
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ref26, ref27, ref28, ref29, ref30, ref31, ref32, ref33, ref34, ref35 wrestling ref1 Y yam ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12 yàngí ref1, ref2 Yëmọja ref1, ref2, ref3, ref4, ref5, ref6, ref7, ref8, ref9, ref10, ref11, ref12, ref13, ref14, ref15, ref16, ref17, ref18, ref19, ref20, ref21 Yemòwó ref1, ref2, ref3 Yeye Múwɚ ref1, ref2, ref3
colophon Ifá: A forest of mystery was published in the United Kingdom by Scarlet Imprint, Bucknell, sy7 0ah. Designed by Alkistis Dimech; text in Skolar, and titling in Skolar Sans. The hardback edition was printed and bound by Gomer Press, the fine edition bound by Ludlow Bookbinders. The paperback was published under the Bibliothèque Rouge banner; printed by CPI Antony Rowe in the UK and by BookMobile in the US. The photograph on the cover was taken by Guenter Guni (iStock/Getty Images).
