Relationships - The Òrìshà

OTHER PANTHEONS

The Teōtl creep the Òrìshà out. They survived similar violent marginalization, but it didn’t really change them. They still love military aggression and human sacrifice, vices the Òrìshà gave up a long time ago.

The Òrìshà get on great with the Manitou, who only take the fight to the most irredeemable Titanspawn. Oshóssí always tries his best to understand and respect the cultures he’s been Fatebound into, and Èshù’s social-media back and forth with Nana’b’oozoo (and Sun Wukong, for that matter) is great for a laugh. The Manitou are trying to mend fences between the Òrìshà and the Kami, who have a lot in common, but the Kami’s close relationship with the Devá discomfits the Òrìshà.

The Òrìshà, with the exception of Odùduwà, think the Devá and Theoi, Titanomachy’s most ardent prosecutors, are privileged braggarts at best, racist warmongers at worst. You’d think they’d click with the Yazatas as a result, but the Òrìshà are pretty sure that if the Yazatas had the Devá’s luck, they’d have turned out equally annoying.

For some unfathomable reason, people keep assuming the Òrìshà and Netjer know each other, or are related, or something. They don’t, and they’re not.

The Òrìshà and Loa think Titanomachy is bullshit and they’re tired of being the only ones. They want as many other Gods and Titans as possible to lay down their arms and join them. The Manitou are already down. The Shén have considerable deep-seated prejudice to work through, but they agree in theory; in practice, they worry about angering their old and powerful friends and neighbors, the Devá. The close familial and cultural ties between the Tuatha Dé Danann and the Fomorians have left them more sympathetic to the Òrìshà viewpoint than they’ll yet admit, but some of them are coming around. Of course, not all the Tuatha Dé Danann would be happy to discover Èshù talking turkey with Bres the Beautiful over pints of Guinness….

GREATEST WEAKNESS

The Òrìshà’s greatest weakness is overwhelming systemic racism and religious intolerance. West Africans abroad face monotheists’ accusations of idolatry in addition to expatriates’ usual stereotypes and struggles. But the even larger New World abòrìshà demographic descends mostly from enslaved Africans, who face overwhelming prejudice, violence, and economic injustice even today, even after overcoming impossible adversity. In the United States, for example, the Hialeah, Florida City Council passed an injunction in 1987 outlawing ritual animal slaughter, literally demonizing abòrìshà of their local Church of Lukumi Babalu Aye. Their priest, Ernesto Pichardo, sued the state of Florida, igniting a landmark case — Church of the Lukumi Babalu Aye, Inc. and Ernesto Pichardo v. City of Hialeah — which the United States Supreme Court decided in favor of the church, prohibiting the states from outlawing animal sacrifice. The court called Sònpònná himself as an expert witness.

PANTHEON PATH OF THE ÒRÌSHÀ AND LOA

Path Skills: Medicine, Subterfuge
Virtues: Tradition and Innovation. Old-school African values maintained abòrìshà and vodouisant communities in the face of overwhelming oppression, genocide, and opposition. But these religions would not be what they are today without upheaval and innovation. Catholic and Native American traditions changed Òrìshà and Loa devotion beyond merely allowing for clever disguises. Is old or new more important?

The Òrìshà and Loa risked their very identities to safeguard African tradition: martial arts, songs, stories, language, medicine, and more. But the Yorùbá respect for mighty kings dominating efficient, paternalistic bureaucracies, while reliable, sits poorly with younger generations raised on (at least the illusion of) democracy. At its best, tradition empowers us to benefit from our ancestors’ lived experience, repeating history to prevent history from repeating itself. At its worst, tradition leaves us inflexible and fearful of change, unable to think laterally or leave our comfort zones. Historically, for example, menstruating women were never to touch ceremonial batá drums. What about transwomen who don’t menstruate? What about transmen who do? What if you just don’t feel like being sexist about drums?

Innovation’s effects on the Òrìshà are undeniable. On this side of space and time, they have new identities, new celebrant populations, new herbs to work into magic and medicine. Ògún’s songs sacralize railroads and firearms. Shàngó reaches for his trusty baseball bat as often as his ancient two-headed axe. But adopting something new sometimes means giving up something old. While the art of capoeira accumulates new and impressive acrobatic flourishes and pop-inspired songs, the jogo de navalha, or razor game, is almost forgotten. Mestre Pastinha’s ultimate secret technique, the Cat’s Leap, may already have passed into dream and rumor.

As modern abòrìshà emerge into public view, with courts and higher education (if not society at large) finally acknowledging their right to worship, new conflicts complicate the dialectic. The Internet allows information once meticulously concealed to spread at unprecedented rates, but raises questions about authenticity and appropriation as occultists outside historical abòrìshà demographics latch on to charismatic Òrìshà and Loa with pop-culture presences like Òshun and Baron Samedi. Syncretism’s fate is at stake as well: if abòrìshà need no longer conceal their practice, should they discard the Catholic masks as outdated symbols of oppression? Or has Catholicism’s influence established tradition of its own?

Every tradition was once an innovation. Every successful innovation will one day become tradition. Which is truly old, and which is new?

Signature Purview: Gún/Cheval. Òrìshà and Loa possess willing (and, rarely, unwilling) humans in order to communicate with their flocks, generally at religious ceremonies with plenty of drumming and dancing to get an Òrìshà’s, Loa’s, ancestor’s, or other spirit’s attention. Haitians say the possessed’s ti bon anj makes way for the spirit’s, letting the spirit make use of the possessed celebrant’s language, intellect, and body to communicate matters of spiritual import — and indulge in fine tobacco and liquor, which are hard to get in Heaven. This Purview confers the power to project one’s consciousness into another, to draw a spirit into one’s own form, and to detect (and counteract) possession in others.