Amongst the Lukumí, Olokún is the orisha of the oceans, from where all life originates, and caretaker of it riches and mysteries.[1] Like the ocean that conceals countless mysteries, this deity is considered one of the most mystifying orishas of the Lukumí pantheon. A proverb from the odu Irosún—the major dilogún odu in which Olokún is manifest—states that “no one knows what lies at the bottom of the sea.” By extension, no human being can ever truly comprehend the magnitude and vigorous force of this mysterious deity.
There is no consensus as to Olokún’s gender. In some areas of West Africa Olokún is considered male while in others female. This controversy also came to Cuba. In many patakí Olokún is described as a king in an underwater palace with many wives. Various roads of Yemojá, Ajeshalugá, and Oshún have all been considered wives of Olokún. Even renowned Cuban ethnologist Fernando Ortiz falls into this ambivalence when he describes Olokún both as “Lord of the Ocean,” and a “goddess,” in the same paragraph and on the same page.[2] Today, Babalawós and book-smart olorishas, both exposed to the recent mass availability of literature from anthropologists and other students of Yoruba culture, insist that Olokún is male. Some olorishas insist that Olokún is asexual, ambisexual, or androgynous. Albeit, the Cuban lineages from where the major Olokún traditions originate adamantly argue that the orisha is female. This controversy is also reflected in the chants for Olokún, and the rituals associated with its consecration.
Despite Olokún’s general beneficence and good nature, this orisha is a power to contend with when upset. A number of patakí refer to Olokún’s wrath. One such myth, narrated in the odu Ejiogbé Odí, describes the orisha’s dissatisfaction with the way Olorún distributed domains amongst the orishas. The argument was that since Olokún had been assigned to rule over the oceans, and these made up the major part of the planet, Olokún was more powerful than Olorún and thus was the Supreme Being. To demonstrate this, the oceans began to issue unremitting and ominous waves that threatened to drown the earth and its inhabitants.
Taking care of Olokún
Olokún has become such a popular orisha that today, it resides in many ilés. This expansion has done some very lamentable damage to the orisha, particularly because many of today’s mechanized olorishas may not offer their omós the necessary counseling on the proper care of Olokún.
Once an individual has received Olokún, many aspects of his or her behavior must be adapted or changed. For starters, Olokún should be kept in an area of the home where there is little traffic, preferably enclosed inside a curio if the individual does not have a separate room for the orishas. Olokún must be covered. Oshabí preferred white cloth, though some olorishas who received it with her insist that she told them to cover Olokún with a panel made from strips of different colored cloths. In both cases, Olokún should also have a curtain of mariwó preceding the place where the attributes are kept, or placed directly on top of the jar. In no case should Olokún become an ornament in anyone’s living room as is often the case!
It is forbidden to stand before Olokún improperly dressed or, with but one exception—an ebó of the odu Ejiogbé mejí—while wearing black clothes. Never must anyone approach Olokún in underclothing or scantily clad. Additionally, one must assure to be ritually “clean” before approaching this orisha. Likewise cussing and foul language are offensive to this orisha.
Olokún’s water should be changed once a year. It is important to remember that one should never stare directly inside of Olokún’s jar immediately after uncovering it. The old water may be discarded in one’s doorway or used to bathe. Many people use Olokún’s water for remedies, and especially to soothe very high fevers by passing a cloth that was immersed in the water over the body of the afflicted individual. If when changing the water, one notices that the attributes need cleaning, then one should carefully proceed to do so in the room, preferably in seclusion. The contents should be emptied out into a clean basin and washed well with cool water. The jar should also be washed inside and outside. Once this is done, the attributes are replaced inside the jar. Olokún should never be washed inside a sink as I have seen many do, nor should it be cleaned in front of those who are not initiated into its worship.
Some further points need to be made here. In recent times, more and more frequently olorishas are consecrating Olokún in conjunction with ordinations. This is a grave error as Olokún’s ceremonies must be performed in a more serene atmosphere, and should not be carried out in conjunction with that of other orishas. If for some reason the iyawó has to receive Olokún—and, surprisingly, does not have it by that time—it should be given before the ordination, even if this requires consecrating it on the eve of the ceremony.
Another issue is the basket with offerings that is prepared during the consecration of Olokún. This ceremony is referred to by many as agbán—basket, though the term is used to refer to the ritual performed for Olokún and a similar one for Babaluaiyé. After Oshabí’s death, many lazy olorishas began to use raw foodstuffs and fruits for the agbán instead of the traditional cooked foods that Oshabí and Obá Tero offered Olokún. This custom became especially popular in Havana and was the tradition that was carried over to the United States. In reality, Olokún’s agbán should be made with ekó, ekurú aró, akará, and the like, and not with raw tubers, uncooked beans and meats, and so forth. I have even seen pasta, corn flakes, and twinkies on plates for an agbán for Olokún! Oshabí would have considered this heresy!
On this same topic, it must be stressed that Olokún’s agbán is not a cleansing ceremony. Instead, it is an offering. The devotee that has Olokún consecrated for him/her sends this agbán to Olokún as a grand offering, much similar to the agbán caravans sent by subjugated states to the Oyo palace in ancient Yorubaland. The agbán is a symbolical offering, praying to Olokún so that the individual will always have a piece of cloth to cover his/her body, a plate of food on the table, and a hearth on which to cook—i.e. a roof over his/her head. The person who receives Olokún should not be cleaned with the contents of the plates nor should anyone present at the ceremony as is being done more and more often these days. This is only done in the case of Babaluaiyé’s agbán, and some other ebó usually done for Elegbá. The plates are placed around the basket and left there to rest for a while. Afterward they are presented to the individual and the offerings are deposited inside the basket.
Olokún’s offerings are taken to the ocean. When receiving the orisha, the person responsible for taking the agbán to the sea is the individual who received it as it is an offering that this person has made to Olokún, and a sign of devotion and praise. Still, the olorisha is obliged to instruct the receiving omó on how to properly submit this offering so that it is not offensive to others. We often forget that we live in a very heterogeneous society, and an especially Christian-centric country where many of our co-citizens see an African religion as an ugly and deplorable cancer that should be extirpated.
The proper disposal of ebó and adimú is an area in which we as a religious community have much ground to cover. The plastic bags we use to line our baskets so that they do not get stained are not part of the offering and do not belong in the sea, dirtying the water and damaging our environment. Neither do glass bottles or plastic cups that once contained honey or cane syrup, or the pieces of obí that we used to cast in our ceremonies, belong floating in the water or laying on the sea floor. Olokún, nor any other orisha, can be pleased by our lack of common sense and sensibility.
When the ocean is not available, as was the case of towns like Jovellanos in Cuba,[3] and cities such as Chicago in the U.S., then the lake or a river or a canal will have to do. Olokún is the deity of the oceans, but by extension is also the orisha of all waters. One of the most beautiful aspects of our religious tradition is its ability to adapt when threatened with an otherwise insurmountable hurdle.
Olokún’s adimú
Olokún’s favorite adimú—offerings— are fried pork and fried green plantain chips. Additionally, Olokún enjoys akará—black eye pea fritters; ekurú aró—a type of loaf made from black eye peas which is steamed inside banana leafs; egbojá—a plate made with hominy, pork and/or dried shrimps; stewed black eye peas with pork; baked fish covered with a tomato and onion sauce or a green sauce made with parsley and other seasonings; watermelons and melons of all sorts; red grapes; cane syrup; grated coconut cooked in cane syrup with cinnamon; gofio—roasted corn or wheat meal—balls with cane syrup or honey; boniatillo—a type of pudding that is made with white sweet potatoes. There may be other regional variants that have been adapted with time.[4]
Endnotes
[1] Lukumí is an earlier designation by which the Yoruba people were known to foreigners before the adoption of the term Yoruba in the nineteenth century. Lukumí (Lucumí) is the accepted term in Cuba. Throughout the text, I will use the term “Yoruba” when either referring to the Yoruba on the African continent or in a generalized form for the Americas. “Lukumí” will be used to refer specifically to Cuba and early colonial records in the Americas where they are referred to as thus, and to the post-1959 migration of Cuban olorishas to áreas of the Americas and Europe where the religion has laid new roots.
[2] Ortiz, Fernando. Los Bailes y el Teatro de los Negros en el Folklore de Cuba (Habana: Editorial Letras Cubanas, 1981), 452.
[3] Cabrera, Lydia. La Laguna Sagrada de San Joaquín, 2nd ed. (Miami: Ediciones Universal, 1993), 11.
[4] For more on Olokún’s adimús, see Ramos, Miguel W. Adimú: Gbogbó Tén’unjé Lukumí (Miami: Eleda.Org Publications, 2003).
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.