Hand drumming

Babalu Visits and Shocks

The kariocha initiation in Lucumí, which creates a new priest/ess, is a long process that begins with a seven-day ritual conducted by a team of olorishas (priest/esses). During this time the new iyawo (person being initiated) is cloistered in a small area for seven days. The kariocha is conducted by a ritual expert called an oriaté. An oriaté must go through specialized training and apprentice under an elder oriaté in order to gain the extensive knowledge required to conduct the kariocha initiation as well as a number of other rituals. While the average olorisha may be knowledgeable and experienced in Lucumí ritual, an oriaté must possess a far more extensive body of knowledge. In Lucumí, religious rituals are based in the casa templo (home temple) of an iyalorisha/babalorisha (head of religious house) who performs everyday rituals, but for a complex life-changing ritual like the kariocha, an oriaté must be hired and that person is generally brought in from outside the ilé (religious house/family). Because there are Lucumí houses all over the country, but far fewer ritual experts, oriatés often travel long distances to perform rituals. During the window of time that the oriaté is visiting a casa templo to conduct a ritual they are often referred to as oba oriaté. Oba is an honorary title that means “king.” 

The story that follows took place during a kariocha initiation in Chicago. It was an unusual case for a kariocha. The woman going through the initiation was not part of the casa templo and had no interest in religion in general and certainly no interest in Lucumí. A loved one, who was a peripheral part of the casa templo, had brought her in to consult the Dilogún oracle because she had been diagnosed with leukemia. Multiple medical experts had confirmed that the disease was very advanced, and she did not have long to live. During the reading, the oracle said that she needed to be initiated to save her life. This is a great deal to put at the feet of an areligious person. Not only are there high financial costs for such a lengthy, involved ritual, but it includes a special oracle, which often maps out a lifetime of further religious obligations. But the loved one who had brought her to the casa templo insisted, promising to pay the costs herself. 

Lucumí elders, including the oba oriaté, were flown in from Miami, FL, and were staying in the casa templo. Spirit possession is part of the initiation ritual, so within that space it is expected. What was unusual about this instance of spirit possession was that it happened after the ritual when everyone was resting in their private quarters after a hard day’s work. No one was prepared for the arrival of an orisha. The event was also unusual because the possession happened to the oba oriaté who is not expected to mount an orisha in this context. 

The next day, the oba oriaté conducted the woman’s lifetime oracle, and that too was as unusual as the events of the night before. The orisha thanked the woman for going through the ritual and told her she had no further obligations. She was welcome to continue her life as an areligious person. Within the casa templo it is said that she returned to each doctor that she had seen and was told that she did not have leukemia, and that they could not explain how such a mistake could have happened. She never set foot in the casa templo again. 

Source

According to one of the assistants on-hand[1] during the unexpected possession event, this is how the moment unfolded: 

[E]veryone was kind of chill. It was in the evening and the iyawo was like, put to bed … And I was sitting on a cushion on the floor and suddenly the oba, just, it’s like his body was stiff, like a board and sprung straight up, completely horizontal, sprang straight up in the air about four feet, and came down and landed on his feet, like in one motion, without any movement. 

He just suddenly, completely horizontally, like a board went up in the air about four feet. And his feet came down and his shoulders didn’t implant. On the floor. And we all looked at him and his eyes had rolled back into his head and. I was like, “oh shit.” And [a fellow priest was] like, “Get [the babalorisha].” 

I was already gone, man. I was already on my way. … 

[They took] the oba downstairs and took him into, one of the rooms and dressed him up in his sacred robes and stuff. And, it was Babalu [Ayé] who had mounted … they came into the temple and … And [the babalorisha] went … into the temple with me, and he grabbed the scissors and the razor that they used to shave the head … and he handed them to me, said “Hide these.” … and I hid them in a drawer over in the corner. … And Babalu comes into the room … he gets the whisk that he cleanses people with… he’s whisking the iyawo and then he’s going around and he’s like, picking up a stack of cloth and giving it to [the babalorisha]. And saying, “here, hold this.” And he picks up, you know… the palangana [wash basin] … “here you hold this” and he goes around and he gives all of us something to hold. And so all of our hands were full, and he went right to the drawer and opened it up and pulled out the straight razor … And he took that razor knife and he cut one way, then X-ed across the other way and then right down the center. And, I mean, it was biting into his tongue at least quarter inch … Blood just flowing down onto the white garments and stuff is everywhere. … 

He took a jicara [gourd bowl] with some water and some, I think rum, some of the alcohols and mix them and put some of the herbs in it and stuff, and, said to take this and spray it all over her … and cleanse her. Then, he looked at her and … I don’t remember if he, like, held up his hand or something. It was like some, like, five days, so. Okay. Five days. And then he was gone. And the oba was back. 

Notes

[1] Personal communication with author, April 23, 2025. 

Author Biography

Eugenia Rainey

Eugenia Rainey is an Assistant Professor in Religious Studies and American Studies at the College of William & Mary. A cultural anthropologist who studies religion as negotiated process, she focuses on the intersection of Lucumí (also referred to as La Regla de Ochá or Santería) and medicine in south Florida. Through her research, she seeks to better understand how the healthcare infrastructure impacts not only health but constructions of race and lived religion, as well as how African Diaspora religions in the US support the healthcare needs of devotees and the healthcare infrastructure. She is the author of “From the margins in: What an Afro-Cuban/Neopagan religious group can tell us about spiritual seeking in the United States,” in Culture and Religion (2024), “Pigeons at the Bedside: Lucumí Negotiations around Ritual Space in the Hospital,” in Nova Religio (2024), and “On Seeking Guidance,” in Spirited Diasporas: New Frontiers and Futures of Afro-Atlantic Religions (2023). She has also written for the World Religions and Spirituality Project and Teen Vogue. 

Photo of Eugenia Rainey smiling into the camera