Afro-Caribbean religions gain popularity among young people
By Israel Torres Penchi, Siempre, 2 September 2004.
Translated from Spanish by Hirsh Sawhney.
What arouses curiosity for Afro-Caribbean religions in young people? It might be an altar with fruit, flowers and candles in an apartment or perhaps the sound of drums, congas and other instruments emanating from one El Barrio’s new hang-out for young people, like Camaradas and Carlitos. Or maybe it’s the large group of people wearing white who fill the Julia de Burgos Cultural Center’s main hall. Regardless what the draw is for young people, it is evident that Afro-Caribbean religions have many followers within our communities and that among these followers are many young people.
Many [local residents] are followers of la Regla de Ocha (the Rule of Ocha), the most widely-known of these religions that are often referred to as “primitive.” Regla de Ocha is essentially the Cuban version of Santería, [a syncretistic religion of Caribbean origin]. Certain people follow La 21 División, an Afro-Dominican faith. Others, like Alex Lasalle, a Puerto Rican youth whose legacy of black blood flows beneath extremely light skin, practice Palo Mayombe, an Afro-Cuban belief system based on ancestor worship – the Puerto Rican version is known as Yombe and sometimes Sance.
“La Regla de Ocha comes from the Yoruba people of Nigeria and Benin in West Africa. It’s based in nature and [followers] pay tribute to six different gods: Ochún, the goddess of love and rivers, Yemayá, goddess of the seas and fertility, Changó, god of lightning and dance; for each element in nature there is a god,” explains Alex, who learned about Mayombe from Florencio Miguel Garzón, his Cuban godfather, and about Yombe from his aunts Alexandra and Rosalía Lasalle. Palo Mayombe originates in the Congo.
Alex recounts that his grandfather, a descendent of African slaves, had to conceal his practice of Yombe in Puerto Rico. The local Catholic church in his grandfather’s Puerto Rican pueblo conducted an exorcism to “rid him of the demon,” a terminology that depicts the way Christian religious officials perceived his religion.
“Palo Mayombe is based on ancestors and deaths in general, [as well as] nature – the sky, earth, water and all things that make up the universe. Followers of Palo believe that there is an energy in all that’s a part of nature.”
“We believe in just one god, Sambia, which inhabits all that was, is and will be. It has no form; it’s energy. We are all born with a little bit of Sambia, with a light that comes from this energy. Because of this, we are all connected. When one dies, this energy returns to the creator,” explains Alex.
Mayombe is an ancient religion that is practiced more openly in Cuba and in Puerto Rico, whereas Yombe, which has Haitian influences, is practiced more discreetly.
For Raúl Iglesias, a Cuban national who has been practicing the religion called Ifá and its associated cultural practices for several years now, his religion is the only one that acknowledges Olofín, the creator, because it was the first religion. During a party to honor Ochún in his apartment in the Riverdale section of the Bronx, Iglesias explains to us that followers of his religion believe in reincarnation.
On this Sunday, by the time the musicians arrive, 20 of those who’ve been invited are already present. Many are children and young people, some dressed totally in white, others in light-colored clothing.
As the guests arrive, they lie face down on a small rug placed before an altar and play a maraca. This is the way they summon Ochún, who for this day, according to Iglesias, has called for a joyful reunion with violin music.
Guests repeat this ritual, lying down in reverence before those “who have been following the saint for a long time.” The veteran practitioners then touch the shoulders of the prostrate novices with the tips of their fingers.
Perhaps practice of these religions is less visible because they don’t have a church or mosque, as do Christians and Muslims. Collective rituals are generally carried out in people’s homes. Alex’s “house,” called Bejuca Nfinda Batalla Saca’empeño Myombe, is the site of a gathering held at least once a month, where godfather, godmother and godchildren get together to sing, light candles and move energies. They sing and pray to call to their ancestors, who are known as ngangas. When they leave this house, says Alex, they feel renewed.
Raúl Iglesias as well as Alex Lassalle agree that youth today are seeking out religious alternatives. In Alex’s words, “Before it seemed like an old people’s thing. What I see now is that young people are reconnecting with their Afro-Caribbean roots.”
This article appeared in Edition 141 of Voices That Must Be Heard.
Translation © 2004, IPA, all rights reserved. Included by permisson of Siempre.
At the time, we still hadn't decided on what we would call our restaurant so we settled on the name "SALENTO" after a small town in Colombia we travelled to earlier that year. Here we are serving up our ever first order of Bogota Bistro food. Those are our friends, Nick and Melinda, along with Carl next to George, helping serve up the food. We added the inflatable palm tree for ambience!
