Candomblé

This is ridiculously long and for that I apologize. (If you don't intend to read it just read the last paragraph. It is an essential addition to every person's knowledge.) And it happened on Wednesday.

Candomblé day! (Or if you are my mae, evil spirit day.) We spent all day at the Candomblé terreiro about an hour out of the center of the city (still in the city but in a poor outlying section) just experiencing it. I took a ton of pictures but you aren’t allowed to post them online because of the sanctity of the rituals involved.

My day started as I was rushing out the door (late to the bus after the biggest breakfast yet) and my mae suddenly remembered today was Candomblé day. She called out to me, making me stop and wait as she located the holy oil. I let her bless me – touching my head, neck, hands and feet with the oil. (I was a little scared that if I didn’t she wouldn’t let me back in the house.) This seemed to calm her nerves a little and she finally let me go.

Arriving at the Candomblé terriero quite honestly didn’t look like anything special from the outside. It was one property on a street lined with houses and apartments in various states of completion and repair. However, once we walked across the property line, we were showered with rice by women in full white dresses. We walked through into the shrine area as they continued to shower us with rice.

The shrine was a room that was maybe thirty by forty feet. It was decorated with small white strips of paper hanging in rows from the ceiling. Also coming from the ceiling were various dried grasses, small gourds and a couple small baskets. The walls were a true display of the Candomblé-Catholic syncretism. Saint George was closest to me, on the wall at the back of the shrine. Near him was the depiction of an Orixá (the gods of Candomblé) shooting a bow and arrow. Various other saints and Orixás adorned the room as well. The room was arranged so that there was an inner square and an outer one, separated by a wall that was about three feet high. The inner square was the sanctuary, where rituals actually take place, while the outer was where people could come to be present at the ceremonies but not actually directly involved in the rituals. The chairs we sat in were arranged, backs to the small inner wall, facing the center of the square. At the front was a row of six high backed wooden chairs with their backs to a small platform filled with drums. (Also important…two framed posters on the wall “Os Orixás nos protegem…e eu uso camisinha.” In English being “The Orixás protect us…and I use a condom.” Just a friendly Candomblé themed public health message from the State of Bahia.)

We waited in the chairs and two at a time were called out of the sanctuary to be cleansed. We were each given a bucket filled with tea and led to a shower stall. We each took a full shower (just water, no soap) and then poured the tea over our bodies. We toweled off and then put on the all white outfit we had all brought for the occasion. We stepped outside the stall and had crosses drawn on us with a chalky powder. One cross on each arm, leg, and both the front and back of the neck. This is seen as a symbol of protection and a means of closing your body off from bad outside influences. (It was impossible for me not to note the incredible similarities between the Candomblé cleaning rituals and the ritual my mae performed in the morning to ensure my safety. They each were intended to protect me against evil outside forces that might cause me to lose my way (though if both rituals happened within a couple of hours of one another I am not sure either group can really count its ritual as a success.) I think my mae would be horrified to find this out and, hoping to keep living in her house, I decided not to be the one to mention it to her.)

We moved back inside to discuss the history of Candomblé and the significance of it to afro-Brazilians today. It really is an important part of the community and in many cases people come to events because they know they will be able to get food there. In economically depressed areas that is sometimes all it takes. The terreiros know and understand the need for that service and don’t seem at all put off by the appearance of people who really just need to eat. We were all given Orixás by the mae of the terreiro – the Orixá that she determined (by our picture and some knowledge about us) to be closest to us. I am Oxum, the goddess of rivers and lakes.

After the discussion and some incense release we ate! Always a favorite activity for me, this time was no different. Lots of fruit. And LOTS of Bahian food which equals a lot of dende (OIL) and a lot of fried. Bean paste, okra, shrimp paste, and chicken. But it was all (ok not all…I’m not a big fan of shrimpy paste) really good. After eating we took a tour of the terreiro which is really pretty small and mostly consists of shrines to various Orixá, a kitchen, a couple of living spaces and the main sanctuary area.

When we returned we were a part of a traditional Candomblé ritual. The mae of the terreiro called the spiritual healer to enter her body. She took on the characteristics of a man, changed clothes and smoked a cigar (apparently she only does this while in a trance and otherwise is very health conscious.) She danced around the circle a bit, waving her arms and legs at everyone and bowing down before certain people. She then started a samba circle, pulling each of us into the middle in turn to samba with her for a bit and then back out. She continued to dance around a while longer (actually it seemed incredibly long since we were standing in a smoke filled sauna-like room) at times waving leaves as well as her cigar around. Regardless of your personal feelings regarding Candomblé, the power of the rituals for the practicing believers was evidenced to me by the reaction of one elderly man. He was sitting in one of the chairs of honor (so short his legs didn’t touch the floor) and must have been about seventy years old. He was gazing at the mae as she became inhabited by the spirit and began to sob when she welcomed him individually.

She greeted each of us, hugging us, kissing our cheeks and touching each shoulder with her spear as she moved around the circle, accepting the gifts the group had brought (a bow with arrows, a cigar cutter and a rubber snake.) She did more dancing and then moved outside, having all of us follow one at a time for a cleansing ritual. Outside we removed our shoes and stood on a bed of leaves in front of her. She had leaves in each hand and shook them over us, running the bunches of leaves from our head to our toes. She then grabbed our arms and shook them out, then hugged us and called the next person over. It was actually a very energizing experience. By the end we had all collected in a group in the courtyard and one of her attendants waved incense over us. She then came holding a dove by the feet which she waved over each of us as it flapped its wings. (It was then set free.) She bade us farewell and dismissed us, but remained in character. They say you have no control over how long the spirits stay in you and that sometimes they remain for days.

I realize how amazing it was to have the chance to visit this terreiro. Most don’t want foreign visitors (and those that do often just do it as a big tourist attraction without actually practicing it themselves.) Our program director has cultivated some amazing relationships with people all over the area and we are really fortunate.

Also, the way the community treats its disabled is quite amazing. There was a man involved in the rituals who was both physically and mentally disabled. He served us, participated in all the rituals and in fact held a place of honor due to his longevity as part of the group. This is highly unusual in Brazilian society as the disabled people I have seen are usually with one attendant but otherwise completely disintegrated from the flow of daily life.

We left in the mid-afternoon, ironically driving directly by my Brazilian mom’s 5000 seat mega church on the way back. (When I got home she took a white rose and touched it to my arms, head and shoulders – once again exceedingly similar to Candomblé rituals.)

One final thought to leave you with. Waiting for the bus to go home I was lucky enough to see a sight I never even knew existed. A dead chicken carrying case! That is right, a cloth contraption with holes for the feet and neck and handles that close together around the back like a tote bag. A perfect way to carry your newly dead chicken home! It even comes with a cover for the head region to spare your fellow bus riders the unfortunate sight of a headless bird. I will be placing a bulk order once I figure out where such an ingenious device came from and can take your order if you so desire. This particular one was in blue but I think it may be made in a variety of colors to complement the everyday attire.