Halloween Edition: OTP’s Guide to Crazy Cuban Witchery
Forget Jesus, Moses, Mary, the Apostles, Aristotle, Madonna and the Seven Dwarfs, in Cuba, religion takes on a whole different level of crazy you thought only existed in old episodes of Tales from the Crypt. Old, cigar-tokin’ women who spit rum in your face as they yell “Aché!”, men that are possessed by the God of war, bloody sacrifices and spells all make up the religious mash-up that thrives in Cuba. Let OTP show you how to practice Santeria (and other crazy Cuban witchery), even if you ain’t got no crystal ball.
Religion in Cuba is like the fridge at a B.Y.O.B. party. Everyone brings something, gets sauced and by the end of the night, no one’s drinking their own shit. During the conquest days, the Spaniards’ Pope-mobile brought slaves from West Africa to forcibly work on the newly “discovered” land. The slaves brought nothing with them physically, but their traditions and methods of religious worship came along silently on the trans-Atlantic journey. These various tribal customs absorbed into the pores of Christianity and created the space for awesome ways to praise.
The Yoruba people of Nigeria were in no place to ditch their kick-ass religion for rosaries and original sin. They took the high road, tricking the Spaniards and their awkward helmets. Noticing eerily perfect similarities between the Catholic icons and their pantheon of Orishas, the Yoruba people continued to worship their Gods through the Saints, or Santos…hence the name. Saint Barbara became “Chango, King of Africa!” and so on. Possession rituals and animal sacrifice are central to the workings of the tradition, as is the process of divination. If you can work a little Spanish, get yourself to Havana and pay the 10 cents it costs to cross the bay. Installed at the Catholic church is the Virgin of Regla, or Sea-Goddess Yemaya to the Santeros. Outside the church, witches hang out with their dolls, cards, crystal balls and seashells waiting for you to walk by. Let one of them tell you something ridiculously true about yourself and give ‘em a couple of bucks to keep spittin’ the madness.
No one gets down like the Santeros. Every Orisha has their feast day, and the most epic parties–Bembés–are thrown all over Cuba every year, full of colorful offerings, sorcery, raucous drinking and non-stop drumbeats honoring that particular Orisha. Get down with Changó on Dec. 4 in his homebase of Guines, right by Havana. The town explodes with people that day, and drum circles bust open all over the town, with song and dance, cigar smoke and loads of red wine, God’s favorite drink. People will likely be mounted by Changó all day–you’ll see them dance immaculately, their eyes on fire as they chug rum and wine by the bottles and gnarl on the embers of cigars. Your faith might take a dip into Cubanity when Changó looks you in the eye and speaks to ya soul.
If you can’t make the date, chill out, papa. El Callejón de Hamel in Havana holds Bembés every God-can-you-dig-it-damn Sunday, because it’s that much fun. The area’s worth a visit regardless of your religious intentions. El Callejón is a collective project by local artist Salvador Gonzales, who turned the street into a tricked-out Santeria ghetto. Bathtubs, columns and all sorts of old shit is done up as artwork, themed with Orisha-vibes. Get there, practice your dance, pick up a spirit and party like a true Santero.
This is the trickiest Afro-Cuban religion, right up with the Haitians and their Vodoun (that needle-pokin’ good time we know as voodoo). Palo Mayombe is a tradition that was transferred intact from the Congo. Although it has many similarities to the Yoruba religion and many Santeros are also Paleros (and vice versa), Palo Mayombe is a complete tradition of its own and not ‘The Dark Santeria’, that some like to call it. Setting the Gods aside, Palo is all about the dead. An established Palero will have a shack in his backyard where his Prenda, or spirit, lives in an iron cauldron called a Nganga. Traditionally, the spirits are of ancestors who want to stick around and help with the dishes, laundry, maybe a little enemy murder, maybe a hand of Go Fish when you’re lonely. The Paleros (sorcerers) work the spirits for anything they may need –a job, money, a girlfriend, revenge (cue the eerie violins)– and the dead ask for payment in the form of blood, tobacco and liquor.
Modern practices of Palo take it to the grave. Paleros have been caught performing rituals in cemeteries so as to capture the souls of the recently deceased. The situation gets even stickier, as sometimes the spirit wants to keep some of their stuff, like their skull, or fingers. Grave-robbers? No, mami, they’re African Sorcerers busy keepin’ the cancer away from Uncle Tinito.
Any Afro-Cuban event is likely to get you connected with one if you really want to check it out for yourself. Fuck up that bitch who owes you twenty bucks with the help of some old-fashioned sorcery! Just make sure you get an extra seat on the flight home for your new spirit friend.
The village of Rincón, just outside of Santiago de las Vegas (not that Vegas, party animal) is the home of the national shrine to San Lazaro. Famous for healing the sick, Cubans all over the world claim that San Lazaro is their doctor of choice. According to Cubans, he works miracles left and right, but under one condition: you need to make him a promise…and keep it. If you don’t, by some circumstance that scares Cuban children shitless ’til this day, he will break your fuckin’ legs! Doubt the power all you want but Cubans are completely convinced of this and go to great lengths to keep their legs.
Take a trip to El Rincón to see for yourself. People arrive to the church strapped to boulders they’ve dragged with them from their hometown. There are blood trails behind people who waddle around the church eleven times on their knees, and it only gets crazier. Believers traditionally give San Lazaro a little golden pendant of the body part he healed to thank him, and the church is blinged-out with thousands of golden body parts, a cultural testament to the old man and his leprous wounds.
Your best ticket to Cuban witchery lies in the hands-on traditions that bring Europe and Africa into ebony-and-ivory style union. You have to take it all in with an open mind and remember that for millions of people all over the world, this is a way of life, and it’s very powerful. Cuban folk-religion is so deeply instilled in its people that it survived both slavery and communism. Melting pots are for whiteys; in Cuba, it’s all about cauldrons and the brew is ripe for the sampling.
Unbridled reality, bitches!
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