September: Oya

Origin: Yoruba mythology (Nigerian), also worshipped today by practitioners of Santeria, Candomble, Palo, and Vodou.

Names:
Ọ-ya  means “she tore” in Yoruba.
Other names:
- Yansa (or Iansa, Iansan, Yansan, and many more variations depending on location and dialect) means “Mother of Nine”, indicating her role as the Niger River that is “mother” to nine tributaries.
- Ọya-e-ríí-ríí is “Oya-so-charming-that-you-can’t-take-your-eyes-off-her”, suggesting the fascination and simultaneous repulsion we feel when faced with her sort of destructive change.
- Egungun-Ọya refers specifically to Oya as “Mother-of-the-dead”,
- Ọya-Ajere is “Oya, carrier-of-the-container-of-fire.” The latter refers to a myth about Oya and her husband, Shango.
- Obìrin t’o t’orí ogun dá rùngbon si: "A Woman who grows a beard on account of war."
- Grande Brigitte is the name that has been used to replace Oya. In this aspect, she is the wife of the keeper of the dead and cemeteries, Bawon Samedi.

About Oya:

Oya wears a crown with nine points from which hang nine charms; a hoe, a pick, a gourd, a lightning bolt, a scythe, a shovel, a rake, an ax, and a mattock.
A spear or a metal rendition of a lightning bolt. A red gourd. The dried seed pod of the flamboyan tree. She also wears nine copper bracelets.

In Yoruba religion and mythology, the natural forces of tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, and storms are the dances and movements of the Goddess Oya. These natural disasters, while bringing destruction in their wake, are often viewed as a necessary agent of purification and as prevention against stagnation, hence why – in an Ifa (Yoruba divination) commentary - the messanger God Orunmila says of the tornado-Oya that is sweeping through an apprentice diviner’s house:

“It is very white! A clean sweep!
Ifa, I say! Let her rip! Hai!”
(Gleason, 1987, 39.)

In all her many guises, Oya is usually – if not uniformly – viewed as a violet, temperamental, destructive force in the universe, but one that is nevertheless necessary and unavoidable. She is the Goddess of death, because one of the ultimate destructions of the self is physical death. She is the air and wind around us, and thus she is not only the first breath we take but also the last. Oya brings sudden change into the lives of all beings, and with it the message that if we accept and ride with the winds of sudden change – if we dance on the shifting carpet and bend in the gale – we will not break but will instead evolve and grow. Thus, in the Ifa commentary above, Oya wrecks the house of the apprentice diviner, but having done so bequeaths upon him many riches: “What wrecks your house also makes it thrive!” (Gleason, 1987, 42.)

Oya’s sacred weapon, the machete, violently clears thick jungle growth, symbolically stripping all the extraneous embellishments from life. Where there are lies and deceit, Oya’s sharp machete and winds tear away the veil of deception to reveal the (sometimes painful) truth. It is said of her that:

“Shango’s wife,
With her thumbs tears out the intestines of the liar.”
(Gleason, 1987, 2.)

Storms in Yoruba religion are often associated with the process of death: they are believed to mark the transition from life to death as the soul moves from this world to Oya’s Island (also known as Guinea, one belief of an afterlife in Yoruba) in the middle of the Niger river. Similarly, when somebody in a Yoruba community dies, their passing is heralded with the destruction of everything tied to their physical life, leaving a mess quite akin to that left in the wake of a storm behind. The dead person’s sacred objects are smashed, jewellery broken, and in some parts of Africa the house is pulled down over the remains. (Gleason, 1987, 29.)

Other Symbols of Oya:
Saint: St. Theresa of Avila
Weapon: Machete
Items: Flywhisk and masks
Colours: Plum, dark red, burnt orange, purple, brown; she is also depicted wearing rainbow-coloured skirts
Foods: Aubergines, red wine, rare beef and dark meats, any purple, red, orange, or brown foods and drinks.
Number: 9
Relationships: Wife of Shango and Ogun, sister of Yemaya

Myth: How Oya and Shango became Orisha
Originally Shango and Oya were not Orisha (Gods, or spirits, translated literally as “head calabash”) but humans, a king and his queen. Shango found it difficult retaining his power when so many other kings ruled the land around him, and so when he heard that the King of Bariba possessed a special formula that – when placed under the tongue – enabled the user to spit lightning as an offensive weapon, he craved it. He sent his favourite wife, Oya, to the King of Bariba to request some of the formula, and sure enough she got what she wanted. The myth, however, tells that she kept some of the magic for herself, giving her the power to spit lightning and destroy what she willed. Shango himself used the lightning frivolously, and accidentally misdirected a bolt at his own people whom he had vowed to protect, killing all but a few. Distraught at his action, he hanged himself from a tree, but did not die. Instead, he ascended to the skies and became on Orisha. Oya, who had followed him and discovered his body, wept over her dead husband (possibly giving us the first link with Oya and the dead, since in some versions of the tale it is she who first invents the practice and keening for the dead). In her grief, she descended into swampland and also became an Orisha, ruling the skies, thunder, and lightning alongside her husband as his equal.

Myth: Why Oya’s Sacred Animal is the Buffalo
In this myth, Oya was a female buffalo that could shed its skin to become a woman. The woman-Oya would hide the skin in an anthill, and then pick up her wares to sell them at the nearby market. However, one day a hunter spotted her doing this, and used the knowledge to trick Oya into becoming his wife. She agreed to the marriage on one term: that her co-wives were never told about her origin as a buffalo. Thus, the marriage lasted many years, and the couple had many children. But throughout the years the co-wives distrusted Oya, and wanted to know where she had come from and why their husband was so closed when it came to discussing her. One night, after their patience had run out, the co-wives plied their husband with alcohol until he told them where he had found Oya: a fact that the wives subsequently used to tease and verbally abuse Oya. But the wives also told Oya where their husband had been hiding her buffalo skin all these years, and so Oya immediately retrieved it and put it on, turning into a magnificent female buffalo once more. So angry was she at her husband’s betrayal that she rampaged through his house, destroying all his possessions and food stores, trampling his wives to death. She destroyed every part of her husband’s life, leaving only her children and the man himself alive, before disappearing from their sight. (Gleason, 1987, 187-193.)

The Wind and the Rainbow: An Oya Pataki
Recorded as told to Charles Butler on http://www.balus-den.com/pataki.htm

Elegbara, aye-o, Elegbara, aye-o, Elegbara, madupe, Elegbara Wonfa nyem, listen and hear, and remember.

Listen my children to the tale of Oya, and her children the colors of the rainbow, a tale of questions and answers, sacrifice and healing, friendship, and trust renewed.

Hear the tale of Oya, come weary to the bone from a long hunt to her home by the black waters of the Niger. There her children are being raised by Osayin, the herbalist, and taught the ways of the woods. She clothes them in purple, and calls each by a secret name--but they see her seldom, she stays but a few days, and leaves the mothering to the old healer.

One day she does not return, the children go hungry, and Osayin is worried. He turns to Elegwa, who watches everything, and asks where she may have gone.

To the East Elegwa goes searching, far beyond the borders of the land, but though he searches far, he finds only tall grasses waving in the breeze, and tracks of the water buffalo.

To the West Osayin, himself, continues searching, far into the mountains of the Cameroon, and from a high place he seems to see her dancing, but when he gets to the plain, it is a flock of wild birds covering the seashore and the remains of a great catch of fish.

To the South, he sends Ochosi, the tracker, who often finds traces when no one can see the way. Ochosi goes hunting, seeking through the jungle, and though Ochosi is able to find traces of her journey and people who have seen her, they tell him she has gone north to the country of her people.

And so the three friends return to the village, each having journeyed and returned disheartened. The villagers are hungry and they do not know what to do as the harvest has been poor. The three counselors do not know what to do but are fearful of leaving the children without their mother, so packing their belongings, they take the children with them.

To the North, then, Elegwa, Ochosi, and Osayin go journeying with the nine children until they come to the hut of Orunmilla, the seer. He greets them, "I have been expecting you, the Fool, the Bow, the Reed. I have seen you for many days in my shells, for you come to bring home the harvest."

"What" speaks Elegwa, "I know no such harvest, I seek only my friend Oya, whose children miss her."

"It is a strange harvest--I see nine children and a mother who does not return and only now you miss her? She shall be your harvest indeed."

Ochosi spoke also. "I see her trace everywhere. The villagers speak of a brave woman warrior, dressed in black with a purple sash, who comes, stops oppression, but leaves before anyone can thank her."

"You see her harvesting justice--and you do nothing but track her traces--what must you learn?"

Osayin shook his head sadly. "I was trusted with her children, but she has left no word."

"You speak of trust," Orunmilla spoke gently, "and for that I will speak. She has come by this way, and left you these horns. Go home, and she will return when you blow them in blessing the feast."

"But what shall I tell these her children," asked Osayin?

"Tell them she will return when the hunters return from the South with no food, when the sailors return from the West with no fish, when the lands to the East are dry, then they should blow their horns and she will return."

And the three returned to the village by the river Niger disheartened. They waited for another moon and thought of Orunmilla's words. Elegwa looked to the East and saw only the shifting stars. Osayin looked to the west and saw only the birds on the seashore, Ochosi pondered the South and the strange tales of a warrior who took no food as reward. And they knew that it was time to call her home.

And they blew on the horns.

The wail of the horns died out, and there was a palpable silence. And from a distance they could here the snort of some beast come to the village. They watched and from the forest came an immense black buffalo, bleeding from many wounds, who ran at each of them, chasing them into huts as if mad with fear.

The buffalo ran about the village, once, and they thought it best to stay indoors. Twice, and they began to peer outside. Three times, and it was if they knew to wait. Four times, and the rhythm of its running made a strange dance on the drums of the elders. Five times, and all the villagers began to dance, ignoring the buffalo as it continued to run. Six times and no one could be still. Seven times and the beast began to tire. Eight times and the drums fell silent. The ninth time, the buffalo ran into the center of the village and collapsed, dead of exhaustion and blood.

The villagers shook themselves, and looked upon the beast, now dead in the village. It skin now hung in tatters, like cloth, and even as they watched, the tatters became loose, and the hooves shrank, until finally they saw Oya, seemingly dead upon the ground.

"No, it cannot be," cried Osayin, "we saw her tracks everywhere and we never suspected."

"She is the harvest we knew was to come, but not at the sacrifice of our friend," replied Elegwa.

"Only the hunter knows what it is to be hunted," observed Ochosi. We tracked her to the East, to the West, to the South, and never knew that we chased a friend. And now, she is dead."

"I am not dead," spoke a voice from the clearing, and they turned but saw no one. "I am not dead," and it was if the sky itself sang. "You see my old form, your old friend, that was but a shell. I am the spirit of the wind, and nothing will keep me from my children." And the wind blew as if a great howling of drums and Oya arose alive again, calling her children one by one.

"Not many know me as you know me, my youngest child, you shall be the Dark Mother (pulling out a cloth of Black). You will lead them by secret ways through the forest when they have lost their way."

"I have shed much blood from the spears of the hunters, you my child shall remember, you are the Blood Mother (pulling out a cloth of Red). You will always remember the blood of the warriors who fight in your behalf."

"The sun shines golden in the fields ripe for harvest, and you will always know its abundance if you call on me. You are now the Golden Mother (pulling out a cloth of Orange)."

"I blind the enemy so that they are diverted and do no harm, you I call my Shield, the sun (pulling out a cloth of Yellow). Do no harm when deflection will do."

"Osayin taught you well the patience of waiting. Sometimes you cannot see the pattern until the cloth is finished. You are now the Weaver Woman. Take this cloth of Green, as you must pull the reed when it is ripe and let it dry."

"Ochosi traced you to the ends of the earth and looked upon the sea. There my winds are forever bringing change. You are now the Hurricane (pulling out the cloth of Blue), forever changing the sea and the land."

"When justice is not done, I grow angry, and become the seeker after truth. I call you Lightning, blasting from a clear sky (pulling out a cloth of Indigo)."

"And when you are old, you will teach the young my words, for you shall be the Crone (pulling out a cloth of Purple). You will be old before your years, and call even the elderly to learn at your feet."

"And you, the eldest child, they will see but seldom as you will follow in my footsteps, invisible as the wind, you are the Dancer in the Flame (pulling out a cloth of Silver)."

Know my friends, Elegwa, Ochosi, Oyasin, that you did not fail me. You, o wondering villagers, you cared for my children even in your hunger. Now when you have need, call me by my horns and there will be fish in the sea, a harvest on the land, and meat for the hunter.

Take up the colors of my children as my token, and when you see them in the sky, know that I am there, and here, and in your heart. For you are now the Rainbow, and I am the Wind.

Bibliography:

Gleason, Judith. Oya: In Praise of the Goddess. Boston and London: Shambhala, 1987.

Correal, Tobe Melora. Finding Soul on the Path of Orisa: A West African Spiritual Tradition. Berkeley: The Crossing Press, 2003.

Herskovits, Melville J., African Gods and Catholic Saints in New World Negro Belief. American Anthropologist, New Series, vol. 39, no. 4, Part 1 (Oct-Dec 1937), pp. 635-643.

Kaser, R.T. African Oracles in 10 Minutes. New York: Avon Books, 1996.

Lele, Ócha’ni. The Secrets of Afro-Cuban Divination. Rochester, Vermont: Destiny Books, 2000.

Teish, Luisah. Jambalaya: The Natural Woman’s Book. New York: HarperCollins, 1985.

Gonzalez-Wippler, Migene. Santeria: The Religion: Faith, Rites, Magic, New York:
Llewellyn Publications, 2002.