“I see you”

One can learn the mysteries of life through the playing of the children’s peek-a-boo game of “I see you.”

Last week I was in Nigeria on a spiritual quest to fulfill a destined step on my personal journey into the mysteries of Ifa. For many years, I shied away from traveling to Nigeria out of a colonial fear of militarization, bribes and corruption, and overall overwhelming sense of not being safe. Yet, Nigeria is the womb of my destiny, the homeland of my Ifa lineage and where I would need to go for spiritual initiation – starting with the blessings of the orishas Oshun and Obatala. So after more than two decades of mental and spiritual preparation, my turn had come to surrender and be led by faith.

On the second night I asked my African American Babalawo why were there no memorials for the Trans-Atlantic Slave trade like one finds in Senegal and Ghana? I was to ask a friend of our our Oluwo – but never had the chance. Later on, in the week, Baba, his daughter an Iyanifa, and myself had a deep discussion on why it is our tendency to always begin Black American history with the slave trade. Why must that part of history be the seed of our conception? This experience awakened in me the deepness of our sense of self – Africa never left us. Like patient and forgiving parents, she lay dormant inside of us, waiting for us to acknowledge her. Nigeria does not need to memorialize the slave trade. Within her bloodstream we were never separated and she knew we would eventually come back home. Instead of memorializing our separation, she honors our return.

This story is not about the process of initiation but about the Divine feminine energy of the landscape that embraced me and supported me as soon as I set foot onto her belly. These words are shared through the nano-micropad of time and space and people encountered on a nine-day journey from Lagos to Ibidan to Oshogbo to Ode Remo. They can in no way represent truth, only my insight and reflection.

After decades of turmoil and violence, Nigeria seems to be in a place of peace where co-existence across faith lives. In the pre-Dawn hour, I awakened on more than one morning to the sound of the Adhan and Iqam – calls for Muslim worshipers; light drum beats and soprano pitches of Christian morning service; and rich voices of the Iyas winding down a series of call and response after a night of praying over me. In that moment, the day was full and rich – a gathering of the ancestors, spirit, humans, and all beings – celebrating life together.

This was far difference from the divisiveness, segregated landscape, and echoes of hate talk and violence experienced at home in the U.S. In fact, the day I left there was a mass shooting that killed 12 people enjoying music at a Thousand Oaks bar, 2 to 3 wild fires sparked by global warming – one of which destroyed an entire town killing at least 60 people and many animals, and the President standing by the execution of a journalist. And which is the uncivilized nation?

For a week I entered a vortex of time into a clay womb, where the woman was honored, where men embraced the feminine within and took pride in their role as fathers, community leaders, healers. One of the most precious moments was when one of my youngest teachers – a three year old girl whom I played a game of ” I see you” with earlier in the day, woke up crying in the middle of the night. Not sure if I should get up to check on her, I rose up grabbing my robe when suddenly I heard the deep, yet soft voice of Oluwo- her uncle, assuring her that she was safe and to go back to sleep.

How many little girls, little Black girls in the U.S. yearn to hear the warmth of their fathers’ voices affirming them in their moment of need. Fatherhood is an African tradition and through embracing the feminine, we can guide our men back to their roots to regain the knowledge and redefine Black masculinity in the U.S. today.

 

Gender relations in Nigeria are going through a cultural adjustment. As women gain greater responsibilities out of the home, there is concern by some of Western cultural  influences and the impact on family structures and shifts in traditional roles.

 

I think though the answer is more present- at least in the practice of Ifa – Isese- the tradition I practice. Through the eyes of this tradition, I observed women, older women  – the Iyas – priestesses of the community in Ode Remo- hold the space of ritual and tradition with strength and prestige with nods from the powerful male Babalawos (priest of Ifa). Each respected the others role in the tradition and yielded the space to perform those roles without competition or intrusion. Like a dance performing the balance of a living eco-system, the men and women accepted and performed their roles with pride and respect for their respective callings. There was no anger, insult, of dehumanization – only mutual appreciation. Instead of looking outward in competition, they look inward into the the soul guided by the wisdom of their Odu’s – life paths- and gifts given by the Orishas, primordial ancestors and energies of the universe that help sustain the lifeforce for continuous regeneration and rebirth.

Within this experience I relearned the value of relationships – that they are not about finding the most handsome guy or smartest teammate, or other external factors – but seeking out a mate who complements my essence and call to duty in this life for the work will get done when there is a balanced energetic force behind it.

The feminine face of nature also was present in the offerings that we gave to the land in honor of our ancestors. Beautiful flowers and leaves filled with sweets and other essences that were quickly absorbed by a natural predatory eco-system of ants, flies, chickens, goats, hawks, and the unknown. I thought how foolish some of our traditions in the U.S. have become when we clog up our rivers with perfume bottles and lipstick – seeking favor from the Goddess – an earth-based Goddess – of the earth and thus shouldn’t also be her gifts? Why do we seek the most exquisite clothes to mark our worth, when the wisest people I have ever met were bare-breasted women with goat eyes who saw the mysteries of this world and beyond? What material mind taught us shame in being close to the earth? It is this skin that truly catches our blood, our tears, our excrement and turns this waste into fertilizer to nourish rebirth of crops that feed our bodies and our soul. Earth is the greatest orisha and why have we gone against our natural intellect to treat her so wrong. She is the most forgiving, but even the most patient mother wears down. How can we look to traditions like Ifa, humbly ask for the medicine needed to reawaken the divine knowledge latent within? How do we act with urgency so that she does not withdraw her wisdom into the earth – for it will be us humans who are unable to survive.

Many people think of initiation as a final step of destiny. I was one of those. Yet on the other end, I realize that this current mile-marker was just an entrance into a study hall where the desire to learn was ignited. I pray for the resources to return for 3 to 6 months. To sit, assist, observe, hold space in the sacred circle of the feminine as was held for me. It is my duty and responsibility.

I am honored how I am now called:  Iyalorisha Oshunfunke- she who is to be supported.

Nigeria, I see You. I am inspired by your struggle and your fight. I now respect your pride. I honor your traditions. May you support your Indigenous practices – the world  needs the medicine.  I see you in me, and I see me within you. I am thankful that we are made of the same earth. To our future together . . .