Elizabeth Nordt
Department of Drama
Stanford University
Email: enordt@stanford.edu

Dancing the Divine: Orisha Embodiment in Lucumí/Santería

Drumming, chants, and dance form an essential part of the practice of African diasporic religions that have survived from Africa through slavery to the present day. Primarily originating in Cuba, but practiced throughout Latin America including the United States, Lucumí-also known as Santería-evolved out of Yoruban traditions that believe in one God and many Orisha, or spirits, who can serve as intermediaries and continually interact with humans. Each Orisha has different characteristics and interests along with specific ways in which s/he should be worshiped. During ceremonies and celebrations, practitioners perform Orisha dances, which mimic the characteristic gestures of each Orisha. For example, the dance for Oggún, the Orisha of iron and war, reproduces the motions of wielding a machete in his right hand and moving his shoulders in sharp aggressive shrugs. The movements of the dances, along with the rhythms and chants are designed to invite the Orisha to come down and join the gathering by possessing an initiated dancer in order for participants to communicate with the Orisha.
Dance plays several roles in Lucumí in both Cuba and the United States. The culture of Lucumí/Santería extends far beyond the practice of the religion with the appropriation of dance choreography as folkloric by secular culture. I describe Orisha dances performed for a general audience comparing them to those performed as an integral part of the religion based on my fieldwork over the last few years including observations of the dances and interviews with Santeros. With particular attention to gender stereotypes, I analyze the potential empowerment of the dancers who perform within sacred ritual space and during the dances embody the Orisha through possession.
Orisha Dances
The dance devoted to an Orisha mimics the characteristic gestures of that Orisha. Although there are many Orisha, I can only address a few of the dances within the scope of this short paper. As mentioned earlier, the dance for Oggún, manifests his warlike tendencies through rapid steps forward (first three to the right, then three to the left) while undulating his chest and swinging his right arm in a chopping motion. He continues by stepping backward with his elbows pulling his arms up and away from the body. Then he comes forward again with his hands clasped and arms straight as he thrusts them downward from directly over his head to below his waist. Throughout the dance, Oggún's movements remain steady and swift. Oyá, a female Orisha representing wind and death, dances abruptly with sporadic bursts of energy. She plants her feet with a wide stance and rapidly shakes her shoulders up and down, then quickly moves into wild spins waving her arms overhead, only to rest again in a wide stance with her elbows out and her hands at her waist behind her back. Each burst of movement shows her whimsical power over the wind. Oyá's movements indicate that she might go in any direction at any time. Although neither dance requires a tremendous amount of space, both Oyá and Oggún control a large area around them.
Oyá's dance bears little resemblance to the dance of her sister and rival, Oshún, Orisha of beauty, love, and wealth. Oshún dances with graceful smoothness, typical of the river that she also represents. Her gestures represent those of pure vanity. In an outstretched arm, she holds a mirror in which to admire herself. Her other hand combs her hair. Then she glides gently with a hand on her hip while the other hand fans herself. Oyá and Oshún's mother, Yemayá - Orisha of the ocean - moves with similar undulations representing water. However, Yemayá epitomizes the mother figure, moving with great dignity rather than the vanity of Oshún. She moves sideways back an forth, with her hands holding her skirt and her arms flowing out from her body and back again, as if scooping water.
Folklore
Within the religion, dances - like most other rituals and ceremonies - are not taught, but rather learned through continuous casual observation. In many places in the United States and Cuba, those with an interest in dance can take classes in Orisha dances or Afro-Cuban dance. Students study the movements and rhythms of the Orisha as purely aesthetic forms or as mythic folklore. Several Cuban dance troupes specialize in Orisha dances and tour internationally, including Los Muñequitos and Raices Profundas. Both groups also teach; this year Raices Profundas has taught in the public schools in Cuba. Orisha dances constitute part of the standard cultural curriculum within the Cuban education system. A lead dancer in Raices Profundas, José Francisco Barroso was born and raised in Cuba, but now lives and teaching in San Francisco. He is also a practicing Babalawo (a priest dedicated to the Orisha Orula). In May 2003, I attended his Orisha dance class at Rhythm and Motion, a dance studio in San Francisco. The class began with yoga-like stretching to the beat of live bata drumming. Barroso entered after about ten minutes and announced that we would begin with Oggún- "a warrior who dances with a machete." This was the extent of his verbal introduction. He switched Orisha by addressing the drummers and telling them what rhythm to play next. The class moved quickly through various rhythms for two hours. Although I did not interview the students, those I talked to either practiced Santería and wanted to improve their steps for the Orisha or wanted to be in a dance class but now were curious about the religion.
The line between what is acceptable for public consumption and what is sacred within the religion seems to fall around possession. While Yoruban tradition maintains that the dance is sacred in Africa, most practitioners of Santería believe that the dance itself can be secularized without imitating sacred possession by the Orisha. Marcos Sanchez, a Santero who played the drums for the dance class, told me:
I think it is great to learn about your culture, even if you may not ever become a Santero or even really join the religion. And for me personally, as long as that person doesn't try to fake possession during the dance, I have no problem with it. (Sanchez, 2001)

Many who dance the Orisha dances professionally practice the religion; however, others have only learned the dance movements. In either case, dance serves as a powerful connection to both the Orisha and to Afro-Cuban heritage.
Structure of the Religion
In order to show how the Orisha dances fit within Lucumí/Santería, I will give a brief introduction to the structure of the religion. The religion maintains hierarchies for the Orisha based in their mythical origins and humans based on levels of initiation. Both are grounded in familial relations where parents deserve the respect of their children. Under the guidance of godparents, each initiate must undergo training and a series of rituals before attaining the status of Santero/a (a priest/ess). This process involves numerous stages beginning with consultations with the Orisha and culminating with the asiento, a ceremony where the yaguó (initiate) "makes the saint" symbolizing a ritual death and rebirth in Ochá (the Orisha tradition). During this process, divination determines the person's ruling Orisha (the owner of their head) the Santero/a devotes their life to serving that Orisha, although all the other Orisha must also be respected. Being born into Ochá gives the Santero/a two new sets of parents placing them within a family hierarchy in the religion: the first, from the Orisha who own their head, the second, the madrino and padrino who are the human godparents, teaching and leading the yaguó through the initiations.
Praying to the Orisha involves rhythms, chanting and dance. Drummers perform the rhythms on the Bata, which are sacred drums consecrated to the religion that speak directly to the Orisha through tonal qualities of the Yoruba language. Some rhythms are so sacred that they only may be performed during private rituals, while others may be performed publicly in open ceremonies. These public rhythms are known as bembé (a word often associated with the ceremony as a whole) and resonant throughout parties for the Orisha called tambors (the Spanish word for drum). Each year, tambors occur in honor of an Orisha on the specific day devoted to that Orisha.
Practitioners also host tambors as a "thank-you" to an Orisha who has been called upon to help with a significant life problem (illness being the most common, although work or money related issues as well as love problems also appeal to the help of the Orisha).
There is a strict order to every ceremony where the drums salute each of the primary Orisha by playing their rhythms accompanied by songs and dance. Elegguá always begins, as he is the Orisha of the crossroads, gates and doors. No ceremony can open or close without paying respect to Elegguá. The songs continue in turn for each of the Orisha with the most time spent playing for the Orisha to whom the ceremony is dedicated. This may last from 4-8 hours, ending with ritual foods and drinks prepared in advance for the Orisha. The event includes the entire community, whether they actively practice Santería or not, creating "communitas" to use Victor Turner's phrase.
Embodying the Divine
The goal of a tambor is to communicate with the Orisha. This happens directly when an Orisha "mounts" one of their children (a Santero/a whose head is owned by that Orisha). "Mounting" involves the Orisha taking possession of a human. Sheila Walker explains that possession as a phenomenon occurs when a cultural framework exists into which an "Altered state of consciousness" can fit. Altered states of consciousness (ASC) can be documented on a physiological level: an individual's heart rate, breathing and behavior change significantly. (Walker, 1980: 27) The sound vibrations generated by the bata rhythms along with the physical movements of the dances, makes participants susceptible to ASC. The rhythm of the drum can change the rhythm of one's heart while the exertion of dance changes respiration. The meaning of ASC depends on the circumstances under which it occurs. During a Santería ceremony, the religion frames possession as an embodiment of the divine.
In order for the group to benefit from the effects of possession the individual must be initiated into the rituals of Lucumí/Santería in general, and the mounting Orisha in particular. The religion explains that if someone without training is possessed it is a sign that the Orisha has marked that person for initiation, but Santeros/as ask the Orisha to leave the person until he or she can undergo initiation. Asking the Orisha to leave involves specific rituals known to Santeros/as, but also generally includes taking the possessed person into another room, away from the beat of the drums. Outside the ritual space of the bembé, it is understandable that a person experiencing ASC might regain their composure. Such regulation of the space and dance exemplifies Paul Spencer's theory of dance as an organ of social control. (Spencer, 1985) Not only is the order of the rhythms and ceremonies strictly prescribed, but also the dance itself can take over and control a person's fate. Being marked for initiation by an Orisha claims that person as a devoted follower of the religion for the rest of their life. Presumably, those attending a ceremony already are part of the community and have some interest in the religion; therefore, if an uninitiated dancer undergoes ASC during a ceremony, s/he will experience significant cultural pressure to dedicate her/his life to worshiping Orisha.
When a Santero/a dancer is mounted within the framework of a ceremony, those in attendance encourage the ASC. Through that Santero/a, the Orisha can speak directly with petitioners, offering blessings, cleansings, predictions and advice on how to live. Each Orisha behaves according to his or her own characteristics while in the body of a human. Once the Orisha arrives, Santeros/as will dress them in elaborate clothes and give them their favorite objects. The Orisha are in control and theoretically may behave in any manner they please. Generally they stay within acceptable boundaries; however, Santeros/as watch and stand ready to placate the Orisha and "talk them down," if they behave too wildly. The Orisha dances described above derive from the movements and gestures that the Orisha themselves make when they come down. Some dancers embody the Orisha more effectively than others, depending on their aché. Aché is an intangible spiritual force or life energy, often facilitating the connection to an Orisha. While all living beings have ache, some people have significantly more than others. According to Marcos Sanchez:
Aché is when Yemaya comes down and Yemaya … tells you something you did ten years ago that there is no way in hell she could have known. And it happens- I've seen it. That's Aché. And not all dancers have it. Just because you are a dancer and just because you can be mounted doesn't mean you have Aché. Aché is also a ceremony where when you get mounted you don't just talk, you are given aché. And it is a certain ceremony that happens in the mouth. To in part prove that it is a real possession and to give voice to the Orisha. (Sanchez, 2001)

The Orisha do not distinguish between the genders of their children, making it possible for a man to be possessed by a female Orisha, such as Yemaya or Oshún. In my research, no one considered such gender crossing between the divine and the human to be an issue. When specifically questioned as to whether gender differences could be observed in possessions where gender-crossing occurred, Michael Spiro, a Babalawo and professional musician who plays bata at ceremonies, observed:
The essence of Yemaya when she comes (if it is the real deal) is fairly consistent regardless of sexuality. But, as the trance is taking place, certain acts, the physical manifestations in the body can be a little different, I think mostly based on what our bodies are used to doing … When the body is beginning to be possessed there will be certain reactions and movements that are foreign to my body, but others will be manifested in ways in which my body is used to manifesting them. (Spiro, 2001)

A trance state tests the body's knowledge of how to move; it encourages experimentation with unfamiliar gestures. A Santero/a will have observed other bodies enacting an Orisha's gestures during past ceremonies, but may not have embodied those gestures until possessed by that Orisha.
Cross-culturally, women and homosexual men are more susceptible to trance (ASC) states, a fact supported by the personal observations of my informants. Spiritual possession may be more common among women because it requires relinquishing control of one's body. In societies where women have little control of their bodies, they have little to lose, whereas, it stands as a much greater threat for men who expect control in their everyday lives. By giving their bodies over to the Orisha, women find themselves in a position of tremendous power. Losing time, or not remembering anything that happens within a period, is a significant feature of possession. While this seems to undermine my claim that women may gain power through possession, recognition of their aché remains in the memories of the community bringing them greater respect in their everyday lives.
Although less frequent, Orisha do mount heterosexual men, as well. When this happens, societal norms fall away and the male body becomes free to behave in a completely feminine fashion, including flirting with other men. In a culture known for rigid standards of masculinity, such freedom is unusual and perhaps a welcome opportunity for different behavior. This freedom comes by way of fear of the realm of the divine. "If the Orisha is flirting with you, you don't do anything, if nothing else out of fear and respect." (Sanchez, 2001) The presence of an Orisha demands whatever attention it wants.
Orisha dances serve as an aesthetic public face of Lucumí/Santería. The movements and rhythms of the Orisha are taught as cultural heritage in schools in Cuba and performed on stage for tourists. On the level of the divine, the dances function as an invitation for the Orisha to join humans in celebration and solicitation for their aid. When an Orisha accepts this invitation by embodying a human, that human body becomes divine. Although according to the faith, the human loses consciousness during the time the Orisha remains within that body; nonetheless, the body remains and may behave in ways society would not otherwise allow. Non-threatening because it is sanctified by the religious context, through the dance in the space of the bembé, an opportunity arises to escape normal societal constraints.

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