History Repeats Itself

With my ex-wife Mari moving up the ranks in Santeria, Amanda followed, and in a ceremony involving the reading of shells—caracoles—a bid was placed over her head in the religion. Now history was repeating itself. My daughter was being dedicated to the gods just as I was when I was ten years old. What had been done to me as a little boy was now being done to her. I wasn’t given a choice or an opportunity to think it over, and the same thing was happening to her. How often things repeat themselves in life. Snatched out of the hands of my mother, now Amanda was being snatched out of my hands to be given over to Santeria and espiritismo. Shortly afterward, Amanda was crowned the sole possession of Ochun and Obatala: a pair of evil spirits. From here on the spirits of espiritismo and Santeria would have control of her life, offering her a purpose and a destiny.

As the days and weeks went by, I prepared myself for a gathering with the spirits that took place every six months to see where I stood in the religion. I was summoned to stand before a clan of spirits. That night as I stood in the basement for my ritual, I could feel the presence of every demon entering the room for the ceremony. As the ritual began, it was like a parent looking over a child’s report card. If everything went well, it meant the powers vested in me were still flowing and any outsider who threatened me would easily be brought down. I preferred the term “taken out.” It commanded respect. If I didn’t stand well in the reading, a restoration cleansing was in order, followed by a demonic feast. But if I were a complete reprobate to the religion, I could be punished with either a broken arm or leg, depending on how obstinate I was. Or a demon would punish me and I would end up in the hospital with a long-term illness. And if a greater punishment was warranted, something else would happen, leading to death.

That night I sat in the center of the basement. Behind my chair was placed a glass of water with a flower in it and a white candle. As the reading took place, every demon showed up to give a report of my spiritual contract with them, my responsibility to the contract, and what other levels I

needed to reach.

The medium performing the ritual said, “Siete Rayos is here, and he said he’s happy with you. Zarabanda is here, and he said he is happy to have you as a son. Candelo, the spirit father of Haiti is also here, and he said how much he loves you. El Indio also just came in, and he said how proud he is of you and the rank that you hold in espiritismo. They’re asking me right now if you have any questions for them.”

“I don’t have any questions,” I said with a big smile on my face.

As for my “report card” that night, I got an A. Aunt Maria was so proud of me. She had been serving the religion for fifty years. But a good report didn’t mean I was safe. I had enemies in the religion who would always try to take me out no matter how good I stood with the demonic spirits. The reason? Jealousy, due to the powers I possessed.

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 747