Santo VI: consultation

"When you go home tonight I want you to relax and keep to yourself. At least till you do Santo. Don't let anyone anger you or upset you in your home. Stay in your room. If anyone tries to push your buttons or you hear any disgareements or fighting going on with your roommates, stay in your room. I don't care if you hear a barroom brawl going on in the other end of your apartment. If someone tries to hit you or start anything with you, you cannnot defend yourself, I forbid you. Just get away. You must stay away from any situation like that. Things are going to get worse before it gets better. Don't freak out when I tell you this. Just remember to hold on, it will pass. It's going to get bad, I wont lie to you. But you have to remember that it's going to pass. Look at me." She held my chin between her thumb and forefinger. "I'm not speaking in metaphor here, this is very real. Don't misunderstand what I tell you. Keep your head down Kari. Santo is coming and the Orisha is clearing out all the crap in your life to make way for what's coming. Sometimes it cleans out things we want to keep. Things we don't want to let go of. Let it go, you have to learn to let it all go. When you do Santo your body is no longer your own. Yemaya will own your body. And Yemaya will take you where she wants to go. It can be a very jarring experience. This is the part of Santo that's very hard to come to terms with. You dont have a choice, the Orisha has claimed you. You're not going to do Santo because it's a lifestyle choice, it's in your spiritual DNA. You were born to this."


I felt sick. "Madrina, it can't get any worse."


"Yes it can, it can get a hell of alot worse. But you have to ride it out. Were going to do a rogation on your head, and do some other things, but it will only help temporarily, but it will help. You need to find a way to put your Santo money together, and get it together. I want you here with us as much as possible. Can you get some sleeping medication from your doctor?"


"Madrina I got so much medictaion, but I'm afraid to take any of it."


"What kind of medication?"


I opened my bag and everything came rolling out.



"Jesus Christ, what is all this shit?"



"I don't even know what half of it is. I went to doctor and told him everything that was going on and he said I was having a nervous breakdown. He prescribed all this crap to calm me down and help me sleep. None of it works. He keeps giving me more but I just stopped taking it. Now I only take the sleeping pills. If it was'nt for the sleeping pills I would'nt sleep at all."


"Of course they told you that, typical. Take the sleeping pills, but be carefull and dont get any ideas about offing yourself or anything stupid. Cause you will think of it, it's in your signals. Just don't even go there. All kinds of crazy shit's gonna start banging around in your head. Ignore it."


"It's going to get that bad?"



"Yeah. You got some very rough signals here. But they are going to pass. There's some other stuff going on too, but we don't have to get into all of that now. The important thing is to keep your head from coming off till you can do your Santo."


"I don't know how I'm going to get money for Santo."


"Remember the consultation a year ago? I told you your Santo money was coming, it's coming to you. When it's time to do Santo you will know, and the money will come, the Orisha always brings it to you. Let's close this out and get some food into you."


She ground out her cigar and we walked to the back of the store. She and my godfather began a very animated conversation is spanish. My godfather looked at the notes from the reading and sighed.


"Aye, this is not good. Kari you need to do Santo soon. Sit down. Let's eat. Sit here Flaca."


We all sat down together and my godmother filled my godfathers plate, then mine. Beans, rice, sweet plaintains, salad. The smell of the food was making me queesy. I bit into an eggroll and gagged. They both looked at me and barked, "EAT."

Santo IV: consulation

"Flaca, I know you are educated, and sometimes the educated mind looks for ways to make sense of the things it does'nt understand about our beliefs. Many people come for consulations, and they dont understand, or believe what we tell them because they have to have it happen to them first, before they believe. You should know better than that by now. Have the consulations ever been wrong?"

"No madrina."

"Then listen, and don't think like an educated white person. You know how to do this. It's hard to change that, but take what you know as 'logic' and put it aside for now, okay? Go with what you know inside."

I nodded.

"Yemaya is sitting on you, she's right on top of you, she's talking to you. Your egguns and muertos are talking to you. They are trying to get your attention, and you keep ignoring them. You know what happens to people if they're supposed to do Santo, and they don't. They start to go crazy, and they go out of control until Santo puts them on the path they're supposed to be following. If you don't do santo you're a king or a queen without a crown. If you don't get Yemaya into your house, she's going to take you to hers. You cannot have Yemaya in your head if you're not crowned, the head can't hold all of it, it's too much for the psyche. It's too much, even if you are crowned. You Yemayas all go crazy until you do Santo. She will make you nuts, and that's what's happening to you."

I gaped in silence.


"Yemaya means 'Mother Who's Children are Fish.' Any fish that lives on land, or any creature that lives out of thier element is crazy. Have you ever seen a fish when it's taken out of the water? It's not pretty. No one ever really knows what's at the bottom of the sea, it's unknowable, and children of Yemaya are unknowable and always alone. You can't live with all of what you have in your head. Get used to what you are and who you are, it's not going to change. Santo will balance it, and you will become comfortable with it, but if you don't do Santo you will only grow more uncomfortable till you can't stand yourself. I don't know how you have managed to go as long as you have. You look like you're carrying the world on your back. I didn't recognize you when you came in. Are you sleeping at all?"


"Not much, a few hours, but I keep waking up. I feel like I'm PMSing all the time, I've been that way for months, emotional.


"Are you dreaming of her alot?"


"Yes. I never remembered my dreams much before, but the last few months, I dream so much I'm exhausted when I wake up."


"That's her, she's waking you up now, and she's not going to give you any rest either. Your eyes were closed before. She's opening them now, and you are going to start seeing things you never saw before. You are going to see things that you are not going to like. Don't close your eyes to it, OPEN YOUR EYES, Kari," she pushed her finger on my forehead, "see what's around you. Yemaya is very close to you right now. When you start to feel the tears come on for no reason, and your thoughts are driving you mad, it's because Yemaya is near. She's close to you for a reason."


"What do you mean Madrina?"


"Listen to me very carefully, you may not want to hear it or believe it. In the signals that you have, the people, or the person that has been around you are not your friends. Your best friend is your worst enemy, and you've been betrayed, and you haven't seen it yet. Somebody has played you. They played you for a fool, they took your loyalty and stabbed you in the back. This is going to feel like it's killing you, don't let it. The only reason you would ever know about it, is because your sitting here, and because Yemaya's been trying to tell you. They know how trusting you are and they used it to your disadvantage. They want all that you have. They are miserable and they want you miserable with them. Look closely, look under your own roof and in your own pockets and you will find someone who wants you alone. Yemaya has been trying to tell you. You haven't done Santo yet so you don't know to interpret the signs, you don't know what she's telling you. All you know is everything is conflama."


"What?" I stammered.

"Flaca, look at your life for the past few years. Where are your friends? Do you see them around you? Where is your family? Are you in touch with them? How much time do you spend with other people? Do you have a lover? How much time do you spend alone?"


I swallowed. She was right.


"This is not some folktale from a book, this is not something open to interpretation. Your signals are too strong. You're not going to be naive anymore. Ochun is also speaking here, and she does'nt want you to be so trusting anymore, it's a thing of the past. Ochun is taking the naivite from you. Ochun is very close now too.
Has there been any arguements or disagrements in the house in the last few months, any fighting?"


"Yes Madrina."


She puffed on her cigar and smiled.


"I bet there has. Has anyone been trying to pick fights with you, or physically made you uncomfortable?"


My mind scanned back, remembering events, things that didn't seem like much at the time.


I looked at my godmother, she looked at me.


"Don't worry, you are a child of Yemaya. No matter what happens, she is going to protect you. Yemaya will destroy anyone who tries to harm her children."


"Madrina when you say destroy, do you mean in a symbolic sense?" I always had trouble with this concept.


"No Flaca, I mean it literally. I've seen it happen. All of the orishas can harm anyone that fucks with thier children, but when Yemaya hurts someone, it's impossible to stop. Yemaya has patience and compassion but when she puts her foot down, it's over. Imagine what she would do to someone who harms her child."

Santo IV

I was tired when I got to the Bronx. The bell to the botanica door jingled as I opened it. The store smelled like incense and oil. A life size statue Of St Michael the archangael stood guard over the register and counter. The expression on his face was unreadable. He held a sword in his hand and his foot rested on the head of Satan. Satan had bat wings and was getting his face pushed into the dirt. He didn't look too happy.

"Hello," I called out. No one behind the counter. African drumming boomed through the room. I walked to the back of the store. My godafther sat in his chair leaning back, and staring at the monitors watching the store. He smiled at me and stood. I crossed my hands in front of my chest saluting foribale, my left shoulder to his right, then my right to his left, and hugged him.

"Hey Kari," he said, "how you doin?"

I shrugged lamely and sat down.

"You don't look so good Kari, you need to eat more."

"I know padrino."

My godmother bustled to the back of the store and her eyes narrowed at me.

"Look at you," she gawked, and hugged me. "Your arms are like sticks."

She pinched the flesh on my upper arm and let go, "you need to eat Flaca. Were ordering food now. You want beans and rice?"

I agreed and sat down. She called in the food and watched my every move.

"Yes hello," she trilled into the phone and rattled off her order in Spanish and hung up.

"Come and sit down. Tony, do you see this?" she said to my godfather, and raised her hand in the air as if to say: what am I gonna do with her?

"Yeah Kari, you look like shit," my padrino said sternly, "this is not good. You need to get consulted."

Come Flaca, were going to find out what the trouble is right now." My godmother took me by the hand and led me to the muertos room. I sat in the chair and uncrossed my feet and put my hands up on the table and watched as my godmother lit a cigar and puffed. The room was heavy with smoke. The walls were covered with catholic saints and her table was lit up with flickering candles. She picked up her shells and began the process of swirling them in a mass on the table, speaking prayers and dropping water on the shells as she stared at me and her hands moved. She picked up the shells in one hand and hit the table with her fist and let them drop. She counted the number of cowries that sat face up and wrote them down on her pad. She dropped a stone and seashell into my palm.

You know what to do, shake them."

I shook the stone and the shell in my enclosed hands.

"Separate," she said.

I let one fall in one hand, and one in the other.

"Open your right hand." As I did the shell fell out, the stone in the other hand. She wrote it down and then took the shells and threw them once more. She again counted the ones facing up and grunted, writing it down.

"Again Flaca." She dropped a stone in my hand and a round ball of powdered and compressed eggshell into my hand.

"Separate. Left hand." I dropped the stone out of my left hand and the eggshell remained in my other. She sighed long and threw the shells. She repeated this process over and over till the throws were complete. And lit her cigar and stared at me hard.

"Listen very very carefully to what I'm going to tell you now. Yemaya is speaking in this signal. You have to do Santo soon. We can keep cleaning you and doing things for you if you have a problem, but it's only going to work temporarily. You should of done Ocha years ago. Do you remember the consultation I gave you a year ago?"

I nodded my head, not wanting to remember the details.

"Do you remember all of it? Dont answer- I know you put it out of your mind 'cause you didn't want to deal with it. Let me remind you, and you tell me if you remember correctly. I told you a shit storm was coming your way, didn't I? I told you to keep your head didn't I? I told you no matter what, to keep your head cool, and don't react to anything- did'nt I? I told you not to argue or yell in your house, didn't I? I told you there was going to be a betrayal, and your whole world was going to change did'nt I? I also told you to hang on, because at the end of it all you were going to win, but you could not lose your head and to be very carefull with everything didn't I? I told you that you were going to go mad, did'nt I? Well I did'nt tell you everything Flaca, because there was nothing I could do for you. You had to go through it for your own spiritual evolution."

I nodded slowly and tracked back in my head her consultation that day. A tear rolled out of my eye.

"Baby your shit storm is here."

Lunch robbery

This morning I was on the train and some guy tried to take my lunch away from me.
He said, "gimme your lunch," and I said, "fuck off," as he made a grab for it.
I couldn't believe it! He had one side of my bag, and I had the other. We were pushing and pulling. I did'nt pay him any mind at first, I just figured he was another crazy homeless dude. They always hit me up for money and I always give it to them. Some of them are ingenious with the raps they lay down of thier misfortunes. Some of them will humour you out of your money. I like the three junkies that get on the train and sing doowop and spirituals. Even if you don't give them anything they always smile and say thank you, get home safe.

There was a crackhead in Los Angeles, her trick was was to come at you from across the street, screaming as if she was being murdered, or a great emergency was underway. By the time she got right up in your face and you realized what she was up to, you wanted to kill her. She never got anything from me, she made me so nervous I resented her immensely and wanted to get away from her. She was famous and lived off that ludicrous hustle for years.

Then there's the surly ones that look at you as if you're a turd because you only give them fifty cents.

Once in the east village, I saw this one middle aged junkie on the sidewalk begging for change. She was core, one of the worst I had seen in the neighborhood. She was tore up and I felt bad for her, her face was as red as a tomato, and her fingers were swollen like sausages from shooting in her hands. I gave her a twenty and she almost passed out from shock. She was so happy, it made me happy. It was like winning the lotto for two seconds. If I wont the lottery I would go around with a stack of twenties, and just pass 'em out to the homeless. Probably would'nt help much in the long run, but my lifes calling is'nt social work. I just like to see people happy sometimes.

You're probably thinking why does'nt she call this "tips for dealing with the homeless?", But I'm getting to the lunch part, I just got sidetracked...
Anyways, I'm on the subway and the train is swaying to and fro, going clackety clack, and this dopefiend tries to gank my lunch. He had one end of my sack and I had the other, and were both pulling, he as equally determined as I. The bag rips, and my peanut butter and jelly and apple and applesauce, went everywhere. I was so mad I kicked him on the shin.

He said, "bitch, you don't know who you fuckin with," and puffed his chest out as if he was gonna do something. And I threw a tepmer tantrum on the train. I started buggin', I was so mad. I can't stand a bully, especially a man bully.
I screeched like an idiot: "Work, work, work! That's all I do, day in and day out, and for WHAT!?? So some crackhead can throw my peanut buter and jelly on the floor! Peanut butter and crackheads, that's all I deal with!"

I spit a flyaway hair from my face and bent down and picked up my dented apple and threw it at him as hard as I could. It bounced off his head and he looked as though his feelings were hurt.
"You want my lunch, hah? Here-have some lunch, motherfucker!" and proceeded to chase the remained of my lunch around the train and bean it at him, one item at a time. He was shocked, as if he had the birthright to take peoples lunches from them anytime he wanted.
"Why don't you go to the upper east side and take thier lunches from them, you lazy no hustle motherfucker!"
I could feel my lips trembling and I knew I was going to cry. Weeks of unresolved frustration was rolling off me in a PMS induced wave. I just wanted to be in my warm bed with cookies and milk.
He was ducking and dodging, he grabbed the connecting car door, flung open and ran into another car.
Everyone on the train was staring at me.

When I got to work I started my period.

Santo III

I was tired, my back hurt. My face and body was broken out so badly I wasn't sure if I had acne or boils. My mouth tasted bad, I'm sure I had dragon breath. And rightly so. My diet consisted of jello, oatmeal, and soup. I was unable to hold anything down. What didn't come out one end, came out the other. I was an effort to keep anything in. I kept smelling overpowering scents and I didn't know where they were coming from.
I dialed my godparents phone number. My godmother answered.

"Botanica" she said flatly.

"Hi Madrina.

"Yes, who is this?"

She spoke in a melodic singsong.

"It's me, Kari."

"You crazy bitch, where have you been? What's good baby?"

"Same old, and you?"

"We're still here. I have'nt seen you in forever. When are you coming to see me?"

"Well," I hedged, "I don't know, that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Tell me."

"Madrina something's wrong. I feel funny."

"Funny? What do you mean funny? Funny ha ha? What is funny?"

I let out loud sigh.

"Weird Madrina. I can't sleep. I wake up at the same time everynight with my heart beating out of my chest, sweating. I can't eat, I've lost about 20 pounds in a month. Dhiahrehea, vomiting, crying. And I keep hearing shit in my head, like someone's talking to me, trying to tell me something, and I can't figure out what it is. And I'm dreaming weird dreams. I keep thinking Yemaya's trying to tell me something, and I don't know what she's trying to say. I never can remember my dreams, well I'm dreaming so much now I wake up with headaches. I wake up, and I the first thing I think of is Yemaya. She may as well be in bed with me, her ass is crowding me. All of my thoughts get stuck in my head like a broken record, and I can't get them to shut off, they're driving me crazy."

"Yes, Yemaya is speaking to you, Flaca."

"I know, but I don't know what she's trying to tell me, and alot of other stuff is going on."

"Like what, tell me."

"Everything Madrina, something's not right. I can't put my finger on it. Everybody goes through rough times, but...I don't know. Maybe I'm just being stupid. I can't put my finger on it, but all I can tell you is everything is off, and through no doing of my own. There's bad luck, we all have it, and then there's something else. I feel like I have weights on my back."

I could feel her listening to me and carrying on a conversation with somebody else in the background.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Wait a minute baby, hold on. Tony! Tonee! Go get padrino."

The phone clanked down on the counter and the drawer of the cash register closed.

"Kari, listen to me, you need to come see me."

"Okay, but I.."

"Kari-you need to come speak to me here, mamma. Wait a minute, here's your godfather."

"Who is it?" I heard him ask.

"La flaca blanca, " my godmother murmured.

"HEEY Kari, mamma, how are you?"

"Hi Padrino."

I could feel my bottom lip start to tremble, and bit back my tears.

"Are you okay?"

"Well, no not really. Madrina says she wants me to come up."

"Okay mamma. When you coming?"

I heard my godmother shriek in the bathroom, "Tell her she needs to get her ass here, NOW."

"You hear that."

"Yes Padrino."

"So when you coming?" he stated loudly.

"I'm coming now, I'll see you in two hours."

"Okay, hurry up."

I washed my face, took my medication, threw my crap in a bag and headed out the door.
The hallway was silent and still. I dumped my trash in the can and closed the gate behind me. My eyes inadvertently wandered to a dark spot on the sidewalk. Someone got thier head bown off in front of out stoop two weeks ago. My roommate poured dirt over it because she didn't want to look at the brain matter on the sidewalk.

Another unpleasant episode. The weather was brisk and chilly. I got a coffee and made my way down the stairs to the train. The ride to the Bronx was a long one. The rain came and I settled in.
I connected to the F and sat in the corner and let the rocking of the train ease me into a dull fatigued space.
I sang songs in my head in time to the rythym of the train. One motherfucker, two motherfucker, three motherfucker, four, motherfucker motherfucker, open up the door. Stopping momentarily, I saw the same homeless man that appeared to me before. His sunken face and eyes that looked through me as if to say, "well, we are waiting."

The train pulled out and he looked past me.

Santo II

I woke with a start, thirsty, with my eyes stinging. What are you trying to tell me? I thought.
"What-what is it?" I said aloud.

I realized I had dreamt of her, finally. I smiled but it felt like a grimace. Does her presence always come under such trying circumstances? I swung my feet to the side of the bed and sat there feeling the ringing in my ears, the heaviness of my hands. Water, I needed cool water. I felt like I was on fire again. My head was hot. I groped around the floor of my room for my water bottle and drank. No good, the water tasted like plastic. The TV light flickered. I fudged around under the covers looking for the remote. Re-mote. Remo. Rote. Remo-tuh. Mota. I liked to sound things out when I was stressed, it calmed me. Yemaya, what is it? Ye-may-a. Yem-aya. Yemmu. Yem-mu say onli odu, oddu dua kabiosile agua nueve cariocha. I didn't speak spanish, or any african dialects, though the phrases often ran through my head for no apparent reason. Nine waters outside my door popped into my head. I didn't know what any of this meant and it stayed stuck in my head, keeping me awake at nights. Sometimes I felt like I was crazy.

There was that damn remote, always on the floor. I reached for it and my beads broke, a light tinkle to the floor.
I flipped on the overhead. Yemaya's blue and clear beads everywhere. What next?
"What do you want from me woman?" I asked the floor. If anyone could see me they would think my cheese had finally slipped off my cracker. Standing in my room arguing with the floor.
I fetched the broom. I was awake now, just start the day. I swept and bent down to get the last remaining beads. Look under the bead. There. May as well get the dust while you're down there. A womans work is never done. Hohum.
A glimmer caught my eye. I pulled back the dust cover. Pearls. My strand of Yemaya had no pearls in it.

I sat back down.

Santo

Something was wrong, maybe nothing was wrong, but something was definately not right. I stared at the ceiling, 3:30 am. For months I had been waking up at the same time, between three and four with my heart racing. That was nothing new, I had insomnia since I was a child. If my heart started racing or I became uncomfortable, it was because my mind eventually started wandering to unpleasant thoughts or things I had on my mind, but only after I became fully conscious. Only then would my heart race. Now I was waking with my heart at full gallop. It was becoming common for me to start with a gasp, or wake up sobbing uncontrollably with no idea why. My mind would scramble for a reason. Since I had no thoughts to attach my feelings to, as I was asleep, what was it?

My stomach rolled, and I slid off the bed bolting for the bathroom. I spewed vomit everywhere. Long ropey things floated in the toilet bowl. I washed my face and looked in the mirror. I looked like hell, at least I think I did. I could never tell, I was too vain. My eyes looked small and tired. Of course they did, I wasn't sleeping. I wandered out to the living room and sat there listening to the night sounds. I had a hard time falling asleep in my own bed, and often woke up on the couch. I sat down and fell asleep. I thought I was asleep, except I never closed my eyes. Was it possible to sleep with your eyes open? I drifted off.

I walked along the beach. It was twilight and the air was heavy and misting salt. I was in all white and walking slowly. There were so many beads around my neck they were pinching my skin, and thier weight restricted my breathing. Not far out in the water was a large craggy rock with a hole in the center. The water was so clear I could see to the bottom and the colour was inky dark. The sky was indigo, almost black, and the clouds were moving quickly, too quick. I became uneasy.

At the end of the beach was an inlet, and I squinted to see where the noise came from. I could hear drums. Calling, insistent. The bell was lodged in my ear and I followed it, as a moth to a porchlight. The hair stood up on my arms and the drums pulled inside my chest, thrummed my temples. I walked in time to the mother drum, each step measured and sure. I got closer and smiled, it was a tambor. Everyone in white and dancing happily. A crowd of onlookers drew a cirlce around the drummers and dancers. I tried to get closer and a tall black man put his hand on my chest and wouldn't let me pass. I fished my beads out from under my shirt and showed them to him.

"Let me pass" I said, annoyed at missing out on the celebration, but respectfull.

"Who has your head?" he laughed.

"Yemaya."

"You are not a child of Yemayas," he sucked at his teeth, "no child of Yemaya's enters this place without thier crown."

I was furious.

"Since when is a bembe for my mother closed to me because I am not crowned" I asked.

"Iyawo, do you enter your mothers home with your feet dirty?" he roared.

"No, I do not!"

"Your mother has been calling you, and you have ignored her. You cannot see her because your eyes have been closed. You come when you are tired and when you are hungry. You wander too far from her and let fools and thieves take from you the things she has given you. You have disrespected her and you cannot enter without your crown."

I had no answer for this and ran to the shore.


"Yemaya," I called, "Yemaya mi madre, mi madre" I sobbed. I screamed for her.



I was never able to see her. I had no idea what she looked like, I knew only of what others told me but had never saw her for myself. If she passed me on the street I would not know who she was. The sadness of not knowing her sat in me and grew to a familiar ache. Eventually I stopped looking for her, and other peoples memories of her became what I knew.

I waded in to my knees shivering and splashed the warm water to my face.
The tide ran out pulling me in with it, little by little and sucking me under. I remembered the warnings to Yemayas children: stay out of the sea, and never cry to her too often or she will do what all mothers do, drag you home.

I stopped struggling and let the water take me. Maybe this was how it was to be. If she takes me home I will know peace. I floated aimlessly and the water clouded over me. What little light from the surface twinkled as a star, and pulsed gently. I breathed and water stung my nostrils and eyes open, collapsing my lungs like a cardboard box. I forced my eyes from blinking, I wanted to capture it all, take it with me. My beads hung above my head, each one separated and floated off me as I sunk down. I was weightless and solitary. A small colony of bubbles ran off my eyes and nose, streaming up. A vague pressure closed my eyes.


Yes, I thought, please take me home.


Sometimes you stumble into your own life just as youre leaving it, I laughed to myself. How strange these would be my last thoughts. Would I take them with me where I was going? I coughed. A little fish swam in my mouth and tickled my throat.
Wait, how could something choke me if I'm dead? If I was alive, I would be very uncomfortable. Nothing made sense. Maybe I'm dead and this is it. My body bumped around at random by the currents. Odd, I thought, I can still hear those drums, all the way down here. A tiny tick in my chest flapped in time to the drum. It grew stronger, this thing that was like a pulse. My ears began to congest heavily and itch.
The itching drained into my head. I kicked, my legs began to tremble. The light from the surface of the water grew brighter, and as I thrashed, I became aware of five glowing pearls around my neck. They weight of them dropped me down and out of the corner of my eye I saw her.
Then there was nothing.



She was massive. Her arms were the size of tree trunks. She was sinewy and smooth as black stone. She plucked me up and tossed me over her shoulder like I was a bag of potatoes and began to laugh. I was terrified. Where was the Yemaya on the candles and in the books? Where was the mother of the sea pale and remote as the underbelly of a fish? This could not be my mother, she must be an imposter. I'm in hell, and I'm stuck here with Aunt Jemima who's going to eat me for lunch and spit my bones out at her leisure.


"Iyawo," she spoke, her voice between a rumble and a purr, "Iyawo, what do you want?"


I blubbered like a baby. Everything came out sounding like gibberish.


"Iyawo you come to my house looking for me, and when you get here you have nothing to say. You are my only child who does not speak to me. What is it you that you want?"


I blinked and looked at her, not knowing what to say. I was speechless and skittish.


"Do you know what I do with the things I give my ungratefull children?" she asked gently. She stared me straight in the face, and looked me over as if I were a trinket.


"No" I said softly.


"I take them back," she said, "Sometimes I make mistakes and give things to my children they are not ready to have," she said wearily.

She flicked a pebble absentmindedly and looked in my eyes. She was terrible, exact, and beautiful. She wore a peaked white cap encrusted with bones and cowrie shells that hung over her ears. Her skin was smooth like a dolphin. She was not male and she was not female, and yet she was both. Her breasts were heavy and her eyes lazy.


"Do you find me beautiful?" she asked.


I blushed and trembled, squeezing my legs together. I throbbed between my legs and closed my eyes. If she's my mother I will be so embarassed.


"All of my children want to make love to me, and I share my bed with some of them. Don't be afraid. I am always inside you, and I am every lover you will ever have."


She pulled me down into her and I cried.

Asiento, Making The saint

It is with my great pleasure to annouce that on the weeknd of feb 18, I will be doing Asiento: "Making The Saint", and my head will be prepared to recieve my patron orisha, Yemaya, in the Yoruban religion most commonly referred to as La Regla de Lukumi.
My ceremony will take one week to complete, and my initiation period will last for one year, and one week.
More to follow in the weeks ahead. Here is a link for further reading.
Ache,
Kari

http://www.mojomoon.net/santeria.html

My Stomach Hurts

"Mom, How come people lie"?
"Because they dont know how to tell the truth".
"Why"?
"Because they cant be honest with themselves".
"Why"?
"Maybe nobody taught them how".
"Someone has to teach you that"?
"Yes honey, just like making your bed and tying your shoes. If you dont learn then you can tell all kinds of lies."
"How come so many people lie"?
"Cause it gives them permission to do what they want."
"You have to get permission"?
"Well maybe not from others, but from yourself. If you cant fool yourself, then your concience will eat at you".
"Your concience eats"?
"Yes it does baby, it sits in your tummy and lets you know when youre doing something wrong. You can tell your mind anything so you can sleep at night, but your stomach will always let you know".
"I feel sick to my stomach".
"That's because somebody fed you some bullshit, didnt they"?
"I guess so. Can I have a cookie"?

You Cant Be A Punk, If You Dont Come In A Punk.

Yesterday Rebecca and I were walking down the street, and she started telling me a story about meeting her boyfriend in rehab. She was 15 years old, and her parents shipped her off to rehab cause she was in trouble and getting out of control with the partying. This was back in the day, D.C. in the 70's. There werent too many punks back then. In fact, if you were crazy enough to be an outright punk, you were looking to get your ass kicked if you didnt have a crew behind you. So there she was, the only punk in juvie rehab. The other kids were smitten with her, so she rallied them together, and turned them onto the music, and made them become punks. She busied herself with the task of cutting everyones hair and educating them in the politics of Fuck Shit Up and Dont Take Any Authoritative Crap From Anyone. The staff of the hospital did not approve of her influence, and immediately laid down a new rule: If you dont come in a punk, then you cant become one, or you get thrown out of rehab.

I almost fell down on the street laughing.

And then she told me how her boyfriend cam into the rehab, and it was love at first sight and they got out of there, and ran away from home together. His mom was the head of the drug program for the city, under Mayor Marion Barry (i know, can this get any better?) and she had juice with the authorities, so every cop in the city was out looking for them. Mind you- if youre a kid, with a mohawk youre not gonna be hard to find, cause kids have no homes of thier own, so hiding out is not always easy. They stuck out like sore thumbs. So they ended up at some gig, some early punk show, and the police raided the place looking for them, found them, drug them out of there, and it was all very dramatic and Rebel Without A Cause.
I cant remember all the details because I had alot on my mind, and I dont remember the moral of the story she was telling, or if there even was one, but what stuck out was: You cant be a punk, if you dont come in a punk!

what kind of horseshit is that?