The Process of Re-Initiation: 2015-2019

Written by Alexandra P. Gelbard

Originally published on April 16, 2021.

Since the last rupture of Regla’s Orisha processional tradition in 1962, the community has continued to pursue its return. The Museum of Regla formally began the re-initiation process in 2010, and by 2015, accomplished this goal, receiving permission from the Cuban government to do a ‘test run’ of a cabildo processional. By this time, the government had changed its religious policy, reversing the prohibition in the 1990s; by the early 2000s, the Yoruba Center in Havana was founded.¹This institution now oversees the formal registration of Yoruba-based religious practitioner communities, called Iles, and the registration of initiated Olorishas. In other locations throughout Cuba, such as Palmira and Santiago de Cuba, December 4th cabildo processionals, dedicated to Changó – Santa Bárbara, continued.²It is important to recognize that even with nation-wide commonalities, each locality throughout Cuba maintains its own historical, localized context. So why not the cabildo tradition of Regla? Especially since the church conducted its annual September 7th processional of the Virgin of Regla?

With permission granted by the government for a “test run” in 2015, the organizational collaborators initiated a small-scale processional. The new consecrated images for this iteration of the cabildo processional tradition debuted from the museum, going down the street towards the bay, and turning right towards the church. As they made their way down the last cobblestone street left in Regla, kept that way to preserve its antiquity, they saluted the processional images to the Yemaya shrine of Panchita Cardenas and then the Extension Room of the Museum of Regla, attached to the Virgin of Regla Sanctuary Church. Next, they continued down the road, past the church, and turned left towards the water where they saluted the bay and Yemaya. Then, they continued back to the left, where they closed their loop, heading back to the museum. This processional ended by saluting the old images once belonging to Pepa Herrera, which are part of the permanent exhibit at the Museum of Regla.

The original Orisha images of Pepa Herrera-Echú Bí, currently held by the Museum of Regla. They were brought out in 2015 and situated in front of the Museum Extension Room during the “trial” processional. Photo provided by the Museum of Regla.

The 2015 “test” processional from the Museum of Regla to the Extension room. Photos provided by the Museum of Regla, 2015.

I first met with Juan, an Olorisha Omo Ochun, leader of the Ile Olorun and museum archivist, and Raisa, director of the Regla Museum, at Juan’s home in May 2016. Henry Heredia, a friend, and colleague, who was head of International Relations at the Instituto Cubano de Investigación Cultural Juan Marinello, connected us.³ICIC Juan Marinello is the research branch of the Ministry of Culture. I received my doctoral research visas through them in 2013 and 2016. Henry thought that his friend’s project in Regla might be interesting and related to my research. He was familiar with my work in Santiago de Cuba on the cabildo processional tradition and how it manifested into conga, a ‘traditional popular culture’ expression, thinking it would make for an interesting comparative project. He thought this might also be an opportunity to help the community promote the project and facilitate assistance in garnering resources from the global Lucumí practitioner community since those in Regla were providing all the necessary materials on their own. Upon meeting with Raisa and Juan, they showed me how they used archival materials, such as photographs, to inform the re-initiation process. Amongst these were photos taken by the highly respected Cuban photographer, Roberto Salas, who had captured images of the last processional on September 9, 1961, not knowing that it would be the last one of the 20th century. For more on the role of photography in the re-initiation process, please see the “Photography, Knowledge Production: Methodological Considerations” essay.

Juan and Raisa explained several goals: to finally return the September 9th Orisha cabildo processional to the streets. They recognized the importance of the processionals’ social function in facilitating collective identity, social cohesion, and the transmission of memory across generations. They hoped to reinvigorate all these aspects, in addition to also sparking research amplifying the historical narrative around Regla and its African presence. I asked about David Brown’s book Santería Enthroned (2003), a highly cited volume, considered the seminal text on the history of cabildos both in Regla and the formation of Regla de Ocha and Ifá in Cuba. They stated it was an important book that contained a lot of true information, but it didn’t tell the whole story. They remembered when Brown did his fieldwork in the 1990s and who he spoke to. They emphasized that many of the community elders who’d retained valuable information about ‘how it was back then’ before the implementation of the Cuban Revolution’s 1962 policy on religion. They weren’t speaking to anyone, let alone Brown. But in the years since, especially after the policy had been reversed, seeing there would be no repercussions, the elders began speaking again. They did so very hesitantly and with only bits of information at first. Yet, they gave enough to indicate that the existing historical narrative was not the whole story. I left the meeting intending to return in September for the first ‘full’ processional. On this particular trip, this meeting occurred on my last day in Cuba. Throughout the rest of the afternoon and evening, Yemaya presented herself in many consistent ways. I knew that to be an affirmation.

2016

I returned in September 2016 with a U.S.-based photographer who’d agreed to take photos of the processional.⁴They ultimately went back on our agreement for use of the images demanding more payment than had already been given, which is why my Iphone photographs are used to reflect that year. I consulted with Juan and he advised me to not pursue the issue further.  This 2016 year began the ritual process of the cabildo processional in its new iteration: The Cabildo de Regla. The night before the processional, during the Eggun rituals (ritual work with Ancestors), the elder Olorisha of Regla leading the ritual began a comprehensive genealogy of Regla’s spiritual lineage within the moyugba. This ritual liturgy of Lucumí spiritual lineage, calls forth the names of those Olorishas who’d transitioned to the Spirit realm. The moyugba went on longer than anyone had ever heard, calling the ritual names of people rarely heard, if at all.⁵That moyugba was also audio recorded, however, the person recording, a foreigner who is also a practitioner, as of to date has not handed over the recording to the community as far as I know. We hope that changes. Once the ritual to the Eggun finished, the community carried the Orisha processional images through the streets, covered in plastic bags so as not to reveal their adornment. They took back streets across Regla to the Museum Extension Room, where the processional Orishas were left to ‘slept’ overnight. In accordance with the spiritually prescribed rituals to ensure a successful processional, mandated by the Ancestors through divination, additional work was done.

Around one hundred people gathered at the Extension Room that morning to participate in the 9 am processional. The Elder Olorisha began the event with a speech:

Dear people, dear people. Visitors. Here it persists. Today, with a humble voice, we launch. We are going to perform an act, not of paganism. An act of God. It has cost you a lot of work and a lot of effort on the part of people very interested in bringing our old traditions. Traditional people, people of faith, brothers all. Let’s put [forward] the best that we have. With due order. With much respect. Because without respect there is nothing. Respect to the authorities, respect to our traditions, and to our ancestors. [The Ancestors] will feel demanded to emerge again. But order and due respect are needed. There is plenty of time for everyone to bring their own way. Let us unite. As people, as brothers, as religious[people] that we are. And [to]other simple spectators so that they have the best opinion of us. And I come back and say: This is not paganism! Although there are people who think so. We are Religious. Lovers of our cultural traditions. Thank you very much.⁶My translation.

The batá drums played as the elder Olorisha of Regla sang the moyugba to open the space. The images were carried out by four people dressed in all white, assigned to each Orisha: first Ochun, then Obatala, followed by Changó, and finally, Yemayá. Of the sixteen people carrying Orishas, men carried Yemaya and Changó, while women carried Obatala and Ochun. One woman carried the Cuban flag, and one woman carried a banner with the Regla motto and insignia: “Labor, Unity, Honor.” The Processional lined up along the cobblestone street facing north and began to move past the church, turning left towards the bay. A rope insulated the processional group, creating a boundary space between the Orishas and the crowd. Roughly ten to twelve men and one woman adorned themselves in red vests, holding the rope to maintain the boundary. The men were all either Babalow or Abakuá members, a show of solidarity and assistance reflecting the historical relationships of solidarity across the Ocha, Ifá, and Abakuá communities; the woman, a senior Iyalorisha. Behind the Orisha and inside the rope were the three batá drums and players, including the akpuón (lead singer initiating the calls). Roughly four to five men accompanied them, either ready to switch off and drum, or there to provide support through singing the response to the akpuón’s calls, also distributing water and rum to teach others. The Elder Olorisha and the person accompanying him walked along with the drummers as well. The processional lined up facing the bay to give reverence to Yemaya, lifting the processional Orisha with straight arms overhead, while the front two people dipped the Orisha down in a bowing motion to ‘salute’ Yemaya. Continuing to the left towards the old pier, the processional turned to the left, facing the cobblestone street, saluting the images towards the house of Panchita Cardenas. Her family, who do not maintain the spiritual practice, but keep the sacred space to Yemaya open, gathered in the doorway of their home as the processional saluted them. The processional continued, up Calle Marti, one of three central arteries that run southeast to northwest. Two blocks up Calle Martí, the processional stopped and turned to the right, facing the Orisha towards the museum, saluting the original processional images belonging to Pepa-Echú Bí. Moving along, the processional continued four more blocks southeast, arriving at Guaicanamar Park. They turned to the left, facing the government building across the square, and lifted the processional Orishas up to salute. They continued five blocks southeast along Martí, before starting up the hill, arriving at the police station where they sang to the Orisha Ochosí. The processional continued on one more block, arriving at the ‘new cemetery’ atop the hill, along the southeastern boundary of Regla, which borders Guanabacoa, a larger town due east of Regla. The processional Orisha were put down in front of the cemetery gates as the drums played an Orun Seco (a section of drumming without singing). Branches of leaves typically used in rituals were passed around, first to those carrying the Orisha, and then to whoever was fortunate enough to receive a branch. People ‘cleaned’ the orishas and themselves, leaving the branches at the gates. Once the cleansing was finished, the elder Olorisha gave a speech, then sang another moyugba to honor the Ancestors. He then sang to Oya, the Orisha who guards the cemetery.

The processional turned around heading northwest down the hill along Marti. Just after the police station, the group turned right, and then left again, downhill along Calixto Garcia Street to the bottom of the hill. The procession stopped to salute the old cemetery, now an elementary school, where Africans remain buried. Pausing for about ten minutes or so, several elder women made their way to Yemaya. They looked up at her with tears in their eyes, overcome with the emotion of seeing the tradition of their youth, one they never thought they would see again. The processional continued forward once again, heading northwest along Calixto Garcia towards the government building at Guanicanamar Park. The Orishas were lined up in a corner of the park so people could greet them and take photos. After a brief rest, a snack provided by the municipal government, and the official end of the processional, participants carried the Orisha to Juan’s house where they currently live. Along the way, the group stopped at the elder Olorisha’s home where they saluted the Orishas to him, as we gave thanks for all his help.

We sat at Juan’s house drinking water (some sipped rum), talking, and recounting the events, a custom now repeated. The group was told that the Catholic Church wanted nothing to do with this processional, nor were they interested in participating in a reclamation of the old ritual of blessing the processional Orishas with holy water before its start. To date, their position has not changed, and likely will not, as the Regla church is known for doing the opposite of what the government gives permission to do. The cabildo accepts this and adapts accordingly.

This route has continued with no variations.⁷Only one slight variation occurred in 2018 when the intersection of Cespedes and Calixto Garcia was blocked by a stage in the park, so the processional turned left one block early onto Agramonte and then right onto Martí to arrive at the Parque Guiacanamar to complete the processional. This was an unplanned decision, made at the moment.  However, each year since the re-initiation (2017, 2018, and 2019) a new component is added; Juan plans to continue including another facet of the “old” tradition each year. Sometimes, as with the case in 2017, additions can be planned, but also form at the moment based on the encouragement and inclination of elders to encourage heightened effervescent energy as a way to further honor these Spiritual entities.

2017

In 2017 the Cabildo de Regla introduced Eleguá to the processional as a new addition, distinctive to this 21st-century iteration of the cabildo processional. Eleguá was consecrated within a Catholic statue typically affiliated with the Child Jesus of Prague (indicated by the right hand’s position and the presence of a gold orb in the left), as Elegua is syncretized as a Catholic Child Jesus. The Orishas also debuted new adornments, including an intricate, labor-intensive, beaded manta (shroud) made by the Ile rama (spiritual family) La Coral (the Coral). The living elder of this rama, ritually known as Otonowá (affectionately nicknamed El Chino as he is of Cuban Chinese descent) and his godchildren created the handmade item adorning Yemaya. Amidst the excitement of the 2017 processional also came concern about the arrival of Hurricane Irma.

On September 8th, the night before the processional, we conducted the Eggun ritual and then carried the Orishas to the Extension Room adjacent to the church amidst heavy winds and scattered rain showers. With uncertainty as to when the hurricane would arrive, the processional organizers decided to proceed, with the caveat that if the weather got too bad, they’d cut the processional short. The next morning under a grey, ominous sky, participants gathered in the Extension Room. This year, those wearing white added a touch of blue to their outfits: the men wore blue cloth kerchiefs folded into a triangle, worn tied in a knot in front with the long-pointed end on their backs, while the women wore a blue sash around their waist made from the same royal blue satin cloth. This clothing addition served as a response to some people thinking that the processional was associated with the dissident group, Damas de Blanco (Ladies in White), which it in no way did. Furthermore, Lucumí practitioners traditionally wear all white as part of the ritual dress, but in order to avoid any possible problems and to overtly distinguish the cabildo from any political issues, participants now continue to wear a blue adornment with their white clothes.

We began the processional with around 20 additional people, outside of those immediately involved. The inclusion of Elegua necessitated additional people to carry the Orisha; four Iyaorishas now carried Elegua leading the processional. A white satin flag was also incorporated into the processional, carried by an Iyalorisha. Five women carried bouquets of flowers, each situated in front of the corresponding Orisha, and two young girls, having recently finished their iyaborajes (year of initiation), carried bags of rose pedals to throw in the front of the processional, an addition in this 21st-century iteration. The bearer of Regla’s insignia passed to one of the elder men in the community who carried it for two years before his transition to the Ancestral realm: Igbaye Pichi. Some of the batá players now wore matching t-shirts stating ‘Maferefun Aña’ (Blessed Gratitude to Aña—the sacred essence of the drum). The rope was used once again to create an explicit boundary, carried by people wearing red vests to keep order. Their role ensured the Orishas were given space, and to notify the crowd of any holes in the street so no one would get hurt.

The ominous grey clouds and heavy winds caused doubt that we would be able to finish the processional, yet it began with the notion that we would continue so long as the weather permitted. The processional left the Museum Extension Room and made its way to Regla’s Malecon (bay front wall). As they saluted Yemaya to her water, the clouds parted, the wind calmed down, and the sun broke through the clouds, shining down upon the Orisha. Seen as a blessing and affirmation to continue, we did, turning towards the old port entrance, stopping to salute the Yemaya shrine of Panchita Cardenas. Hearing the singing and drumming, people began coming out of their homes to join the processional. We continued the route, saluting the same important sites from the year before: the museum—and Pepa’s images inside, the government building at Guaicanamar Park, the police station, and the “new” cemetery. No leaves were found to cleanse that year, so the drumming and singing to the Ancestors and Oya continued. We then continued to the old cemetery to honor the African Ancestors still interred in the earth. As we proceeded northwest back towards the park, the wind began to pick up, but so did the energy of the participants. Once we reached the end of the route at Guaicanamar Park, the singer leading the calls to the Orisha continued as he felt inclined. Elder Olorishas encouraged the akpwón, amplifying the ‘current’ of spiritual connection in reverence to the Orisha. The akpwón’s visible concentration and focus showed his connection to the Aña, as he listened to the Orisha’s energy guiding his sung call. One of Regla’s eldest Iyaorishas had joined in the processional just after the stop at the new cemetery, and she danced Yemaya’s movements next to the drums. With her gentle encouragement, amplified by Otonowá’s palpable energy, the Oloshas began dancing in a circle in reverence to Yemaya, the embodied movement of Cuba’s Africa. As more people joined in, the current getting stronger, Otonowá threw his hand up in praise, lyrically calling “Africa!” as some of his godchildren responded with cheers. Intermittent melodic shouts of ‘¡Agua!’ and ‘¡Yemaya Aguazulllll!’ in praise of Yemaya also filled the air. The wind continued to strengthen with the heightened energy, but soon the batá rhythms began to cool, bringing the energy down to close the ritual to Yemaya’s satisfaction. The participants quickly disassembled, rushing back to our homes, and recognizing the storm’s pending arrival; within an hour, Hurricane Irma began its onslaught. Overnight, the sea wall at the bay of Havana where we had stood just hours before presenting the Orishas as the sun blessed us, cracked and fell into the bay.

The following video features footage from the 2017 processional, compiled and distributed with the intention of reaching the global Lucumí community for support in this project:

The Cabildo de Regla trailer, produced in 2017 to connect to the global community with the goal of soliciting resources.

In November 2017, I briefly returned to Regla and to the news that the government had granted the Cabildo de Regla project a house space. It was a building in disrepair, with no roof, and in serious need of reconstruction. The community began gathering on the weekends, sweeping, cleaning, and organizing it as much as possible. This building had originally been the first barracón-hospitál of Regla, where enslaved Africans were brought to heal from the devastating and traumatic violence inflicted by the Middle Passage. It is possible this was the location where Añabí recovered from his wounds and heard the ritual drumming of his homeland (discussed in the History of Regla blog post).

The Cabildo de Regla community space (2017-2018) after they’d cleaned up the debris. This initially served as a barracón-hospital and is located three blocks from the old port of entry. Photos by Alexandra P. Gelbard, November 2017.

Now the building belonged to the cabildo, and they had big plans. Local architects had volunteered their time and skills in drawing up reconstruction plans; furthermore, architectural students created blueprints for the building’s renovation, imagining the most elaborate schematics possible. Since the government provided the house, the community would have to crowd-source the resources needed for reconstruction. The cabildo organizers envisioned a space where each of the four most popular African-inspired religious practices of Regla could each have a community room: Regla de Ocha, Ifá, Palo (Reglas Congos), and Abakuá. The idea centered on having a collective space united under one roof, so each practitioner community could access a space if they did not have the conditions in their own homes to conduct rituals. Furthermore, the patio of the building was big enough so that those carrying the Orishas could practice their synchronistic movements, children could participate in dance classes, and art exhibitions with photographs of the cabildo processionals, past and present, could adorn the walls. But as is the case with most initiatives in Cuba, these plans needed resources.

2018

For 2018, the cabildo intended a ‘do over’ of sorts since the hurricane prevented many from participating. The organizers decided to use the same clothing adornment and manta for Yemaya, since it was so elaborate, feeling that it deserved to be featured once again. There were no planned changes on the part of the organizers, however, what did occur revealed a significant dynamic that sits at the core of my own research on this processional, framing the relationship between knowledge production and interactive behaviors within the cabildo processional tradition. Once the processional passed the museum along Martí, a children’s Afro-Cuban folkloric ensemble appeared. Eight children and one adult dressed in the folkloric Orisha adornment joined just after the processional passed the museum, dancing at the front and ahead of the Orishas.

Ultimately, this prompted a heated exchange between the director and the processional organizers, illuminating a key issue: if the Cabildo de Regla is a public processional for the community, do they have a right to regulate how people participate in the space?

The organizers emphasized that one of the main intentions for the Cabildo de Regla Orisha processional is to reassert public displays of Lucumí religiosity within the street space. Spiritual protocol dictates that practitioners only wear the dress of the Orisha three times in their life, none of which are in public. The only exception would be if an Orisha came down and mounted an Olorisha, in which case, the entity being dressed is the Orisha, not the practitioner. Cuban social scientists such as Fernando Ortiz, Romulo Lachatañeré, and Lydia Cabrera would have seen people mounted by Orisha in this processional and in other ritual activities. They likely witnessed the Spiritual entity directing ritual participants to dress the mounting Orisha in their colors and adornments. The social scientists would have watched as the Orisha danced to the sacred rhythms of batá drums and responded to the akpwón’s calls. Those academic interpretations of the early-mid 20th century produced separated categories of folklore/culture and religion, effectively creating the concepts of ‘Afro-Cuban folklore’ and ‘Afro-Cuban religion’ amidst the socio-political discourse of defining nationhood, citizenship, and respectability. Further enhanced by the Cuban Revolution’s 1962 policy on religious expression, emphasizing presentations of Orisha as Afro-Cuban folkloric culture, one of this processional’s key intentions was to distance these public expressions of Lucumí tradition and identity from its folkloric presentation. In hindsight, this confrontation between religiosity and folklore seems inevitable. While I discuss and analyze this more in other writing, this event served as a catalyst for the processional organizers to affirm that this processional was not folklore, this was religion.

2019

2019 marked an update on the spatial home of the Cabildo de Regla and two key changes within the processional. An entity within the government determined that the cabildo had not been able to reconstruct the building on Calle Martí quickly enough and unfortunately, the space was given to someone else. But the Orishas needed a home and the organizers wanted to make them viewable to the general public. Juan decided to convert his garage space into a home for the cabildo Orishas. When I arrived on September 2, the house was being repainted, the garage doors had been converted from sheet metal to glass, and a ceremony inaugurating the space would occur within the next few days. Community members and other Reglanos living abroad had donated the materials, including a new banner dedicated to Yemaya, which became incorporated into the processional. On September 5, the community inaugurated the space with a tambor (drumming ritual):

Inagurating the Cabildo de Regla home space, 2019. Photos by Alexandra P. Gelbard , 2019.

The 2019 processional included two new additions: The first, was a change in the Orisha’s dress. Second, a ritual people had asked about over the last few years was reincorporated: to dar coco (give coconut-a communicative divination practice) and give offerings to Yemaya at the sea. Both acts appeared within the archival photographs taken by Salas and were maintained through descriptive accounts used in the re-initiation process. Since the cabildo also tries to re-center women Iyalorishas within the public presentation of Lucumí religiosity, women led the ritual offerings and the singing as the processional arrived at the bay. The following video briefly demonstrates the reincorporation of these two rituals as they occurred in 2019:

While the processional did not go out in 2020 due to the COVID-19 pandemic, we are not clear as to when it will be safe enough to begin once again. However, the dedication of Regla’s Olorisha community remains steadfast in maintaining its processional tradition once it is safe.

End Notes

• 1
  This institution now oversees the formal registration of Yoruba-based religious practitioner communities, called Iles, and the registration of initiated Olorishas.
• 2
  It is important to recognize that even with nation-wide commonalities, each locality throughout Cuba maintains its own historical, localized context.
• 3
  ICIC Juan Marinello is the research branch of the Ministry of Culture. I received my doctoral research visas through them in 2013 and 2016.
• 4
  They ultimately went back on our agreement for use of the images demanding more payment than had already been given, which is why my Iphone photographs are used to reflect that year. I consulted with Juan and he advised me to not pursue the issue further. 
• 5
  That moyugba was also audio recorded, however, the person recording, a foreigner who is also a practitioner, as of to date has not handed over the recording to the community as far as I know. We hope that changes.
• 6
  My translation.
• 7
  Only one slight variation occurred in 2018 when the intersection of Cespedes and Calixto Garcia was blocked by a stage in the park, so the processional turned left one block early onto Agramonte and then right onto Martí to arrive at the Parque Guiacanamar to complete the processional. This was an unplanned decision, made at the moment.