LA SANTERIA, A WAY OF LOOKING AT REALITY

by

Juan J. Sosa

A Thesis Submitted to the Faculty of the

College of Social Science

in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements of

the Degree of Master of Arts

Florida Atlantic University

Boca Raton, Flor+da

August 1981

c Copyright by Juan J. Sosa 1981

ii

LA SANTERIA, A WAY OF LOOKING

AT REALI 'IY

by

Juan J. Sosa

This thesis was prepared under the direc tion of the candidate's thesis advisor , Dr . John D. Early, Department of Anthropology, and has been approved by the members of this super vi sory coDmittee . It was submitted to the faculty of the College of Social Science and was accepted in partial fulfillmen t of the r equirements for the degree (of ) Master of Arts .

A~JU~ Gerald Weiss , Chairman

D~~t~f~y A /

7~~ ~~ Robert JZH1JCkshorn 1 Dean llege of SGcial Science

Jr. ced St udies

iii

SUPERVISORY COMM ITTEE1

Da t e o ~ [1t L'!?/

Author:

Title:

Institution:

Degree'

Year:

ABSTRACT

Juan J. Sosa

La Santer1a, A Way of Looking at Reality

Florida Atlantic University

Master of Arts

1981

Faced with a highly industrial society, traditional Cubans, who

began to leave the island for political reasons since 1959, have

experienced repeated social strains under rapid social changesa

strains at the levels of economics, the family, social relationships

and a system of meaning. Cubans have resisted the pressures of

assimilation from a larger, dominant, group by integrating into

American society while re-enacting their traditional worldview. This

integration has established their diversity, their capacity to select

traits that confrom to, and do not clash with, pre-existent traits,

and their need for supportive, 'liminal,' mechanisms of a 'relational'

quality which C&~ aid them move through life crises. ~ Santer1a,

the worship of African gods as catholic saints, is one of the adaptive

mechanisms used by Cubans in their process of transculturation. This

S}ncretism of la Santerfa provides a mythological worldview that

integrates meaning in the midst of social stress through ritual activity.

iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT ••• • • . . . . • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

LIST OF TABLES . . . . • • • • • • • . . • • • • • . . .. . . . . INTRODUCTION • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • . . • • . . . . . . CHAPTER

I. ·

II.

III.

CUBANS IN SOUni fl..ORIDAI A PROCESS OF TP.ANSCULTURATION

A Mixture of Three Cultures •••••••••••••• Reformation and Renaissance in the New World • • • • • The Republic, Revolution and Exile • • • • • • • • • • Mariel: the 1980 phenomenon • • • • • • • • • • • •• The Cuban Exile aJ?.d the Process of Transcul turation • • Socio-cultural Implications •••••••••••••• Cubans in South Florida and the New Ethnicity ••• 8 •

Phases in Transculturation •••••••••••••• The New Ethnicitys differentiation, selectivity and

liminal i ty• • • • • • . • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Summary ••• • • • . . . . . . . . . . . • • . . . . . LA SANTERIA 1 ETHNOGRAPHIC CONSIDERATIONS • • • • . . . Santeria: Origins •••••••••••••••••• Unity in spite of Slavery • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Syncretism with the Catholic Faith •••••••••• Difficulties in the collection of data on la Santeria • La Santeria: General Considerations • • • • • • • • • Essential Elements of la Santeria • • • • • • • • • Worship: the secrets about the gods ••••••••• Priesthoods Santeros or Babalaos • • • • • • • • • • • El Montes Mythology and Sacred Place •• ;;;· •••••• Rituals and Sa.cred Symbols •••••••••••••• SUIDmary • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • . . . LA SANTERIA: AN INTEGRATING, MYntOLOGICAL, WORLDVIEW IN A DISINTEGRATING SOCIETY • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

iv

vi

1

5

5 7

11 17 19 21 31 32

35 49

52

54 56 60 64 66 68 69 77 79 81 90

95

La Santeria: religion or syncretism? • • • • • • • • • 96 La Santeria and Cubans in South Florida • • • • • • • • 101 La Santeria and Diversity • • • • • . • • • • • • • • 104 La Santeria ~~d Selectivity • • • • • • • • • • • • • • 109 La Santeria and Liminality •••• o • o • o • o • 114

CONCLUSIONS

APPENDIX ••

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • • • • • • • • . . . . • • • • • • • • • . . . . .

BIBLIOGRAPHY • • • • • • • • • • • . . • • • • • • • • • • . . .

v

121

125

127

LIST 0 F TABLES

Table I 1 Numbers and proportions of Cuban exiles arr1vmg at the United States at various stages of the Exile

Table 2a Geographical distribution by Province of Exiles 1959, 1960, 1971 and Cubans in 1943 and 1970

Table 3 & Last Occupation in Cuba for refugees, age 14 and over, processed in Florida

vi

Page

14

16

17

Introduction

La Santeria may be described as the worship of African gods as

Catholic saints, a result of transculturation (acculturation) and

religious syncretism among the Cub~~ people. Its world is composed

of three symbolic universes: the worldview of the Yoruba tribe of

south western Nigeria, that of the Yoruba slaves that lived in the

island of Cuba and assumed the name lucumi, and the universe expe­

rienced by Cubans living outside of the island and various parts of

the United States who continue to practice l! Santer{a.

In the adaptive processes of human societies, through time,

the acquisition of cultural traits includes the transformation of

religious views and their adjustment to new situations. The Yoruba's

worldview always encompassed religion not as distinct from their

everyday living, but as an integral part of their existence. The

same process seemed to have continued among the slaves that reached

the shores of Cuba and likewise among their descendants and follow­

ers in this religious syncretism. The drastic contact of Yoruba

tribesmen and women with Spanish civilization in the early centuries

of the conquest necessarily affected the symbolic universe which ~~ey

had experienced. Religion, nonetheless, always served as the unify­

ing factor which helped them transcend alineation and suffering.

Through religion they were able to define themselves as an oppressed

community undergoing drastic social changes as slaves, and yet free

with the company of their gods.

1

2

Today, almost two hundred years after the biggest influx of sla-

I ves reached Cuba, l! Santer1a continues to represent a source of reli-

gious experience and a way of looking at reality for those inside the

island and, particularly interesting for us, for those outside of Cuba.

In the fragmented, urbanized centers of our American cities, the

composite and integrated symbolic universe of l! Santerfa appears as a

functional mechanism for Cubans (and other hispanics as well) who feel

at a loss in adjusting to a new social order and in search of mytholo-

gical and symbolic meaning for themselves and their families. The

questions arisea what elements of integration does la Santeria offer

to the Cuban people who live in a new social order? How does la Sante-...... ria fit in their socio-cultural evolution? How does it function? How

does la Santeria relate to the newer resurgence of ethnicity within

which Cubanscertainly share a portion?

In light of this phenomenon, which has become more public in the

last twenty years both in Cuba and the United States, I hope to show

that la Santerfa provides for Cubans a means of defining themselves as

a community with roots in the midst of rapid social changes taking

place in a different social system. As a consequence, l! Santer1a, for

some Cubans, contributes greatly to the option of integrating into Ame-

rican society as they grow through the process of transculturation. La

Santerfa offers a 'different• way of looking at and acting in our urban,

/ industrial, society; likewise, l! Santer1a provides for them a means of

•selecting' cultural traits that best suit their process of adaptation

to a new social setting and a way of resisting innovations that may

threaten their traditional worldview; < lastly, ~ Santer1a represents a

'liminal' stage in the social adaptation of Cubans in South Florida as

3

they move to a disintegrated structure (urban centers in our indus­

trial society) in search of an anti-structure experience (communitas)

that can assist them to re-create and re-live their primordial ties.

Our analysis, then, will begin with a general overview of Cuban

history up and including the last twenty years of the Cuban Exile in

South Florida. From this perspective, Cubans may be seen as a cultu­

ral group composed of· a predominant working class with a traditional

worldview which was politically motivated to move to an industrial

society and which has undergone a series of social changes. These

changes have caused great strains among Cubans at various levels: the

level of subsistence or economics, the social order, within the fami­

ly, and in relationship to roles in society, and the mythological or

•meaning' level which integrates the other two and unifies them in

reality. The strains seem to relax as Cubans opt to integrate into

American society.

At this stage of our analysis, we will plunge into the theory

of transculturation (acculturation) supported by writers such as Levi­

Strauss, Herskovits, Linton, Geertz, Turner, and Ortiz, concentrating

primarily on those aspects that deal with ethnicitys assimilation,

extreme ethnicity or 'ghettoism' and •cultural assimilation' or 'inte­

gration,' as presented by writers such as Glazer, Moynihan, Greeley,

Gordon, Beell, Padilla and others. Our model of integration will

consist of three key ingredients that emerge as basic, guiding princi­

ples: the principle of differentiation or cultural diversity, the

principle of selectivity, and the principle of liminality. As opposed

to uniformity, diversity will convey the richness that exists when

people contribute to society from different points of origin and deve-

4

lopment; as opposed to determinism, selectivity will convey the

dynamism which takes place as groups of people select traits that

either complement or do not class with their pre-existent traits; as

opposed to an oppresive social structure, the stage of 'liminality'

represents the beginning of a liberating communitas.

Our second chapter will consider the ethnographic data on La

Santer!a as recorded by Fernando Ortiz, Lydia Cabrera, Roger Bastide

and other ethnographers. This process would encompass the history and

origins of this phenomenon in south western Nigeria as well as its pro­

cess of adaptation to new realities (Cuba and the United States); it

will also consider its various .ritual actions and symbolic representa­

tions.

Our third chapter will bring together the elements described in

the process of transculturation in the light of the data shown by the

sketchy consideration of the exile population in South Florida and the

ethnographic contribution on La Santeria.

CHAPTER I

CUBANS IN SOUTH FLORIDA: A PROCESS OF IRANSCULTURATION

A Mixture of Three Cultures

Cuba, as a nation and as a setting for social processes, is a

composite of three cultural groups: the Spanish, the Indian, and the

African. The Cuban people have preserved and transmitted down through

the centuries a sense of identity which has appeared reflected in the

arts, their style of life, their history, their literature, and their

culture. As Florinda Alzaga (1976&32) mentions in her book: "without

a past there is no living present; without a conscious present there

can be no future projections."

Cubans in the present have been undergoing a number of social

changes as a result of a variety of economic, political, and religious

developments in their history. To appreciate more fully the current

projections of the Cuban people, we must plunge into their historical

setting from various angles. We must first take a look at the proce­

sses that blended separate cultural groups into an image of Cuban heri­

tage and identity. Let us look at various aspects of Cuban history.

The history of the Indian population in Cuba has been extensively

related in every book written on Cuban history. Santovenia and Shelton

(1965:25), for instance, have helped us understand the different t}~es

of Indian cultures present in the island and, likewise, the colonial

structures that Spain instituted side by side with their own social

structures. This was also the case with Indian religion in the isl&&d:

their rituals took on different forms, including funeral rites, some

5

6

type of witchcraft (behiquismo), and, as Santovenia and Shelton (1965:

70) called it, a form of cemitismo, the magical control of an idol

charged with power. From whatever angle it may be seen, there existed

in Cuba at the time a system of society which became the prey of those

conquistadores who were hungry for the search for gold.

Nevertheless, this would not represent a fair picture of early

life in the island if the positive contribution of the Church made in

defense of these Indians were to be neglected. In the style of Ismael

Teste(l969:13), this contribution was primarily manifested by the

struggle of a number of committed missionaries whose main objective was

to bring salvation and justice to these unfortunate natives. No histo-

ry book about this era can ignore Bartolome de las Casas as one of the

first men to stand for the rights of the Cuban indians.

Diego Velazquez arrived on the scene toward the end of 1512 with

a substantial group of colonists. MacGaffey and Barnett (1962:3) have

captured a sense of this process in their book. Although the first

organization of Cuban government and economic institutions was rooted

on the experience of the neighboring island of Hispaniola, by 1515 the

island of Cuba had been divided into seven municipalities. Raggi

(1970:64) has arranged the structure in this fashion: the seat of go-

vernment was composed of the governor who appointed a municipal council

(cabildo) consisting of three councilors (regidores) and two magistra-

tes (alcaldes). Such a system became obviously forced on the indians

who were then practically owned by the avarice of their masters. In

the words of MacGaffey and Barnett (1962:4):

Officials divided land and Indian laborers among the colo­nists, basing their allotments, as well as governmental appointments, upon the individual's capital investment and military risk in the enterprise. A man's legal status as a

7

citizen and his opportunity for wealth depended upon his po­ssession of land and laborers. Indian laborers were allotted under a system known in Cuba and throughout the empire as the encomienda, theoretically a nontransferable grant of from forty to two hundred Indians, which might be revoked at any time and was legally distinct from landhold­ing rights.

Leiseca (1925:86) points out that, as a result of this approacA

to colonization of the island, the Indian population steadily declined

despite the efforts made to bring other natives from neighboring is-

lands. Precisely this decline of the native population brought about

the importation of Negro slaves which began in 1517; their impact on

the island, however, would not be felt until two centuries later, when

economic reasons (sugar cane) would increase the influx of the slave-

trade in Cuba.

As powerful institutions, the Crown and the Church stood against

the injustices of the conquistadores and later the colonists. I t may

be for this reason that all through Latin America the Church and the

State (the Crown of Spain) have always been identified, an .identifica-

tion which became the focus of anti-institutional feelings during the

independence movements of the nineteenth century.

To understand more vividly the contribution of Europe to the New

World, we must touch upon the motivation which missionaries carried to

North and South America and which shaped the mythological worldview of

the people they assisted. Such a worldview, though shaped by others,

has continued to persist in the people of later generations.

Reformation and Renaissance in the New World

Rycroft (1968:12) has examined various internal struggles as

emerging from the two most significant movements that took shape in

8

the fifteenth century in Europe, the Renaissance and the Reformation.

In a quite convincing manner, he shows how they altered the course of

history. Precisely because there had grown such a discrepancy between

the 'ideal' and the •real,' the Middle Ages had become intolerable to

many. Although an intellectual elite exposed various elements of both

movements, in reality there was a parallel development and much over­

lapping of the two.

The Renaissance, Rycroft (1968:13) claims, while developing prima­

rily in the Latin countries of Europe and while becoming a revolt

against medieval forms and values which included the reality of the

Church --avariciously distinct from the people-- was able to survive

under the aegis of the Roman Church and left its structure intact and

its "authority unshaken."

The Reformation, on the other hand, developing in the northern

part of Europe, created a schism within the Church, although the origi­

nal intention of the reformers was to restore and reform, rather than

to innovate and create. rne Reformation, however, could not succeed

in Spain. It failed, according to Rycroft, for two main reasons:

first, because of the Inquisition which reached its full force in the

Iberian county, and, secondly, because such a movement lacked the

support of the common people. Rycroft points to the Renaissance, con­

sequently, as providing the atmosphere for concepts of political abso­

lutism to bring about almost an inseparable union between the Church

and the State.

Rycroft (1968:22) describes how the impact of these two move­

ments influenced the discovery of the New World. He claims that,

broadly speaking, the United States felt the influence of the Reforma-

9

tion and Latin America felt the influence of the Renaissance. In his

own words:

Anglo-Saxon America and Latin America are heirs of the same Western civilization; one fundamental reason why their history has been different is that the culture of the former came down through the mainstream of the Reforma­tion, from the Hebrew-christian tradition, while that of the latter came from the Graeco-Roman world of the Renai­ssance.

But not only in matters of political absolutism was this impact of the

Renaissance exerted on Latin America. Culturally, the Spaniards who

came to the New World also brought with them, and adapted to their

Catholic practices, revitalized elements of ancient religions which

had never died. As Rycroft (1968:15) points out:

It is important to remember ••• that the ancient pagan customs, ideas, and superstitions never entirely disap­peared in the Latin countries of Europe such as Italy, France, Spain and Portugal, for while it is true that they were considered to be Christian lands, nevertheless, Christianity had compromised with pagan thought, belief, and practice ••• In the Latin countries it has always existed •••

Despite this hypothesis, the Church, as an institution, carried

out all the necessary steps to defend the human rights of both Indians

and slaves, although the image it presented in recent centuries does

not reflect such efforts.

In his interesting book, a comparative study of Cuba and Virgi-

nia, Herbert s. Klein (1967:91) points out how the first Caribbean

Church Synod, begun in 1622 and completed in 1680, spent a great deal

of time analyzing ways in which the Church could defend and protect

the rights of its Negro communicants. This influence was exerted in

the role the Church played upon the institution of Negro cabildos;

different from its civil meaning, these socio-cultural and religious

10

gatherings of slaves became the source of interesting social processes

as well. Involved in their development, the Church, according to

Klein (1967:100), facilitated the adaptation of the slaves to a new

social setting. In essence, Klein himself (1967:97-98) would describe

the influence of the Church as an institution in this fashion:

All of these baptismal and marriage statistics reinforce the fact that civil and canonical law was the very essence of actual practice, and the Negro slave enjoyed coequal status with his master before the sacraments of the church .

• the census of 1778, listed 1,063 practicing clergy in Cuba, exclusive of nuns. This meant that for the island's total population of 179,484, there was one priest for every 168 persons, a figure not even approached in any country in the Americas today .••

Cuba, like most of Latin America, became officially Catholic.

Most probably after the late eighteenth century, it was to be handicap-

pedped by surviv~ls, ignorance of formal doctrine, and a scarcity of

priests. Such is the image that the average Cuban has maintained over

the centuries and which he has integrated in his mythological world-

view, wherein syncretism has found its niche and permeates all other

aspects of life. Although religious syncretism did not predominate in

the first few centuries of Cuban history, it predominated with the

arrival of incontrollable amounts of black slaves in the late eighteenth

century. Historically, during this time, la Santer{a, among other Afri-

can religions was born and expanded on Cuban soil.

Although the viewpoints of Rycroft and Klein differ greatly in

their interpretation of the influence of the institutional Church in

Cuba, the fact remains that the worldview of Cubans is a mixture of cul-

tural elements. From among these elements, religion has always emerged

as a predominant ingredient; it has helped Cubans integrate their own

worldview in time of political and economic crises. Outstanding Church

11

leaders, like Father Felix Varela in the nineteenth century, helped

create the Cuban national consciousness in the midst of the most

dramatic upheavals. And dominant religious symbolism has persisted

down through the centuries as sources of associations and relation-

ships with Cuban life as a whole.

A cultural group of three basic racial mixtures, then, (Indian-

Arawak, European, and African), Cubans have become vivacious and ex-

plosive, a people proud of their heritage, their folklore and their

traditions.

The Republic, Revolution, and Exile

Cuba became the leading producer of sugar by 1820, a result of

agricultural developments which had their origin after the capture of

Havana by the British in 1762. Economic independence brought about

the need for more manual labor. Both the slave population and the free

colored population continued to grow on the island, representing almost

50% of the total population in the mid-nineteenth century. As Klein

(1967:202) observes:

Freedmen could be found in every occupation and on every part of the island, but they were primarily concentrated in the cities. According to Humboldt in his estimates for 1811, 63%, or 72,000, freedmen were located in the mayor towns and cities, although it should be noted that some of these urban freedmen were produce farmers in the environs of the various cities •.• Divided equally between town and country, the rural freedmen represented 52%, or 36,000, of the total rural colored population of this area.

An increase in the population of black Cubans, whether slaves or freed,

gave birth to innumerable fears of black insurrections and black take-

over of the island. Undoubtedly, whether these fears were founded or

12

not, black culture had taken roots more deeply in the collective cons­

ciousness of the Cuban people. Cuban 'blackness' emerged i n the arts,

the language, the music and the dancing of the people. Fernando Ortiz

(1965:88) would call it criollez mestiza, "realmente mulata .r sandungue­

ra." Cuban 'blackness', so to speak, had already become a part of the

entire mythological worldview through which religious forms and sym­

bols provided an unifying dimension.

Politically, however, Cuba has consistently offered a weak and

immature image on the part of its leaders. As Clark (1976:2) himself

summarized it, in the nineteenth century Cuba witnessed the longest

struggle for independence fr~m Spain. Such efforts comprised two wars:

1868-1878, the "ten years war'' which failed, a11d the Cuban War of Inde­

pendence (1895-1898) which led to the Spanish-American War (1898). With

independence in 1902 the island began to experience the influence of

the United States. It reached a climax with the persistent Platt

Amendment which gave the United States the right to physically interve­

ne in Cuban affairs in various ways; this right was exercised until

1934.

Such influence fut:·ther reinforced the immature political attitu­

des of many Cuban leaders giving birth to what was later known as the

"Plattist Mentality," a frame of mind which consistently rel i ed on the

United States for survival and solutions to domestic conflicts.

Political frustrations and hopes mingled throughout twentieth­

~entury Cuba in various ways. Subsequent unsatisfactory governments,

:oupled with immature leadership, led to Fulgencio Batista's "coup d'

~tat" of March 10, 1952, which the University student s almost solel y

>pposed. Fidel Castro was one of them.

13

Castro's personality reached national attention after the

assault to Cuba's second largest military garrison on July 26, 1953.

By 1958, supported by most of the Cuban population, Castro became the

contender for power, a power he achieved as a result of his guerrilla

fighting which was concentrated in two areas of the islanda the

eastermost province, Oriente, and the Escambray mountains in Central

Cuba. On January 1, 1959, Batista, his family, and top personnel of

his Cabinet as well as few military leaders, fled the island. Within a ·

week Castro marched into the capital city of Havana as a triumphant am-

bassador of freedom and good will.

As Clark (1976J8) described it, opposition to the new government

became equivalent to any opposition to Fidel Castro. A distinct exam-

ple of manipulation of masses, Castro exerted a definite charismatic

appeal which enabled him to implement revolutionary reforms never pro-

mised before and, likewise, to replace the democratic leaders that had

supported him through his struggle. By late 1960 it became evident to

the United States and to the upper middle classes of Cuba that a new

dictator had taken over the reins of the government and that a new form

of government was emerging; a Marxist socialism, popularly known as com-

munism, became quite evident. Clark (1976a8) reminds us that Castro's

strength, however, did not quite consolidate until the aborted Bay of

Pigs Invasion of April 17, 1961a

Many Cuban militia men, as well as peasants living in the area wanted to join the 2506 Brigade, but there were no weapons and high octane gasoline had been sunk by Castro's remaining vintage airplanes ••• Eventually, out of ammuni­tion, the invaders retreated to the landing positions, then, quickly dispersed through the swamps in vain attempts to escape encirclement by Castro's immensely superior forces.

Within this brief politico-historical sketch and in the context of such

14

dramatic events, the Cuban Exile of the twentieth century was born.

Once again, Clark (1976:14-15) offers us a preliminary picture of

the f i rst four stages of the exile in numbers and proportions:

Table 1: Numbers and proportions of Cuban exiles arriving at the United States at various stages of the Exile

Stage Number

Stage I: EarlyDepartures January 1, 1959-0ctober 22, 1962 248,070

Stage II: Post Missile Crisis Lull October 22, 1962 - September 28, 1965 55,916

Stage III: Family Reunion Period September 28, 1965- August of 1971 297,318

Stage IV: Wane of the Exodus September 1971 - December 31, 1974 38,903

640,207

Percent o f ..Tota1

38.8

8.7

46.4

6.1

100.0

It becomes apparent that such figures have changed drastically

with, what may be called, a fifth stage of the exile, the Mariel refu-

gees. If the impact of Cuban exiles in South Florida was inevitable

through the first four stages, this last stage represents a more dras-

tic influence in the transculturating process of the whole population

and not just of exiles and refugees. Whereas an average of a little

over 100,000 exiles arrived at the United States per year in the first

and third stage of Clark's breakdown, it was estimated that 125,000

were welcomed in South Florida within a little over a month during the

Marie! experience of 1980. Out of these, 80,000 remained in Dade County

alone.

15

Prescinding from these new figures for the moment, it becomes

imperative to note with Clark (1976a20) that the composition of exiles

changed drastically from the early stages to the later oness

It is noticeable that professionals, semiprofessionals, entrepeneurs and managers constituted a majority of the incoming exiles by 1961, while blue collar workers including the skilled, semiskilled and unskilled repre­sented 15% by that year. Over the years these two occupa­tional groups will have opposite trendst a downward one for the professionals and an upward one for the blue collar workers.

In general, then, the single most important occupational group, both

within the exiles and the escapees, has been shaped up by the blue

collar workers. Clark's conclusions on the issue can aid us in the

proper understanding of the socio-cultural components of Cuban exiles

living in South Florida and elsewhere.

Moreover, if as Wolf (1969a262) claims, the Cuban revolution and

Castro's rise to power has become a direct example of the triumph of

rural Cuba over Havana, where most upper and middle class people lived,

the Cuban exile has become a composite of multiple classes of society

wherein blue collar workers predominate. Thus, if the early part of

the exile reflects those who had lived in Havana province, the latter

part offered a more even representation of the rest of the provinces.

In his analysis, Juan Clark (1976a23) gives a general idea of this

distribution as he compares the geographical distribution by province

of exiles and Cubans in Cuba.

Province

Pinar del

La Habana

Matanzas

Las Villas

Camaguey

Oriente

N

16

Table 2: Geographical distribution by Province of Exiles 1959, 1960, 1971 and Cubans in 1943 and 1970

Early Exodus Late Exodus

Rio

Residence as of 1943

Cubans

8.3

25.9

7.6

19.6

10.2

28.4

100.0

4,778,583

Birth Place as of 1959-60

Exiles

7.6

51.7

6.9

13.4

7.8

12.6

100.00

Residence as of 1970

Cubans

7.6

26.0

5.8

15.6

9.9

35.0

100.00

1,151 8,553,395

Residence as of 1971

Exiles

19.9

24.8

11.3

26.7

4.1

13.2

100.00

266

This overall representation of the exile, coupled with the histo-

rical sketch presented above, lead us to conclude that the main motiva-

ting factor of this mass exodus of Cubans to the United States was not

economic, but rather political. As distinct from other Dnmigrant

hispanic groups that have moved to the United States during this century

seeking economic and social improvements, Cuban exiles drastically opted

to leave their country motivated by political reasons which gave birth

to a strong wave of nationalism in the decades of the sixties and early

seventies. Even after the aborted Bay of Pigs invasion of 1961, most of

the population of Cuban exiles in South Florida ~~d elsewhere hoped to

return to the island. This picture began to change radically over the

17

years.

Mariel: the 1980 phenomenon

Robert L. Bach (1980:42) has contributed immensely to the analy-

sis of the data of this fifth stage of Cuban exiles in South Florida,

particularly in Miami. The Mariel experience, composed primarily of

young working men, ages 14 and over, offers a more positive perspective

in the transculturating process of the whole community than the one

advertised by the news media over 1980 and 1981. Taking samples from

early arrivals, Bach (1980:44) affirms that even the ex-offenders,

lodged at various Air Force Bases throughout the country, must be

evaluated under a different light for many of them were political

prisoners and not criminals as such.

According to Bach's data (1980a:S) it can be said that, "contrary

to what some have charged, the 'Flotilla' emigrants were not marginal to

the Cuban economy, but indeed central to it. They can also certainly be

regarded as employable in the United States."

The following breakdown offered by Bach (!980b:42) helps us vi-

sualize the roles of a random sample of these refugees vis-a-vis their

occupation in Cuba:

Table 3: Last Occupation in Cuba for refugees, age 14 and over, processed in Florida

Coral Gables Opa Locka Eglin Air Occupation Emergency Center Airport Force Base

Total employed

Professional and Technical

Number

641

67

Percent Number

100.0 43

10.5 3

Percent Number Percent

100.0 732 100.0

7.0 52 7.1

18

Number Percent Number Percent Number Percent

Manager and administrator 11 1.7 1 2.3 11 1.5

Sales 9 1.4 1 2.3 7 1.0 Clerical 85 7.0 4 9.3 45 6.1 Craft 197 30.7 6 14.0 166 22.7 Operative 73 11.4 4 9.3 103 14.1 Transport operative 86 13.4 12 27.8 82 11.2 Farm Laborer 0 o.o 0 o.o 8 1.1 Laborer 108 16.9 3 7.0 183 25.0 Farmer 2 0.3 3 7.0 0 o.o Service 43 6.7 6 14.0 74 10.1 Private household 0 0.9 0 o.o 1 0.1

When comparing the Mariel refugees of 1980 to the pre~ariel group

of the early 1970's (Clark's fourth phase of the exile), Bach (1980b:45)

is ready to make the following assumptionsa 1) both groups have a dis-

tinctly working class character; 2) both groups arrived after the eco-

nomic and employment boom of the late 1960's and early 1970's; 3) the

first job of the pre~ariel group was either in manufacturing or cons-

truction and, as a group, they became clearly dependent upon firms owned

and operated by other Cuban-Americans. In this context, the Mariel

group, Bach (1980as6) claims, will follow the same procedure of these

pre-Mariel refugees; for him the future of the Mariel group in the

United States will depend on the future course of the Cuban-American

community a

From the wealthy and prestigious early exiles, each wave of Cuban emigrants has set the stage for the next group, and each successive wave has approached more closely the compo­sition of the source Cuban population. Educational levels have declined, occupational backgrounds have become more representative, and more have come from outside Havana.

From the information presented above, we shall now begin to analy-

19

ze these various aspects of Cuban history and culture in light of the

effect of the Exile upon Cubans living in South Florida.

The Cuban Bxile and the Process of Transculturation

The literature of the social sciences provides us with recogni­

zable patterns that arise when cultural groups continue to be in con­

tact with each other and are bound to undergo inevitable processes of

adaptation. The overall word used for this contact is acculturation.

Innumerable definitions and descriptions appear in the literature

of the social sciences to convey the meaning of the term •accultura­

tion.' Some social scientists describe this process as a fact of cul­

ture-borrowing, others as a process of great complexity depending upon

the number of important circumstantial variables involved, and still

others attempt to simplify the issue by writing about acculturation in

terms of culture-contact and culture-trait fusion.

For our purposes, we shall look upon this phenomenon in light of

this literature and in association with the Cuban phenomenon as such.

Ralph Linton and Melville J. Herskovits, among others, have provided us

with a valuable frame of reference for this concept.

For Herskovits (1967:523) the definition of this concept dates to

1935 as i t was presented by a committee of the Social Science Research

Council as a guide for future acculturation research: "Acculturation

comprehends those phenomena which result when groups of individuals

having different cultures come into continuous first-hand contact, wi th

subsequent changes in the original cultural patterns of either or both

groups."

20

As distinct from diffusion, another classical anthropological

concept, acculturation must be seen as a dynamic process and not merely

as a fact. For the most part, diffusion, in the literature of the so-

cial sciences, analyzes the factual elements that appear modified as a

result of cultural contact; in this sense, diffusion becomes the study

of "achieved cultural transmission." Acculturation does not deal with

the objective elements or patterns of behavior that have been altered,

but rather with the dynamic process which immediately arises and deve-

lops when cultural groups come in contact with each other.

Another twentieth-century writer has contributed immensely to

the proper understanding.of this term. Fernando Ortiz, the Cuban scho-

lar, devised the term "transculturation" to speak and write about

acculturation in a more precise manner. For him, this process must

manifest a reciprocal dimension. While acculturation, for Ortiz, merely

means the acquisition of another culture, his use of the Latin prefix

"trans" delineates the same process in a more dynamic manner. As Hers-

kovits (1967:529) points out:

The word transculturation, as described in this passage, is unambiguous with respect to the fact that every situation of cultural contact and the subsequent innovations that result from it implies cultural borrowing. The misapprehen­sion of Ortiz concerning the use of the term acculturation is certainly not as serious as one which would ascribe to acculturation an ethnocentric quality which it has never had. Were not the term acculturation so firmly fixed in the literature of anthropology, 'transculturation' might equally well be used to express the same concept.

Consequently, although this term appears mostly in the literature that

has been published in Spanish, we shall employ it in this dissertation

as the basis of a process which manifests a rich diversity of complex

consequences and which emerges when cultural groups meet under unique

circumstances.

21

For Cubans in South Florida, transculturation becomes the instru­

ment through which a number of psychological, socio-cultural, political

and economic adaptations must be analyzed. Within this process, we

believe that la Santeria performs a transitional function as a tool of

self-definition and adaptation of Cubans to a new social setting. Befo­

re we begin to analyze the role of 1! Santeria in this overall context,

however, we must place the Cuban Exile in its socio-economic, political,

and religious setting. Socio-culturally, Cubans in South Florida have

experienced drastic social changes which, as a process of transcultura­

tion, continues to lead them to define themselves in a new situation.

How can they accomplish this task of group adaptation to a new cultural

setting?

Socio-cultural Implications

From the literature of the social sciences a recognizable pattern

emerges as cultural groups continue to be in contact with each other

and begin to suffer inevitable processes of adaptation.

Indeed, the process of transculturation may take place under a

variety of well-known situations: contact between entire populations

and small groups belonging to another population; contact between

selective small groups belonging to larger populations; contact under

friendly conditions or hostile situations; contacts between groups

with equal degree of complexity in their material or nonmaterial cultu­

res; or contact between groups of unequal degree of complexity~ and

contact between two groups under which one group with a specific style

of life comes into the habitat of another .

22

Ralph Linton (1963:501) summarizes most of these conditions under

two headings: 1) "those associated with directed culture change," and

2) "those associated with social-cultural fusion." Environmental chan­

ges can force people into direct culture change under certain circums­

tances; on the other hand, interference from one culture upon another

culture may bring about direct culture changes as in the case of con­

quest and colonization. For Linton (1963:502), moreover, 'social cul­

tural fusion• distinctly points to "those situations in which two origi­

nally distinct cultures and societies fuse to produce a single homoge­

neous culture and society."

Our considerations of the present analysis does not necessarily

encompass the categories conveyed by Linton as such. Cubans in South

Florida become a random sample among other immigrant groups living in

the United States. They exemplify that aspect of transculturation

whereby a small group with a specific style of life comes into the habi­

tat of another group. The resulting dynamism of such contact has taken

on a variety of features; it makes this experience a similar one to

that shared by many other hispanic groups living in the United States,

although its motivating force for mobility was of a different nature.

For Ralph Linton (1963:513), then, the pattern of adaptation

appears in four stages: 1) respect and admiration from the dominated

group to the domiLant, larger, group; 2) sincere desire to acquire the

culture of the dominant group and expectancy to fuse with it; 3) criti­

cal appraisal of the dominant group coupled with feelings of hostility;

and 4) if there is no hope for fusion, the development of nativistic

movements.

Andrew Greeley (1971:53) seems to elaborate on Linton's pattern

23

by analyzing the sequence in light of early twentieth century immigra-

tion European peasant groups to New England. His model encompasses six

steps: 1) cultural shock; 2) organization and emergent self-consc i ous-

ness; 3) assimilation of the elite; 4) militancy; 5) self-hatred and

antimilitancy; and 6) emerging adjustment.

From what we have examined about the Cuban Exile, most probably

the leadership of the exile in South Florida was moving through the

third and fourth stages of Greeley's model when the last phase of the

exile turned the whole community into an experience of renewed cultural

shock. The pre-Mariel process had been clearly exemplified by the

rapid economic success of Cuban businessmen and professionals as wel l as

by the persistent desire to climb up the ladder of political activity.

Bach (1980b:44) provides us with the necessary data:

In Dade County, Cubans account for 16 (out of 62) bank pre­sidents, 250 vice presidents, and more than 500 other bank officers. Approximately one-third (18,000) of the businesses in Miami are Cuban owned or operated. On the labor side, 85 percent of the garment industry's factory workforce is Cuban­American. Cubans staff most of the hotels, and their share of construction workers has reportedly reached nearly 75 percent.

For this reason, we do not feel that the Cuban community needs to regress

in accordance with Greeley's model, but rather that, despite inevitable

conflict, the process of transculturation will continue at a faster pace

than anticipated before.

Furthermore, at a commercial level, the role of Cubans in South

Florida has opened the doors to thousands of other Latin American immi-

grants who find in the language of a bi-cultural society the necessary

elements to express their own uniqueness and their basic identity.

McCoy, Page and Gonzalez (1980:79) have summarized for us the latest

population count among Latins in Dade County: Haiti (30,000); Colombia

24

(35,000-40,000); Puerto Rico (40,000); Jamaica (14,000-20,000); Vene­

zuela (22,000); Nicaragua (25,000); Peru (12,000); and Argentina

(6,000).

The picture appears a bit more substantial if we appreciate the

breakdown of the entire population of Dade County as divided in the

following manner: 40% Hispanic; 15% Black; and 45% non-Hispanic

Whites. Out of a total population of approximately 1,500,000 residents

in Dade County, Latins approximately amount to more than 600,000 resi­

dents.

The process of transculturation of Cubans in South Florida,

however, should not be measured only in terms of economic success and

openness to a wider Latin American market, but also in terms of other

cultural characteristics which, as relational qualities, have been some­

what modified by this process.

While a number of institutions, like the family, education, the

Church, and social services, have suffered a drastic cultural shock

with the overwhelming amount of new arrivals at various stages of the

Exile, the community has developed mechanisms which help facilitate

social adaptation.

The family, for example, has always been a source of analysis and

investigation among social scientists of South Florida. The Cuban fami­

lies that arrived at the United States as a result of the Exile have

suffered immensely. In many cases, the exiled situation forced the

Cuban housewife out of her home to work for a living and the well-being

of the entire family. Cuban fathers who may have acquired a professio­

nal background in their native l~,d as lawyers, doctors, or politicians ,

saw themselves at first wiping windows, washing dishes, or cutting the

25

lawn. Cuban grandparents experienced anxiety while staying alone in

an empty apartment of a foreign country for the first time in their

lives; in some cases, they had to leave the home of their children

and move to a nursing home. Cuban youngsters have been growing up in

the midst of two cultural worldviews that provide a different set of

values which consistently clash in practice. Not only was the concept

of the Hispanic extended family changing, but also the traditional

roles of the members of the household.

Szapocznik and Kurtines (1980al46) have participated in research

of Cuban families who have manifested various reactions to specific

situations:

According to the bicultural-involvement model of adjust­ment, individuals living in bicultural contexts tend to become maladjusted when they remain or become monocultural. Individuals who live in a bicultural context and who either underacculturate (fail to learn how to, or do not want to interact with the Anglo American context) or overaccultura­te (reject the skills necessary to interact with the Hispa­nic American context), do not have the flexibility necessa­ry to cope with their entire cultural milieu. This state of disequilibrium between individuals and their context is maladjustive.

They claim that such a strain is released when acculturation becomes a

two dimensional process and involves an accommodation to the host cul-

ture as well as retention of the culture of origin. Such an adaptation,

as a process, is characteristic of the perspective provided by the dyna-

mism of transculturation.

Outside of the theoretical model presented by Szapocznik and Kur-

tines, Cubans in Dade County have developed mechanisms of social control

which provide relational qualities, namely, which facilitate contact of

?eople in relationships. These mechanisms have helped Cuban families

relate to their source of identity by recreating in South Florida a

variety of Cuban institutions.

26

In an overall picture presented by the Miami Herald in June of

1971, Soler (11-g) has offered his readers a synthesis of the sample

institutions which Cubans in Dade County have recreated f or identity

purposes: 1) Cuban clinics (a new concept in dispensing medicinal

help); 2) Cuban schools (colegios privados), not directly associated

with the other private or parochial schools of the area, but which

provide the civic and historical roots of Cuban heritage to Cuban

youngsters in the United States; 3) botanicas (herb shops for practi­

tioners of l! Santeria); 4) bodegas (Cuban markets); 5) Cantinas

(home delivery food services); 6) persistent family traditions -like

going out as a family to visit relatives on Sundays- which, at times,

irritate Cuban youngsters; 7) chaperone system (for Cuban girls under

21); 8) folk music; 9) cost~~es like Guayaberas (fashionable shirt­

jackets worn casually).

Although politicall y Cubans maintain a "Plattist Mentality," as

Clark described it, Cuban history and Cuban politics blend themselves

into a composite sense of nationalism and patriotism at the public

celebrations of civic holidays which aim at reminding future generations

of their proud historical past. Once again, Soler (25-G) has captured

a number of them in his article for the Miami Herald: 1) January 28

(birth of Cuban patriot Jose Marti); 2) February 24 (beginning of

Cuba's last War of Independence in 1895); 3) May 20 (Independence is

proclaimed in 1902 -the birth of the Republic); 4) October 12 (celebra­

tion of the discovery of America by Columbus); 5) December 7 (anniver­

sary of the death in combat of Cuban patriot Antonio Maceo i n 1896).

The family, civic organizations, exiled representatives of Cuban muni­

cipalities, religious leaders and 'private school' teachers come toge­

ther each year in the passing on of these civic traditions to the trans-

27

culturated youth of South Florida. From the singing of both the Ameri­

can National Anthem and the Cuban National Anthem to the festivals and

parades at Calle ~ (Eight Street) in Miami, Cuban exiles attempt to

overcome the conflicts and strains brought about by the experience of

living, as a less dominant group, in a larger, more dominant, social

setting.

Furthermore, if the civic calendar is essential for primordial

ties with Cuban history and traditions, so is the religious calendar

which is popularly kept almost in conjunction with the liturgical ca­

lendar of the Catholic Church. At this mythological level, in its

religious component, Cubans integrate their economic and socio-cultural

and political elements. Imbued with a traditional worldview which

became the result of the Church's influence in the island since 1492,

Cubans continue to place themselves at the service of those religiously­

symbolic representations which bring meaning to their lives, especially

when they are forced to face conflict, crisis, and social strain.

Such representations come alive particularly at the private

(home) or public celebrations of various festdays: 1) September 8 (Our

Lady of Charity- the most dominant symbol of Cuban religiosity); 2)

September 24 (Our Lady of Mercy); 3) November 2 (All Souls Day); 4)

December 4 (the feast of St. Barbara); S) December 17 (the feast of

St. Lazarus); 6) December 24 (Noche Buena) and December 25 (Christmas);

7) January 6 (the visit of the Three Magi to the manger, currently cele­

brated by the largest Christmas: parade in Dade County next to the Orange

Bowl Parade); 8) January 1 (New Year's Day); 9) Holy Week (usually in

April); and 10) the month of May (in association with the Virgin Mary).

To these feasts we can add the immediate acceptance by Cubans of an

28

American civic holiday, Thanksgiving, which they have turned into a

socio-religious event, as well as the participation of Cuban children

in Halloween.

Likewise, it becomes interesting to notice again that some of

these feasts, celebrated consistently by the Cuban people, have been

syncretized over the centuries as a result of the influence of the

African religions, like Santer1a, and the pseudo-religious practices

of Espiritismo, a more modern-day religious cult which originated at

the end of the nineteenth century in Arcadia, New York, vy the misin­

terpretation of para-psychological phenomena among members of a local

community, and which ~pread rapidly throughout the world. As magico­

religious experiences, Cubans in South Florida have preserved la ~­

ter1a and Espiritismo in the overall traditional picture of the Cuban

community.

In summary, then, let us pull together these various elements

into a synthetic whole:

1. A mixture of three cultural groups, the Cuban people have

developed and preserved a traditional worldview, held together by

popular beliefs, which, though syncretized, have brought meaning and

apparent solution to believers in times ·of crisis.

2. Mobility to the United States since 1959, was motivated by

political reasons (Castro's rise to power and subsequent developments

in the social system imposed by Castro himself).

3. Although the exile began with middle and upper classes in

the early sixties, it has continued, at its various phases, with

predominantly blue collar workers, which, by nature, maintain and

exemplify the traditional worl view of Cuban in Cuba and outside of

29

Cuba.

4. Such mobility, or immigration, has caused great stress among

Cubans. This stress, or social strain, has been felt at the level of

subsistence or economic level, their social order, which includes the

family and the roles perfomed within their own collectivity, and the

mythological worldview, composed of the institution of the Church and

the symbolic representations of Church-related celebrations. In

essence:

a) The subsistence level of Cubans who moved to South Flori­

da changed drastically: at every phase of the exile Cubans have

had to start from scratch, despite their economic freedom in Cuba.

Such pressurP. is felt more among those Cubans who are older and

who enjoyed economic predominance in their native land. Economic

independence in the United States forced individuals and groups

to climb up that ladder as quickly as possible.

b) The strain was also experienced at the level of family

relationship. The family suffered by facing a departmentalized

social setting which divided its members and which could not pre­

serve the concept of extended family. Within the household, the

Cuban wife and mother left her traditional role to work ~•d con­

tribute to the subsistence level of the family; youngsters like­

wise worked outdoors and did not enjoy the traditional model of

family life as much as before; Cuban fathers experienced a double

pressure by losing the social prestige attained in their native

land and by suddenly finding themselves performing menial tasks,

under economic pressures, while struggling to attain the prestige

which their professions provided for them in the past.

30

c) At the level of Mythology or integrated worldview, the

Exile has had to face the danger of a loss of cultural identi~y ,

traditional roots, and other elements of their rich heritage such

as their style of music, folklore, art, and celebrations. A tra-

ditional worldview that faces an urban, industrial setting, is

bound to experience a loss of the experience of the sacred. As

Thomas F. O'Dea (1966:3) points out:

Culture is integrated with the social system in that it enters into the definitions of means and ends, of proscriptions and prescriptions, of the permitted and the forbidden, by defining the roles within which a society's members confront the established expecta­tions of their social situation. Religion, with its transcendent reference to a beyond, is an important aspect of this cultural phenomenon. Culture is the creation by man of a world of adjustment and meaning, in the context of which human life can be significant­ly lived.

And such a loss intensifies the disintegration of Cuban identity

in individuals and in families. The need for a mythological

worldview has already been seen through the persistent recreation

of Cuban institutions and religious celebrations in a :. frozen

manner.

5. The question which Cuban exiles constantly verbalize is the fo-

!lowing: "how can we survive in a new social setting that is rapidly

changing without losing our rich heritage and traditions?"

6. The social strain presented by the situation of the Exile, more-

over, has found an outlet in various ways, but all these institutional

outlets do not seem to be enough. La Santeria seems to facilitate more

than those institutions which have found public acceptance in associa-

tion with the Cuban Exile. Our question emerges once mores what role

can la Santer1a specifically play i n this overall picture of Cubans

31

adjusting to a new social setting? To begin to answer such a question

let us present our model.

Cubans in South Florida and the New Ethnicity

We have lightly touched upon various opinions of the various sta­

ges which cultural groups undergo as they come in contact with a more

dominant culture. We have seen Cubans in South Florida from their his­

torical and socio-cultural perspectives in light of the Exile situation

which began in 1959. In general, Cubans in South Florida have survived

the loss of all cultural identity by developing a number of mechanisms

which have either reinforced their traditional worldview, or have re­

created a sense of primordial ties in the midst of an amorphous social

setting.

Our model will analyze the phases of transculturation as offered

by the literature of the social sciences: assimilation, ghettoism, or

integration. It will hope to show that Cubans have opted to integrate.

This means neither to assimilate totally to South Florida's American

culture nor to alienate themselves from future growth and development.

This model of integration, moreover, is composed of three basic 'ingre­

dients:' diversity, selectivity, and liminality. As guiding principles

within this integration, they provide the theort)l ':;ical basis for a redis­

covery of roots and the participation of Cubans in a process called

'the new ethnicity.' As a specific instrument of self-definition, la

Santeria will eventually emerge from our ethnographic analysis as

another social mechanism used by the Cuban community in the midst of

rapid social changes within their own collectivity and in relationship

32

to the larger, dominant, group that threatens to ass imilate them.

Phases in Transculturation

Melville Herskovits (1967:534), in quoting G. Bateson (1935),

has summarized three possible options which cultures may follow when

under direct contact: 1) one of complete fusion of two originally

different groups; 2) another one of complete elimination of one or

both groups; 3) and a third stage in which both groups continue to

exist and to adjust to each other in "dynamic equilibrium within one

major community."

In most of the literature of the social sciences such descrip­

tions have been conceptualized by the following categories: total

structural assimilation, as a result of a policy of nat i vism and

ethnocentrism, cultural resistance to assimilation by an extreme

nationalism on the part of the less dominant group, and cultural

assimilation or acculturation.

In this context, the literature is vast and somewhat complicated.

The analysis of such cultural dynamism has led social scientist to

write about various types of assimilation (Gordon), various stages of

culture contact and the social changes ensuing from such contacts

(Greeley), the role of economics and politics as instrumental symbols

in a process of ethnic identity (Bell and Horowitz), and of the domi­

nant role of the new ethnicity as a crucial phenomenon for American

society (Glazer, Moynihan, Greeley and Patterson, among others). Most

of the problem in dealing with this literature, however, lies in the

diverse vocabulary which these scientists use when they analyze the

33

various phases of this process.

For the purposes of a simplified model~ we shall attempt to esta-

blish the following categories as attitudes of individuals and groups in

light of the actual contact between two different cultural groups where

one with a specific style of life (Cubans) has come in contact with the

habitat of another (South Florida United States). Two of these catego­

ries may be termed theoretical extremes: assimilation and ghettoism;

the third option becomes a challenge and a factual possibility: integra-

tion.

As used in this dissertation, assimilation becomes the equivalent

of Gordon's (1975:84) 'structural assimilation' and Horowitz's (1975:

115) 'incorporation.• It becomes a way of conceiving the 'melting-pot'

theory by which immigrant groups that come to the United States must

lose their identity and become absorbed by American culture and way of

life without any ties to their past heritage. This nativistic approach

to different groups living in this country became a goal and an objec­

tive in the early part of the twentieth century but did not quite

succeed. Nevertheless, as Greeley (1971:24) points out, "even though

the naive •melting pot' notion has long since lost its scholarly respec­

tability, it is still, one suspects, a latent but powerful influence in

American society."

On the opposite side of the pendulum lies the attitude of 'ghe­

ttoism.• As a form of resisting ethnocentric assimilation, cultural

groups fought to keep and preserve traditions, language, civic and reli­

gious symbolism at the cost of conflict and rejection. In some extreme

cases a ghetto mentality pervaded but such cases became insignificant in

light of the inevitability of social change undergone by small groups

34

that have moved to the larger scene of American society.

In the middle of both extremes, and possibly the only solution to

the multi-faceted immigrant expansion in this country, lies the theory

of cultural pluralism and its process of integration. In this model,

diversity is recognized not as a threat to growth and development, but

as a challenge to actual functioning within the society. In the words

Greeley (1971:16):

The critical problem then for those who wish to expand the area of trust and love in human relationships is not to eliminate diversity but to understand how diversity can be integrated in some form of unity ••• The critical question is how to use (these) tensions and diversities to create a richer, fuller human society instead of a narrow, frighten­ed and suspicious society.

Since ethnic groups are different, they need to experience pri-

mordial ties which can help them function better within a larger,

amorphous, society; by the same token, since ethnic groups must strive

to obtain economic and political power, they need to integrate their

efforts and interests into those of the larger society which they in-

habit. This model has appeared in some of the literature as the •mo-

saic of cultures' approach. Cultural groups can live together in

appreciation of their differences, accepting the inequality of their

norms, and developing social mechanisms to deal with them for the

benefit of the larger society.

From this 'integrating' perspective, the rich diversity which

cultural groups provide to American society does not represent a divi-

sion in itself, but rather a way of keeping social structures alive in

a dynamic fashion. The complexity of the situation and the challenge

that it represents for all community leaders have brought about i n the

past several years a so-called •wave of new ethnicity,• a new style of

35

looking at one's cultural group as a source of identity and self-

definition. Integration, as a phase within the process of transcultu-

ration, has become a powerful influence in multicultural situations in

the United States.

The New Ethnicity: differentiation, selectivity and liminality

Extensive writings have appeared in the literature of the social

sciences that deal with this phenomenon which has captured minds and

hearts of people at all levels of social integration into American

society. For the sake of a synthesis we shall attempt to develop the

new ethnicity that permeates our society along the lines of the three

guiding principles mentioned befores differentiation, selectivity, and

liminality. Only in this context can we hope to appreciate the role of

Cubans in South Florida.

For Orlando Patterson (1975s308) ethnicity appears as "that

condition wherein certain members of a society, in a given social con-

text, choose to emphasize as their most meaningful basis of primary,

extrafamilial identity certain assumed cultural, national, or somatic

traits." To speak of ethnicity in general is to speak of group identity,

solidarity, historical roots, transgenerational transmission, and even

socio-economic and socio-political conflict. Underlying all possible

ingredients to a conceptualization of ethnicity, however, emerges the

existential fact that people are different, and that these differences

can provide a better balance for larger, heterogeneous societies.

Claude Levi-Strauss (1976:326) has captured this principle in a

36

unique manners

The diversity of human cultures is (de facto for the pre­sent, de facto and also de jure for the past) much greater and much richer than we shall ever be able to know ••• There are in human societies forces which work simultaneously in opposite directionss those leaning toward the preservation, and even the accentuation of particularities, and those working toward convergence and affinity •••

For Levi-Strauss this outward-inward tension, so intrinsic to his

notion of social structure, provides a healthy dynamic equilibrium and

becomes essential for human society because it is diversification that

creates social structure. Such diversification, moreover, is not only

characteristic of cultures as they come in contact with each other, but

also probably of s~ecific groups within a given culture. Levi-Strauss

(1979s327) would ascertains

We can wonder if this internal diversification does not tend to increase when the society becomes, in other ways, larger and more homogeneous. Such was the case of ancient India, with its system of castes which flourished after the establishment of the Aryan hegemony.

To ignore diversity within a group and among different groups

would result in the assumption that these groups have preferred to

remain in isolation, alienated from each other. For Levi-Strauss even

the most detached groups have formed a multitude of small and large

societies in close contact with one another. While there exist diffe-

rences as a result of geographical isolation among cultural groups,

however, there arise those due to proximity. In Levi-Strauss' (1976a

328) wordss

••• the desire to differ, to stand out, to be oneself. Many customs were not born from some inner need or through some favorable accident, but from the sole desire not to remain behind a neighboring group which submitted a domain of thought or activity to precise rules that had not been thought of by the first group. Consequently, the diversity of human cultures must not lead us to an observa­tion which both divides and is divided. Diversity is less a function of the isolation of groups than of the relation­ships which unite them.

37

From this perspective ethnic groups, as they have emerged in this

country, have a history of their own. They have appeared on the Ameri-

can scene, in itself a diversified -multi-ethnic- society, with vast di-

fferences in nationality, race, religion, and language. Although some

conflict has emerged along these lines, we must agree with Greeley

(1974:298) as he asserts that "it is not true that differentiation leads

to conflict."

Traditionally mutually exclusive, ethnic groups have brought di-

fferent norms to bear on common circumstances and, as Glazer and Moyni-

han (1975:17) testify, with different levels of success. In this con-

text ethnic groups must not be viewed as a biological phenomenon (natio-

nal origins) nor as a way of looking at the past to glorify what is not

present, but rather as a "new social form," as Greeley (1974:301) puts

it, "as a way of becoming American." Rather than a manner by which to

withdraw from society, ethnicity has become an institution for dealing

oneself into society. In Greeley's (1974a301) words:

Implicit in this perspective is the notion that ethnicity is not a residual social force that is slowly and gradually disappearing; it is, rather, a dynamic, flexible social mechanism that can be called into being rather quickly and transformed and transmuted to meet changing situations and circumstances.

Melville Herskovits (1967:537) has elaborated on our guiding

principle of selectivity in a peculiar fashion. Cultural groups, even

in the most intimate contacts, are selective. For Herkovits this prin-

ciple accounts for the intensity and the degree involved in the borrow-

ing of elements or the acceptance of L.novationsz

The principle of selectivity is as important in under­standing why innovations from within a society become a part of its culture or are discarded, as it is in helping us comprehend why elements of one culture presented to another are taken over or refused, or even give rise to

18

contra-acculturative movements that seek to restore the sanctions of a pre-contact way of life.

The determining factor or variable that will guide this princi-

ple, moreover, emerges in the dynamic which pre-existent traits and

new ones exert on each other. Herskovits (1967:539) reiterates that

new customs, and thus new traits, will survive if they have something

in common with pre-existent traits, already determined by their pre-

existing culture, or if they do not clash with pre-existent traits,

especially along the lines of nonmaterial culture (attitudes, habits,

emotions).

Due to this selective process, then, it has been determined

that changes in organization and in material culture are made more

readily and are more acceptable than changes in personal habits and in

emotional attitudes.

On the other hand, this guiding principle of selectivity allows

us to view the emerging phenomenon of the new ethnicity in light of

two related aspects which readily appear when different cultural

groups come in contact with each other: a) the dimension of economic

or political 'interests,• and b) the basic dimension of affectivity.

Some social scientist will emphasize the role of economics in

the emerging phenomenon of the new ethnicity. For Patterson (1975:

312), for instance, "individuals will be most intensely involved with

those allegiances, or that allegiance, which is in their own best

social and economic interests." For Bell (1975:171), in particular,

"ethnicity is best understood not as a primordial phenomenon in which

deeply held identities have to reemerge, but as a strategic choice by

individuals who, in other circumstances, would choose other group

memberships as a means of gaining some power and privilege." Cultural

39

groups rely on the basic fact of their economic and social inequality

when inhabit the land of a more dominant group to climb up the econo-

mic ladder in their attempt to change the system and its norms in

favor of their own norms.

Daniel Bell himself presents ethnic identity as the basis for

effective political action in a widely divergent, pluralistic, society,

Ethnicity for him appears as an instrument in political power. In

light of more rapid social changes, the need for structural adapta-

tions and the growth of multicultural situations in the country,

ethnic identification, for Bell (1975s142), has an effective quality:

••• new and larger networks and ties within and between societies have been woven by communication and transpor­tation, shocks and upheavals are felt more readily and immediately, and the reactions and feed-backs come more quickly in response to social changes. This does not mean an increase in the 'pace' of change; that term is too loose. The effect of 'more' change is primarily an enlargement of the scale of an action or institutions, and the foreshortening of response time. And change of scale becomes a change in institutional form; a change in response time becomes a change in intensity.

According to some of these writers ethnic groups have become

interest groups, although economics and political power cannot become

the sole basis of definition for ethnic identity. In the case of the

European immigrants to New Englad, Greeley (1974s300) claims that

ethnicity provided a special market which helped cultural groups

attain prestige within their own social collectivity for "if the

social pyramid of the host culture was inaccessible, they could at

least move to the social apex within their own collectivity."

Perhaps a healthy balance to the 'inter.est' element of the

principle of selectivity might result from a consideration of a se-

ccnd element, that of affectivity. With this element, social scien-

40

tists have elaborated a number of categories that can help us appre-

ciate the rapid and consistent emerging phenomenon of ethnicity from

generation to generation. Glazer and Moynihan (1975:17) summarize it

vividly and concisely:

In a world of rapid change and shifting identity, we tend to shy away from any fixed notion of the primordial, of basic ties and connections that create groups, as against any rational interests •••

More than ever in our amorphous, and rapidly changing, industrial

society primordial ties must reappear and become the basis of a new

style of relationship. The focus of the new ethnicity in its selec-

tive process becomes that response to a need to belong to a specific

group that can offer identity to the individual and to the whole.

Within this framework, the literature of the social sciences

unveils a number of ingredients which are essential as affective

elements of ethnic identity: basic group identity which proclaims

and express a common culture, a coiiUllon language -both as oral and

written traditions- a common race, a common territory, and a common

religion; such identity gives birth to a much-needed sense of be-

longiness which, in turn, facilitates a deep quality of self-esteem

by which the individual acquires prestige and support within his own

collectivity in the case of not being able to do so outside of it.

We believe that Greeley (1974&310) has s\lllU'!larized. t hese el ements

-r:at'r\e-r: 'ole1."\. mto t'n.-r:ee se\)a."t:a.'t.e 'Q'n.-r:a.ses\

~y 'ethnic identification' ~e mean the place in .~hich . one puts oneself in the ethnic chart: By 'ethn~c ~er~­tage' we mean the explicit and consc~ous recoll~ct~on of one's past history, either in the Old World or ~ the United States. By 'ethnic culture' we mean att~tu~es, personality styles, and behavi?rs t~a~ correlate w~th ethnic identification (or ethn1c or1g1n, as the case may be) ••• Etru1ic culture, t hen, is composed of those

41

attitudinal and behavioral traits that correlate with the specific sort of ethnic identification.

1 · f" d as 1· ngred1· ents to a "transgene­These elements appear c ass1 1e

rational tradition" which allows for a temporal continuity of symbol ic

representations which give meaning to the present and provide for

creative innovations in the future. Likewise, the tradition is pre-

served by the •moral community' in a variety of so-called "fiduciary

associations" through which kinship relationships become a basic source

of support, trust, and personal growth. Among others, these associa-

tions appear as kinship relationships in the family, societal communi-

ties, religious associations, and other educational and cultural ga-

therings. In particular, the family seems to create a space in which

basic primordial symbolic representations appear and provide meaning

for the individual; without them, they seem to be at a loss in the

mechanistic and technological worldview offered by society today, a

worldview which has been deprived of meaningful symbolic representa-

tions. Specifically within the family, the mother appears as the

"symbolic guardian of ethnic identity."

In a more general framework, Padilla (1980r48) has suggested

that the new ethnicity provides for cultural groups which are numeri-

cally smaller than the larger society in which they live with a sense

of cultural awareness and ethnic loyalty.

In summary, cultural groups will select the intensity of their

involvement with new styles of living and will accept new cultural

traits from a more dominat group depending on how these traits con-

form to their pre-existent traits and style of living. Socio-economic,

socio-political and affective reasons will aid a cultural group in

42

this selective process which does not aim at isolating the group from

the rest of society, but rather at integrating it into the mainstream

of society with an identity of its own and a dynamic mechanism for

survival through fiduciary associations and the transmission of their

traditions from generation to generation. For this reason, it becomes

easier to move through accidental changes than to accept substantial

changes. Changes in organization and material culture can be accepted

much more easily than those changes that involve personal habits and

emotional attitudes.

For our third guiding principle, that of liminality, we must

turn our attention to the power of symbolic representations and the

role which these representations play in social systems.

The power of symbols as instruments of relationship and commun i ­

cations among human beings represents a unique and interesting field

of research in anthropological literature since, for many anthropolo­

gists, the capacity to create symbols arbitrarily and conventionally

is the distinctive element that differentiates human beings from other

creatures.

This symbolic capacity of individuals and cultural groups appears

more specifically in that literature which deals with the rites of

passage, the basic processes of human life which human beings re-enact

through poetic gestures in an attempt to express and intensify the

mythological vision of themselves, their ancestral origins, their world

and others. From the various writers that have contributed to the lite­

rature of the social sciences along these lines, we shall examine the

contribution offered by Arnold van Gennep and Victor Turner.

Arnold van Gennep (1960:11) pursued the analysis of ceremonies

43

which accompanied the four basic life crises of every human beings

birth, puberty, marriage, and death. Rather than isolated events,

van Gennep placed them within what he called rites ~ passage and

noted that in every life crisis and at every rite of passage the

same dialectical process took place. Three major phases occurreds

separation, transition, and incorporation. Those called to experien-

ce the particular life crisis were removed from the community and

prepared by their peers to experience a new style of life; this

preparation stage became the transitional stage within the rite of

passage. The final incorporation of the individual to the group

helped him realize his life took a new and special turn where,

usually, prestige and seniority were at stake and where norms and

regulations must be faithfully kept.

Following the same trend of thought, Victor Turner has offered

us a model of symbolic representations which appears within the

framework of community rituals. In the meaningful perfomance of the

rituals, symbols operate as dynamic systems of signifiers with spe-

cific meanings that reflect temporal socio-cultural processes. Turner

(1967s94) establishes his mode of thought by arranging categories that

have become similar to van Gennep's, although he emphasizes greatly

the transsitional or liminal stages

The first phase of separation comprises symbolic behavior signifying the detachment of the individual or group either from an earlier fixed point in the social structure or a set of cultural conditions (a 'state'); during the intervening liminal period, the state of the ritual subject (the 'passenger') is ambiguous; he passes through a realm that has few or none of the attributes of the past or coming state; in the third phase the passage is consummated. The ritual subject, individual or corporate, is in a stable state once more and, by virtue of this, has rights and

44

obligations of a clearly defined and 'structural' type, and is expected to behave in accordance with certain customary norms and ethical standards.

He establishes, then, a dialectical framework. He speaks of

social structure, a movement toward anti-structure which he will

refer to as communitas and the liminal stage -the beginning of

communitas- where the generation of myths, rituals and symbols appear

as tools of support and expression for those undergoing the rite of

passage and for the group that helps them move through it. Yet,

Turner (1969:166) warns us:

••• By 'structure' I mean, as before, 'social structure,' as used by the majority of British social anthropologists, that is, as a more or less distinctive arrangement of specialized mutually dependent institutions and the ins­titutional organization of positions and/or of actors which they imply. I am not referring to 'structure' in the sense currently made popular by Levi-Strauss, i.e., as concerned with logical categories and the form of the relations between them. • •

This distinction becomes clearer as he explains that communitas, as

opposed to structure, has 'an existential quality' and provides the

individual with a liberating experience, for it involves the whole

individual in his relation to other individuals on an equal basis;

structure, in the sense offered by Levi-Strauss has a 'cognitive

quality' and appears as a set of classifications and a mode of

thinking. In Turner's (1974s251) words:

••• we see communitas rather as a relationship between persons, an !-Thou relationship in Buber•s terms or a We, the very essence of which is its immediacy and spontanei­ty. It is structure that is tr~~smitted, by rote and repetition; though under favorable circumstances some structural form, generated long ago from a moment of communitas, may be almost miraculously liquified into a living form of communitas again. This is what revi­talistic or revivalistic religious movements, as against radical or transformist ones, aim to do -to restore the

45

social bond of their communicants to the pristine vigor of that religion in its days of generative crisis and ecstasy.

Turner (1969s133) classified these anti-structure movements or

communitas as follows1 1) existential or spontaneous; 2) normative,

where, the need for social control leads its members to organize a

perduring social system; and 3) ideological, a label that anyone can

apply to various utopian models of society&

••• Both normative and ideological communitas are already within the domain of structure, and it is the fate of all spontaneous communitas in history to undergo what most people see as a 'decline and fall' into struc­ture and law. In religious movements of the communitas type, it is not only the charisma of the leaders that is 'routinized' but also the communitas of their first dis­ciples and followers •••

Turner gave a lot of thought and reflection to the liminal stage

of these rites of passage which he called an 'interstructural situa-

tion•. He spoke and wrote about the emerging anti-structure move-

ments and communitas as becoming in themselves liminal stages in the

process of adaptation of cultural groups for they arise "in times of

radical social transition, when society itself seems to be moving from

one fixed state to another."

His explanation of the liminal stage within the rite of passage

is best exemplified by the role of the neophyte in the initiation

rites of his group. In succint words, Turner (1974:232) describes a

ritual process which affects the social life of those involveds

• • .He has been divested of the outward attributes of structural position, set aside from the main arenas of social life in a seclusion lodge or camp, and reduced to an equality with his fellow initiands regardless of their preritual status. I would argue that it is in liminality that communitas emerges, if not as a sponta­neous expression of sociability, at least in a cultural and normative form. • •

46

In the same passage he distinguishes between the state of 'outsider-

hood' and the •marginal' stage. The former refers to the condition

"of being either permanently and by ascription set outside the struc-

tural arrangements of a given social system, or being situationally or

temporarily set apart" from the role-playing members of that system.

The latter term refers to those "who are simultaneously members ( by

ascription, optation, self-definition, or achievement) of two or more

groups whose social definitions and cultural norms are distinct from,

and often even opposed to, one another." Turner's (1974:233) des-

cription would specify that1

••• What is interesting about such marginals is that they often look to their group of origin, the socalled inferior group, for communitas, and to the more prestigious group in which they mainly live and in which they aspire to higher status as their structural reference group ••• Margi­nals like liminars are also betwixt and between, but unlike ritual liminars they have no cultural assurance of a final stable resolution of their ambiguity. Ritual liminars are often moving symbolically to a higher status, and their being stripped of status temporarily is a 'ritual,' an 'as-if,' or 'make-believe• stripping dictated by cultu­ral requirements.

Within rituals themSelves, Turner (1969:167) distinguished the

liminality that characterizes "rituals of status elevation" from that

which exemplifies "rituals of status reversal." In the former, the

novice experiences an irreversible movement from a lower to a higher

position, while in the latter, experienced collectively more than indi-

vidually, the reversal of status from lower to higher is determined by

the seasonal cycle ritualized by the group. At either case, there is

a sense of liberation from social structure and, simultaneously, an

acquisition of a sense of power which is conveyed by the complexity

of multivocal symbols ~,d myths. Once again Turner (1974:259) relates

this in-between stage to social processes1

47

It is as if social relations have been emptied of their legal-political structural character, which character, though not, of course, its specific structure, has been imparted to the relations between symbols, ideas, and values rather than between social personae and statuses. In this no-place and no-time that resists classificati on, the major classifications and categories of the culture emerge within the integuments of myth, symbol, and ritual.

It is at this liminal stage of the rite of passage for indivi-

duals, and the stage of liminality for groups reacting to rigid

structures in search of communitas, that symbolic representations

become more significant and necessary.

For Turner (1967s97) the neophytes at this liminal stage appear

as neither living nor dead, without any physical reality, as prima

materia or undifferentiated raw material and deprived of everything,

namely, the prototype of sacred poverty. On the positive side, the

neophyte experiences a process of the new birth by symbolically

acting out death and growth in various wayss while he assumes a

passive role in relation to his instructor, to whom he owes complete

obedience, he also experiences complete equality with the other neo-

phytes next to him; they see each other as they are and may reach the

experience of deep friendship.

A specific function of this liminal stages is composed of the

communication to the neophyte by tbe instructor of the sacra. Turner

(1967:102) would L~sist that this communication of sacred exhibitions,

or symbolically-charged articles of their ancestors, actions and ins-

tructions will shape up the individual's new role as he prepares him-

self to be incorporated into a new setting. The repeated use of dis-

proportionate qualities in these gestures or objects, as well as the

elements of monstrousness and mystery, add to this function a depth

and a seriousness which elicit from the neophyte a deeper commitment.

48

The basic problem emerges when the neophyte returns to society and

becomes once more subject to custom and law; if he realizes that the

alternatives presented are not workable in reality, the consequences

could be disastrous.

Turner (1967:108) has summarized this function of communicating

the sacra within the liminal stage of the rites of passage as follows:

••• the communication of 'sacra' both teaches the neo­phytes how to think with some degree of abstraction about their cultural milieu and gives them ultimate standards of reference. At the same time, it is believed to change their nature, transform them from one kind of human being into another. It intimately unites man and office. But for a variable while, there was an uncommitted man, an individual rather than a social 'persona,' in a sacred community of individuals.

Moreover, for Turner (1978a246), symbols have a multiplicity of

meaning and are themselves open; they relate in meaning with the

thing signified; they evoke a deeper reality which is expressed in

acceptable and recognizable representations. Signs, on the other

hand, are organized in 'closed system' and usually have fixed meanings;

they merely point and explain but do not relate in meaning with the

thing signified, nor do they evoke a deeper reality in those present.

Symbols may be classified as dominant when "their meaning is highly

constant and consistent throughout the total symbolic system" and

instrumental when "their use depends on the ostensible purpose of a

particular ritual."

The category of liminality and its subsequent emphasis on sym-

bolic representations of a dominant or an instrumental type appears

as a useful tool to understand a variety of cultural phenomena and

the role which some groups have played in these phenomena. Turner

( 1969: 125) himself describes some of these: "neophytes in the liminal

49

phase of ritual, subjugated autochtones, small nations, court jesters,

holy mendicants, good Samaritans, millenarian movements, 'dharma

bums,• matrilineality in patrilineal systems, and monastic orders."

Our task becomes the association of such a process to the situa­

tion which Cubans in South Florida have developed over the years in

light of their overwhelming need to overcome alienation and loss of

identity.

Summary

The composite picture of Cubans in South Florida conveys to the

demographer a priceless situation. Cubans outside of the island are

represented by random samples of all the provinces and all the one

hundred and twenty-six original municipalities of the nation. Tney

have brought their own local flavor to the rapidly-growing urban center

which has changed drastically since their arrival and continues to do

so as a result of other immigrant groups.

Nevertheless, the socio-cultural strains which appeared in the

mid and late sixties as part of the transculturating process of these

groups continue to appear in the multicultural setting of South Flori­

da with its dynamic flow of people from various points of origin.

Although the early phases of the Cuban exile seem to have overcome

some of these strains, the appearance of the Mariel group has recreated

conflicts of a similar nature which call for some form of social con­

trols at the subsistence level, economic pressures -not present in

Cuba in such a drastic way- have brought about a reversal of roles in

so

man~ Cuban families; the Marie! phenomenon has increased these pressu­

res as many early arrivals welcomed into their homes the latest arri­

vals from Mariel; at the level of social order, and contu1gent upon

the economic level, families have been losing their traditional role

and members within the family have had to adjust to new roles if they

are to succeed economically; moreover, it is at the mythological level

that Cubans in South Florida have experienced most of these strains.

The traditional worldview of the Cuban people has not only been cha­

llenged, but has actually clashed with the worldview of an industrial

society; roots, heritage, folklore, kinship relations, and religion,

as basic components of a people's mythology, have forced to change.

Faced with these strains, Cubans in South Florida have opted to

undergo their inevitable process of transculturation by assuming to

'integrate' into the mainstream of American society without losing its

basic identity. Furthermore, they have attempted to recreate all the

traditional symbolic representations which constitute their heritage

and all the basic institutions which support the existence of primor­

dial ties and which facilitate renewed, personal, contact in a kinship

fashion.

In essence, as they integrate into a larger, dominant, group,

Cubans in South Florida uphold basic 'differences' which as 'diversity'

provide a healthy dynamism in the overall social structure of this

area; secondly, they have 'selected' traits from the dominant group

that do not clash with pre-existing traits, and have rejected those

that threaten their traditional worldview; in other words, they have

not changed in emotions or attitudes, but rather in external material

culture (styles of eating, dressing, exchange of symbolic objects, etc.).

51

A prime example of such selectivity became the unity which Cuban expe­

rienced in Miami as 10,000 people stormed the Embassy of Peru in Havana

L• the Spring of 1980, which gave rise to the Mariel exodus; the

streets of Miami were flooded with Cuban youth who were experienced a

revitalized sense of nationalism and Cuban patriotism and who identi­

fied themselves with anti-Castro movements.

Thirdly, they have experienced a number of life crises without

the support of a traditional worldview and have had to turn to those

elements in their mythology that facilitate meaning and integration in

the midst of personal and collective changes. In this way, many Cubans

in South Florida have experienced marginal and 'liminal' situations;

deprived of status and prestige in the American scene, they have turned

to religion or magic for an experience of equality and comradship as

well as a quality or communitas which would facilitate some sort of

liberation from oppressive structural settings.

In this general context of the Cuban exile, we shall place the

role of la Santeria. As mentioned before, we believe that la Santeria,

as a magico-religious experience, provides in its myth, symbols, and

rituals, an anti-structural mechanism, the beginnings of a tentative

communitas where neophytes can uphold the guiding principle of diver­

sity, recreate a traditional worldview that does not threaten their

heritage and their past, and experience a liminal stage whereby they

assume a given s~cra that should prepare them to live more securely in

a new social setting.

Before we postulate such conclusions, however, we must look into

the origins, developments and process of la Santeria itself as conveyed

JY the ethnographic data on the subject.

CHAPTER II

LA SANTERIA: ETHNOGRAPHIC CONSIDERATIONS

Fernando Ortiz and Lydia Cabrera, though at times from different

perspectives, have become the cornerstones of Afro-Cuban studies both

for the ethnographer and the anthropologist. In essence, they have

both pointed to Afro-cuban religions as the most significant phenomenon

in the preservation of African culture and traditions during their

stages of slav~ry and even up to the present.

Lydia Cabrera (197b.s9) has stated, for instance, that no one can

understand the Cuban people without acknowledging and g~tting to know

the Cuban blacks. Unlike the general picture of blacks in the United

States, Cuban blacks contributed more freely to the social structure

and institutions or kinship processes of the island. Interracial

unions, legal or otherwise, were not uncommon as a part in the shaping

of the national consciousness, leaving their traces on the arts, music,

and even popular psychology. And yet, this process of transculturation,

while acknowledged by many in the area of the arts, for instance, did

not usually become acceptable to most middle-class and upper-class

citizens. Despite this, however, and unlike the cultural process under-

gone by blacks in the United States, as MacGaffey and Barnett (1962s39)

claim, segregation in Cuba was basically economics

This segregation was pr~arily economic but became explicit­ly social in many ordinary resorts, such as the public squares and parks where Cubans congregate in the evenings •••

At the beginning of his investigations, Fernando Ortiz seemed to

52

53

reflect a determining ethnocentric attitude toward the Cuban blacks.

In his early books, ~ Negros Brujos (1906) and~ Negros Esclavos

(1916), Ortiz had conveyed with unpremeditated precision the thinking

of the white population toward the problem of the integration of blacks

into the social order. The perspective offered by Ortiz (1906:16), un­

fortunately, became that of "criminal anthropology," through which many

intellectuals of the time, stimulated by his reflections, attempted to

demonstrate that the social characteristics of "Negroes" were a conse­

quence of their biological characteristics.

As his later books manifest, Ortiz (1965c88) changed his perspec­

tive through the years. His original view of Cuban blacks as the active

members of the "Cuban Underworld" (.!!, Hampa Afro-Cubano), took on a

different tone when the writer began to study the artistic contribution

of the blacks in the areas of dancing, music, and the theater. By this

period in his life and up to his death, Ortiz was known as an authority

on Black culture, paralleled only by the invaluable contribution of

Lydia Cabrera.

By observing, inquiring, and gathering the data which black cus­

toms and rituals preserved and communicated to society at large, Ortiz

and Cabrera began to systematize the nature of African religions in the

island. In general, these religions or religious forms have been named

Santeria, the worship of African deities. In particular, however, the

nature and origin of these religions reflects a more complex reality

than popularly conceived. Historically for Cuba and other Caribbean

islands, this socio-religious phenomenon took place at the time of t he

importation of slaves, but, in fact, it has reshaped the overall cons­

ciousness of Cuban culture.

54

Santeria: Origins

Studies of the Yoruba people and the Yorubaland in particular

interested a number of scholars as early as the first part of the nine-

teenth century. Nevertheless a variety of opinions has been recorded as

to the origins of this tribe. As William Bascom (1969:7) writes, Sultan

Muhammed Bello (1779-1837) claimed that the people of Yoruba were des-

cended from the Bani Kan • an and kindred of Nimrud; according to his

study, they settled in the west because they were driven out of Iraq and

had to travel between Misr and Habah until they reached Yoruba. In this

migration a portion of their people remained in every country they

passed. Toward the end of the century, moreover, Samuel Johnson claim-

ed that the origin of such a people was to remain in obscurity. In the

words of Davidson (1964:68-69):

The Yorubas are said to have sprung from Lamurudu, one of the Kings of Mecca, whose offspring were: Oduduwa, the ancestor of the Korubas, the Kings of Gogobiri and of Kuka" wa, two tribes in the Hausa country ••• That the Yorubas came originally from the East there cannot be the slightest doubt, as their habits, manners and custoffis, etc., all go to prove •••

Because the modern Yoruba, moreover, usually confused the Near

East with Arabia, they located their origL,s in ~ecca, owing to the

prestige of Islam. With a more modern view, however, Saburi Biebaku

placed their origin in Upper Egypt rather than Yemen as migration fr.om

the Near East ocurred betNeen 600 and 1000 A.D. According to Davidson

(1964:70), he claimed that it must have taken an interval of about

three hundred years for two major successive waves to migrate.

Archeology, en the other hand, has not solved the problem due to

its limitations in Nigeria. According to Bascom (19£9:7) it has merely

55

established Ife as the center of Yoruba activity and the center of .. an

important glass-making industry which may have spread blue glass beads

(segi, akori) across ~est Africa... For our purposes, it suffices to

place the origin of the Yoruba-speaking peoples in south western Nige-

ria as a result of a migration from south eastern Nigeria.

For the Yoruba the clan is more important than the family; its

social structure is strongly patrilineal with the institution of ma-

rriage based on a patrilocal system whereby the bride goes to live in

one of the many rooms in the compound of the groom's father. In gene-

ral, all clan members are considered to be blood relations. A sub-

clan also exists with other people, not relatives, who may be allowed

to live within the compounds of the house. In Bascom's (1969:54)

words:

Yoruba kinship terminology stressed the factor of seniori­ty, including relative age as one of its manifestations, which is so important in relationships between members of the clan and inhabitants of the same compound ••• The threefold classification of affinal relatives distinguishes the members of the husband's clan (oko), the wives who have married into it (aya), and all other affines (ana) who live outside the compound. Finally, the kinship terminolo­gy provides a subtle means of expressing delicate shades of respect, affection, and supplication, or their reverse. The forms of address which express respect may be used because of the individual's seniority, title, or good character; they are also used to express a special degree of affection and btimacy, or when requesting a special favor, or begging forgiveness for an offense.

This pseudo-hierarchical style of relationship is best seen in the pro-

I cess of initiation of la Santer~a and the relationship of the new mem-

bers with their seniors in the religion.

When the European powers undertook the slave trade, most theolo-

gians, lawyers, and responsible people claimed, in Wiedner's (1962:58)

statement, that "Africans were better off under Christian supervision

56

than they would have been under pagan or Moslems' slaveowners." Slave-

ry was common among the African themselves; however, neither did they

consider it a permanent institution, nor did they consider slaves as

unrestricted, private property. Europeans, on the other hand, were not

used to owning people or using them for personal profit; and yet, it

was customary to view property owners with complete freedom to use or

to dispose of their possessions. Without much difficulty the slaves

themselves began to be considered as property and somehow both the

African and the European customs were merged into a system that brought

about confusion, distortion and unjust perversions. Wiedner (1962s58)

describes it as follows:

As long as slavery was 'natural' among Africans, it was argued, the European only had to be sure that the African he bought was justly enslaved under African law. This, however, was very difficult to determine •••

Unity in Spite of Slaverr

As the diversity of religious forms testify, the slaves that

reached the shores of the island of Cuba spoke a variety of languages;

Garc{a Cortez (1971&16) has written that the Yoruba language, and its

nineteen dialects, was merely one of them. The slaves had brought with

them their skills and their talents, as well as a depressed outlook on

humanity as a result of the conditions in which they found themselves.

In such a situation of despair and agony, religion became a fundamental

factor.

Those of the slaves who were priests responded to this situation

from their religious-mythological background and served their people

57

at their most crucial hour. It was the Yoruba religi on that unified

the African slaves when they confronted their owners. Enduring the

sufferings common to slaves from all times, the Africans in Cuba

practiced their faith in a most loyal and devoted manner, though in

secret for fear of punishment. They gathered together most commonly

at night, each slave in his own cult-group or congregation, popularly

referred to as cabildos, which held regular meetings. MacGaffey and

Barnett (1962:249) begin to describe this process:

An important feature of these meetings is the music, consisting chiefly of songs and drumming. The songs are Hymns and prayers in the Yoruba language. The drumming, which serves to raise the emotional tension of the proceedings, is done according to fixed patterns which are themselves hymns and prayers, ~~ploying the rising and falling of the Yoruba language to convey actual meanings.

According to Klein (1967:100) these cabildos existed all

throughout the Spanish and Portuguese holdings in the New World

wherever Negroes were congregated. Originating in medieval Seville,

the Spanish cabildos had been known to maintain Negro Cofradfas as

far back as the fourteenth century. Bishop Pedro Agustin Morell de

Santa Cruz, bishop of Havana in the middle of the eighteenth century,

discovered that in the city there were twenty-one Negro clubs or

cabildos. After visiting them personally to hold religious instruc-

tion meetings with their members, he appointed a specific clergyman t o

each of the cabildos for spirit·.Jal attention; he even proposed that

his clergymen learn the various African languages that these sl aves

spoke so that they might better teach them the Christian religion.

Klein (1967:10].) himself woul d describe other people's reactions

to the cabildos when such attention was not present, probably during

58

the late eighteenth century and the nineteen century:

In the great religious processions the Negro cabildos played an increasingly important part. Although outright African fetishes were quickly prohibited from display, the local saints and virgins showed so much influence of African mythology and even of African costume that these displays often tended to perpetuate pre-New World patterns and beliefs.

We discover in the colorful presence of these cabildos, then, the

space within which the religious syncretism of African religions with

C~tholicism began to grow. No one can deny, however, that in the very

special days when cabildo members participated in the religious cele-

brations of the Catholic Church, they were indeed provided by the

church with a determining outlet for social expression and community

development.

As time went on, if the slaves were discovered in those practices

which recreated their African beliefs as such, they were severely

punished by their masters, ~ mayorales, who considered these reli-

gious expressions barbaric and pagan in nature. Eventually they were

allowed to hold more of these cabildos in solitary places, in the hills

and the forests, in the wilderness, away from the planta~ion.l: With ;.\ ...... ·" ·

time they became more tolerated by the Spaniards. Likewise, they were

suppressed in the late nineteenth century for fear of becoming ce~ters

of anti-Spanish revolutionary activity • . 1

Toleration on the part of some of slaveowners came about in

a most peculiar way. Some of these influential people were not totally

evil; they basically treated their slaves with some measure of humanity

and compassion.

Because of the lack of doctors and medical facilities at this time,

when one of these slaveowners was faced l-lith a serious illness in his

59

household, he would cons~1t to any possible way that could promptly

restore health. Garcia Cortez (1971:67) has written that he would even

consent to his slaves' attempt to cure the illness through medicinal

herbs and prayers, so filled with despair was he if such an illness was

deadly. Most impressed would he, his family and his friends be when

such a cure was effective. A peculiar relationship developed between

the white and the black through these religious ceremonies to the point

that many of the white slaveowners would continue to seek help from

their slave-priest or santero in several areas of their lives, success

in business or in matters of love.

The practices of la Santeria spread rapidly among the white pro-

bably because of its mysterious dimension and its apparent connection

with the unknown or the occult. Lydia Cabrera (1971:b:23) has reminded

us that the •occult,• was not unknown to the Cubans who had experienced

a wave of superstitious practices and witchcraft with the influx of the

Spanish immigrants into the colony.

~ The spread of Santeria, moreover, can partially be attributed to

the influence of black maids, tatas by name (nannies) customarily hired

by Cuban families of upper and middle classes to do the housework and

to bay-sit for their children. Though not factually proven, it should

be of no surprise to accept the probability that many of these devoted

Blacks, authentic descendants of Afric~~ slaves, entertained many a

youngster with tales and stories born of their African heritage and

tradition. As Cabrera (197laa13) says, incapable of writing at all,

the Blacks exerted the ~ower of the 'spoken' word which traveled not

only from black to black, but also from black to white, possibly ins-

tilling in these children and adults a sense of awe, reverence, and

60

importance for the various mythical traditions of the African world­

view. Such oral tradition, re-enacted by ritual in vari ous ways, has

renained in the collective consciousness of those acquainted with la

Santeria.

This phenomenon of oral transmission through ritual re-enactment

of past events that have been significantly internalized and legitimized

by the group became strongly reinforced by another significant pheno­

menon, namely, that of syncretism with Catholic religious stories and

rituals.

Syncretism with the Catholic Faith

What about toleration on the part of the Catholic Church? For

a while it was believed to have paralleled that of the white slave­

owners. However, a recent discovery of a manuscript describing the

conclusions of the Church Synod of 1680 sheds much light on the early

centuries of the colonization of the Caribbean. As mentioned before,

Klein (1967:91-98) has presented a good sketch of sections of this

document.

As an historical document found in the archives of Seville, Spain,

the manuscript reflects the concerns of the Church for the people of

the islands and all of Florida under the jurisdiction of the See of

Santiago de Cuba and its bishop Juan Garcia de Palacios. Of particu­

Lar interest is the concern of Church leaders for the Indians and the

,frican slaves.

In chapters five through seven of the fourth book the Synodal

athers insisted on laws and regulations pr otecting the right of these

61

Indians and black slaves to marry freely, to receive proper catecheti­

cal instruction, to attend Mass on Sundays and holy days and not to

work on such days. Approved and sealed by the King of Spain on August

the ninth, 1682, the Synod of 1680 becomes an invaluable historical

document that bears witness to the dynamis of the Catholic Church at

this time, most probably the result of the resurgence of Church life

after the reforms of the Council of Trent in 1547.

From a second perspective, due consideration must be fiven to the

already-mentioned periods of Church life in the late eighteenth cent~ry

and early and middle ninete~~th century. From an historical analysis

of these times, it can be appreciated that, with few isolated excep­

tions, the weakness of the Church was apparent throughout the Caribbean.

Plagued by the emerging free-thinking philosophies of Europe, the lack

of religious and priestly personnel, the expulsion of the Jesuits from

Latin America, and the constant anti-Church harassment by Masons, among

others, the Caribbean witnessed an unparalleled decline of religious

life among the clergy as well as the laity, the backbone of institutio­

nalized religion.

It was precisely at this time that a greater influx of slaves

arrived at the islands of the Caribbean. And it is within this period,

from 1787 on, that the actual religious syncretism of Catholicism and

other African religions, particularly the Yoruba religion, took place.

As the French slave colonies of the Caribbean of Haiti and Santo Domingo

fell prey to the conflicts of war, attention was placed on the Spanish

colonies for sugar production. Wolf (1969:253) has described it as

follows:

62

Between 1792 and 1821, some 250,000 Negro slaves passed through Havana customs, and an estimated additional 60,000 were brought in through other unauthorized ports. Once in Cuba, these slaves were subjected to an increasingly harsh regime of labor.

Under these circumstances the slaves immediately began to notice

a number of apparent similarities between their composite worldview

and that offered by the Catholic faith. These similarities ranged

from the association of Christian dogmas to their own mythological

traaitions, to the lives of the saints of the Catholic Church and that

of some of their own gods. Olofin, for example, was compared to Jesus

or the Blessed Sacrament, for this was indeed the "son of God." Saint

Barbara, because of the red color of her cloak and her sword, was iden-

tified with Chango, the god of war and thunder. And Our Lady of Charity,

the most popular advocation of the Virgin Mary among Cuban Catholics,

was identified with OchGn, the goddess of the rivers in the Yoruba

traditions.

In general, each saint was identified with a color, a day of the

week, a stone, a specific form of worship, a congregation or cabildo,

an animal as the prescribed offering in a sacrifice, and even a medici-

nal herb. Since their African gods and goddesses could appear in various

ways and at different times, the slaves experienced their presence in

this new environment under the appearance of the statues of the

Catholic saints. Their transference allowed them to pass on to their

descendants the important fact that their gods had not abandoned them at

their most crucial hour of suffering and stress.

Nevertheless, they considered themselves 'catholics.• They

appreciated all they had learned from the catholic faith and highly

respected the catholic priests and their masses, other rituals, medals

63

and statues. It was to these types of devotions, known as popular

devotions, that they attached themselves while at the same time

stressing the importance of their particular rituals as distinct from

those of the Catholic Church. Robert Freeman Smith (1965rll6) seems to

associate the same phenomenon to other similar ones:

This would seem to be another illustration of Herskovitz' concept of ambivalence in World Negro cultures. While Catholicism is outwardly embraced, it is inwardly rejected; and the stones, the blood, and the herbs have become, perhaps unconsciously, a rallying point for the defense of the African religious tradition.

Consequently, despite the preservation of Santeria in Cuba down

through the centuries, it is necesary to understand that religion in

Africa was, and is, somewhat distinct from the religion that evolved in

the island since the importation of slaves began. Afro-cuban, first

coined by the writer Fernando Ortiz, is the term that probably best

describes this social and religious transculturation.

Roger Bastide (197lrll5-116) has carefully distinguished the

impact of these differences as he compares the developments of the

Yoruba religion in Cuba, Brazil, and other Caribbean islands such as

Trinidad. He claims that in Nigeria the cult of the gods is linked

both with fraternities and with lignages, or family groups, but that

slavery totally destroyed these lignages and only preserved the frater-

nities which maintained the notion that one can inherit the god. Second-

ly, he points out that while in Nigeria each orisha (god) had a separate

fraternity, in America this was no longer possible due to the conglo-

meration of slaves from various places and townsr

The priests then found themselves obliged to lump all the devotees of all the various orishas in one single organi­zation; and this in turn brought about a change in the ritual. It was no longer a matter of invoking the s~~e

64

deity on every occasion. All of them now had to be mentioned, one after the other, in a special predetermi­ned hierarchical order known as shire.

La Santeria, from this perspective, meant unity and mythologi-

cal integrity to the slaves and to their descendants in a world where

disunity and disintegration became prevalent and where the established

religion of the land showed signs of deterioration due to historical

circumstances.

Difficulties in the collection of data on la Santer{a

\vhen attempting to synthesize the beliefs and practices most

common to la Santeria, a series of difficulties emanate from both the

historical process which gave it birth as well as from the very nature

of its religious form. As Mircea Eliade (1958J5) has pointed outJ

But the religious historian faces a bolder task than the historian, whose job is merely to piece together an event or a series of events with the aid of the few bits of evidence that are preserved to him; the religious histo­rian must trace not only the history of a given hiero­phany, but must first of all understand and explain the modality of the sacred that that hierophany discloses. It would be difficult to interpret the meaning of a hiero­phany in any case, but the heterogeneus and chancy nature of the available evidence makes it far, far worse. • •

First, we can observe the element of secrecy which grew as an

essential part of la Santerfa for so many centuries, partially as a

result of popular fear of oppression and extermination, and pa~tially

as a consequence of its relationship to the occult and the mysterious.

La Santeria, despite these social pressures, spread and developed

through a process of oral tradition, not original by any means to the

descendants of African slaves in Cuba. In fact, such a process had

65

always been prevalent in primitive cultures which have no access to

written documents or to ways in which to write them. Undoubtedly,

some of the secrets of la Santeria have been written and passed down

from leader to devotee, but this contribution, as secret, is minimal

to the general public.

Secondly, the scholarly studies made on the subject by white

researchers have been exposed to the public eye from an ethnographic

perspective, and hardly from a scientific anthropological framework.

Thirdly, manifestations of these religious forms have taken on

different shades according to the circumstances which saw them

develop. Thus, emphases have changed and the saints, for example,

may provide a different or a more sophisticated function in Miami

than they did in Cuba. Though essentially the same, rituals have

been slightly modified to fit a particular need on a particular

occasion. These adaptations, nonetheless, hardly ever affect the

devotee who ignores the origin or developments of the rite because

of its secrecy. In actuality, only the santero knows.

And lastly, when seen as the mythological expression of given

culture as a means to cope with the mystery of death and life, the

mystery of survival and transcendence, la Santeria contains

elements of poetry and of symbolic language. And can anyone truly

systematize poetry? Does anyone have the right to create cognitive

structures merely to please philosophically-minded individuals?

Ultimately, no religion should be subject to such a rational process

to the extent that it loses that poetic touch that gives it life

through stories and myths.

\~hether la Santeria has lost this sense for symbolic expr ession

66

in its historical process, as oral tradition carried it from Africa to

Cuba and to the Exile in Miami becomes a further question for analysis.

At the moment, our concern specifically lies in the need to present t he

different and peculiar elements of Cuban Santeria in light of our anthro-

pological analysis.

La Santeria: General Considerations

The religious influence of the African slaves in Cuba is reflected

by the existence of three major cults and a series of minor cults.

First the Yoruba or lucumi, also referred to as regla de ~~ which

becomes the basis of our study; secondly, the Bantu or conga, or regla

~Palo or regla de Mayombe; and, thirdly, the cults of the Arara. who

in Africa are Dahomeyan neighbors of the Yoruba. The first two reli-

gious forms were confused for a lone time and referred to erroneously 9Y

the term 'naniguismo,• perhaps as a result of the original insights of

Ortiz (1906:36) at the turn of the century. Naniguismo, however, is

merely the ter.n which describes the beliefs of the religion whose adepts,

los nanigos, are members of the Abakua Secret Society. Originating

among the Efik of eastern Nigeria, the Abakua hit the light of the

intellectual world through the scholarly efforts of Lydia Cabrera

(1970c).

Closely related to these is vodun, the popular syncretized religion

of Haiti. Vodun is the Haitian development of Arara belief which

~ploys the French and Fon languages; according to MacGaffey and

~arnett (1962:246), it was practiced in Cuba by immigrants from Haiti

11d their descendants, probably the r~~ant of the slave insurrection

67

in Haiti of the late eighteenth century.

Unfortunately for many, vodun, or voodoo, has been the term

associated with any and all religious forms of African origin. Vodun,

as can be seen, is one religion and not the sum total of African

religions; neither is it only 'black magic,• nor should all Afro- Cuban

religions be considered black magic per ~· Vodun, in fact, was hard-

ly a strong -influence or religious force in Afro-Cuban traditions.

The minor cults may take different shapes or forms as a further

development of these religious forms and in accordance with local

customs and popular superstitions. Espiritismo, though originally

distinct from Afro-cuban religions as mentioned before, at times

borrows certain procedures from Santeria, particularly its elements

based on music, dancing, and the concept of spirit 'possession.• As

MacGaffey and Barnett (19621251-252) explain, exaggerations of these

practices ahvays caused adverse reactions in the psychology of the

people:

Cubans are disposed to regard all unknown beliefs as sorcery or witchcraft (Spanish, brujeria). Brujeria is the usual upper-class term used indifferently to d~~ote African cults and all practices dismissed as supersti­tions ••• ln middle class families stories of the fearsome techniques and mysteries of these groups may be told only to frighten children. 'The nanigos come for bad little white boys.' In lower-class families, however, they may be given serious credence, partly because there is somo knowledge of the existence of such groups.

Oversimplification of these practices may bring them all toge-

ther under one heading such as Santeria or black magic. l..,'hile the

persistent syncretisms of the Caribbean facilitate such an inter-

change of religious expressions, it is Lrnportant to distinguish th~~

for the purposes of analysis and interpretation.

68

This tendency to · include all possible magico-religious symbolism

into a personal and collective worldview prevailed among the Negroes

in their relationship to the beliefs of the Europeans and the practi-

ces of the Catholic Church. Bastide (1971:160) explains it clearly:

By a simple process of transference -from the social hierarchy to the world of ideas- European magic came to be regarded by the Negroes as superior to their own, since theirs failed to win them deliverance from slavery, while that of the whites guaranteed an unfailing European hege­mony. This is why, though they never rejected any of their own African practices which proved effective, t he black population would reinforce the unsuccessful ones with some European formula. In case of doubt, two precautions were better than one. This how we find Catholic prayers for the healing of the sick. • •

This tendency continues to remain among believers in South

Florida who turn to any one of the known religious gatherings for help

in times of crisis. For many regla de congo and regla ~ ~

(Santeria) may constitute the same religious form; in reality they

are not. As Wetli ~,d Martinez (1981) testify in their investigations,

regla ~ palo mayombe provides for Santeria believers elements of black

magic not present withL~ their own original religious worldview and

"its practitioners are called paleros or mayomberos."

Essential Elements of la Santeria

The gathering of elen1ents on ~ Santeri a has been the t·Wrk of a

few interested researchers. Robert Freeman Smith (1965:113) claims

that in 1950, William R • .Bascom, a social anthropologist, attempted to

gather in his article "certain features of la Santeria (that) have

become ••ell known through the work of Herskovi ts and other scholars i.n

69

the field of New World studies." His own analysis consisted of a more

sophisticated approach:

In Cuba they (material elements) have been discussed in the valuable contributions of Ortiz and of Lachatanere, Caste­llanos, and Martin. These features include the syncretism of African deities with Catholic saints, commonly represen­ted by chromolithographs; the African patterns of possession which has attracted interest as a psychological phenomenon; and the retention of animal sacrifices and African drumming, singing and dancing in the New '1-lorld Negro rituals. • •

We hope to look at these elements now from a broader perspective. Our

approach will consider the bulk of these elements: 1) Worship, the

orishas (santos) or divinities of the lucumi religion; 2) priesthoods

santeros or/and babalaos; 3) ~Monter mythology and sacred places,

and 4) Rituals and sacred symbols.

Worships the secrets about the gods

In brief, the orishas or s~~tos are the actual spirits of impor-

Cant men, now dead, who were, for the most part, kings and founders of

tribes. The cult rendered to them may be described partially as a

cult of the dead. To understand these orishas is, in many respects,

essential to reaching a deeper appreciation of the African concept of

man. These divir..ities emerge as symbolic representations of the "ideal"

in their lives; yet, somehow, they are very real to them, especially

when they attempt to personify the function of these divinities in

their religious festivals and rituals. When comparing this cor.cept

in Brazil and in Cuba, Bastide (1971:117) makes the following aistinc-

tionss

In any case, mythology in Brazil mainly survives where it is most closely tied to ritual, as though the ideas which

70

it enshrined could only live in so far as they were formalised through a pattern of action; whereas in Cuba -as the accounts of Lydia Cabrera make clear- mythology still flourishes as an organized way of looking at the world, in its own right, completed with an account of how the universe began, stories concerning the quarrels and love affairs of the gods, and so on.

In the eyes of the Yorubas, God is the pure King who is without

blemish; he is "All-powerful" or "almighty." According to Mbti

(1969:36), the Yorubas recognized God as one; and yet, there dwell

beside Him other divinities and spiritual beings, some of whom appear

as closely associated to him. Cabrera (1971b:78) claims that these

beings are generally the personification of God's activities, natural

phenomenon and objects, or deified national heroes, or spiritual

beings created by God as such.

Garcia Cortez (1971:87) recapitulates for the reader part of

the legend: Olordumare is the Creator, the highest of gods. The

legend has him as the Creator of the sky, the sun, moon, stars, day

and night, the rivers, the seas, the lakes, the animals that live on

the earth and the plants. When Olordumare accomplished his work, he

met with two other gods, Olofin Mbere and ~ ~ (also considered

co-~reators and characterized by strength and beauty) to whom he

showed the wonders he had created.

In turn, these three gods decided to create another being, some-

one in their own image who could put some harmony into the world; but

this creature disobeyed the gods, wanting to be like them in all

things. The god punished him, but could not destroy him for they had

made him immortal.

TI1e three gods met again to create another man in whose spirit

spirit Olofin would dl-Tell, a spirit that would 1i ve forever. This

71

creature became, indeed, another divinity, a trustworthy one, Obatal~-

Baba Nbnwe, chief of all other orishas and the personification of jus-

tice and purity -as his Catholic counterpart, Our Lady of Nercy,

appears to Catholic believers. Kitagawa and Long (1969all3) continue

the legend:

••• He was given a bag which, according to one version, lay between the thighs of the Almighty; in the bag was a small snail shell, a pigeon, and a hen. Great divinity came down to the marsh, poured out earth from the shell, and the pigeon and the hen scattered it about till dry land was made. Then 01-orun sent a chameleon, a reptile which often appears in African stories, to report on the condition of the world. • •

In the tradition presented by J~~ (1970:80), Obatala could not

quite concentrate on what he was doing and gave birth to men who were

physically disabled and handicapped; granted that this represented a

mistake on his part, but only good can come out of creation, so the I

lucumi belief explains.

Osain, known L~ Catholic circles as St. Raphael, St. Anthony or

St. Sylvester, is the owner and guardian of the wilderness. In popu-

/ lar belief, Osa1n has neicher father nor mother. He sprang out of the

ground just as did the plants, herbs and trees. According to Lydia

Cabrera (197lba70), despite his physical misfortunes -he has only a

I right foot, a left arm and one eye- Osaln is the distributor of the

~ (herbs) 11hich heal many sicknesses. He is quick-thinking and

very agile as well; it is no surprise to find him playing the drums

I

with Chango or, occasionally, dancing at a gathering of believers.

OrUnmila, or Destiny, has become a very important spirit/orisha

for believers of la Santeria. His voice is Ifa, identified in Cuba

with St. Francis of Assisi. He is the god of oracles and wisdorr.,

72

whose high priest or 'wise father' is called babalao. These are the

most influential priests of~ Santeria for they alone may conduct the

!fa divination procedure whereby a client can learn about his present

and, more importantly, the ritual he must perform to become more success·

ful in the future. In the words of Parrinder (1969:61):

If~ is said to have been a superhuman being sent by God from heaven to teach the use of medicine, give help in illness and guidance in secret affairs ••• Ifa is often virtually identified with an oracle deity, OrUrumila, 'heaven knows salvation.• This god is associated with creation in some myths, and came down from heaven on a rope. In Dahomey this oracle is said to be the writing which is created with every man and by which he discovers what god he should worship. • •

Yemay~ is the goddess of the sea. In Cuba, as was noted before,

she coincides with Our Lady of Regla, patron advocate of sailors, whose

sanctuary dominates the Bay of Havana. She is strong, powerful, and

serious, the mother of all other divinities. She is the goddess of

fertility, not of love. For J. Jahn (1970 s77) her restrained vanity

is limited to peacock feathers or palm leaves, especially blue and

white. In spite of her wisdom and prudence, however, she at times may

become passionately sensual. This is no surprise when it is understood

that, for the African, virtue and sensuality are by no means incompati-

ble. According to Davidson (1964:105), in Brazil, where many of the

blacks of the Yoruba origin were brought, Yemava has become Jemanja,

the vain and beauteous sea goddess whose devotee hold a remarkable

ritual on New Year's Eve.

Next we must consider Yemay~'s son, Chang~. He was a powerful

warrior who at times indulged himself in tyrannical practices. And yet,

his outstanding personality attracted friends as well as enemies.

Parrinder (1969:51) provide£ us with a dynamic description of this

orishaa

73

He was a historical or legendary king, the fourth monarch of Oyo, ruling over an extensive territory. Tyrannical like Solomon, he resembled him also in possessing esoteric powers. Shango breathed fire from his mouth to kill enemies, and he could call down fire from heaven like Elijah. Eventually his ministers rose against Shango and he fled with his wives to the forest. Finally, it is said that he hanged himself in a place called Koso.

His followers, on the other hand, cannot admit this apparent failure.

They claim he climbed up to heaven on a chain, manifesting his power

on high by the thunderbolts and fire which he sends down. In Cuba,

identified with a male Saint Barbara, Chango is patron saint of arti-

llerymen as well as of miners. Popular conceptions find him on a

horse when he is more serious, and on foot when he runs away. Accord-

ing to Yoruba mythology, Chango is faithful to his friends as well as

official wives, Oya, Oba, " to his three and Ochun. ,

Oya is the guardian and owner of the cemetery and should be

identified with the flashing that accompanies the thunderbolt, thus

' expressing her relationship with Chango. \fhen this warrior moves out

to battle, Oya goes first before him and fights next to him with two

swords. Oya had been married to another divinity, Ogg{m, but Chango,

through magic, was able to obtain her love and her loyalty as a wife,

though not before submitting to a vicious struggle with Ogglin. Without

• I her assLst~1ce, Chango would have been defeated. She represents

indeed a bad-tempered type of amazon, ideal as the guardian saint for

some of the ourspoken leaders of the Women's Liberation Movement

today.

Oba, on the other hand, is the guardian of home life; she pro-

tects motherhood and anything connected with a happy life. She is

74

jealous of Oya and demanding in her love for Chango, who does not seem

to be bothered by petty fights within his household. The legendary

stories about Oba and Oya are at the same time picturesque and reflec-

tive of innumerable human characteristics and feelings as Lydia Cabrera

(197lbs224) testifies in her research.

I ' Ochun, Chango's third wife, is the goddess of the river and the

goddess of love. She is life at the fullest conceptualization of

aphrodisiac beauty and passion. She is the goddess prepared to feast

splendidly through the eternal dance of life. Her dancing, in fact, is

sensual and attractive, particularly so for Chango who used to dance

with her, when possessed by a believer, in a mutual surrendering to

lust and carnal satisfaction, as Jahn (1970:79) explains, perhaps

recalling the ancient fertility dances of the mystery cults. Next to

Chango, she is probably the most popular orisha among Cuban believers

who do not cease to identify her with Our Lady of Charity, whose

Catholic medals they constantly wear hanging from their necks and whose

statues are always part of their altars at home.

Eleggua is neither good nor bad. Legend has him as a trickster,

and also like a child who enjoys good food and sweets in particular.

He is called the Master of the Paths or Directions (!! dueno ~ ~

caminos), of which the believer in~ Santeria holds to twenty-one.

For some santeros, however, Eleggua may fall into a capricious mood in

the path of Eshu, a1d then his equivalent may be that of the devil.

Because of his intermediary position betwea~ the worshipper and the

orishas, he is most commonly identified with the souls in Purgatory;

in the words of MacGaffey and Barnett (1962:248), to the souls in pur-

gatory, "the devout may burn candles for immediate help." In Havana,

75

Eleggua is represented by a stone carved in the shape of a face with

the eyes made of shells and protected by a special ointment. Cabrera

(197lbal9) reminds us that he sits in hiding by the front doors of

black and mulatto homes, satisfied with receiving the blood of a

chicken at least once a month. I

Offerings to Elegg ua may also be found

at cross-roads and in open fields.

Oggtin is recognized by most as the equivalent of Saint Peter

because of the orisha's connection with iron, his most peculiar symbol

and a symbol of strength. Saint Peter, in Catholic tradition, is the

bearer of the 'keys' to the 'kingdom of heaven.• Peter, being the

•rock on which Jesus placed the legacy of His Church (Hatthew 16a18),

stands out as a religious symbol of strength. Iron is strength. Thus,

Ogg6n has become associated with other minerals, but his relationship

to any objects made out of iron -trains, cars, tanks, and airplanes-

manifests his preference for this metal. As legend depicts hL~

struggling with the warrior-god Chango for the love of Oya, Oggtin may

also be properly called the god of war. I In many homes, Garc~a Cortez

(197la423) writes, OggUn sits next to Eleggua, behind the front door.

The picture of the orishas could not be complete from the view-

points of popular belief if consideration were not to be given to

Babalu-Al~, better known in Cuba as San Lazaro. As mentioned before,

this orisha was associated with a fictional character presented by a

parable in the gospel of Luke. In the story, Lazarus waited for food

to fall from the table of the rich man, Dives, the personification of

indifference and avarice, neglect and total blindness to the needs of

one's neighbor. This fictional character became the bridge for the

syncretism with Babalu-Aye, and altogether is not t he saint venerated

76

by the Catholic Church as St. Lazarus (the brother of Martha and Mary

found in the gospel of John, chapter 11). Jahn (1970s 80) remind us

that in Yoruba mythology Babalu-Aye roams around the streets covered

with bruises and rashes, and is very fond of sickly people. One needs

no imagination to appreciate the special attention this orisha has

received from those whose lives have been marked with a permanent

illness or some type of infection.

And the list of the divinities could continue! (In fact, a more

complete list of orishas can be found in the Appendix of this disser­

tation.) For our purposes, the orishas mentioned above seem to speak

for themselves and for what they stand. Apparently, in the historical

process of this religion, there emerged as many characteristics of

these divinities as the black man more deeply discovered hL~self and

his feelings toward the cosmos. However, this anthropomorphic world­

view did not stand by itself in the minds of the blacks. For over and

beyond the immanence of the divinities there arose, from the influence

they exerted, a certain type of life and power. Somehow the Africans,

as Mbti (1969:45) explains, were confronted with death as the most

mysterious and puzzling of all misfortunes and interpreted it as God's

recalling the person whose time on earth is fulfilled. And in dealing

with other manifestations of death, such as destruction, oppression,

slavery, or any other calamity, they could interpret them as well.

Life for them was 'power• and not law.

From these considerations and from observing ~ Santeria 'today

we can assume that the transculturation of the blacks and the religious

syncretism which they expressed has brought about a loss of that primi­

tive and mystical vie\v of religion l-lhich had become so much the heart

77

and life of a people in distress. While the names of the orishas with

their Catholic equivalents have continued, the reality is very different

and confusing. What has remained, and perhaps on a larger scale than

one could imagine, is the dominant role of the priests of this reli-

gious >vorldview and the vast number of rituals and practices >vhich

believers need to perform to insure the protection of the divinities.

To these 'priests' and rituals ~e will turn our attention next.

Priesthood: Sa~teros or Babalaos

Basically in lucumi belief (Santer{a) either a man or a woman

may become a santero or a santera. The Cuban blacks were used to call

them respectively babalocha and iyalocha, literally expressing the same

idea with different prefixes; either "son of the saint (ocha)" or

"daughter of the saint." To become a santero involves a long process

of preparation even after the individual has been initiated into the

religion. The actual priestly functions of a santero are not exercised

until after the individual has memorized most of the secrets of the

Regla de~ under the guidance or supervision of his or her santero(a)

also called, borrowing Catholic terminology, godfather or godmother

(padrino 2 madrina) .

A distinction has to be made, however, with the priests of the

independent orisha Orlinmila, Destiny. OrUnmila only allows for men to

become priests in his rite. Their particular name is babalao and t~ey

appear as the high priests of this religion. Their purpose lies in the

I

perfomance of the Ifa divination procedure in lvhich the babalao, for

the benefit of his client, casts four palm nuts in a prescribed m~.uer

78

to obtain a variety of combinations. Prayers appropriate to each

combination accompany such an action, after which the client is

usually advised to make an offering and to pay a fee to the babalao.

According to Lydia Cabrera (197lba88), among certain blacks, it was

• I Elesgua who led Orunmila to become such a powerful influence in the

divination procedurei.

The babalochas and iyalochas perform a similar procedure by

casting shells instead of palm nuts, once again in the interest of

the client. Such procedures may represent part of the first consul-

tation with a santero; such consultation procedures are called

registros. Other ceremonies and rites, moreover, have become charac-

teristic of the function and role of these lucumi priests.

Host probably as the cabildos or congregations of believers

affiliated with a particular orisha, were abolished at the turn of the

centuFY in Cuba, possible connections of these priests and priestesses

with the community seem to have been abolished as well. The effecti-

veness of their role emerges at personal sessions with their cli~~ts;

communitarian activity, at least in Miami, seems to be limited to

welcoming other santeros and believers to splendid parties for the

celebration of the feastday of a particular saint, or to some of the

more precise initiation rites of this religion.

Despite these limitations, the priests or priestesses of la

Santeria have always exerted a great deal of influence upon those that

seek their assistance; in this fashion they continue a well-known

Yoruba tradition. As Mbti (1969a88) wri tes:

The priest is the chief intermediary: he stands between God, or divinity, ~•d men. Just as the king is the politi -

79

cal symbol of God's presence, so the priest is the reli­gious symbol of God among his people. • •

El Nonte: Mythology and Sacred Place

, To capture the power and rich symbols in la Santeria rituals we

must first capture the setting within which these rituals originated

as the worldview of the Yorubas have transmitted in through their

oral tradition.

Lydia Cabrera (197lbsl5) has captured the significance of •vege-

tation' in la Santeria. She speaks of the 'wilderness' as the most

sacred place in lucumi belief, as well as in the religious form

practiced by one of the other major cults already mentioned, regla de

mayombe, the Bantu, also known in Niami as paleros.

The wilderness essentially contains all that the black man needs

for his magic, for the preservation of his health, and for his own

welfare; indeed, it possesses whatever he needs to defend himself

from ar.y evil forces, providing for him several means of protection as

well as of attack. Everything is in !1:, ~1onte and everything flows from

it; life 1-1as born in the t-lilderness , for the wilderness means Earth in

its most universal and fundamental sense. In the t-lilderness live many

of the orishas mentioned before, next to the good and evil spirits of

the dead.

In her travels around Cuba Lydia Cabrera interviewed innumerable

sons ~•d daughters of African slaves who confided to her all the infor-

mation about these Afro-cuban religions. Everything that seemed natural

in the wilderness, they claimed, was cheating nature, for everything,

80

indeed, became supernatural over and above what was apparent to the

senses. According to Cabrera's (1971b:14-15) information, if anyone

wants help from the wilderness, he or she must be able to know how to

'walk' through it. While walking .through the wilderness, as if in a

church, they ask their divinities and the spirits of the dead for all

they need for their health and their life.

Magic and health obviously go together in the wilderness. Magic

is the biggest preoccupation of the Cuban blacks who long to obtain

complete control of the hidden forces that may obey them blindly. And

this magic dwells precisely in the medicinal and sacred herbs disco­

vered in~ Monte, as well as in the sacred trees. Herbs and plants

receive a peculiar name in Yoruba-lucum1 beliefs, namely, ewes. The

~respond to any of your demands: they heal because they are mag i c

through rituals and sacred words that determine its good or evil

effects; they possess •ache,' the virtue or power of the gods them­

selves.

What about the sacred trees? Two in particular are popular

because they are so characteristic of the island. According to Lydi a

Cabrera (197lb:l93), ~ ceiba, or moss tree, is the sacred tree par

excellence. La ceiba is neither cut down nor burnt down. Both black

and white believers render some t ype of reverence to this majestic

manifestation of the wilderness. I n a tree of such gigantic propor­

tions there appears a powerful divinity named Iroko. Man must respect

its shade and must obtain its good will through a special offering,

for, as with every other element of~ Santeria, it can produce

positive or negative effects on the i ndividual. It was not uncommon

to walk through t~e public parks in Havana and to find by the roots of

81

the moss tree strange offerings, mostly fruits and small coins, as a

sign of thanksgiving for a favor obtained or as a prayer to obtain a

favor. Innumerable stories and legends find their place in Lydia

Cabrera's book which concludes the section on the moss tree by summa-

rizing the mystical conscience of Afro-cuban believers, whose concep-

tions of la ceiba is more than the tree of God, rather the God-tree.

The second tree of Cuba, characteristic of Florida as well, is

the royal Palm Tree or ~ palma ~· Because of the mythology behind

it, one of the divinities, Chango , dwells in this tree. I

Chango, the

perfect warrior, the best dancer and drummer, is the personification

of Dionysian man in all of its virility and splendor. As thunder, he

allvays falls on the palm tree but he is not alone. He shares the com-

pany of ~ and of Agallu, his father. On this tree, the legends

continue to bring out fascinating elements in their interaction.

The setting is set! The wilderness provides for Santeria belie-

vers the essential sacred elements for their mythological worldview

and the rituals which express such mythology. Let us attempt to

present such rituals keeping in mind the dominant and instrumental

symbolism found within the Yoruba-lucumf traditions despite the limi-

tations of agreement and systematization about them.

Rituals and Sacred Symbols

In their efforts to cope with distorted reality and adap~ them-

selves to the new changing situations, human beings turn to symbols

and rituals to reaffirm themselves and to intensify transcendent

relationships which might assist them.

82

To understand the function of these rituals and symbols in ~

Santeria it might be worthwhile to explore ways in which people

become attracted to this religious form and to view its rituals

within this process.

The first contact with the religion for most people i s based on

a consultation with one of its priests. If the priest is a babal ao

he will consult the oracle of If~ or Orlinmila, Destiny, and, as noted

before, will use pieces of palm nuts which, when thrown on the ground,

will decipher the question posed by the clia1t depending on how they

fall. If the priest is a santero or santera sixteen cowrie shells

will be used. People, usually motivated by personal or family

illnesses, a sense of disharmony and brokenness in hum~~ relationships,

or disatisfaction with life in the present, reach out for healing at

this stage.

The oracles '"ill determine the orisha or guardian divinity

which the client must aho~ays turn to for help and assistance. Prayers,

ritual offerings, and other sacrifices will all.;rays accompany this

person's relationship to the orisha under the supervision of his or

he~ priest. Regularly the santer.o may perform despojos with herbs or

dead animals in an effort to exorcise any evil influences from the

believer's presence and life.

In Santeria s essions, on the celebration of a f eastday or at t he

final stages of initiation of a neophyte the phenomenon of "possession

by the spirit" may take place. For Santeria, the top of the head

( eleda) is the most important part of the body. It is a most sacred

place because it is through the head that the orisha descends and

83

mounts the believer who is considered to be a 'horse' (caballo). When

so possessed, the worshipper puts on the clothes and adopts the perso-

nality of the particular orisha who is then recognized by all presa~t.

He appears to cure an ailment, to give personal advice or to denounce

a certain evil committed by someone among those present.

n•o key ingredients play a significant role in this ritual as

well as in many other rituals of ~ Santeria: 1) the Yoruba language

and 2) the use of drums.

Since language conveys the reality of a culture in whatever

milieu it may be found, the Yoruba language made a unique contribution

to Cuban culture as well as to the development of Santerfa rites.

While Spanish is undoubtedly the national language of Cuba, African

influence can be traced in some expressions of Spanish when they are

used by Cubans. Religion, once again, became the avenue through which

these languages found their way to the culture of the island. Used

primarily ill the rituals of the religious cults, only three African

languages are of any importance: Yoruba, Fon, and Efik. As MacGaffey

and Barnett (1962:45) explain, Yoruba and Efik are Nigerian languages ,

while Fon is a language of Dahomey.

Lydia Cabrera (1970a:l9) has composed a vocabulary which reflects

the uniqu~~ess of blacks in Cuba. She herself was amazed at the simi-

larities it had with the Yoruba spoken in Africa, despite the fact that

such words can take a different meaning depending on the raising or the

lowering of syllables on a different musical pitch. MacGaffey and

Barnett (1962:45) seem to reiterate such findings:

rnis feature has been primarily abandoned in Cuba, but the languages are still intelligible to Afric an speakers. Unwritten and lackillg standard forms, these languages

84

depend primarily on their religious use for survival. The fact that pronunciation and usage vary from region to region has led many Cuban writers to assume that they ceased long ago to exist in coherent form.

Despite these considerations, it is believed that while the language

is recorded by many santeros today in poorly written notebooks, the

various languages are slowly becoming extinct.

Drumming as such becomes a second significant ingredient in

the Santeria ritual of orisha- possession. In general, Cuban blacks

collectively did not darice without singing . Fernando Ortiz (1951:

111) claims, however, that the transculturation process accelerated

the separation of both artistic expressions when contact was made

with the white.

It is through prayer that Yoruba poetry finds its most beautiful

expression. Rhythm, consequently, makes it come alive, but a rhythm

that goes beyond the mere repetition of sounds or beats. Rather,

Yoruba rhythm calls from the depths of one's being out to the spirit

of the orisha who is sought. MacGaffey and Barnett (1982:167) descri-

be the process for us:

Drumming and Yoruba songs are an integral part of the Santeria Lucumi, the widespread ritual of the Lucumi. The Yoruba drum (bata) is hour-glass shaped and is held across the knees while the player hits both ends. The drum body is made from a tree trunk hollowed by fire, and the skins are permanently attached so the tension or pitch is not adjustable ••• It is believed that the voices of the spirits speak through the drums, and therefore much of the knowledge of drum playing is esoteric and not to be taught to non-members of the cult.

I

The Yoruba drums, therefore, also become a symbol in the lucumi

religion, particularly when they are associated with their most signi-

ficant function, namely, speaking for the orishas who take possession

of their subjects and devotees.

85

It is through these dru~s and their influence on the dancer that

the meaning of the particular dance emerges through signs beyond mere

rhythm and posture. And this meaning in the Afro-Cuban dances, is an

active one as opposed to the more restrained nature of European

dances, since activity for the Africans, as noted previously, r epre-

sents 'power.' This process, in turn, allows for no distinction bet-

ween the sacred and the profane in the use of drums, since every

'power' is the incarnation of a unique and universal 'life.• In Jahn's

(1970:98) terminology, it follows from this African philosophy that

everything sacred is composed of the profane and that anything profane

is encompassed by the sacred as well.

Two other common rituals catch our attention at the moment: the

'prayer of the head' (rogacion de cabeza) and the ebbs, food offerings

or animal sacrifices.

The rogacion ~ cabeza aims at delivering the person's head from

any evil influence. R. Martinez (1979:51) has translated the process

for us:

The rogacion rite consists of rubbing the head with a mixture prepared with the herbs, eggs, flour, grounded corn, and other substances. This is plastered in the head and the person must remain with it for three consecutive days. During this stage of transition the person remains ritually secl uded at home. There is also the observance of food taboos, and the avoidance of sex and other activi­ties. The stage of re-incorporation is ritualized by washing the head with water on the third day ••• The cause of sufferings (on the head) are attributed to super­natural punishment for neglecting propitiations of the santos ••• or magic done against the person's head or the mere presence of a tormented spirit.

Food offerings and animal sacrifices are based o~ the capricious

wishes of particular orishas. Each orisha is identified with a certain

number of animals that are pleasing to him as a sacrifice from the

86

devotee. But before such sacrifices are offered, consultation must be

made through the casting of shells which will determine if the saint

is willing to receive such a sacrifice at this time. Garcia Cortez

(1971:389) claims that chickens, ducks, hens, roosters, turtles, and

even bulls are used for these sacrifices performed by the s~~tero,

whose object is to please or to thank a particular divinity.

In the Yorubas of Nigeria even today two distinct features of

this blood-sacrifice are outstanding. For one thing, such a sacrifice

creates a new bond among those who participate L~ the rite; secondly,

if the ancestors are worshipped, it is believed that the blood revivi­

fies the object of worship. This attitude, however, is not that

apparent among these practices in Miami.

Animal victims are used in cases of illness or for a variety of

communal signs. The twofold purpose of the sacrifice is not clear to

the devotees in Miami. But if animals are not strictly necessary,

food offerings are just as pleasing to the gods who, giving t~Y. to

their anthropomorphic origins, are fond of particular dishes. In

Miami, when the faithful gather in a santero's house to witness the

investiture of necklaces or the initiation of a new person into the

regla de~' food offerings are made to the divinities and placed

on the altars. While the divinities enjoy the offering, the guests

themselves partake of the ir own menu without ever daring to i ndulge

in the different menu prepared and placed next to the deities •

. As people move from simple, though frequent, consultations

with santeros a definite commitment to the religion is elicited

from them. Depending on individual circumstances the santeros encou­

rage eventual initiation into la Santeria. The process of initiat ion

87

is long and complicated and involves three general stages.

The first stage is the imposition of seven fundamental necklaces

' (~ collares ~ ~~). Necklaces in lucumi belief are not only

religious symbols that identify and protect the believer from evil or

destruction. They also become the first step toward complete brother-

hood in this religion, and the first step toward its priesthood. Gar-

cia Cortez (1971:309) describes it as the first communion between the

new convert and the orishas. Each necklace serves a purpose associated

with the divinity. The santero may counsel the believer to wear such

necklaces as those which are associated with the spirit of a former

santero or an outstanding believer.

In 1a Santeria there exists seven fundamental necklaces, also

called collares de fundamento. The first four are always the same and

they follow a certain order: Obatala (Our Lady of Mercy); OchDn (Our

Lady of Charity); Yemaya (Our Lady of Regla); and Changd (Saint Barba-

ra). The other three necklaces, invested by an authorized santero as

well, may be chosen from any other divinity according to the needs of

the individual. So sacred are these symbols that no one but the reci-

pient is allowed to touch them for fear of losing their ach~ (power)

and causing a reverse action against him who allowed them to be touched.

From a major perspective, the most talked about and ever-growing

rite in la Santeria is the actual rite of initiation, which follows

all the stages of the universal and primitive initiation rites in

mythologies as described by van Gennep (1906): separation from the

community, transformation or new birth, or -in Turner's words -

'liminality,• and integration or aggregation in the community as a new

being.

88

Having received the necklaces, the believer may enter the process

of complete initiation into the religion . His santeros separate him

from his family and his community for the duration of one week.

During this week he will be born again! The oracles of all the

divinities are consulted; his head is prepared, sometimes shaved and

decorated by ritual colors; animals are sacrificed; an throughout

the week he moves from death to life in ritual events. In her detailed

description of this process, Lydia Cabrera (1974:128-235) insists that

every piece of clothing he wears and anything he may touch is destroyed

at the end of the day. At the end of the week , his family and friends

and other believers gather for the enthronement ceremony, where the

neophyte is worshipped as having reached unity with the deity to whom

he has been initiated.

Ritual taboos accompany ·post-initiatory times. The newly­

initiated member of ~ Santeria ~ust wear white during his year of

novitiate; he must not engage in sexual intercourse during most of

this time; for the first three months he is not to eat at table with

others; his food is regulated; he cannot go out at nights and will

protect his head from rain and wind by covering it.

After the first three months, the newly- initiated member will

offer an ebo, a ritual offering in the presence of other santeros. At

the end of his year of novitiate he will offer another ebo \-There the

most expensive animals are sacrificed, such as a lamb and a sheep.

At some point during this first year, the initiated receives the bata

drums in a colorful ceremony for which he wears his necklaces and the

apparel he wore on the day of initiation; he will never wear them

again. Music and dancing, homage and reverence characterize this ritual

89

event which sometimes facilitates the trance of possession for the

believers.

Last, but not least, in this sequence of symbols and rituals,

we must consider the idols and precious stones of la Santer1a.

Eleggua is not the only divinity who is represented by an idol made

out of stone. In fact, all orishas are subject to such representation,

though other materials, including coconuts, may be used. The authentic

heirs of African traditions kept these statuettes on their altars at

homes, though, for the most part, the statues of the Catholic saints

proved to be more practical and sometimes more attractive for the pur­

poses of worship.

On such altars, precious stones, identified with a particular

orisha, were also displayed. These stones were the objects of reveren­

ce ~•d fear in many traditions of Santeria. The legend behind this is

quite interesting.

Garcia Cortez (1971:305) has recorded that, according to luc~~{

traditions, when man dies he goes up to Olefin who receives him by

calling upon his guardian orisha. This divinity would tha~ give an

account of how religious the deceased had been and how faithful he had

kept lucurni rituals and beliefs. The reward was outstanding: Olofin

would turn the deceased into 'rain' to descend upon the waters of the

earth and, there in the river, he would become a stone. Three months

after his death, the family and friends of the deceased would proceed

to the river from which their priest would take out the first stone

he touched. In that stone they would acknowledge the spirit of the

deceased, whose favorite color lvas then used for the purposes of deco­

rating the stone. After this ritual, the family wculd take the •stone'

90

'Jack to their home in procession and place it in a special "vessel'

\-lhich became the sacred reliquary of such a divinity. This vase is

called a sooera today because of its similarities in shape to a soup

bowl or a container of somewhat the same size. The precious stone,

otan iyebiye, was the object of prayers and other rituals for it

possessed that certain virtue, or power, mentioned before, namely,

ache.

Summary

Such is the picture presented in the transculturating process

of African slaves who were brought to the shores of Cuba several

centuries ago.

As the mythology, the symbolism, and the ritual actions of

Santeria believers emerge, we uncover the need for people to deal

with a reality beyond themselves which may also assist them to func­

tion properly in a new situation, a situation of distress and social

strain.

If l-le lvere to ask ourselves whether Santer:la had preserved

the reality of such symbols and rituals with the same devotion that

the Cubans blacks of the past preserved them, the answer would be

negative. The ritual actions of~ Santeria today require a lot of

money. While the fee for consultations may vary from santero to

santero, most people questioned point to the imposition of necklaces

and the initiation rite as the most expensive processes of the religion.

Necklaces range from $175.00 to $200.00 each, and the rite of

initiation has been placed in the $S,OOO.OO to $7,000.00 bracket with

91

the exception of Orlinmila, whose babalaos charee around $12,000.00 for

an initiation rite. Host people speculate that this money is later on

invested in the well-known botanicas, or herb shops 1-rhich prevail in

Miami and other urban centers in the United States where Santer{a

believers evolve (New York, New Jersey, Chicago, Los Angeles, and

others). Hhile the botanicas do not sell the sacred symbols of this

religion, their presence bears witness to the growth of this phenome­

non in the recent past.

For the average Cuban in South Florida, or any other part of the

United States for that matter, la Santeria has apparently become a 1-1ay

of acquiring pm;er and security in life. He is faced with a materia­

listic and opportunistic society which requires a productive contri­

bution, but which offers no other security but a salary and the fact

that he is needed to increase the rate of production.

In most cases, the individual feels more helpless than fulfilled,

particularly when he is confronted with the possibility of, for exam­

ple, losing his job without due notice. Under these, or similar

circumstances, the individual approaches a santero, whose primary

purpose is not to judge but to help his client in this immediate need.

In a peculiar way, the santero listens to his client and offers to him

the opportunity to dominate and control his feelings of distress and

insecurity by incarnating, so to speak, the power of God in some form

or object.

In a society where man is faced with science and technology as

predominant explanations of the changes that affect his existente,

Santer:la can be vieH·ed as a reaction against the einptiness which such

a scientific ~~d limited worldview leaves in him. The man-on- the-

92

street may not be conscious of this connection between his religious

life and the technical world in which he lives, but even unconsciously,

he cannot help but react to science in the only way he lmows at the

present moment, namely, through magic. In the words of Malinowski

(1948: 19):

Science is born of experience, magic made by tradition. Science is guided by reason and corrected by observation, magic, impervious to both, lives in an atmosphere of mysticism. sc;::ience is open to all, a common good of the whole comm~~ity, magic is occult, taught through myste­rious initiations, handed on in a hereditary or at least in a very exclusive filiation •••

Science, in this limited interpretation, cannot satisfy man's

need for meaning in spite of the many benefits l.;hich it brings about

in the progress of mankind. For science, given the opportunity, can

do away lvith the values intrinsic to man as a social being. To the

contrary, by dealing with power as incarnated in objects and spirits,

man is able to overcome the forces of nature and escapes from the

oppressive reality of a scientific worldview. This is particularly

true, again, of those caught in the exile from Cuba and transported

to a totally new and scientifically-inclined cultural setting in the

United States.

' But for Cubans in South Florida Santeria fills another vacuum

as well: the one brought about by the apparent loss of meaning in

those aspects of life for which science has no explanation, namely,

death, destiny, love, and suffering . This loss of meaning in a ritual

celebration of the Christian awareness of death, destiny, love and

suffering may also have suffered a loss of symbolic expression for

the exiled Cuban in view of the liturgical changes within the Catholic

Church.

93

It must be remembered that much of the attachment to religious

expressions among the Cuban population, Latins by birth, was based

on the importance that ritual activity and religious symbolism had

in their lives. If the Church limited or excluded much of this

symbolic expression without the necessary and simultaneous explana­

tion for such changes, then a loss of interest coupled by a lac!\: of

understanding of new religious symbols can only lead to the search

for new ways of expression or a regression to those symbolic expre­

ssions which had meaning in the past.

Thus, under the inability of science to anslver the most fnn­

damental and pressing problems of life and the present sense of litur­

gical 'anomie ' there consequently follows among religious people a

de-sacralization of all the symbolic ele~ents in religion which

provide them with a free self-expression in their relationship with

their Divinity. If religion, in certain instances seems to have

failed man because of the changing moods in theological opinions and

liturgical symbols, and if science is not able to. fulfill man's need

for authentic e:>..-pression, the only possible alternative points to the

many forms which a syncretism like Santeria may provide for believers.

It is in this context of what has taken place among Cubans in

South Florida vis-a-vis Santer1a that we can attempt to bring toge­

ther its mythological elements and view them as they function in

society today. In Miami, a number of santeros have attempted to pre­

serve Yoruba traditions by traveling to Nigeria in modern times and

by recapturing the roots of its mythology. Unfortunately, the syn­

cretism of almost three hundred years of blend l-lith Christianity has

made these efforts void of acceptance.

94

Having ex~~ined the processes which cultural groups undertake

when they come in contact with a larger, dominant, cultural group

and in light of the data offered by the growing phenomenon of la

Santeria in South Florida and other urban centers across the nation,

we shall now att~~pt to synthesize the role of this religious ph~~o­

menon in society today. Only by viewing the general elements ~~d

the particular symbol£ in their usage can we understand the role of

Santeria in the process of transculturation of Cubans in South

Florida.

CHAPTER III

LA SANTERIAa Aa."i INTEGRATING, MYTHOLOGICAL, WORLDVIEW

IN A DISINTEGRATING SOCIETY

An analysis of the process of transculturation has allowed us to

perceive the complex developments of the Yoruba religion as it moved

from Nigeria to Cuba and now to South Florida. If for the Yorubas of

South Western Nigeria religion provided an integrated, mythological,

process in their every-day living, for the sons and daughters of the

Yorubas in Cuba, as well as for Santer{a believers of present-day

South Florida, religion -as syncretism- continues to facilitate that

same process.

In this sense, religion becomes a representation of some part

of objective reality with all its complexity, anguish, and hopes.

For the Yorubas, for the lucum{ believers, and for present-day Sante­

r{a followers, religion seems to explain profound relationships which

preserve and re-enact narrations and rituals about the origin of

nature and the symbolism of objects and human beings; moreover, it

seems to facilitate integrated space and time to help people cope

with disintegration, urbanization, departmentalization of human life

and personal dehumanization.

Within that western world that seems to uphold Aristotelian

categories above all others, the phenomenon of 1.! Santerfa may repre­

sent an absurd and illogical option even as a religious form. Imbued

with Aristotle's law of contradiction, most members of our western

95

96

society either accept or not accept events, phenomena, or the obj ec-

tification of reality itself. For them, 'things' either 'are' or

'are not.' African mentality, among other non-western styles of

thinking, provides a different perspective than that maintained in

the Greco-Roman legacy of our society. La Santeria, even as a reli-

gious syncretism, can mal';:e sense to people ;.;ho resist non-traditional

form of worship and who need to recreate a meaningful, tradi tional,

worldview, 1n the midst of change and innovation. From this perspec-

tive, part of reality is expressed and symbolized, but a part which

makes sense only to those who have internalized it and have assumed

it. In the words of Berger and Lucl<mann ( 1969J128):

Hhat remains sociologically essential is the recognition that all symbolic universes and all legitimations are human products; their existence has its base in the lives of concrete individuals, and has no empirical status apart from these lives.

Before ;.;e assume to present an analysis of la Santeria ;.;ithin the

process of transculturation of Cubans in South Florida, let us discuss,

though briefly, the nature of t;.;o essential concepts and social reali-

ties: religion and syncretism.

La Santeria: religion or syncretism?

Clifford Geertz (1975) has help ed us synthesize the role of rel i -

gious S )~bolism within a cultural group's vision of sociey. He mentions

two key ingredients in any group's religious beliefs: the group's ethos

and its worldview. For Geertz (1975:126) a cultural group manifests its

ethos in its moral, aesthetic, and evaluative eleme-11ts, while the group's

>wrldvie;.; encompasses its cogn initive, existential aspects:

97

Religious belief and ritual confront and mutual ly confirm one another; the ethos is made intellectually reasonable by being shm-m to represent a way of life implied by the actual state of affairs which the world view describes, and the world view is made emotionally acceptable by beine presented as an image of an actual state of affairs of which such a way of life is an authentic expression.

Religious beliefs, therefore, are not found merely as abstractions.

As Geertz (1975:126) continues to explain, the meaning provided by a

religious system can only be stored in symbols that find dramatization

in ritual activity, namely, a re-enactment of a cultural groups's

ancestral mythology. Such symbols will dramatize positive and negati-

ve values within a given group's understanding of reality; in the

dynamism of these opposite poles lies the resolution of a critical

situation for the individual within the group. In this context,

religion can become supportive of social values . In the words of

Geertz (1975:131):

The force of religion in supporting social values rests, then, on the ability of its symbols to formulate a world in which those values, as well as the forces opposing their realization, are fundamental ingredients. It represents the power of the human imagination to construct an image of reality in which, to quote Max Weber, 'event are not just there and happen, but they have a meaning and happen because of that meaning.'

The need to recapture such meaning for people undergoing rapid changes,

becomes more apparent as key values of human life continue to be des-

troyed, as C. D. Keyes (1979:11) explains , through cruel and deceptive

language and the misuse of power. In bringing a people's ethos and

~.;orldvieH· together, sacred symbolism in ritual action provides for the

entire group an appearance of objectivity.

According to Geertz (1975:90), religion is "a syst~~ of synbols

which acts to establish powerful, pervasive, a~d long-lasting moods

98

and motivations in men by formulating conceptions of a general order

of existence and clothing these conceptions with such an aura of fac-

tuality that the moods and motivations seem uniquely real istic."

To simplify the elements of his own definition, \ve shall sel ect

its key ingredients: as tangible, external, models 'for• and models

'of' cultural patterns, symbols give meaning to social reality by

"shaping themselves to it and by shaping it to themselves." This

'shaping' induces in the believer a motivation to act in a certain

way; likewise it stimulates him to fall into a certain mood. Geertz

(1975:97) himself provides us \vith a fine distinction:

••• motivations are •made meaningful' with reference to the ends tm.;ard which they are conceived to conduce, lVhereas moods are 'made meaningful' with reference to the conditions from which they are conceived to spring.

Such motivations and such a t1ood relate the believer to a sense of

order which lies beyond empirical reality itself. Faced Hith chaotic

situations and experiences of disharmony within his own quest for

harmony, the believer is confronted through religious symbolism by the

need to move beyond 'what is,' the need to overcome suffering (which

on most occasions appears as illness .and death), and the need to

overcome evil. Ultimately, he can clothe these concep tions with a

perspective that is intrinsic to religion.

Distinct from a common-sensical perspective, ,.,hereby th i ngs are

given, a scientific perspective, whereby things are questioned, or even

an aesthetic perspective, whereby things are seen as appearances and

not in themselves, the religious perspective facilitates a unique

type of experience. From a narrow outlooll; on everyday life, the

religious perspective moves the believer to a wider accept~~ce of

'beyond-ness' throueh faith; from a feeling of de tachment, it l i kewise

99

provides a sense of commitment; and rather than an .opportunity for

analysis, it facilitates an •encounter.• The dynamism of the process

is best perceived through ritual. As Geertz (1975s112) claimss

••• For it is in ritual -that is, consecrated behavior­that this conviction that religious conceptions are veridical and that religious directives are sound is somehow generated. It is in some sort of ceremonial form -even if that form be hardly more than the recita­tion of a myth, the consultation of an oracle, or the decoration of a grave- that the moods and motivations which sacred symbols induce in men and the general conceptions of the order of existence which they formulate for men meet and reinforce one another. • •

In this context, and although a believer cannot maintain himself

consistently within this mood, his 'religiOI\1 his religious system

of ritual symbolism, 'shapes• his vision and his relationship with

others in the world. For this reason, one must look at each cultural

expression of such religious symbolism within its own mythological

origin and growth. Rather than providing a 'black-and-white•

approach, when describing such a process in a given culture, one must

capture the varieties of perspectives and expressions which diverse

groups of people manifest in themselves and in their relationship

with others. We must quote Geertz (1975al23) again:

For an anthropologist, the importance of religion lies in its capacity to serve, for an individual or for a group, as a source of general, yet distinctive, concep­tions of the world, the self, and the relations between them, on the one hand -its model 'of' aspect- and of rooted, no less distinctive •mental' dispositions -its model ~or• aspect- on the other. From these cultural functions flow, in turn, its social and psychological ones.

As Bastide (1971:129) claims, the, religion has a tendency of being

a living experience but not of being 'alive,• for it tends not to

evolve. It tends to become anchored to the acting out of specific

rituals that shape up the meaning of the group, although at times

some innovations may take place.

100

The openness of religion to possible innovations, consequently,

leaves its door open to syncretisms. Bastide (1971:153-154) himself

has analyzed the nature of syncretisms throughout his studies of Afro-

Caribbean religious forms. For him, the blending of religions took

place at different levels: syncretisms were more prominent among t he

Yorubas and Bantus t h an t he Dahomeyans; syncretisms become more

pronounced away from rural areas and i n the towns, where groups of

blacks could funct i on together in associations; syncretisms were more

possible in t-lhat he terms 'live' religions, in a process of adaptation,

rather than in 'preserved' religions, traditionally resistant to any

innovations; and, lastly, syncretisms are more functional wh:en~: para-

llels are established, as in the case of the Yoruba orishas and the

Catholic saints.

Rather tha.Tl spatial syncretisms, which remain on the plane of

coexistence between disparate objects, the Yorubas, for Bastide (1971:

156) brought about a syncretism between gods and saints to conceal

their pagan ceremonies from European eyes, and, in our opinion, to

intensify a natural feeling that their ancestral mythology, their gods,

had not abandoned them at this most critical stage of their life (as a

group). In either case, the religion of the Yorubas suffered this

process of syncretism in space and time. Bast i de (1971:159) himself

describes it:

When we turn from the sphere of collective representation to that of ritual gesture, we find ourselves confronted with a heterogeneous mass of developments; the principal ones are outlined below. Moments in time, like objects in space, can form solid, clearly delimited points, uncha.Tlging in the nature of their syncretism. The Christian moment remains Christian, the African moment African; they come into juxtaposition solely as masses in space.

10!

I

La Santeria, as a magico-religious experience, appears before us

as a religious syncretism rather than a natural religion. Although a

few innovations have taken place in its nature, these have been the

result of social changes undergone by slaves first, then their descen-

dants, and lastly those who follow and have followed this religious

syncretism and have brought it to the surface in South Florida.

As a syncretism, however, la Santeria shares in the overall

quest for meaning that moves beyond empirical reality and that may

shape up the lives of its devotees when they are confronted with the

problem of suffering and the problem of evil. It offers an avenue of

corrunitment and a definite encounter ,.,ith a 'beyond-ness' not reachable

by empirical evidence. It motivates people to act as their santeros

prescribe that they should act, and to feel as their sessions inspire

them to feel.

From these general considerations of the viability of religion

and syncretism, as provided by Geertz, Keyes, and Bastide, we may

attempt to define ~ Santeria as the worship of African gods as

Catholic saints, a result of the transculturating process of the Cuban

people and the religious syncretism to such a process.

To the relationship of ~ Santeria within the process of trans-

culturation among Cubans in South Florida we shall turn our attention

now.

La Santeria and Cubans in South Florida

Our subsequent analysis will hope to show the role of mythology

102

and ritual symbolism within la Santeria as one of the instruments of

adaptation in the transculturating process of Cubans in South Flori da .

It will consider the model presented as the basis of Cuban integration

into the mainstream of American society and it will capture the effect

of this religious syncretism vis-a-vis such a model.

To facilitate such a process, let us recapture in essence t he

nature of the model and the nature of the ethnographic data on la

Santer{a.

Cubans in South Florida have attempted to recreate the traditio­

nal worldview-which shaped their lives in history when confronted with

rapid social changes. Politically motivated to leave their land,

Cubans have reacted to a general attitude of assimilation, us ually

presented by a larger and dominant cultural group, by integrating into

that cultural group without losing its roots, namely, by looking for a

sense of identity and renovating those institutions which provide

basic, primordial, ties of a •relational' quality among the members of

the group. Motivated, like most cultural groups which face a larger,

dominant, group, by the need to succeed economically and politically ,

Cubans seemed to have succeeded economically in South Florida despite

the basic strains which they felt at the beginning of their exile and

which they continue to experience at various level s : the strain to

subsist economtcally as they perceive themselves they should; the

strain to overcome a disorder in their basic relationships to society

-either within their own families and as people in search of prestige

inside and outside of their own collectivity; and, thirdly, the strain

brought about by a loss of a mytholog ical worldview ,.;hich shaped up

their way of seeing reality in the past.

103

La Santeria seems to provide, for some, a determinant ingredi ent

that intensifies relationships and lends itself to integrate the dis-

integrating ~vorldview of Cubans. It seems to offer an avenue of

economic success and social prestige; but, above all, it r epres en ts

a transitional, marginal, stage which provides a sense of l i ber a tion

in the midst of structural 'oppression.'

·' To remind us of the breakdown of la Santer~ a, offered in the

second chapter, let us present such a composite picture of elements in

an outline form:

A. Hythology: collective representations proclaimed through a

consistent oral tradition: mayorales and tatas.

1. Sacred place: El Monte (the wilderness).

2. Orishas: identification with ancestral world.

a) Olordurnare: God Creator and a distant god.

b) Orishas: intervening gods that must be appeased.

c) Reciprocal participation between cods and devotees.

3. Priesthood: Babalaos and santeros

a) Reiteration and continuation of oral tradition.

b) Establishment of personal contact and a relational

encounter which provides a sense of security and

ul tirnate pm.;er.

c) Facilitators of a longed-for encounter with the diviniti es

themselves through ritual activity.

B. Ritual Activity and Sacred Symbolism.

1. Consultation process: cowrie shells and/or palm nu ts.

a) Despojos

b) Roeacion de cabeza

104

c) EbOs or animal sacrifices and food offerings.

2. Imposition of necklaces (collares de fundamento)

3. Rite of initiation: separation, liminality, and incorporat i on.

4. Post-initiatory rites.

a) Handing on of the bata drwns

b) Three-month ebo

c) Other taboos and norms which forbid contamination for the

year of novitiate.

In light of this information, we shall nmv proceed to view it

within the general model of integration offered in the first chapter.

This model, we must remember, became a composite of three principal

elements which appeared as guiding -though basic- principles: cultural

diversity as opposed to uniformity, selectivity as opposed to determi­

nism, and liminality as opposed to social structure (as used by Victor

Turner).

La Santeria and Diversity

We had concluded in the first chapter that cultural differenti a­

tion, or cultural diversity, provided a sense of history for cultural

groups and did not necessarily lead to conflict (Greeley). In fact, in

l;;:eeping ~•ith the dialectical style of Levi-Strauss (1976), diversity

l-li thin a cultural group and between different groups bee ame a h eal thy

quality; it provided for a healthy type of dynamism within social

structures. In other words, the diversity of norms and standards (Gla­

zer and Noynihan) which cultural groups have brought to bear on society

have become a way of dealing oneself into society (Greeley) rather than

105

a way of alienating oneself from it . From this perspective, Cubans

in south Florida have made themselves different while integratinG

into the more dominant group which welcomed th~~ into this land.

La Santeria, within this concept of differentiation or diversity,

has accentuated the need for diversity itself . ~Santeria has brought

to the surface, through myth and ritual, a different folklore, a

different style of music and dancing, a different kind of rhythm

which, though predominantly. African in origin, conveys the ~.;orldview of

three different cultures.

Secondly, la Santeria provides for its believers a sense of unity

in the midst of such diversity, for it helps them identify the source

of their power in the ancestral mythology ~.;hich has been preserved dmm

through the centuries. Yoruba mythology has found its place in the

oral tradition of the Cuban people first through the mayorales and tatas

who, perhaps for different reasons, maintained the traditions of the

Yoruba religon alive. It recreates a sense of the wilderness in an

urban, industrial, setting as South Florida and it begins to facilitate

an 'encounter' ,.;ith the 'beyond-ness' provided by the multiple divini­

ties of the Yoruba pantheon.

Thirdly, at this mythological dimension as '"ell, 1J!. Santeria, by

its existence, reminds Cubans in South Florida about the social adapta­

tion of nineteenth century slaves under an oppressive, though fairly

tolerant, social structure. This mythological function continues to

appear through the repeated intervention of babalaos and santeros in

the decision-maldng process of their devotees. The oven•helming acti­

vity of these Santeria priests involves the believers of the religion

into the manipulation of tHo modern-day symbols: economics and social

106

prestige. Believers can risk borrowing money from others in order to

acquire the prestige which la Santeria seems to offer to them in the

midst of their crisis. Bastide (1971:123) reiterates this process

among the blacks of the Antilles:

Such people find much that they need in these sects: in the first place, an atmosphere of security, a protection against life's hazards, and also a chance to better them­selves, in so far as they can mount from rank to rank in the priestly hierarchy. Finally, they enjoy a prestige

, status which they could never hope to attain in society at large. • •

1~e believe that this process continues to exist among South Florida

Cubans attracted to la Santeria for it facilitates for them an expe-

rience of death and resurrection, leaving old things behind and ex-

periencing new life without a complete loss of heritage. In this

fashion, ~ Santeria shares in one of the most ancient mythological

themes through its ritual activity.

From a strictly mythological perspective, then, la Santeria

shares in the quest for universal symbols which other primitive

mythologies has manifested dm-m through the centuries, as Joseph Camp-

bell (1959:61) claims. !~hereas in the Yoruba stage, previous to slavery

in the New :·lorld , it served as a means to cross the widely recognized

thresholds which face human beings from early infancy to death, in

Cuba it served to bridge the social gap brought about by an unwilling

condition of slavery, and in the United States it seems to aid in the

crossing of a new threshold, especiallt that of social adaptability to

a new situation.

From our recent conversations with recent arrivals from Cuba

through the Mariel exodus, He venture to speculate that ..!..£ Santer{a

has growrr in Cuba in the same manner but as a way of resisting the new

107

social order present in the island. Such possibility has appeared in

the literature before; in the ~vords of Joseph Campbell (1959:130):

The elementary idea (Elementargedanke) is never itself directly figured in mythology , but al~.;ays rendered by way of local ethnic ideas or forms (Volkengedanke), and these, as \ve now perceive, are locally conditioned and may reflect attitudes either of resistance or of assimilation.

In this context, while la Santeria shares decisive elements

of traditional mythology, as captured by Campbell (1959:231): Creator

god, intermediary divinities, objectification of symbols as sacred

realities, preservation of rites of passage , maintenance of a priest-

hood which characterizes planting societies as distinct from hunting

societies, the religious twrldview of the Yoruba-lucumi believers is

ope~ to creative forms of social adaptability to the degree that it is

used to aid the believers adjust to the social world around them. And

from this analysis, as Campbell (1968:4) claims once again, it may have

t he strength to become a creative mythology:

In the context of traditional mythology, the symbols are presented in socially maintained rites, through t.;hich the individual is required to experience, or will pretend to have experienced, certain insights, sentiments, and commit­ments. I t-.rhat I am calling 'creative ' mythology, on the other hand, this order is reversed: the individual has had an experience of his own, or order, horror, beauty, or even mere exhilaration, which he seeks to communicate through signs; and if his realization has been of a certain depth and import, his communication will have the value and office of living myth.

For Cubans outside of the island and for those inside their

country, la Santeria has become a creative tool to overcome and mani-

pulate an_experience of terror and alienation brought about by the social

order begun with the triumph of the revolution of 1959 and continued by

the need for social adaptation as a result of the ~xile .

108

Particularly for Cubans in exile, la Santeria may facilitate ~~

experience of a transcendent reality and not just a narration of a

transcendent presence. In the perspective of the sixties, when

Santer{a greH so rap i dly among Cubans throughout the United States,

a universal phenomenon seemed to have been in process: a res ur gence

of religion as a way of bridging the gap between industrial civiliza-

tion and ultimate mystery. As the United States was plagued with a

rebirth of cults, pseudo-Ori ental religions (i.e., Hare Krishna), and

devil worshipoers, la Santeria fitted in this socio-religious revolu-. -----tionary process which has not ceased, for it continues to be the source

of reflection and speculation among philosophers, social scientists

and theologians alike.

As these movements have made a difference in American culture

for the last two decades, la Santer{a has contributed ~•ith its diverse

orig ins and developments to the multicultural setting of this country.

La Santer{a has become a way of preservLng cultural and historical

identity ~.;rith the past, and a way of transmitting such identity to

younger generations, ~.;hose innate releasing mechanism, as Campbell

(1959: 44) writes, are open and subject to imprint in a more obvious 'lvay .

Such ~•as the strength of its growth in the seventies, a growth manifes-

ted by the invention of botcmicas, herb shops that sell a blend of

rel igious articles and which are sponsored by active santeros. It

was at this time that the hierarchy of the Catholic Church beg~~ to

explore the grm•ing phenomenon of ~ Santer{a as a syncretized rel i ­

gious form \vhich jeopardized social adaptation of Cubans outside of

Cuba by means of a church-related process.

The need to blend the historical and non-historical aspects of

109

mythology and religion become apparent in the analysis of~ Santeria

as a growing phenomenon in a new social order for the Cuban community .

Local newspapers and television ne1'1'scasts in ~fiami usually have resear-

ched the topic in search of sensationalism rather than objectivity.

l·lhile Santeria has never asswned the institutional role of organized

religion, its impact continues to be felt as people visit santeros(as)

for a few times only, or eventually choose, out of fear or personal

crisis, to become a full-fledged member of the Yoruba-lucum{ religion.

Joseph Campbell (1959:263) once again can help us synthesize this

process:

In the religious lives of the 'tough minded,' too busy, or simply untalented majority of manldnd, the historical factor preponderates. The whole reach of their experience is in the local, public domain and can be historically studied. In the spiritual crises and realizations of the 't~~der minded' personalities with mystical proclivities, hmvever, it is the non-historical factor that preponderates, and for them the imagery of the local tradition -no matter how highly developed it may be- is merely a vehicle, more or less adequate, to render an experience sprung from beyond its reach, as an immediate impact.

La Santeria and Selectivity

He had established that, tvhen cultural groups come in contact

with each other, the less dominant group \vill tend to select those

cultural traits from the more dominant one that do not clash with pre-

existaDt traits or that have something in co~~on lvith pre-existent

traits (Hersl<avits). In this context, changes in organization and in

material culture -accidental changes- are made more readily than

ch~~ges in personal habits and emotional attitudes -more substantial,

no

and personal, changes. Moreover , selectivity, as a guiding principle,

provided these cultural groups with t<·m dimensiones: the dimension of

economic or political interests, and the basic dimension of affectivity .

If the mythology of la Santeria is best appreciated as enhancing

the 'different• nature of Cubans in South .Florida, its ritual activity

will accentuate and enhance the 'selective' dim~~sion of this process

of transculturation.

By recreating a traditional worldvie"t.; which includes a distant

god and intermediary gods who participate in the lives of its believers

through ritual action, this religious syncretism has engaged itself in

a selective process by which its basic traits have remained intact in

a new social sett ing . Other ingredients have been modified 1-.rhereas

drumming is a key ingredient of Santeria gatherings, drumming has been

curtailed in South Florida for fear of negative, public, repercussions.

Hhereas the current week of initiation in the past included two weeks

of separation from the community, this adjustment has become necessary

in highly urban, industrial, c~ters, from which people cannot depart

for a long period of time unless they are on vacation. Hhereas money ,

as Lydia Cabrera ( 1974t 133-134) claims, represented an • instrumental'

symbol in Cuba, in South Florida it has become a 'dominant' symbol

(i.e. initiation ceremonies in Cuba were prized between .)200 .00 or

$300 .00, rather th~~ the $5,000.00 or $7,000.00 men tioned before).

The selectivity in the adjustment of these traits, however,

appeared in a negative manner by >-.ray of resistance on tHo differen t

occasions. First, santeros of Niami vehemently opposed the suggestion

made by a Cuban santero who visited Nigeria and 1-1ho returned to South

Florida advocating the need to disrobe all Catholic symbolism from

111 .

Santeria and the need to erect a Lucumi Church in the outskirts of

Dade County tvith original African languages, rituals, and artistic

representations. Secondly, santeros of Niami caused a great uproar

in the last tH·o years when a Nigerian babalao, lvhile visiting Hi ami's

priests, suggested that - as in Nigeria- in !vliami women should be

admitted to t~te part in the high priesthood of the religion.

Despite these adjustments in material orcanization and the

resistance to change inherent, traditional, elements of the religion,

la Santer:la facilitates in the rites a means of community definition.

It allows for economic independence and the acquisition of prestige

within its own collectivity, through ~.,rhic h a neophyte, though submi-

ssive to his/her santero(a) at all times, becomes a senior in the

religion in relationship to other neophytes who are initiated after

him, no matter his role in society or his status within the f~nily

(i.e. if the child is initiated before his parents, he is a senior to

his parents in the religion; the same hierarchy is maintained if the

wife is initiated before the husband. Such a change demands a definite

adjustment in family relationships for the members of a given family).

Only at the liminal stage, as we shall note soon, are believers

stripped of all status and become exposed to an encounter t.;ith the

core of the religious system tvhich Santeria portrays .

This selective dimension of the process of integration, as Cubans

have opted to live in South Florida, appears in ~ Santer1a, consequent-

ly, with that 'affective• dimension which Patterson (1975), Bell (1975),

and Greeley (197 l~) had pinpointed before . Through the consultation

process and up to the initiation rite and the post-initi ator y rites,

la Santeria recreates that relational quality of affective ties \.;h ich

112

traditional societies preserve but which is lost in more departmenta­

lized and aisintegrated urban centers.

The consultation process provides the fa~ilial ties and the

basis of a ldnship relationship which Cubans seem to lose in their

process of initial adaptation to a new society . 1~hil e the extended

family of Cubans seems to disappear slowly as the years of the process

of transculturation pass, the santero- client relationship provides the

believer with immediate and personal atta~tion. Bes ides the prL~ordial

worldview enacted by the mythology, the consul tat ion process allmvs the

believer to turn to someone else l..rho can help him in the midst of social

stress.

The pre-initiation rites, or imposition of the collarcs ~ funda­

mento, prepare the believer for his ultimate goal, complete communion

with the divinities without whom he cannot subsist in this new social

setting . The initiation process itself, complex as it may appear, fa.ci-

1 itates for him a sense of belonging to a functional mythology and to an

ongoing group of people who gather occasionally for support . More than

this sense of belonging to a group, the initiation rite itself provides

the believer, as mentioned before, with prestige and subsequent seniori­

ty; in a world characterized by inequality, having undergone a radical

social change which lowered him in the social scale, the rite of i nitia­

tion raises the believer to a h igher level of respect, perhaps not expe­

rienced since he left Cuba where his social position lvas considered to

be higher than in South Florida. This opportunity for seniority wi thin

his own collectivity is coupled with the opportunity to manipulate and

bargain with the divinities themselves who are nm.;r familiar characters

among his kinship relationships.

113

The prestige acquired by initiation into la Santerfa is worth all

the post-initiation sacrifices and the maintenance of norms and disci-

plines which follow the neophyte for a whole year . As negative or posi-

tive sanctions which call for reward or punishment, these norms intensi-

fy the mythology behind ~ Santeria and must be seen within the various

ritual ebos which, after initiation, the new member of Santeria must

make. As these sacrifices are made, more power becomes available to the

neophyte through the acceptance of the bata dr~~s, the sacred stones

(otan iyebiye) and the preservation of these sacred symbols in a special

room set apart at his home for the orishas, as Cabrera (1974:131) speci-

fies.

Intimacy with these divinities provides a sense of security as a

means of continued manipulation for favors needed; it likewise instills

great fear if norms and taboos are broken or accidentally modified .

l{hile happiness and solutions to immediate crises characterize the reward

aspect of these sanctions, the loos of ache ( power) and the anger of the

gods characterize the breaking of these rules. I

For ~ Santer1a, the

orishas must always be kept happy or they would turn against the belie-

ver hL~self . Underlying all these nuances the year of novitiate, follo -

wing initiation, requires that each neophyte be dressed in white comple-

tely for the duration of his novitiate; t he use of such color reit era-

tes for him in a selective manner the mytholog ical theme of death-

resurrection and offers him a constant reminder of his new beginnings .

Through ritual activity, even if this includes a sense of awesome fear

toward the divinities, S~1teria believers pursue a basic etru1ic identity

which they mean to trans~it to future generations as original as it has

been preserved down through the centuries.

114

La Santeria and Liminality

If, in general, the overall mythological worldview of la Santeria

facilitates a source of reference for cultural diversity, and if its

ritual symbolic system provides a means of becoming selective and of

preserving such a traditional worldview ~Vithout drastic innovations,

it is within the rites themselves, _particularly at their 'liminal'

stage, that believers of ~ Santer1a begin to experience a sense of

communitas as a reaction to an oppressed structural setting.

He have noted how mythology has offered a series of themes Hhich

are repeated in history and which se~~ to appear in the collective un­

consciousness of all cultural groups (creation and destruction, death

and resurrection, leaving the old aside and putting on a new self).

Horeover, we have noted lil<elvise that rites of passage facilitate the

re-enactment of these themes in a dynamic process by which the indi vi ­

dual, assisted by his cultural group, can ass~~e a new responsibility

in his O\m collectivity and in his relationship with others. From its

minor rite of consultation to its major rite of in itiation , ~Santeria

seems to provide for believers a space and a time apart from everyday

existence and in touch with a transcendental experience of reality.

Separated from his cultural milieu - in many occasions a difficult

task due to the rapid growth of urban developments \vithin and outside

of Dade County- informed of his new role by members of the group

(santeros and santeras present), and, eventually, incorporated into it

through a final ritual, the neophyte appears to them at last almost as

a new 'creation .' ~1e has passed a threshold to enjoy the happiness of

a new existence.

115

The very crossing of these thresholds, captured vividly by the

universal literature of primitive mythologies, provides a dialectical

process : · at every critical stage, at each life-crisis, the human

person becomes conscious that he must move beyond unto a new stage in

life; his first inclination is to resist such a journey and, symboli-

cally, he ~.;rishes to move back ("into his mother's r..;omb") to that lvhich

has made him comfortable so far; incapable of regressing, hm.;rever, he

experiences the anguish of moving forward unto a new situation; he

'crosses the given threshold' soon to experience the joys of a new

lifestyle and the Eroup's acceptance of his new self.

In essence, rites of passage serve as aids in the crossing of

the thresholds which human beings anticipate before, during, and at

their life-crises. In these various rites, religious S}~bolism usually

predominates as the objectified intermediary between a transcendent

reality and the dynamic process undergone both by the individual and

the group . Usually at this stage, symbols cease being representations

of reality and, for the most part, become reality itself for those who

participate in such mythological worldview -a reality which has been

set apart as sacred and untouchable. ,

La Santeria provides an opportunity for symbolic participation

through which its sacred symbols (stones, soup bowls /sopera~7, neck-

laces, and drums) cease being representations of the orishas; they

become the orishas themselves. At this stage of identification with

symbols, the believer feels in the company of the divinities and

experiences support while, simultaneously, prescribing himself to

norms and regulations necessary to keep the divinities in a state of

eratification and not of anger. This process takes place as a 'l iminal'

116

state in the believer not only within a given rite but as a consistent

condition to ~-~hich he turns when in crisis.

Consequently, the dominant and instrumental S}~bolism provided

by la Santaria may confuse the objective r esearcher if he is to look

for a clear distinction as the one provided by Turner's (1967) model .

In terms of the syncretism as such, the three most 'dominant' symbols

of Cuban 3anterfa are: Our Lady of Charity ( goddes Ochun), Sair.t

Barbara (~.;arrior-god Chango), and St. Lazarus (iden tified with the

fictional character of Luke's gospel and seen as Babalu-Aye). The

dominance of such symbols can be appreciated in the vast crowds that

celebrate the days assigned by the Catholic Church to these characters

of Catholic tradition. Such dominance becomes more apparent in the

small altars raised by Cuban fa~ilies outside of their homes or ins ide

them as a sign of gratitude for favors granted or favors requested.

But dominant symbolism for Santer1a believers appears in tile objecti­

fied representation of the sacred, through stones ~~d necklaces -as

mentioned above- l-lhich in other religious systems would be classified

as instrumental symbols.

At this instrumental level, moreover, the use of herbs, and t he

distribution of prayers from la Santeria, the selling of 'potions'

required for specific purposes and other syncretized symbolic represen­

tations continue to emerge in the lives of those t.;hose dominant symbols

employ the more attractive Catholic images and statues. Oper ationally,

these symbolic representations are human-made bu t become pregnant with

divine presence through th e prayers of the san teres as well as through

the non-objectified intervention of transcendent reality .

Although not all those involved in Santer{a reach the depth of

involvement tvhich full-fledced members reach in the various rites of

117

this religious form, symbol i c representations appear basical ly at work

as mechanisms of support and protection from evil. In the words of

Campbell (1959:240):

The highest concern of all the myhologies, ceremonials, ethical systems, and social organizations of the agricul­turally based societies has been that of suppressing the ma.Tlifestations of individualism; and this has been generally achieved by compelling or persuading people to identify th~mselves not with their own interests, intuitions, or modes of e~~erience, but with the archetypes of behavior and sys tems of sentiment developed and maintained in the public domain.

As a reaction to the prevalent individualism which characterizes the

American style of life, t he rites of la s~~teria provide a means of

communitarian activity, which, although temporary, seems to help the

individual involved overcome his sense of ali.enation and gives him a

sense of belonging to an ethnic group that finds itself in a process

of adaptation outside of its own socio- cultural milieu.

La Santerfa, then, participates in the transculturation of Cubans

in South Florida as a 'liminal' stage, a mechanism of adaptation. At

this staee, ~-.hen symbols become more necessary, la Santeria facilitates

the believer ~-.ith a rhytmical pattern: a) it allows him to beEin to

experience 'spontaneous communi tas' as a reaction to bureacracy; b)

it divests him of attributes while holding him obedient to the aut~ori-

ty-figure, the santero, and on equal basis to the other members under-

going the process with him; and c) there is an ongoing communic ation of

sacra, sacred words and sacred knm-<ledge that tvill keep the tradition

al ive .

Away from the critical situation which has led him to the santero-

priest, the believer hopes to find meaning in the rel a tional qualities

. / . lvh lch la Santer1a prom2.ses to facilitate for him. \~e 1 i.ke to assume

118

that what happens to an individual believer as he moves through a cri-

' tical stage in his life a~d is supported by Santerla mythology and

rituals, has happened to groups of believers - many Cubans of South

Florida- ~.;ho at various stages of their life turn to la Santer1a for

an experience of liberation in the form of com.rnunitas. Hhether they

actually find such liberation and such commt.L."!itas , as proposed by Turner

(1969) is another issue.

Divested of all attributes , in such an individualistic society

as the United States appears to be, the believer becomes one with

others undergoing stages of lucwn{ initiation. Doctors, laHyers, fac-

tory workers, or University students come together in 'sacred poverty'

before the santeros to experience an elevation of status which is based

on power and the manipulation of sacred divinities. Incapable of over-

coming inequality in the current social structure, these believers can

overcome it as they move to anti-structure and experience a transitio-

nal form of friendship as Keyes (1979:93) would propose:

Friendship based on the good not only resists value destruction, but it is also a source of happiness ~.rhich maltes base action and misery less 1 ikely than they would be ~.rithout it, for once >7e have e::>..TJerienced the good it also leaves its marlt.

~~hether such relational qualities perdure among Santeria believers is

another question; the fact r~rnains, for transitional encow1ters with

this religious syst~rn, these qualities may surface on the initial cor:-

tacts and will become the goal of many believers.

~.Jhat is most consistent in this liminal process of la Santeria

- again , not only within a given rite, but as a mechanism of social

adaptation- is the communication of its sacra. After the year of

119

novitiate, the believer may wish to continue to learn from his

sa.ntero( a) more secrets of la ~: more detailed 1mm..rledge of the

language as used in the rites, ho1-r to interpret the oracl es , how to

prepare ~' or 1..rhen they should be used, etc. • • The process · is long,

but it is worth it. In the economic scale, we reiterate, santeros

have assumed a non-profit position by expecting cash for their ser-

vices, especially those that concern the rite of initiation, the

most expensive of all. Outside of the economic perspective, the com-

munication of Yoruba sacra creates a certain mood which elicits a

definite commib~ent from its believers, although fear of punishment

appears consistently as a motivating factor for such a commitment.

As a good liminal model, the rite of initiation presents a per-

feet setting for the communication of sacra. In the process of one

week, the believer is present with more intimate truths about his

tradition sometimes in a disproportionate, dramatic, and mysterious

manner: from the tedious consul tat ion of the oracles, in Lydia Cabre-

ra's (1974:179) terminology, the 1ta, to being in touch with the blood

of the animals sacrificed, and being bathed at a special time, while

witnessing shortly afterwards the killing of animals in sacrifice.

Ritual exhaustion usually accompanies such a traumatic week. Yet, the

function of communication of sacra at the liminal stage has been carried

out, as Turner (1967:105) claims:

From this standpoint, much of the grotesqueness and monstrosity of liminal sacra may be seen to be aimed not so much at terrorizing or bemusinG neophytes into submi­ssion or out of their wits as at making them vividly and rapidly aware of what may be called the 'factors' of their culture ••. The communication of sacra and other forms of esoteric instruction involves three processes ••• The first is the reduction of culture into recognized compo­nents or factors; the second is their recombination in

120

fantastic or monstrous patterns and shapes; and the third is their recombination in Hays that me>.l'e S (~nse with regard to the new state and status that the neophytes Hill enter .

Lastly, it may be argued that rather than 'liminal ' la Santer1a

presents a •mareinal' quality, as distinguished by Turner (1974:233)

before. i.Jhile the marginal quality includes participation in two or

more groups with different cultural norms or religious expressions, in

la Santer{a such a distinction is not seen . Reali ty is syncretized

and the loss of t~~porary status, for instance, ultimately leads to

the elevation of status within a ne1.r vision of reality. The economic

sacrifices which many Cubans make t o join the ranks of Santer1a neo-

phytes bears witness to the integrating dimension of Santeria mytholo-

gy and rituals; rather than hoping for economic and pol itical success

in the American scene, while holding on to the traditionally-Cuban

style of life, these believers -in an apparent social dichotomy- find

integration and unity in the religious form •..;hich ~ Santer1a provides

/

for them. In la Santeria they make an existential choice, conditioned

by an ancestral mythology, l.rhich is filled \.r ith ritual symbolism that

shapes up their present, and, so they hope, their future as Hell.

CONCLUSIONS

We have established that as cultural groups come in contact ~.;ith

each other a dialectical process seems to emer ge : choices of assimi­

lation, ghe ttoism, or integration become not only feasible but possi­

ble. As integration became the choice of Cubans ~-1ho atte.rnpt to main­

tain their heritage in the midst of social change, we can view la San­

teria as one of the several functional mechanisms t hat recreates the

needed traditional worldview tvhich prevents them from being lost in an

anonymous social setting, the result of a highly bureaucratic indus­

trial society.

In this context, moreover, ~ Santeria provides the necessary

primordial ties which can aid individuals in givP~ situations to define

themselves as part of a group in a process of adaptation. In the midst

of a disoriented social setting, ~ Santeria becomes a guiding social

mechanism 1'1'hich brings emphasis on past heritages a.T'ld historical roots

allm-1ing for some form of identity to take place.

Secondly, we had established that as cultural groups come in con­

tact with each other, the diversity established by their unequal social,

political, and economic norms may not necessarily l ead the less domi­

nant group into alienation or isolation; rather, it may become a 1-1ay of

coping with reality which may contri bute , by its richness, to the total

social picture at ha.T'ld.

Since Cubans in South Florida have become a strongly economic

cultural group with a dominan t culture 1-lhich struggJ.es for political

dominance, la Santeria may serve t he.rn as a means of manipulating U: e

121

122

economic life of its members and a possible avenue for pr estige 1-lithin

its otm collectivity, since it is virt"c~ally impossi ble in most c ases

to acquire such prestige outside of it.

By the sa:ne to1t:en, la Santeria may provide a means of def in i tion

in the attempt ~•hich Cubans make to • intesrate ' into American society

~•ithout losine their own rich traditions. La Santeria may become a

t•ay of assertinG ethnic values and ;;.ssisti n r; Cubans in establishbe

themselves with institutions that provide primordial ties for relating

effectively among themselves and tvith the rest of their social setting.

Thirdly, we have established that as cultural groups come in

contact with e2.ch other, the process of culture- borrm•ing is selective .

In fact, cultural traits are exchanged to the deGree that they have

something in cormnon with, and do not cause conflict with, the pre­

exist ing culture. Lil,ewise, through this process of transculturation,

chanses in social organization and in material c ulture are made more

readily than chanGes in personal habits and in emotional attitudes.

From this perspective, and as a result of this principle of selectivi~y,

a resistance to change the very core of this relig ious Horldvie'"' has

been made known publicly in special circumstances.

While symbols and rites have changed gradually over the centu­

ries, t he essence of the rite is maintained and preserved for f u t u::-e

generations. As a selective instrument, hm.;ever, la Sa.nter{ a se e.rns to

bring a.11swers to disintegrated institutions ••hich have suffered changes

through the process of transculturation; by re i terating a traditional

'N'Orldvie1-1, and selecting the best of its roots, la Santer1a 1-1ants to

bring to families, civic gathering s and even Church believers a sense

of the sacred a."'l.d em experience of myster y lvhich has been l os t in our

123

present society.

Fourthly, from the model offered by Victor Turner, we established

that as cultural groups come in contact with each other, they may deve-

lop - as a group- a series of mechanisms of adaptation wh ich may as s ist

them in overcoming alienation and crisis. Deprived of primordial ties,

they react to an oppressive structure and seek to form a communitas .

This anti-structural dynamism may result into stages of adap t ation

called 'liminal' by Turner.

Not only does la Santeria provide for liminal stages i n the life-

crises of individuals, whose cultural group undergoes drastic soci al

changes, but it becomes in itself a liminal stage in the social adapt a-

tion of Cubans in South Florida. Throue;h a growing emphasis on ritual

activity and the sacredness of Santer1a symbolic representations, Cu-

bans resist assimilation into a foreign cultural milieu, re-enact basic,

primordial, ties with their roots, and relate personall y to represent a-

tions of transce.."'lden t reality ' 1vho' intercede for them in times of

stress, and who will continue to assist them 'if' they treat them

accordingly by observing all the prescribed rituals and by keeping the

expected norms.

As a. liminal staee in social adaptation, la Santeria fits like1.;i se

in the bicultural model presented by Szapocznik and Kurtines (1980: l 4!t)

and which determines that the acculturation proc ess t e~d s to t cl' e pl ac e

along t1vo independent dimensions:

This acculturation/bicultural model further suggests t ha t the most important variabl e influenc i ng th e indivi dual's accommodation to the host culture is t he amoun t of t i r:1 e a person has been exposed to the host cultur e , \vh il e the most importa11.t var iable influencing t he individual ' s retentions of the characteristics of the cul t ure of orlgln is the degree and ava i.l ability of com.1lu.."1ity suppor t for t :1e culture of oric in.

124

Through devotees and santeros alike, la Santeri:a seems to provide the

occasional cornmuni ty support that individuals who become highly diso­

riented in a bicultural settin~ need for their own development 1n

such a setting .

From the general considerations provided by th e literature on

primitive a..11d creative mytholog ies as h"ell as the models on ri tes of

passage, from the ethnographic data provided by past and presant-day

observances of Santer1a mythology and rituals, and from the analysis

of such data in light of the anthropological criteria established

earli er in this dissertation, we may conclude that~ Santeria is a

magico-rel i e; ious experience ~•hich seems to provide an integrated

worldvie~• ~•herein processes of differentiation and selectivity are at

work. In essence, la Santeria represents a liminal stage in the

cultural adaptation of Cubans to a new social setting . As the worship

of African gods as Catholic saints, la Santeria fits in the current

religious revival across the uorld and provides, likewise, an oppor­

tunity for the establishment of primordial ties and kinship r elation­

ships vrhich can assist people at critical stages of their life . As a

religious form, it continues to be a tmifying factor ~oihich helps

believers transcend alienation an.d suffering . In brief, by creating

a mood tvhich motivates believers to act in a certain fashion, it

becomes a way of looking at reality.

AGAYU

AGUEMA

BABA

BABALU-AYE

LOS BELLIS

CHANGO

DADA

ELEFURO

ELEGGUA

ELLECOSUN

ESHU

IGUI

IROCO

NANA BURUCU

OBA

OBAMORO

OBATALA

OCHOSI

OCHUN

OGGUN

OKE

OLORDUMARE

OLOSI

APPENDIX

St. Christopher

St. Philomena

Our Lady of Mercy as a male instead of a lady

Lazarus (the unforgettable character of Luke's gospel)

The Twins, St. Cosmas and Damian

St. Barbara

Our Lady of the Rosary

St. Ann

The Souls in Purgatory, St. Anthony or El Nino de Atocha

St. Lucy

St. Michael the Archangel, or the devil

St. Christopher and in some places St. Luke

The Immaculate Conception

Our Lady of Mount Carmel

La Candelaria in Havana and St. Cathe­rine in the country

Jesus the Nazorean

Our Lady of Mercy

St. Norbert

Our Lady of Charity

St. Peter and al so St. John

St. John

God the Father

The devil

125

ORDUA

ORGUIDAI

OR I CHACO

OZACRINAN

OZAIN

OZUN

OYA

UNLE

YANZA

YEGUA

YEMAYA

126

San Manuel (St. Immanuel)

St. Bartholomew

St. Isidor

St. Joseph

St. Raphael Ynle in Havana, and St. Ambrose in the country

St. John the Baptist

St. Theresa or the popular advocati on of Mary as la Candelaria

st. Julian

St. Theresa and at times St. Beatrice

St. Claire

Our Lady of Regla

In some writings the names of the orishas are interchangeably called

by different other names from the Catholic list of saints.

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