After the flood — you know the one — a golden chain descended from Heaven. Either Obàtálá or Odùduwà, depending whom you ask, brought down a seashell full of dirt and a five-toed chicken. The creator spilled soil upon the face of the waters. The chicken pecked, spreading it into continents. Then the Òrìshà descended the chain to prepare the World. We call the place where the World was made Ilé-Ifè, “place of expansion.” Here, in West Africa, the Òrìshà looked after the flourishing Yorùbá kingdoms while their neighbors, the Vodun, cared for Dahomey’s Fon people.
Two lands. Two peoples. Two pantheons, side by side since time immemorial. Thus the story was supposed to go — until human greed and villainy betrayed, kidnapped, tortured, enslaved, and brainwashed Africans. The trans-Atlantic slave trade shattered lives, families, and religions. Myriad peoples whom evil made one pieced them together anew from broken bones and half-remembered songs, all hidden behind a Christian veil.
The Vodun (now more popularly known as the Loa) and the Òrìshà could have stayed behind, true to themselves to the bitter end. Instead, they rode the slave ships, tasted the lash, and laid down their lives for freedom in Haiti’s revolution and Brazil’s quilombos. They chose to change, to shatter and reform like humanity. These are the results.