Sacred Journey 2002:

Benin, West Africa

Report from Valdina Oliveira Pinto

Introduction

In March 2001 when I was at the Ford Foundation in New York, Virginia Davis Floyd indicated that she wanted to help me travel to Benin, giving me, on that occasion, some materials from PROMETRA -- the Association for the Promotion of Traditional African Medicine.  Some months later I received, via Rachel Harding, the invitation to participate in PROMETRA’s annual congress and the National Day in Celebration of Vodu.  I was also told that I should suggest two additional persons from the Candomblé religion to accompany me on the trip.  Because I am initiated in a community where Congo-Angola traditions predominate, I considered that it would be good to be accompanied by representatives of other Candomblé nations -- particularly representatives of the Jêje and Ketu-Nagô nations, within whose contemporary traditions there remain significant influences from the ancient areas that form present day Benin (in the case of Jêje) and the old Yoruba kingdoms (in the case of the Ketu-Nagô nation). 

My greatest hope, aspiration, desire, a remote dream, has been to be able to touch my feet to the sacred soil of Africa and to feel, up close, all that that earth has already transmitted to me at a distance through my spiritual experience in Candomblé. 

General Evaluation of the Experience

My experience in the Ancestral Land actually began from the moment we descended from the airplane and were received as children, brothers and sisters, who were arriving home.  The visit to the community of Ganvié provoked in me an inexplicable feeling…  I thought about the people of the quilombos[1] here in Brazil.  I felt like I had already been there, in that lake, some day some time ago…  For seconds, minutes, longer even, I was taken by many thoughts, memories of a time that have no knowledge of.  I don’t know… That lake holds a part of me…

The visit to Abomey reminded me of all that I had read about Dahomey and it was with great emotion that I stepped on the ground of the ancient kingdom.  It may seem childish for a person of 58 years, but I said to myself: “I am before I black king and his court!  This will be very good for me to share with and show to the black children of Bahia.”

The trip to the market reminded me, in a way, of the São Joaquim Fair here in Bahia -- the place where we buy everything that we need for use in Candomblé.   The wrangling over prices, the “haggle” so familiar to us for negotiating prices, the variety of things to buy, faces so much like the ones here in Bahia, the familiar sound of the market; even though I didn’t understand the language, I was struck by all the similarities.

Visiting the Temple of the Ancestral Spirits was a very moving experience for me, as I was invited to enter the sacred space of the altars to the Voduns Sakpata and Dangboe (Kavungo and Angolomeian, in the Congo-Angola Candomblé tradition; Omolú and Oxumarê in the Ketu-Nagô Candomblé tradition).  This was truly a profound encounter with my ancestral energies.  All that I felt there and all that reached me in that community was very profound -- in every space that I entered, in every vibration of the Vodun energies that I received.  Really, it was a blessing!…

The arrival at Ouidah, with the ritual at the entrance boundary, reminded me of customary practices at the entrance of a Candomblé terreiro[2], when, on certain occasions, groups of people from one terreiro visit another.  It was very gratifying for me to recognize that, even in a sometimes fragmented form, we still conserved traditions with roots in our motherland.

During the ceremonial inauguration of the “Gate of Return” I thought about the privilege of being there and I thought of the many people here in Brazil who would like to have the opportunity to one day return to Africa and who, perhaps, will never be able to.  Still, I think it is important to build the place of return from the place where we are (where we find ourselves) and I really believe that the “return” implies the greater perfusion of Africa’s wisdom in the diaspora, from an African perspective.   In my view, our greatest challenge is the decolonization of this wisdom by Africans and their descendants dispersed in the diaspora.  This too is part of the work of healing. 

Another strong feeling came in the Sacred Forest.  I imagined the early times of the recreation of traditions here in Brazil, in the spaces of the quilombos, when blacks were able to be themselves, free in the forests, with their traditions, their ways of living.   In Grand Popo it was emotion and responsibility I sensed; as I felt that through me, many other Afro Brazilians were present at the ritual of the foundation stone.

On the National Day of Celebration of Vodou I thought: When will we in Brazil also be able to cultivate our Voduns, Nkisis, Orishas, and practice Candomblé in such a natural, open way, accepted by the larger Brazilian society, especially the evangelical segments which, at present here in Brazil, act with such intolerance toward the traditions of African origin?

The experience of the ceremony of Zangbeto was remarkable!  Everything that I had heard Africans say before was manifested there.  There I could really see and learn about the interaction and transformation of the invisible/immaterial in the visible/material and vice-versa.  It was really a very impressive experience.

Participating in the Tron Mass was another means of experiencing the energy of Vodun -- from my perspective, a more urban form, perhaps syncretized with other religious practices.

In the visit to the Heviosso temple, I was struck by the way in which the chief made it clear that he was indeed the head and that he had control of everything. 

Summary

The entire experience of the journey was very meaningful for me, and served to intensify and solidify my own spirituality in Candomblé.   Observing the landscape, the people, the coloring of the clothing, walking in the market, I thought for a moment: I wish I had been born and raised here…   But then I immediately thought again:  it is just as well that I was born in Bahia which is a piece of Africa.  What I tried to share with the Africans I met was a little of what I have learned in the practices of the traditions of Candomblé.  I would like to have had more opportunities for this.  I know that the fact that I do not know how to communicate in the African languages is an impediment, but I would like to have had some more time with the religious leaders, to talk about their uses of plants and compare with our uses here.  I recognized some plants we have in common.  If I were able to return again to Benin, I would really like to make a journey of study and learning in this regard.  I think in a second opportunity, it would be very interesting to stay in a community, to learn a bit about the traditional use of plants.

Given my involvement not only with a community of Candomblé, but also with other groups in the black community in Bahia, I consider my experience in Benin very relevant to the continuity of my work as an Afro-descendent. 

Salvador, 24 January 2002

(translation by Rachel E. Harding)