Last Stop: On Severance, Belonging, and Reclamation
2024; Indiana University Press; Volume: 135; Issue: 1 Linguagem: Inglês
10.2979/tra.00017
ISSN0041-1191
Autores ResumoLast Stop:On Severance, Belonging, and Reclamation Oluwatoke Adejoye (bio) Much of what I used to know about Yoruba cosmology came from the Yoruba classes I took in my primary and secondary schools, and later in adulthood, Wikipedia pages compiled by strangers. I was familiar with the basics of Yoruba religious beliefs: the creation myth and the main pantheon of deities known as the (pronounced Orisha). In the southwest region (Yorubaland) of Nigeria where I was born and raised, the syllabi for primary and secondary schools teach children their culture and heritage. Yet, what I was taught was unimaginably small compared to the vast ocean of unexplored mysteries that never made it through the doorway of the classroom. I knew that discussing Yoruba religious beliefs with my Catholic-Christian parents was no option. Modern day, post-colonial Nigeria is home to millions of people who, including me, now practice foreign, imported religions—mostly Christianity and Islam. From experience, the population of those who practice these Abrahamic religions is very likely to keep growing, likewise the belief that the indigenous religions practiced by our ancestors are downright evil and that the minority of people who still openly cling to the old ways should either be converted or avoided at all costs. There is, of course, also a grey area inhabited by people who practice Christianity or Islam on the outside but dabble in traditional religion every now and then behind closed doors because they would prefer to avoid the stigma that comes with openly professing their belief in and adherence to the old ways. It is a tricky world to navigate—we learn about our ancestors' beliefs in school while living in a society that teaches us to despise [End Page 171] the same. Start asking too many questions about traditional religions, and you risk attracting strange glances from people who might worry that you are on the verge of turning to darkness. ________ I enjoyed tales about the Yoruba pantheon of deities, be it the ones I learned in school as a child or those I discovered on the internet. I was taught the creation myth where Olodumare (also called ), the supreme and all-powerful who resides in the heavens, gave tools with which to create ayé (earth) which was, at the dawn of time, nothing but a vast space filled with water. accepted the tools—a snail shell filled with sand that would eventually be poured and scattered over the surface of the water to form dry land and mark a clear demarcation between land and water, and a three-legged chicken to be placed upon the sand to properly disperse it to every corner of the world. There are several versions of the Yoruba creation story, each with subtle differences, but this version that I know goes downhill from here, as , still in possession of these powerful tools of creation, stumbled upon a party on his way to the earth, joined in and got drunk on palm wine. In his drunken state, he began to mould humans and they turned out deformed. He only realised what had happened when he became sober and consequently regretful. This is why, according to Yoruba religious beliefs, , among many other things, is deemed the protector of people born with physical disabilities. Such tales hold a fantastical appeal so immense that I find them hard to resist. Of course, the point is solely to get lost in them; they are a kind of escapism I indulge in. And that is all the are to me—fantastical characters, not holy deities that I would ever consider praying to or invoking. I was raised a Catholic-Christian, after all. Never mind that the Bible, too, is filled with tales understandably deemed as fantasy by non-believers. Never mind that I would never approach those Biblical stories through the dismissive lens of fantasy because I was raised to view them as pillars of my faith. In the fall of 2022, I was in my second year of graduate studies at the University of British Columbia and living in a graduate residential college where I met Luiz Santos, a Brazilian man. The first time Luiz and...
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