HISTORICAL FICTION

Black Gods

If when I was born back in 1934 my parents were asked to imagine how my life would look like

when I was 23 years old, I am sure they would be wrong in the vast majority of the specifics and

overall dynamics of my life. I was born and continue to be part of an aristocratic family, which in

the 1950’s continues to observe strict social, religious, and educational rules. And when I say

“strict”, I am most likely viewing it from my perspective of a rebel, significantly dissimilar

member of my immediate family. I am certainly not interested in dating the sons of my parents’

aristocrat friends; in going to parties where trivial conversations are the norm; or in getting

married and have children (Wild).

In Cuba, the African slaves who were brought by the Spaniards, and who later played a role in

the evolution of the Cuban culture, identity and traditions (Afrocubanismo), also brought with

them a religion that marked my life, my character, and my personality forever. The Africans who

arrived as slaves were from multiple and different parts of Africa; however, a considerable

number of them were from Nigeria, and were Yoruba (Gonzalez). One of those slaves who

landed in Havana in the XVIII century (Levinson) was the grandmother of my babysitter, Isabel

Manta.

My nana, as I called her until the day she died, was the closest adult I had since I was born, and

she taught me to love every single component of nature through passages and stories pertaining

to the Yoruba religion. This religion is now better known as Santería (Santería), but I prefer to

call it Yoruba. Nana would tell me when playing in the garden, “Yara, don’t step on any of those

little stones. They are all alive!” (Santería)

When I was a child, I preferred to be with the former slaves (or descendants of former slaves) in

the kitchen while they were talking in Yoruba and discussing information about rituals and

Yoruba gods that their African parents or grandparents orally passed to them. They all were

domestic workers at my family’s home, and I was not supposed to be spending time or learning

from them (Hicks). Nonetheless, I would even scape and hide to watch them performing

marvelous rituals that were accompanied by drums (tambores batá), dances, and animal

sacrifices (Santería). My parents were never aware of any of this, and they were extremely strict

and emphatic about my Catholic teachings. I always pondered about the disappointment and

suffering they would experience when they knew about the religion and topics I was truly

passionate about.

In addition to Yoruba religion and plastic arts, there was another matter that constitutes a

priority for me. Every day, news in Havana spread about more people being murdered by

Batista’s police officers, whom were in reality henchmen. The vast majority of these people who

were massacred by the esbirros (henchmen in Spanish) were also horribly tortured (Delgado

Leon). We always knew that was the procedure after you were caught with weapons or anti-

Batista documents, or if you seemed to be part of the urban underground movement (Chase 6), or

any other movement against the Batista’s dictatorship. Our lives started to change on March 10,

1952 when Fulgencio Batista staged a coup d’état and seized power (Fulgencio Batista).

Although many Cubans preferred to look the other way and continue with their regular lives as if

assassins were not controlling the streets, I could not stay idle about the situation in my city and

my country. I once more embarked in activities and projects that I needed to hide from my

parents, my family, and even most of my friends.

When I was around 16 years old, I learned how to use and shoot with guns and rifles, and I even

learned how to detonate grenades. My uncle Sebastian, a gangster in Havana (Mobsters in

Havana: a brief history of the Cuban Mafia), taught me this and much more about weapons. I

decided, then, to use this and my drawing skills to support the revolutionary movements against

Batista and his henchmen.

It was during these endeavors, and while going to university, that I learned about the Directorio

Revolucionario Estudiantil (Student Revolutionary Directorate in Spanish). This group that was

founded in 1954 by catholic students who opposed to the dictatorship of strongman Batista is led

by José Antonio Echeverría. When the group was created, it defined its principles as political

liberty, economic independence, and social justice (Directorio Revolucionario Estudiantil).

José Antonio Echeverría, who is from Cárdenas, moved to Havana to study architecture at the

University of Havana. He was not only charismatic, smart, and brave, but he was also the guy

with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life. Thus, I finally dated with a man for the first

time, and my parents were thrilled. After inviting him for dinner at home, my mom whispered,

“Marry him as soon as you finish university!”

During my last two years at university (1955 and 1956), I helped as much I could with the

creation and distribution of flyers and documents to denounce the crimes and corruption and to

educate the general public about what was happening in Cuba (Chase 19-20). I had to do all this

during the night while my family was asleep.

After I graduated, I decided to get a job as a guide at the Museum of Fine Arts. I truly enjoy this

job, as I am surrounded by art and paintings, and I also get to know and network with very

interesting people. However, the best thing this museum has given me is Lydia Cabrera. When

we were introduced, my most natural reaction was not very polite nor was in accordance to my

social status. I approached her, and while grabbing her necklace, I asked excitedly, “Is this a

necklace of Shangó?” (Shango) She smiled, and from that moment, I knew we were going to be

friends for all eternity. We were both from an aristocrat family, we loved art, but we both also

felt passionate about the Yoruba religion (Lydia Cabrera).

As I got more involved with activities planned by the Student Revolutionary Directorate, and I

also got a bit more independent with my job, I decided I wanted to start partaking in more

significant and necessary projects.

“We all agree with you, Yara”, noted José Antonio. “Nobody will dare to touch you. You are

from a prestigious family.”

“I’ll start transporting weapons, supplies, food, documents, and whatever is necessary. You can

also count on me for any armed attack.” (Chase 42-43)

Right after that meeting, I was tasked with bringing four guns and food to a group of

clandestinos (members of the revolutionary underground movement in Spanish). This type of

activities began to be more common, and my reputation of “untouchable” by the esbirros grew

and spread across the clandestinos. This resulted in members from many other groups reaching

out to me whenever they knew the police was suspicious of them, to hand me their weapons and

revolutionary documents or any other item that would confirm their relationship with an anti-

Batista movement or group. If they were caught with any of that, they would be tortured and

most likely would be killed. However, they assured, “That’s not gonna happen to you, Yara.”

In addition to my job and my revolutionary activities, I continued learning and researching

about the Yoruba religion with my friend Lydia. She knows santeros, babalawos, and children of

African slaves who have a wealth of knowledge that had not been documented. The vast majority

of the information was passed orally from one generation to the other, or from one person to the

other when initiating in the Yoruba religion. She resolved it would be necessary to start

documenting all that precious information, and in 1954 she published her first book, El Monte

(Lydia Cabrera).

My experience with the Yoruba religion during my childhood was unquestionably special and

unique; however, the moment my faith, believe, and unconditional love for this religion finally

consolidated for me, was just few months ago when I was about to be one more murdered person

by the Batista’s dictatorship.

I went to Cárdenas, Matanzas with Lydia to meet a Babalawo who was helping her with the

additional records she was creating of Yoruba gods, rituals, and a plethora of other instrumental

information (Santeria religion survives missionaries, communism). Upon our arrival to his place,

Lydia jokingly told him, “Hey, why don’t you tell me my future?”

“You are good, Lydia. The person who has the death behind her is your friend.”

My skin turned pale, and I almost fainted. Oshe Oniwo, the Babalawo (Santería), brought me a

glass of water, sat on his mat, and calmly explained, “Yara, if you follow the instructions I’ll

give you now, you will not die until you are very old. You don’t have to worry. You’ll go to jail,

but there’ll be one man, the man that can kill you, that you must tell him what I will tell you

now.”

I had never been more frightened in my life. I had faith in the Orishas, but it was also hard to

believe the esbirros would torture or kill a young woman from my social class and status.

“He has a resguardo (similar to an amulet in Spanish)”, he continued, “in his slash pockets. You

must remember every single component of those resguardos, and you must tell him.”

I never thought my little knowledge of Yoruba, the Yoruba I learned from nana and the other

women who worked at my home, would be of vital help someday.

Oshe Oniwo detailed every single component of this guy’s resguardo, and I learned it by heart.

Before departing, Oshe Oniwo gave me an Oggun-Oshosi necklace (The Power Of Santeria

Necklaces and Bracelets), “Also tell him that he has an Obbatalá Obamoro Ribbon (Obatalá)

under his shirt”, he added.

Back in Havana, I continued with my regular (if it can be called regular) life, except that I

prohibited José Antonio to meet me or visit me at home or at any other place. If he were to be

captured, he would be killed for sure.

Returning home after picking up documents a cladestino handed me before fleeing to Dominican

Republic, the police forcibly got me into a car, and took me to the police station. In a prison cell,

I was beaten until all my rib bones were broken.

“Yara, to which revolutionary group do you belong? Say everything you know! Who gave you

these documents?”

“I don’t know anything. You will need to kill me. I won’t say a word.” It was all my brain was

able to process and communicate.

The police officers left, and brought the guy who would make me talk for certain, Julio Laurent

(Julio Laurent). The man was one of the most sanguinary amongst the Batista’s henchmen, but

the moment I saw him, I knew he was the guy Oshe Oniwo lectured me about. I can’t explain

how I knew it was him; I can only believe were the Orishas protecting me.

“Yara, why are you doing this? Say who gave you those documents!”

“I don’t know anything. The police officers gave me those documents. They are lying!” I was hit

one more time as I was finishing the phrase, and with that, my bloody blouse got totally opened.

“Wait!”, shouted Laurent. “Why do you have that necklace? Why are you wearing that

necklace?”, referring to the Oggun-Oshosi necklace.

“I wear it because I can. I can wear it to fight against injustice! And maybe you cannot kill me!”

“Don’t hit her again! Sit down, Yara! What do you want?”

“Laurent, you have a resguardo in your slash pockets”, I began to explain. I remembered every

single detail of each of the resguardos, and I told him. “And if you take off your shirt, I’ll see

your Obbatalá Obamoro Ribbon”, I added. He responded in Yoruba, and I did reply in Yoruba.

“Ok, ok. Tell me what do you want? Nothing will happen to you. You’re safe.”

My mother, who could not imagine the reason why her young daughter was in jail, came to pick

me up. “Yara, what have they done to you? It’s a miracle you’re alive! Why did they do this?

What is happening?”

“Mom, my nana saved me.”

“Yara, what are you talking about? Nana is dead, and you know it!”

“She saved me when she taught me unconditional love for the Yoruba gods, the Orishas. The

Orishas saved my life!”

Works Cited

"Afrocubanismo." Wikipedia, www.wikipedia.org. 24 June 2020.

Chase, Michelle. Revolution Within the Revolution : Women and Gender Politics in Cuba, 1952-

1962. E-book. 2015.

Delgado Leon, Elio. "Massacres during Batista’s Dictatorship." 26 January 2017. Havana Times,

www.havanatimes.org. 23 June 2020.

"Directorio Revolucionario Estudiantil." Wikipedia, www.wikipedia.org. 23 June 2020.

"Fulgencio Batista." Wikipedia, www.wikipedia.org. 23 June 2020.

Gonzalez, Alejandro. "Yoruban Religion in Cuba." Springer Link, www.link.springer.com. 23

June 2020.

Hicks, Anasa. "Hierarchies at Home: A History of Domestic Service in Cuba from Abolition to

Revolution." May 2017. ProQuest, www.search.proquest.com. 23 June 2020.

"Julio Laurent." EcuRed, www.ecured.cu. 24 June 2020.

Levinson, Sandra H. and Knight, Franklin W. "Cuba." Encyclopaedia Britannica,

www.britannica.com. 23 June 2020.

"Lydia Cabrera." Wikipedia, www.wikipedia.org. 23 June 2020.

"Mobsters in Havana: a brief history of the Cuban Mafia." 18 March 2019. Why Not Cuba,

www.whynotcuba.com. 23 June 2020.

"Obatalá." Wikipedia, www.wikipedia.org. 23 June 2020.

"Santería." Wikipedia, www.wikipedia.org. 23 June 2020.

"Santeria religion survives missionaries, communism." 6 November 2015. Local 10,

www.local10.com. 23 June 2020.

"Shango." Wikipedia, www.wikipedia.org. 24 June 2020.

"The Power Of Santeria Necklaces and Bracelets." 25 August 2015. Original Products Botanica,

www.originalbotanica.com. 23 June 2020.

Wild, Chris. "1920s - 1950s Living the Havana High Life." Mashable, www.mashable.com. 23

June 2020.