| Niurca E. Márquez
Latin American and Caribbean Studies Florida International University Miami, FL Niurca E. Márquez holds a BA in Dance and a BA
in Spanish from Florida International University and is currently completing
an MA in Latin American and Caribbean Studies on the Anthropology/Sociology
track. She most recently presented a paper entitled "Santeria Yesterday
and Today: A New Level of Syncretism," at the 19th Annual ILASSA Conference
in Austin, TX. Her current thesis research focuses on the ritualistic
aspects within performance of the Arará tradition; one of the Afro-Cuban
traditions still maintained on the island. Ms. Marquez was recently
granted a Cuban Research Institute Travel Grant for Research in Cuba was
made possible by the Ford Foundation, and will be traveling to the island
to complete her field work in late July. In addition, she has been
nominated for the Congress on Research in Dance (CORD) Graduate Research
Award for 2000. Ms. Marquez currently works at the Latin American
and Caribbean Center at FIU where she coordinates student enrollment and
completion of the various Certificate Programs. She has been invited
as a guest lecturer to numerous events at FIU focusing on the importance
of dance within cultural realities. She is also Director of Development
and Educational Programs for CAFÉE (Cubans and Americans for Educational
Exchange) and Co-Editor, Latitud an electronic magazine aiming to
bring forth new perspectives in Latin American and Caribbean Studies.
In the past, Ms. Márquez has worked with the Intercultural Dance
and Music Institute on grant writing, curriculum development and coordinating
student enrollment for the Institute’s first Latin American and Caribbean
Summer Dance Institute and Fiesta Caribeña in collaboration with
the Florida Dance Association. Ms. Márquez is co-founder of
Artemis Performance Network and serves as its Associate Director.
|
In May of 1961, the tension that had been developing between the Catholic Church in Cuba and the Revolutionary government reached its peak. In that year Fidel Castro announced that the Revolution was committed to the institutionalization of a Marxist-Leninist state and subsequently all private (i.e. Catholic) schools were taken over by the government. This was the first step to an eventual silencing of the topic of religious practice in Cuba, at least at an institutional level. In recent years, however, a series of events, including the admission of those professing a religious practice into the ranks of the Communist Party in 1991 and the more recent visit of Pope John Paul II in January 1998 to the island, have altered this reality. Up until this destape, as some have called it, the practice of religious systems in Cuba was repressed at an institutional level. Beginning with the April 2, 1990 meeting between Fidel Castro and representatives of the Evangelical churches and other religious leaders, much of the criteria and perceptions pertaining to said topics have been greatly altered. As a result of this and other factors that will be discussed later there is an apparent increase in the religiosity of the population. Religiosity as used here refers to the level of individual self-identification with a particular religious habitus, whether popular or institutional.
In an interview conducted in 1993, Reverend Raul Suarez, one of the main figures of the Evangelical Church in Cuba, stated: "there is an increment of the diffused magical-religious sentiment that provokes curiosity towards the Bible, the Christian faith, but also towards Santeria."1 In reference to this last point, Dr. Jorge Ramirez Calzadilla, head of the Department of Socioreligious Studies of the Socioreligious and Psychological Investigation Center of the Ministry of Science, Technology and the Environment in Cuba stated in 1994:
In the case of religious expressions of African origin, one also notes a certain revival, but one must consider that there has been on the one hand, a rescue of the cultural values and therefore the ethnological and religious aspects of these expressions have a strong association to our folklore. Due to this, many may have felt stimulated by the increase in attention given to the traditions of African origin in our culture. I highlight this because the Spanish traditions are also an undeniable component of our idiosyncrasy. We are also witnessing a process in which culture is reflected in these religious manifestations. All this can lead one to believe that an increase in the expressions of African origin has taken place, it is possible, it is not negligible although it is not quantitatively measurable.2
The event that has without a doubt called the most attention to the issue of religious practice in Cuban society is Pope John Paul II's recent visit to the island. Since then, a series of hypotheses have emerged from all sides as to the future of religious life in Cuba. Of particular interest is the position and role of the Catholic Church as a key player in the future of the island. Given its central role in education prior to 1959, there has been much speculation over how the institution's restructuring will affect Cuba. The idea of restructuring here is used in terms of a rebirth of Catholicism on the island as indicated by an increase of regular attendance to services and an increase in native vocations.
The question to be addressed in this paper is what possible effects such an event will have on the practice of Santeria on the island. This will be approached first through a discussion of the historically secular nature of Cuban society, as evidenced by the early separation of church and state, and the state's emphasis on the Church as a practical and social entity rather than a spiritual one. Following this, I will look at the evolution of popular religion and African-based practices on the island prior to the Revolution and their relationship with the Cuban Church, placing particular emphasis on the effects of the Sugar Revolution of the late eighteenth to the middle of the nineteenth century on this process. A look at the situation faced by religious practices immediately after the Revolution of 1959 will precede the final discussion on the current situation of religious practices and the effects of the Catholic Church's restructuring on the practice of Santeria in Cuba. In this section, special emphasis will be placed on the effects of an unstable economy on these practices, as well as the government's role in the propagation of Santeria as "folklore."
A brief description of Santeria should be included at this point so as to differentiate it and its practitioners from the various forms of popular religiosity present in Cuba. Santeria is a primarily African-based religion brought to the New World by way of the slave trade by the Yoruba peoples. I say peoples because although there is still much debate surrounding the issue, it is agreed that they were by no means a homogeneous group.3 Joseph M. Murphy points out that those who arrived in Cuba seem to have been mostly from the then crumbling Oyo empire and the Egba branch of the Yoruba people.4 A number of factors resulted in the maintenance of the religious systems carried over to the New World by the slaves, but probably the most important was their late and massive introduction into Cuba and the effects of the Sugar Revolution on their evangelization which will be discussed further on. Murphy also states that the Yoruba quickly established a strong community in Havana where they became known as the Lucumi. He goes on to say that given their situation, "they needed the orishas and their ways of power, and they found ingenious ways of keeping them alive."5 One of the most successful ways to do this was to give Catholic faces to their African gods.
Three key elements in Santeria are the belief in a single creator god, Olodumare; a pantheon of deities that intercede in the daily lives of human beings and are to be appeased if they are to aid mankind; and the belief that there is a central force, a force vitale if you will, that permeates all aspects of life and it is the propagation of this force that brings harmony and well-being. There is a belief in the importance of ancestors and the need to keep their spirits happy. There is also a belief that you are born into this life with a predestined ori or head, but that one is given free will to determine the outcome of one's life. If one is given a bad ori, one has the power to deal with it through good character and the help of the orishas. There is also the belief in a predetermined and limited amount of good and evil in the world. Therefore, every action must have an equal and opposite reaction. Sickness or misfortune that befalls people who would generally be seen as good is many times blamed on this fact. It is by no means an exclusive religion, but rather a mutually inclusive one.6 Murphy speaks of three basic approaches to a "highly populated spiritual world: the way of values through honoring ancestors; the way of power through relationships with spiritual beings; and the way of order through divination...values, power, order the ways of ashe (the vital force).7 Unless one is a full initiate, one cannot gain full access to the complex world of the Regla de Ocha. Therefore, the most that can be done here is to express some of the commonly known facts about the practice in order to attempt an approximation to its religious and practical reality. Its practitioners, for the purpose of this paper, will be limited to those initiated in Regla de Ocha. There are those who consult on a regular basis and incorporate the beliefs into their own religious habitus, but are not initiated into the religion. Although they should be taken into consideration as a significant number, for the purpose of drawing clear lines, interviews used as sources of information for the last section of this paper were conducted exclusively among initiates.
The Historically Secular Nature of Cuban Society and
the Effects of the Sugar Revolution on the Religious Practices on the Island
"I have come to believe that in this country there has never been a religious base...for that which characterizes us and which we have taken everywhere, religion, we did not bring here..."Ramon Fernandez Pierola y Lopez de Luzuriaga, Bishop of Havana, August 4, 18808
There were a series of realities responsible for the secularity present in Cuba as opposed to other Latin American and Caribbean countries colonized by Spain around the same time. In "the Catholic Church in Cuba: A Weak Institution," Lisandro Perez gives us five main reasons for what he describes as the historically secular nature of Cuban society: (1) the role of Havana as a port city, (2) the organization and operation of the Church in Cuba, (3) the Sugar Revolution and the secularization of the mill, (4) the importance of non-Catholic religions and (5) the Church as an enemy of Cuban independence.9 The role of Havana as a port city is essential to understanding the other four factors. For many years, Havana was Cuba in the eyes of the Spanish Empire. Its role as the main port for Spanish vessels sailing between the Old World and the New World gave it an advantage in its development over other parts of the island.10 Early on, it exhibited the characteristics of busy port cities with an increase in lodging and dining facilities, an expansion of trade, and commercialized vice as evidenced by the presence of brothels in Havana. Much like ports that would develop later in the New World (like Buenos Aires), it was a city with many transients and mariners. It was also a city shaped by the ideas of the Enlightenment that accompanied the "sugarocracy"- the elite class that rose out of the Sugar Revolution.11 Needless to say, religion was not at the forefront of daily concerns.
The Sugar Revolution and the secularization of the mill allowed the slaves to maintain the majority of their religious practices resulting in the importance of non-Catholic religions, specifically the product of all these: popular syncretic religious systems. It is important to note that for many of the slaves brought from Africa to Cuba during the latter part of the slave trade, their contact with Christianity on the island was not the first and as result, some of their systems were already highly syncretic. Christianity has been present on the African continent since the first century A.D. It was brought to the western and eastern shores of sub-Saharan Africa in the fifteenth century by Portuguese maritime expansion with the most successful missionary activities occurring in the Congo during the sixteenth century.12 Considering that the Bantu speaking peoples, or paleros as they are called in Cuba, were the second most influential group of the African based religious practices in Cuba, one can see how it would also become the most syncretic form on the island.13
As early as the close of the last century, "the colonial authorities were permitting Protestants to establish cemeteries and they were requiring couples to appear before a civil magistrate in order to wed."14 The Constitutions of 1902 and 1940 incorporated a separation of church and state and the idea of not favoring one religion over another.15 This early separation of church and state and its virtual nonexistence as an entity in rural areas would shape the role of the Church in Cuba in later years. Unlike in the rest of Latin America, the Catholic Church in Cuba lacked political powers and resources to greatly influence the colonial government or those, which followed. Since colonial times, the Church lacked the resources to successfully establish itself on the island as a political and economic entity. In later times, especially during the Republic, its hold on education would alter this somewhat, but as we will see, that period of prosperity was short-lived.16
The Sugar Revolution beginning in the late eighteenth century was probably the most important economic and social influence that shaped Cuban society. As mentioned earlier, the sugarocracy that arose as the leading economic sector was a class that viewed itself as "progressive and rational" and "therefore a class with secular values and with a European bourgeois consciousness."17 What is truly important in this is the effects this had on the treatment of the slaves. Because of this inherent secularity, and unlike other cases throughout the Americas where the slave owners exemplified Weber's theory on the need of "psychological reassurance of legitimacy" through their need to convert their slaves to Christianity, in Cuba, the economic factor proved much more important.18 Not only were the plantation owners unwilling to spend the money necessary to maintain a religious presence in the mills (i.e., a chapel and the resident priest), they were also unwilling to grant the slaves the free time that would be required for their indoctrination and regular practice of that doctrine.19 In addition to this, the late and massive entry of slaves to Cuba and their late emancipation in 1886 made it possible for one to find negros de nación, first generation Africans, well into the 20th Century.20 The natural outcome was the perseverance of African-based traditions. This may be part of the reason why the Yoruba Regla de Ocha, known today as Santeria, is the best-preserved practice on the island. Its practitioners were brought to the island primarily during the Sugar Revolution and hence were the primary beneficiaries of the situation described above. As to the importance of this influence, Perez points out that "there is no question that the religious heterogeneity of the island's population started increasing markedly during the last two decades of the nineteenth century.21
Religious practices in Cuba prior to the Revolution of 1959
The result of all the factors described in the previous section was that Cuba became an inherently secular society. Even before socialism, the practice of religion on the island was based primarily on forms of popular religion rather than institutionalized forms. The predominant religious practices in Cuba are therefore not pure forms of Catholicism, Santeria or Spiritism, but rather practices that contain elements of all of these.22 One could point at the atheist nature of socialism and state that this is a result of the Revolution and its consolidation, but according to a survey taken in 1954, of the 80% of Cubans claiming to be Catholic, only 17% attended mass on a regular basis.23 The study done by the ACU (Agrupación Católica Universitaria) places this number as low as a two, five or eight percent of the population of each territory examined.24 So in essence, although the perceived predominant form of religious practice on the island before the Revolution was Catholicism, these numbers may be pointing to a very different reality. A recent study edited by Rosa Alfonso stated that:
The concentration in the principal urban zones, the preferential treatment to certain well-to-do sectors and the limitations imposed on the evangelization of the slaves, of little interest to the slave owners, among other factors, determined a reduced, regular, Catholic membership which has traditionally manifested itself as such.25
This same study pointed out that in various moments of history, analysts and even religious authorities have concurred that in the realm of religion, Cuban society as a whole was or is indifferent, not very religious, or difficult to classify.26 Taking into account that by the second half of the last century as the Sugar Revolution and the times of the huge plantation systems came to a close, a new class began to take shape in Cuba. Labor unions formed by the tabacaleros were in place as early as 1866.27 This evolving proletariat became especially important during the independence movements of the late 19th century. If we follow Weber's thoughts on the religion of the modern proletariat and modern bourgeoisie, we can evidence the cementing of the secular nature of Cuban society: "The rationalism of the proletariat, like that of the bourgeoisie of developed capitalism when it has come into the full possession of economic powercannoteasily possess a religious character and certainly cannot easily generate a religionreligion is generally supplanted by other ideological surrogates."28
What took place in Cuba essentially is that due to a long history of syncretism, the ritual elements of Catholicism were stripped of their institutional orthodoxy and incorporated into the popular practice of the island. The study conducted by Alfonso cited above also states that the cult to the saints, the sacrament of baptism, masses in honor of the deceased, the use of holy water and palm fronds, are ever-present in the most dispersed and spontaneous religious expressions found on the island, but with a magical dimension rather than a sacramental one. There is no doubt that aside from the elements of Catholicism and African-based religious systems taken out of context, the introduction in this century of Kardecian Spiritism, known in Cuba as Espritismo, had a marked effect on the religiosity of the island. Due to the treatment of spirits in both Catholicism and Santeria, it is not very difficult to see where the parallels could be drawn to the system of Espiritismo. In fact, following the introduction of this system, most of its adherents were found among the white, urban, middle and upper classes, and among the white peasantry.29
This syncretism, evident at a popular level by the turn of the century, was even more obvious among those who were practicing santeros and paleros.30 In fact, there is a popular saying in Santeria that is a result of the syncretism between its cosmology and the beliefs attributed to Espiritismo. "El muerto parió al santo" not only refers back to the fact that most orishas are believed to have been human at one point and hence had to have been born somehow, but in more practical terms, that before venerating the orishas, one must depend on the help of the mayores difuntos.31
There have been many studies done on the reality of syncretism in the religious systems of the Americas. Given the constraint of time and space, a full analysis of what level of syncretism exists in Cuba and how we distinguish from superficial and deep manifestations of this phenomenon will not be addressed. Rather, we will simply accept that syncretism is a fact of the Afro-Cuban religious complex, among other religions that have faced a historical reality of conflict, that is agreed upon by most if not all scholars in the field, and is manifested in its simplest form by an identification of the various orishas with their counterparts in Catholic saints.32 In very simplistic terms, it is the assumption of Catholic faces and names by the deities of the Yoruba pantheon.
Syncretism was just one of the results of the resistance against assimilation faced by the slaves brought to the New World during the Transatlantic trade. Fernando Ortiz expanded this concept to include a simultaneous and spontaneous process which he called "transculturation" in which the values, norms, and specifically the religious belief systems of the subordinate group were transferred onto the oppressor's habitus.33 This is especially true of the Cuban case where many of the children of those same plantation owners were in the care of female domestic slaves and helps to explain the predominance of these popular forms of religious practice which have been discussed until this point.34
Aside from the lack of attention paid to the conversion of the slaves in the plantation system discussed earlier, the complex of Afro-Cuban religious systems has survived this long primarily due to its lack of "strict orthodoxy or dogma, and thus heterogeneity."35 This same lack of institutionalization also aided in its propagation even after the Revolution and under a socialist system. Even though it had in fact seeped into other sectors of society, in pre-revolutionary Cuba, "Santeria remained a cult organization catering primarily to Black, educationally deprived people, and those of low social status and was completely unknown in many regions of the island."36
The Status of Santeria within the Framework of a Socialist Government
The amount of outward public attention paid to these syncretic African-based religious systems in Cuba changed after the Revolution in 1959. This fact permeates every aspect of Cuban society today.37 "The believers of Regla de Ocha, during the revolutionary process initiated in 1959 have given their support and have defended the transformations brought about by the Cuban Revolution," says Alfonso.38 In fact, according to Fernandez, in December of 1958, the santeros reacted enthusiastically to the coming events and the gran ewo conducted every year to commemorate the New Year was dedicated to Castro.39 Taking into account Sandoval's earlier description of what sectors of society were predominantly santeros, and noting that they were the ones who stood to gain the most with the triumph of the Revolution, one can conclude, as does Fernandez, that this reaction had not only religious dimensions, but racial and socioeconomic ones as well. The creation of the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution in certain neighborhoods legitimized the new regime and, at the same time, elevated many of these same santeros to positions of legitimate authority.40
Fernandez argues that the predominance of popular religiosity described earlier actually "facilitated the consolidation of the Revolution not only because it countervailed the influence of the Catholic Church, but also because it provided a fertile source of revolutionary myths and symbols."41 According to Fernandez, it laid the foundation for a resulting political religion. One could follow that line of reasoning, or one could venture into a much more superficial explanation for this gray area of myth and symbols fostered by the Revolution which Fernandez talks about when describing the origin of one of the nickname of el caballo given to Fidel. The white dove that descended on Fidel Castro's shoulder during his speech in January of 1959, seen by many as a sign of things to come, is a classic example of one of these myths and symbols surrounding the figure of the dictator. The dove as a symbol of peace was not the only parallel drawn on that day. For the santeros, it was a reference to Obatalá, god of justice who was letting them know that his will would prevail.42
Furthermore, when one compares the Marxist-Leninist values fostered by the socialist regime implemented in Cuba to the key elements of African-based philosophies, one cannot help but notice the similarities. The idea of the individual being secondary to the community vs. the idea that the individual is secondary to the state or la causa; the belief that where there is social strife or discord a diminishing of communal life force will result versus the idea that where there are class and race distinctions, the sense of unity for the cause is jeopardized; and the belief in the power of the spoken word clearly manifested in the Cuban case through the importance of charismatic invocations of the masses. There are many reasons why santeros were not targeted for their religious practices to the extent that other groups were, but at the very root of it all is the very nature of African-based religions: they are unorganized and its practitioners originate primarily from the poorer classes of society, thereby lacking the economic and structural base which characterizes most institutionalized religions. Fernandez points out that Santeria is primarily a religion of the poor and "practiced in the privacy of homes."43 He continues by pointing out that according to Nelson Valdés, "the regime courted the santeros by granting them special favors to practice their religion, including the convergence of revolutionary and santero holidays.
A significant attempt to eradicate the presence of the Catholic Church was made by the new government early on in the game. Part of the rationale behind this effort was that the Church had always been closely tied to the upper bourgeoisie and given that Cuba was now a socialist state, all institutions which went against its principles and posed a threat had to be dealt with accordingly. The most significant event in the campaign against the Catholic Church was the nationalization of private education, which stripped the institution of one of the most significant tools it possessed. Why is it that if the Catholic Church was attacked in such a way, Santeria was not submitted to the same pressures? After all, as religious systems, Santeria and Catholicism are equally incompatible with Marxism. The answer lies in the argument that is discussed until this point. Followers of unorganized religion seem to be concerned with solving the day-to-day personal situation that may arise. Their main concerns are not with the afterlife, but with the here and now.44 Although Santeria and other forms of unorganized or popular religions presented an obstacle in the inculcation of the Marxist consciousness, they did not present a conflict at a structural level. They never presented any sort of threat because the very lack of an infra-structural basis does not allow for political insurgency.45 Some scholars, like Carlos Moore, have argued that this incompatibility with the Marxist consciousness and atheism has led to periods of heightened friction between santeros and the regime.46 However the levels of repression cannot be compared to those endured by institutionalized religions. The foreign policy with respect to Africa undertaken by the Cuban government may also have played a role in the acceptance and propagation of Santeria on the island.
The outcome of the first half of the revolutionary regime is that Catholicism was confined to the realm of clandestine, private practice previously occupied by Santeria for fear of the repercussions. In a lengthy conversation I had while in Cuba this past July with Adolfo Garcia, a childhood friend of my father who grew up as a practicing Catholic, he explained how, even though he went through all the years and courses necessary to obtain a degree in architecture, he came very close to not being issued the actual degree due to his religious practices. According to Adolfo and other people who I spoke to, parents soon stopped taking their children to mass on Sundays and other activities that would denote you as Catholic for fear of the effects this would have on the child's later ability to get ahead in the developing society.47 In essence, Catholics were now discriminated against while regime approved santeros enjoyed newly granted freedoms after 1959.
Effects of the restructuring of the Catholic Church on the practice of Santeria in Cuba
In 1975, the regime granted Afro-Cuban traditions and thereby religion a legal space under the title of "folklore."48 This may have been the result of the government's need to legitimize that space occupied by a sector that continued to provide the greatest amount of support for the Revolution. In an analysis done by Julio Mata entitled "Revolution, literature and Afro-Cuban religion," the author points out that "abolishing the economic basis of a class society is a relatively easy task; eradicating inclinations and habits stemming from a vigorous tradition is another story."49 He goes on to say that the ideological resistance present in these traditions does not allow them to be transformed into a mere representation of superficial elements like its dances and music. By the 1980's, with the slow beginnings of the tourist industry on the island, these traditions became marketable and so, under this title of "folklore" Santeria benefited from the economic gains of the tourist industry and at the same time was able to support its followers during times of economic strains on the serious practice of the system.50 This becomes increasingly clear when one takes into account that during the Periodo Especial and to this day, a simple case of economics has caused a decrease in rituals performed. In response to the question of whether or not the Periodo Especial brought more believers since it was a time of extreme need, Siria, a santera who resides in San Miguel del Padron, one of the poorest areas of Havana, and teaches at the Escuela Nacional de Arte, said the following:
The majority of the rituals one is asked to perform are very costly. Food on the table is a priority; but how do we feed our orishas and keep them happy? No, the Periodo Especial did not bring more believers, at least not in practice. It weakened us in every aspect. It weakened our orishas and our hopes. As soon as money started coming in, and we could buy what we needed, we started to gain strength once again.51
Nieves, another professor at the ENA who is not initiated
but teaches Afro-Cuban dance and culture elaborated further on the topic:
As soon as the babalawos tapped into the resources available in tourism, foreigners started converting left and right. All of a sudden, these people who were no longer able to depend on their "consultas" as they once did, had a whole new group that they could "reventar." I mean, everyone who was on the island was in the same boat, so they had to look outside of that. That was around the same time that the school started talking about setting up programs for foreigners. "Total," we don't benefit. We teach, but we don't benefit.52
Since anything that brings in tourist dollars was and
is seen as a benefit to the state, the installation of these groups in
tourist spots has exploded in the last few years. Mayra Rosa, the third
instructor that I had an opportunity to interview on both an informal and
formal basis concluded as follows:
What started with the diplobabalawos (as the people commonly referred to the babalawos who allied with the authorities during the early stages of the tourist industry) has now exploded to include anyone who can "dar unos pasos o leer unas cartas." Some people criticize it, but I just see it as people trying to make ends meet.53
This last comment caused some friction with the three instructors at the time when the interview was conducted, especially for Siria who does not charge for her services and firmly believes that the day she needs to attach a monetary value to them is the day she is no longer a santera. In a later interview conducted at Mayra Rosa's home in Old Havana, on July 19, 1998, she clarified that she had by no means intended to belittle the effect that this exploitation by initiates and non-initiates alike is having on the practice of Santeria. What she was simply trying to say was that this process that people were now hailing as blasphemous started "desde el minuto que trajeron a los esclavos a esta isla." It all refers back to that ability of these practices to adapt to a constantly changing environment. Aside from the variety of "folkloric" groups that I witnessed while in Cuba, which seemed to multiply by the moment, I was able to note the true importance of those foreigners who have been initiated throughout the years and the role they play in the economic support system of Santeria in Cuba. All of the seven initiates traveling with my group had two bags with them: one with their clothes for the two week stay and one filled with gifts for their madrina and padrino. Of the six, the one who had the most reduced economic means was carrying $300 to give to their "family" on the island.
The religiosity of Cuban society has always been of a spontaneous nature, asystematic and independent of orthodoxies belonging to organized religions.54 For this reason and coupled with all the events discussed throughout this paper, it is doubtful that the restructuring of the Catholic Church will have any serious implications on the practice of Santeria in Cuba. In fact, one can not help but wonder if the political and social changes that will take place in the future, independently of their nature or ideology, will not have a greater effect on the religiosity of the population than a growth in the numbers of practicing Catholics or the possible gains made by the Church as an institution in the years to come. Alfonso's study revealed that the majority of Cubans did not have belief systems belonging to institutionalized religions of high systematization (i.e. Catholicism), but rather classified their practices within the categories of spontaneous beliefs of low-level systematization (20%) and intermediate systematization in which the supernatural is personified in manifestations not belonging to any one religious system, but rather characterized by isolated devotions (30%).55 The main concern seems to be the coping with daily life, beliefs of a magical or supernatural dimension, and the treatment of illness.56 As one young Cuban I had the opportunity to speak to at varied points of my trip put it: "What's important here is dealing with the daily struggles...anything that may have the power to help deal with things and resolver is more than welcome."
Once considered the religion of the lower and uneducated
classes, Santeria now openly occupies a significant role in Cuban culture
both on the island and in the Diaspora. The Revolution played a significant
role in creating a legitimate space for its practice, independently of
the driving forces behind the actions taken by the regime. The number of
centers and publications dealing with these beliefs has exploded in the
last 30 years. Today people are more informed and less afraid than they
once were, thus making it less likely that they will feel threatened by
Santeria's existence and regular practice. The embrace of Yoruba and other
traditional Afro-Cuban elements by artists, many of whom are not initiates,
both on the island and in the Diaspora has also been an important factor
in this education process and in the dissemination of elements of Santeria
throughout the Americas.57 Although a study of the number of
practicing whites on the island is not available, it is not difficult to
deduce that this will also aide in its maintaining an important place in
the religious practices of the island, since it has blurred the racial
lines that existed prior to the Revolution. Religious practices, especially
those classified as non-institutional or popular forms, are constantly
reshaped by the political, socioeconomic and cultural arena in which they
exist. This newfound or assigned status of folklore with all its implications
will allow Santeria to remain in public practice and unmoved by the restructuring
of the Catholic Church.
1. Quote reproduced from "Crisis Despertó e Incrementó Religiosidad en la Isla," in Magazine de las Religiones en Cuba. 7/93.
2. Interview published in "Aumenta la religiosidad en Cuba?" in Magazine de las Religiones en Cuba. 6/94.
3. A rich historical survey of the groups and their influence in the New World can be found in George Brandon's Santeria: From Africa to the New World.1997.
4. Joseph M. Murphy, Santeria: African Spirits in America. 1988
5. Murphy, pg. 27.
6. This description is based on readings of texts by a number of leading scholars in the area including but not limited to: Castellanos, Sandoval, Brandon, Murphy, Thompson, Abimbola, Cabrera and Ortiz. Wande Abimbola has a particularly large body of works on the system of divination, or Ifá, and the cosmology of the Yoruba which clarifies many of the intricacies of this system in many of its manifestations.
7. Pg, 8.
8. Ramon Fernández Pierola y López de Luzuriaga, Bishop of Havana, in a letter to Cayetano Sánchez Bustillo, August 4, 1880. Reproduced in Manuel Maza Miguel, S.J., El alma del negocio y el negocio del alma, testimonios sobre la iglesia y la sociedad en Cuba, 1878-1894. Santo Domingo: Pontificia Universidad Católica Madre y Maestra, 1990, pg. 12.
9. In Puerto Rican and Cuban Catholics in the US, 1900-1965. Jay P. Dolan and Jaime R. Vidal, 1994.
10. For a more detailed discussion of the differences between Havana and other parts of the island, especially the West, see Louis Perez's Cuba: Between Reform and Revolution.
11. Lisandro Perez, pg. 151.
12. Benjamin C. Ray. African Religions: Symbol, Ritual and Community. 1976, pg. 193.
13. This is especially evident in rituals where the native tongue, in this case kikongo is scarcely used. Isabel Castellanos points out that "rarely will there be a shift to an interaction in congo, an introduction of certain congo words will take place within the dialogue in Spanish or bozal." Cultura Afrocubana 3, pg 168.
14. Lisandro Perez, pg 148.
15. Alfonso, pg. 3.
16. Lisandro Perez notes that it "would be evident many years later when the Church was totally ineffective in its efforts to influence and mediate in order to prevent a civil war in the closing years of Batista's dictatorship." pg. 148.
17. Lisandro Perez, pg. 151.
18. Max Weber, Sociology of Religion. 1964, pg. 107.
19. Lisandro Perez, pg. 152.
20. Many of Ortiz's informants in his first works were in fact negros de nación.
21. Lisandro Perez, pg. 154.
22. Alfonso, pg. 17.
23. Damian Fernández, "Revolution and Political Religion in Cuba," in The Religious Challenge to the State, Matthew C. Moen and Lowell S. Gustafson, eds. 1992, pg. 52. He also adds that other scholars estimate the number of practicing Catholics at 4 to 6 percent.
24. Reprinted in Alfonso, pg.69.
25. Alfonso, pg. 20.
26. Alfonso, pg. 69.
27. Luis Perez, pg. 119.
28. Weber, pg. 100-101.
29. Mercedes Sandoval, "Santeria as a Mental Health System," in Social Science and Medicine. V 13B, 1979, pg. 141.
30. The term paleros is used to identify those who are initiated and practice any one of the many "Reglas de Palo". These are part of the Afro-Cuban religious complex and have their roots in the religious systems of the slaves brought to Cuba from the Congo region.
31. Castellanos, pg.195.
32. One of the best explanations of the different types of syncretism and how they manifest themselves is Leslie G. Demangles' analysis of religious symbiosis found in The Faces of the Gods: Vodou and Roman Catholicism in Haiti. 1992. Jorge and Isabel Castellanos address the variety found in the practices and penetrations of syncretism in Cuba throughout the four volumes of Cultura Afrocubana.
33. Ortiz discusses this phenomena throughout many of his major works. In Los bailes y el teatro de los negros en el folklore de Cuba and in La Africanía de la música folklórica en Cuba he has especially detailed descriptions of this phenomena in the areas of music and artistic expressions.
34. Moreno Fraginals, class notes, 1998.
35. Mercedes Sandoval, "Santeria," in Journal of the Florida Medical Association. V. 70, No. 8, August 1983.
36. Sandoval, 1983, pg. 627.
37. Many of the quotes cited throughout this paper demonstrate this fact, especially the Alfonso text.
38. Pg. 34.
39. Pg. 59.
40. Pg. 59.
41. Sandoval, 1983, pg. 53.
42. Interview with Ezequiel Torres, hijo de Obatalá.
43. Pg. 60.
44. Alfonso, pg. 71.
45. Fernández, pg. 65 and Julie Marie Bunck, Fidel Castro and the Quest for a Revolutionary Culture in Cuba. Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania UP, 1994, pg. 54.
46. A lengthy discussion of these patterns and the reasoning behind them can be found in Moore's Cuba, Castro and the Blacks. 1989.
47. Based on an interview with Adolfo García Bastón, July 22, 1998.
48. Mateo Jover Marimón, "The Church" in Revolutionary Change in Cuba, edited by Carmelo Mesa-Lago. 1971, pg. 34.
49. Published in Cuban Studies/Estudios Cubanos. 13 (I): 17.
50. "Interés Turístico por el Sincretismo Religioso Cubano," in Magazine de las Religiones en Cuba, 2/93.
51. Interview conducted on July 15, 1998.
52. Interview conducted on July 15, 1998.
53. Interview conducted on July 15, 1998. I could not find a truly in depth study of the role of these diplobabalawos and their role as portavoces of the religion and economic source.
54. Alfonso, pg. 73.
55. Pg. 17.
56. Alfonso, pg. 70.
57. Santeria Aesthetics edited by Arturo Linsay
is an excellent source for an analysis of this phenomenon.