The Element Encyclopedia of 1000 Spells: A Concise Reference Book for the Magical Arts. Judika Illes
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Each orixa possesses his or her own exu, who serves as the orixa’s personal messenger.
Confused? The confusion only increases.
There are a multiplicity of exus, each with a slightly different nature and slightly different role. There are also female exus, the exuas, except that that term is rarely used. The female aspects of exus are instead known as the Pomba Giras, the whirling doves. Despite the fact that these traditions are grounded strongly in West African spirituality, and despite the fact that exus, in particular, clearly derive from Africa, the Pomba Giras are not completely African. Rather they seem to represent a merging of African traditions with those of the Portuguese Romany, deported en masse to the Brazilian colonies, concurrent with the African slave trade. The pre-eminent Pomba Gira, Maria Padilha, is a deified former Queen of Spain, also known in European magic spells. The superficial image of the Pomba Gira, at least, has little to do with the historic Maria de Padilla, wife of Pedro the First of Castile and Leon, but derives from what is at best an outsider’s romantic fantasy of Gypsy women and, at worst, an embodiment of every clichéd, negative stereotype: a promiscuous, hard-drinking prostitute/ fortune-teller with a razor hidden in her cheek, a rose clenched between her teeth.
In addition to their function as messengers and servants of the orixa, exus and Pomba Giras may also be petitioned independently, specifically for more selfish, malevolent forms of magic in which the orixa may refuse to participate.
Exus and Pomba Giras are frequently perceived as dangerous and volatile, although this is somewhat in the eye of the beholder. Those who approach exus and Pomba Giras from a purely African or Pagan perspective will find them no more or less volatile than any other spirit. Maria Padilha Pomba Gira, in particular, can be a being of great power and generosity. Because many devotees are also either devout or lapsed Roman Catholics, there is often inherent ambivalence toward magic. Yes, it’s powerful but is it “good ”in the ethical sense? From this perspective, exus are frequently associated with Satan, the Christian conception of the devil. The qualities that most correspond to this concept are emphasized in the Brazilian concept of the exu: lurking at the crossroads, the smell of brimstone, and assistance that brings ultimate doom.
The Pomba Giras in general are perceived as dangerous, disreputable spirits. Their favorite haunt is a T-crossroad. They prefer working with women but will work with men, if requested. Those who fear them suggest that long-term contact will inspire transvestitism in men and prostitution among both men and women.
The traditional offering for exus are plates of yellow manioc flour cooked in oil or drizzled with oil. Pomba Giras prefer flowers to food. Exus drink wine, rum, and cachaca while Pomba Giras prefer anisette or champagne.
Saints
Whether fairies are spirits or humans may be subject for debate. Many spirits, from orishas, to those of ancient Greece and ancient Hawaii, may or may not be deified humans. The important orisha Chango, for instance, was once a king in Yorubaland. After death, he was deified and took his place among the orisha. That’s one version of his sacred story, anyway. The ancient Greeks demonstrated this process when Heracles and Psyche, both originally mortals, were permitted to shed their human energy and enter the Realm of the Divine.
Saints, however, are resolutely human—or at least they were when they were alive. Because the word “saint” has become so strongly associated with Roman Catholicism, it often comes as a surprise to realize that a concept of sainthood, albeit not an identical concept, exists among many other cultures, including the African Diaspora, Buddhist, Jewish, and Muslim traditions.
Roman Catholic saints are required to fulfill certain expectations before sainthood is officially conferred, and it can be a lengthy, bureaucratic process to prove their miraculous deeds. Other traditions use different criteria: sometimes the magic power (heka, baraka) contained by a person is so potent that it defies death, allowing others to continue to access it, for purposes of healing and magic. For many traditions, power of this magnitude is what confers sainthood. It is usually an informal process. There’s no official beatification or canonization: word of miracles simply gets around. Shrines spring up and crowds gather.
The behavior of these saints may or may not be exemplary. Many are described as devout, charitable, generous people, although others demonstrate what might be characterized as profligate tendencies. Regardless, a saint’s great power, baraka, is accessible to those in need.
Marie Laveau, the self-proclaimed Pope of Voodoo born in 1792, has ascended to this concept of sainthood. Thousands venture to her grave in New Orleans annually to beseech her for favors. In particular, Laveau has earned an excellent reputation for remedying legal issues, as she did during her life. Attempts to contact her are made by knocking three times on the front of her tomb or by drawing three x’s in red brick dust or chalk on the stone. Offerings and payments are left, most customarily salt water or seven dimes.
What is euphemistically called “folk Catholicism” has been the bane of the Roman Catholic Church for centuries. The desire to work with a saint, as with a spirit, or perhaps the desire of the saint or spirit to work with the person, is too strong to resist: magical practices creep in. Certain official Vatican-approved saints are also frequent participants in magic spells, particularly Saint Anthony, San Cipriano, Saint Martha the Dominator, Saint George, and John the Baptist. A saint’s magic powers may have little to do with their official hagiography: Saint Anthony, for instance, is invoked in almost as many love spells as Aphrodite. San Cipriano may or may not have been a reformed wizard in real life, but as far as magic spells are concerned, he’s returned to his old profession with gusto. When they are invoked for magic, these saints are treated like any other spirit: offerings and payment are made for miracles begged and received. Saints, like spirits, have favored numbers, colors, fragrances, and gifts.
Unofficial Saints
The impulse to work with saints can be too powerful to wait for permission—or sometimes even to ask for permission. This isn’t a problem with traditions with no “official” concept of sainthood. In a sense, all Jewish saints, for example, are “unofficial.” There’s no authority or criteria to make them official, although popularity conveys its own kind of official status. It’s between saint and person. What happens, however, within a system where these criteria do exist? What happens when, during what usually starts as a local phenomenon, people begin to recognize a saint’s capacity for miracles, without official recognition? Will people be patient and wait for the official verdict or will they create their own rituals? For those who are inclined to magic, the choice is obvious.
So-called “unofficial saints” are invariably tied to the Roman Catholic tradition, because it is the only tradition that insists on a lengthy organized bureaucratic procedure of conferring sainthood. There is a vast range of unofficial saints. What they have in common are consistent miracles performed following death. They may be accessed in magic spells in similar fashion to any other spirit.
Identification/Syncretism
Syncretism is the system by which one spirit is identified or fused to varying degrees with another. Although the process is most commonly and consciously associated with modern African-Diaspora faiths, the tradition goes back millennia.
When the ancient Greeks began to travel their world, they encountered other people (Egyptians, Persians) with other pantheons. This frustrated them. Although they didn’t insist on one god, they did insist on their own gods. Who were these other spirits? In some cases, spirits from abroad (Dionysus, Hecate) were merged into their own pantheon. In other cases, the Greeks decided, other cultures simply used other names and told other stories about spirits who were the same as the Greek gods. Thus they created a system of identification: Hathor was a beautiful spirit of love, who liked perfume and music. She must be Aphrodite, also a beautiful spirit of love, who liked perfume and music. Although sometimes neat, obvious identifications can be made, sometimes this leads to confusion. The Persian spirit, Anahita, was a beautiful deity interested in