Recorded for WBEZ Radio, Chicago, May 19,1995

Broadcast on May 21, 7:50 A.M and 4:50 P.M.

by Baba S. Ifatunji

It had not occurred to me, until undergraduate school in the mid-1970's, that there was or had ever been such a thing as an African G/god. But then, before majoring in Black Studies and learning African American history, it had not occurred to me that I was not a Negro, but an African. I had been a good, Black Missionary Baptist who believed everything my mother, my deacon father, my preacher and my Sunday school teachers told me about ethics and values. I had only known, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you". That, in the African American experience had become, "What goes around comes around", which, I later learned, made sense to us because of our ancestral practice of giving offerings to our predecessors and gods in order to receive their blessings. Getting the "'holy ghost" had come from our tradition of calling our gods to possess our priests.

It was not until graduate school, in pursuit of a master's degree and the origins of African American theatre, that I realized the African gods were not simply some mythological figures in the folk stories of my ancestors. I learned from books I found in the university library that they were G/gods and part of a complete religious system, inclusive of ancestor worship, which had been taken from my people during the slave trade. Further research turned up a book of verses from the "Ifa Divination Corpus". This corpus was essentially the "Bible" of the Yoruba people of Southwest Nigeria. In its verses could be found their story of how all life began. I was stunned. I was angry. I was hopeful. I had instantly taken root. I was awake. But, was the sun rising or the moon setting? How should I be looking at this? Upon further inquiry I was told that the Yoruba religion was dead or dying. I began to grieve the loss.

Even then I should have known it could not be lost. After all, nothing in my religious studies had ever made so much sense as ancestor worship. I had awakened to a simple truth. If I wanted to find my source or creator, all I had to do was to look back in the direction from which I'd come. Now genesis made sense to me. It had a personal meaning. I was not the descendant of Abraham. I had come from a different family and the traditions of that family would have me call their names and recite the stories of how they perceived of, and prevailed in, life. They would have me go to the diviner for a divination reading, listen to the stories of the priest and solve my problems in the way my ancestors had solved them.

But wasn't it too late? Who would teach me this religion? My study of African American theatre was enough to keep me occupied for life. I continued that study. It led me to the Egungun societies of the Yoruba people. These masque societies were responsible for escorting the spirits of our ancestors from the world of the living dead to the world of the living. Why?…So that we might commune with them and return them to heaven with our prayers…What better way to get a message through to God, or should I now say, Olorun, "The Owner of Heaven"? Still my view of the world was from a footpath, through a thicket. Would I ever make it to the main road? Was there still a main road? Would I recognize it if I saw it?

In 1980, while directing a show in Milwaukee, I met Adekola Adedapo, a priest of the Yoruba deity, Songo; god of kings, thunder, lightening and fire, Kawo Kabiesi. She gave me my first divination reading with cowry shells. As she prayed over the shells I knew I was back home.

She told me she had been studying with H.R.H. Oba Oseijeman Adefunmi I, the progenitor of a movement to recover and restore traditional Yoruba theology and religious practices for the African American. After some skepticism about authenticity and credibility, my research and experiences reassured me that traditional African religion had not died. In fact it was making a comeback.

Finally, I had the opportunity to make a choice. I thought every African American should have this opportunity. We had not chosen, centuries ago, to give up our religion. It was forcibly taken from us. One thing I had learned about being an African in America was that we had to be self-defined and self-determined. We had to make decisions for ourselves. The most important decision anybody ever has to make is about worldview. After all, is it "sunrise" or "moonset"? Are they the same? Now I could make a choice that had been denied my African forebears.

In 1981, in the basement of my Maywood home, I began the celebration and reverence of my ancestors by constructing a traditional Ile'run (or ancestral shrine). I started by collecting names and photographs. As the names and faces of my family tree were filled in, I could feel my root system healing. The roots were not so deep at first, but the more I fed them the stronger they got and the deeper they went. We'd begun communication, my ancestors and I. I had but to look upon the face of great-grandmother Mama Buck, bless her soul in heaven, to be reminded of what was good and what was bad, or what was right and what was wrong.

In 1983, during a long series of rituals that included the highest form of Yoruba divination, I received the story of my destiny. In the story the signposts of my future became visible. I was to become a priest of Ifa, also known as Orunmila, the Yoruba deity of divination and destiny. This would turn out to include initiation to Songo, and Egungun among other sacred African societies; and nine years of intensive learning, training and practice of Yoruba cosmology, divination and rituals.

In 1992, I traveled to Ode Remo, Nigeria to complete my initiation rituals and become an Ifa priest or Babalawo. There is no way, in a short amount of time, to explain what happened to me during and after these rituals. But, I had found the main road. It was a super highway through the annals of all existence. My eyes were washed and I could see as my ancestors had seen. And, it was "moonset" not "sunrise" I saw. The sun was at my back. I was watching the light overcome the darkness.

I had paid the toll and begun my travels. Slowly at first…clinging close to the shoulder of the road. I now had access to a complete African worldview and I could share it with others. I returned to Chicago and sat upon the divination mat to continue serving hundreds of people, and to begin initiating and training scores of African Americans. I could tell them the story of Oyepolu, offspring of those who performed the ancient rites of the sacred city of Ile Ife. He went to the Babalawo who told him his life was miserable because he did not know all the rites of his family. Oyepolu returned to the graves of his forebears to learn the rites. His life became good.

Orunmila Iboru, Orunmila Iboye, Orunmila Ibosise.

Baba Ifatunji is the Babalawo in Residence at Ile Ifa Jalumi in Maywood, IL; author of the play, "Food for the Gods" and Professor of Theatre at Chicago State University.