Without Love Sweetness & Water

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished. Just a few days later, Orisha Oko was the first to notice the change. The corn stalks were turning a worrisome gold and the broad leaves of the pumpkins underneath were shriveling and losing their luster to grayish white mildew. Stems turned floppy—some crispy—as their sap was reclaimed from them. Something was wrong and it affected more than the garden. Oko turned to the sky, raising a hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the merciless sun. Not a cloud was in sight—not a meager, wispy puff of mist. Very soon, his hill was going to die.

Further down, at the edge of the woods, Shango was presenting his pair of blunted axes to his brother. He had been clearing the forest for seven days without a break, blazing through thick trees and unyielding lianas. His sacred blades were in severe need of Ogun’s expertise. However, the divine blacksmith was unable to provide any help. Sure, he could beat the blades and give them the thinnest of edge, one that could split hairs four ways but there was no water to temper the steel. He had tried dirt, sand and even spit but nothing had worked.

Their younger brother Ochoosi joined their discussion, frustration smeared all over his face. There was no game to hunt. All he could find were carcasses of dead animals. There was no future here. They called the rest of their brothers and everyone agreed. With the heavy weight of failure bending their backs, they gathered their damaged tools and decided to go home.

This was no true mission. As they saw it, it had been a humiliating trap laid in such a way that they had been destined to fail. Their grievances burned their tongues like the acrid juice of a white grapes picked weeks before their time. Together, they climbed up the golden chain that led to Orun—their realm in the sky. With every link they gripped, their bitterness grew more intense. By the time they arrived in Olodumare’s throne room, it had matured to anger.

“Father, why did you send us down there if you knew this place was broken?” Shango asked. He was the most hotheaded of them and the most eager to voice his exasperation. Another went on to explain everything that had gone wrong. Olodumare listened in silence, looking at each who spoke with the coolness of an eternity. When they had recounted the events and unburdened their tongues of their annoyance, he scanned the group of malcontent sons and finally spoke.

“I see ten of you today when I know I sent eleven. Where is the Queen of Love? Where is Oshun?”

Ake guffawed. “But Father… she’s only a girl and the youngest of us. She’s not as strong as we are. We told you we did not need her. She’s probably somewhere powdering her nose.” Olodumare stared at Ake, perplexed, almost amused.

“Someone please summon Oshun!” he said.

Moments later, the beautiful, young Orisha entered the room in a liquid yellow dress, gliding over the cold marble like a wave. She bowed before her Father’s throne.

“Tell me, beloved daughter, what happened?”

“At first, I was glad to be on earth with my brothers as I wanted to play a role in your new project; but once we arrived, they ignored me or simply laughed at me. After a while, I just left.” Oshun explained. You see, a month or so earlier, Olodumare had summoned a group of Orisha to send them down to earth so they may shape it and make it a more hospitable place for his next set of children: humans.

“Is that all, child?” Olodumare asked, with a knowing smile.

“I also called back my waters” she said, with a grin, sweet as honey.

“My dear sons…” Olodumare continued, still smiling at Oshun, “I believe apologies are in order.”

When they realized that without love, sweetness and… well, water… life cannot be sustained on earth, the male Orishas changed their tune and their mission became a success.

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In Ifá, Oshun is the Orisha (divine spirit) of beauty, love and fresh waters.