Eshu is the guardian of crossroads, master of contradictions, spirit of movement. He opens paths, blurs the lines, and teaches us the unpredictable. Our jewelry inspired by him is free, multifaceted, and audacious. Poised between balance and chaos, it embodies the energy of the one who connects worlds. A tribute to change, ambiguity, and life itself.
ESHU
Babá Cláudio then joined me, inviting me to follow him to the house dedicated to Eshu, an Orisha who occupies a unique place in Candomblé, being at once a messenger, a guardian, and a mediator between the spiritual and material worlds. A mixture of feelings washed over me. I sensed that the unfolding of the various rituals I was gradually discovering was leading me toward a more sensitive emotional state. "Eshu is a trickster," Babá Cláudio told me as we arrived at the threshold of the temple, in front of which stood an anthropomorphic statue representing Eshu with a wooden phallus. "He represents vital energy, fertility, and creative power," Babá Cláudio added.
According to the priesthood, Eshu plays a central role and acts as an intermediary between humans and the Orishas. He conveys the prayers, intentions, and offerings of the faithful to the deities, and in return, he reveals the blessings of the Orishas. Also, because of his association with duality and chaos, Eshu has often been misinterpreted, particularly by European settlers, who compared him to the biblical devil. In Candomblé, however, Eshu is not an evil entity. He is a neutral force.
After removing my shoes, I finally entered the sanctuary, passing under a dried palm frond suspended above the lintel, forming a kind of curtain. Inside, offerings filled the space, which was decorated with various statues. In one corner of the room was the altar dedicated to Eshu, dimly lit by candles. The children gathered around me, chanting incantations in Yoruba under the guidance of Babá Cláudio. Then the Oshugum appeared, holding a black-feathered rooster in his arms. With precise gestures, he passed the bird along my body before placing it in front of me. Nose to nose with the bird, and feeling its warm breath on my face, the Oshugum again asked me to think of something good. As religious chants filled the air, the Oshugum bled the rooster on the altar before entrusting it to one of the children present. The Ebó comes to an end and the odes to Eshu fly away with my thoughts.
Obviously, for cultural reasons, sacrifice during rituals can challenge our relationship with life and the sacred. It's important to emphasize that the animal is treated with the utmost respect. During the rituals, blood is offered as vital energy intended to spiritually strengthen the faithful. Furthermore, the meat is served to all members of the community. Before leaving the terreiro, Babá Cláudio warned me that for the next three days, I must abstain from coffee and alcohol, sexual relations, and going to a police station or a cemetery. Having been warned and "spiritually purified," I was now prepared for the upcoming ceremony.
THE DANCE
The manifested deities are taken to what is called the Roncó (Hall of Obligations), where they are dressed, decorated, and adorned with their specific garments, ornaments, and objects, before returning to the hall to commune through dance. In a trance, with their eyes closed, each Orixá dances for a large part of the ceremony. This tradition symbolizes the trust between the devotee and their Orixá.
Each time an Orixá dances, he is accompanied by an Ekedjy who holds an Adjá, a bell used to invoke deities and give instructions in Candomblé.
MUSIC
In Candomblé, the atabaques and the agogô, two musical instruments, are used. The entire musicality of this religion is based on percussion.
The atabaques are always three in number, from largest to smallest, and are called Run, Runpi, and Lé. The ensemble of atabaques that forms the Candomblé orchestra is called Ilú or Ingoma. The agogô used in Candomblé has a single mouthpiece. The Ogans are responsible for the percussion and singing during liturgies and festivities.
The singing follows a question-and-answer pattern: the Ogans "draw" a verse, then everyone repeats or sings a second verse as a response.