Oyimbo Diary: Chapter 2

In the summer of 2006, Rainer Doost and his wife Valeria Watson-Doost spend three weeks in Nigeria as house guest of Chief Ifagbenusola Atanda. In this series of 9 weekly installments Rainer a videographer will share his experiences in words and video.

On to Osogbo the Home of Osun

The seven-seat van is loaded with luggage and eleven passengers. I have to hold my large camera backpack on my lap. Being a guest of honor I at least don’t have to sit on the narrow shelf behind the front seats. The trip can take as little as two and half hours under ideal conditions. But this is Nigeria and the infrastructure is in chronic disrepair!

We depart just after 3 PM and arrive in Osogbo shortly before 8 PM with one brief rest stop midway. At the rest stop the men are directed to a wall to relieve bursting bladders. The three women grit their teeth and expand their bladder capacity. There are very few public restrooms in Nigeria!

Baba is a superb driver under frequently challenging conditions. Getting out of the chaos of Lagos traffic takes over an hour. Not bad! Then we hit the four lane divided highway. After years of neglect it is fraught with deep potholes and sudden “slow downs”. When things get too congested on our side of the divide highway everybody crosses the divide into oncoming traffic. Passenger vehicles quickly cross back to their proper side when things clear up but not the big trucks they enjoy the fast lane of oncoming traffic.

It is dark as we weave our way through Osogbo to Baba’s mothers house were we briefly stop to greet her.

Then we head to another part of the city. Once again, we negotiate deeply rutted side streets and once again a heavy steel gate rolls open and we drive into a large carport. As we pile out of the van in dim light, four drummers and a sizable collection of men and women who prostrate before Baba meet us. Once again, we are welcomed warmly.

Valeria, bladder bursting, is whisked away by Bayo, one of the younger Babalowos. They disappear into a modest house across the street. I learn later, it is a tailor shop. The tailor has been waiting to measure her (by the light of an oil lamp) and prepare gowns she will need later that night when her initiation as a priestess of Osun commences.

As in Lagos, we are not permitted to carry our own luggage as we are shown to our rooms. Valeria and I once again have the luxury of a room with an attached bathroom. No matter that it is not very clean and smells of mold. There is a fan and the door can be closed although it is typical not to do so during waking hours. Privacy is maintained with a door curtain. Keeping air circulating in this hot humid climate is important. It reminds us of home in Asheville, also a humid climate!

Dinner is waiting for us and we gather around a table for ten in the living/dinning room. Dinner consists of fried chicken and bland yam paste. The paste is dipped into a very spicy sauce. There is bottled water and fruit based drinks in sealed containers. Baba warns us that from now on we will be getting African food.

Baba's daughter in law, Bimpe, and son, Dr. Seyi Atanda, serve us. They both speak excellent English. Bimpe has a master’s degree in commercial fish production. She has her own business raising catfish. Seyi is a teaching hospital based OBGYN physician. In this culture respect for elders and guests is deeply embedded in children.

Osun Initiation; first night

Two hours later, around eleven PM we are back in ceremony. This time it is Valeria and Sherrie, the other African-American woman’s turn. Baba has explained that he conducts initiations to Ifa in Lagos, however, initiations to Osun are conducted in Osogbo. That is why he advised Valeria to re-initiate in Osogbo.

The altar room is on the third floor of this large house. In addition to the small altar room this floor also sports a large, maybe 30 x 60 foot room and an open deck area of 25 x 40 feet from which stairs assent to a fourth level deck as well as down to the ground floor.

During the next three days of initiation this public space is almost continuously occupied by the four drummers and about twenty women. Many of the women have small children and babies with them. The babies are carried on their backs in fabric slings. When they get tired, the mothers and the children, sleep on the cement floor on the cloth that otherwise serves as a baby sling.

For the first several hours, Valeria, in white, is out in the big room with us as Sherrie goes through several phases of initiation. Every, hour or so she is brought out by the priests and priestess and presented to the rest of us. The talking drums play prescribed rhythms and every one dances. In this setting drumming and dancing are forms of worship and prayer. The dancing and drumming builds in intensity for about half an hour and then the initiate, priests and priestesses return to the altar room. An aside on the challenge of video taping in this situation. Camcorders are much better in low light than film cameras but they still need light. The large space in which we are assembled is illuminated by a few low wattage bare light bulb mounted on the walls. By switching the camera to low light operation I get very grainy and jerky video that does not reflect the mood.

Having no good options I eventually resort to holding a small LED flash light in one hand and the camera in the other and aim both on the action. This way I get marginally acceptable video that preserves the mysterious atmosphere. I keep the flashlight to a minimum to avoid being overly intrusive.




I try to go into the altar room with Valeria when she begins the process around 2 AM. Baba tells me that I cannot stay. “Osun is very private and only initiated priests and priestesses can participate”. I am a bit embarrassed and disappointed. I had visions of more ‘never before seen’ footage. More importantly I am extremely protective of Valeria and do not like having her out of my sight. My trust in Baba has been building, never the less, I have heard to many horror stories of exploitation and abuse in the name of traditional spirituality. Fortunately I get to see her after about every hour when she is presented to the community. During these appearances, priestesses surround and lovingly dance with her. I relax seeing Valeria’s blissful expression.

During her second appearance, now in red, her gown almost slips off , the priestesses instantly circle to conceal her and Bayo jumps in front of my camera. I give him a severe look, after all she is my wife! I guess I can stop worrying about her safety!




Initiates traditionally have their heads shaved during initiation. I know that Valeria has asked that since she had her head shaved in her 2001 initiation that perhaps Osun would not require her hair again. When I see her emerge in red with her flaming red hair still crowning her head I know that Osun has been consulted and has agreed to let Valeria keep her hair. This is a validation of her previous US initiation, during which her head was shaved.

The two new initiates, now dressed in red, make a final joint appearance at dawn. The drumming, which has been going on for hours, grows in intensity and two priestesses enter into trance and are gently carried into the altar room.




The new initiates will sleep in the altar room. Most of the attending community beds down on the concrete floor and I, thank god, get to sleep on a bed. As I decent the stairs to our room I her the call to prayer from the Mosque across the street soon to be echoed by dozens of Mosques across the city. The call to prayer blares from loudspeakers. After a while, I go to sleep despite the insistent over-amplified voice of the Imam.

Baba wakes me four or five hours later. He gives me a warm hug and tells me that Valeria may come to the door of the altar room and talk to me but we may not touch. He wants to reassure me that Valeria, now newly named Osunyemi, is fine. I appreciate his concern for my psychological well-being. Bayo, the young Babalowo who first took me by the hand in the airport takes me up to see ‘Osunyemi’. She is ecstatic; the experience is everything she could hope for, yet nothing she could have anticipated. ( for a more elaborate documentation see "Priestess of Osun: My Nigerian Initiation")

After talking to Valeria, Baba suggested that I should rest as we will be going to the “16 Candlelight” ceremony in the evening and that we will be there until dawn.

Bayo; An Aside

Let me digress and introduce, Bayo of whom I became fonder with every passing day. He is Baba’s godson. That is to say, he has been initiated and is a Babalawo in training. Bayo is twenty one and has recently finished the equivalent of high school. He hopes to attend the university. He is also the grandson of the Araba of Osogbo. (The Araba is the highest-ranking Babalawo in the city of Osogbo while Baba ranks third. These rankings carry with them status, respect and tremendous social responsibility.)

Bayo has studied English in school but understands very, very, little and speaks less. I suspect that his “English teachers” were also far from fluent. To attend university his English has to improve greatly as classes are taught in the “lingua franca” of Nigeria, English. As Baba’s attendant he also has responsibility for our safety.

Over the coming weeks we learn to love Bayo. As time passes he begins to feel comfortable with Valeria and me and we get to enjoy his playful side. We soon learn that in times of perceived or real danger he will put his body in harms way to protect us. He is delighted when I show him how to use the video camera and microphones. Here is a sweet example.




By the time we leave three weeks later I’m determined to find a way for him to come to study in the US. Young dedicated people like Bayo will play an important part in fostering the self-respect of future generations of Nigerians.

Of the approximate 150 million Nigerians, only 5-10 % still practices the traditional religion. It is commonly, but inaccurately, known as Ifa Yoruba. Some claim that this monotheistic religion can be traced back nearly six thousand years. If this claim is accurate the religion predates most other world religions.

Islam or Christianity is practiced by most of the remaining 90% of the populace. These are the religions of the conquerors. For a very long time economic well-being has been closely associated with being able to claim membership in one of the two dominant religions. To this day religious conversion and economic opportunity go hand in hand.

As one Babalawo said, “By day most people are Mohammedans or Christians but by night many still practice the traditional ways.” This is of course problematic on many levels. A people whose heritage is denied or denigrated are a people who suffer a profound loss of self worth.

Colonialism thrived on undermining the indigenous people and perpetuated the unfounded claim that Africans lacked culture, where primitive and fundamentally inferior. The continuing misery in our African-American communities bears witness to the social devastation that loss of identity and cultural continuity entails. In present day Nigeria the territorial colonialism of the past has been replaced by economic and spiritual colonialism. The consequences of the former are Africa’s ongoing bloody birthing pains. The effects of spiritual colonialism are more subtle but none the less destructive.

Most large buildings in Nigeria are mosques or churches. Typically, billboards are advertisements for churches and their leaders who promise that membership will lead to spiritual and financial well being.

In a country were it is estimated that 70% of the population has a per capita income of less than a dollar a day there is powerful incentive to go to were the money is, Church or mosque. Traditional spiritual leaders lacking foreign sources of funding can not compete and thus the spiritual heritage continuous to be under attack.