Iroso Wori

Before the trip to Earth, in Heaven they were told to make an ebbó for a certain deity who worked disguised as a witch, with kola nuts, a rooster and palm wine. In addition, a goat had to be offered to Eshu. Once all this was done, the twins Irosun and Iwori descended together.

Once in the world, Irosun made a pact with sixteen night witches for Iwori's downfall. One night Iwori had a dream: he saw himself in an execution chamber. He could not interpret it and went to divination. Ifá announced that a deception was being prepared against him, although everything would fail if he offered Ifá wrapped dried fish and a hen, and Eshu a goat. Iwori complied, and of the sixteen witches in the plot, two died.

Later, the Awoses let him know who was behind the plot: his own younger brother. Iwori had an Osain able to show him what was discussed at the witches' meetings. To serve it he made the offering that is its due. Thanks to that he was carried to that night's meeting and could see the schemes of the fourteen witches who were still alive. They discovered the intruder, seized him and accused him of being a spy, but he vanished before suffering any harm.

When he woke, Ifá ordered a bath with leaves that the priests would prepare. After bathing, the conspirators knew they had been found out, withdrew and stopped bothering him. If this Ifá comes out in a consultation, that person must be told: their younger brother is a witch and is plotting against them.

Ignoring who she was, Agayú joined with the woman of greatest power in that region. She was Oshanlá, able to transform herself: sometimes she appeared as a simple young woman and sometimes as a fearsome being, tireless in battle, commanding when giving orders and merciless toward her rivals.

The ferryman did not like what had happened. He thought that, being a man, he should have taken the first step, and he felt humiliated. So he began to treat differently everyone who wanted him to take them to the other shore. First he found out the identity and origin of each person and, after hearing the answer, asked for a payment. Without payment, he carried no one. He stayed with his arms crossed, deaf to pleas, and to those who insisted he said that they should find someone else and pay, or stop wasting their time.

One day a boy came who wanted to cross to see his mother. Agayú asked him his name. The boy answered that he had none, and the ferryman told him that then he could not help him. The boy burst into tears: he had not seen his mother for a long time, perhaps he would never see her again, he had nothing and he was very poor. Agayú watched him closely and told him to leave the way he had come, because he was not going against his rules by taking him across in the boat for free. Then the boy proposed: “Carry me on your shoulders. Until now you have set no price for that.” The ferryman looked at him again and agreed: “You are a clever boy. I will carry you that way.”

Agayú put the boy on his shoulders and went into the river. As soon as he took his first steps he felt the boy gaining weight little by little, until he was a load he could barely hold. He made an enormous effort not to drop him and wanted to know the reason for so much weight. The boy answered that he should not complain and should respect what he had promised. Agayú said he could not bear it any longer. “Then look at me,” answered the boy. The ferryman turned his head, let him fall into the water and cried out: “Oduduwa!”

Floating on the water, the boy spoke to him: “As a reward for your effort, I give you the river.” Then he disappeared.

The river was the first great obstacle that humanity met on its way, and it was Agayú Sola who overcame it. When all the others gave up and left, he stayed on the bank, determined to master the current.

Agayú was a sturdy, mature farmer with the spirit of a young warrior. He thought for a moment, took his well sharpened axe and felled an enormous tree. From one of its branches he made a bonfire, and so fire came into being. With the trunk he put together a modest raft and some oars, and he launched himself onto the water, ready to defeat the current. At first it cost him a great deal, but he repeated the crossing so many times that he ended up doing it without difficulty. Thanks to him the two banks were joined, and the trade that arose brought him much wealth.

One day a woman arrived with wide skirts, a beautiful face and delicate manners. With a gesture she asked the boatman to take her across. Agayú, impressed, did not speak of the price of his service. He seated her in the boat and began to row. When they landed, she jumped out with grace and flirtatiousness and began to arrange her dress without looking at him. Since she said nothing to him, he asked her to pay for the trip. The woman undressed, lay back on the grass and offered to pay with her body. He accepted, and when they were done she told him that he had just been with Oshanlá.

Agayú was left speechless. She left without turning her head, took the road of Oshagriñan and climbed to the summit where her white palace stood, white like piled snow, and went on with her affairs without caring about that brief meeting. As time passed she began to feel the discomforts of pregnancy and gave birth to a boy whom she named Shangó. The name means “he who runs astray”: “Shan” means to run and “Go” means astray.

According to Yoruba, Shangó suffered fits of madness in which he ran without direction through the hills, and in the end he was embodied in a silent and solitary tree. His name thus holds his own image, and it also recalls the zigzag line of lightning.