Iwori Di

The children of Obatalá, called aguemas, lived in peace and joy in the land of Aborini Ifá. In another land, Iwori Woyobo, lived the children of Olokun, who complained endlessly to their father: according to them, the aguemas disturbed them and gave them no peace.

Olokun ignored them. He felt very strong because he had a monster at his service, and the power of that creature filled him with pride. But once he wanted to check the complaints for himself and set out toward Aborini Ifá, singing as he advanced.

Obatalá was fishing nearby. He heard Olokun's song and concluded that he was coming furious and with great strength; he feared that Olokun was coming to destroy his children. The aguemas, for their part, began to leap and pray. Obatalá heard them with joy and answered them with a prayer that closed with the words Ire Ashegun Ota.

On hearing it, Olokun was filled with anger. He appeared before Obatalá and threatened him: he would put an end to the aguemas of that land and also to the other children of Obatalá, who would be left alone in the world.

Obatalá understood that he was lost, since he could do nothing against the strength of the monster. He wept with anguish at the thought of losing his children.

Then he took his agogó and set out along the roads, playing it and chanting calls. He reached the house of Osain, who, on learning of the problem, offered his help. He gave him some herbs and sent him to Orunmila, saying that he too would support him with his power to overcome the difficulty.

Obatalá told Orunmila everything that had happened, including Olokun's threat. Orunmila consulted the oracle and the odu Iwori Wode came out. He prescribed an ebbó and assured him that Olokun would calm down. When it was finished, he ordered him to take the ebbó to Enifa and scatter what it contained there; corn was among its elements.

The corn sprouted at once, through the power of Osain, and soon was full of ears. The aguemas ran through the cornfield and bumped into each other, making an enormous noise.

Olokun already had his monster ready to fight. When he looked out toward Onika he found everything full of corn and thought it was an enormous army with its weapons. Terrified, he called his monster and explained that they could not fight against that and that they had to make peace with Obatalá, so that his children could go on living in the world as before.

That is how the odu came to be Ire Ashegun Ota.

A certain woman had lived her loves with complete freedom for years and had two grown sons, each with a partner they planned to marry. Later she met a man, fell in love and they were married. Two more children were born of the marriage. After some time, the husband began a relationship with another woman who lived near his home. This wore her out so much that she refused all contact with him.

She herself then looked for another man, but her husband was violent and she feared he would kill her; she even suspected that he harmed her with witchcraft. Even so, she was clear that he, despite his conduct, did not want to fight. More than once she thought of showing up where the other woman lived, getting her husband out of that house and beating them both. Her children held her back and she did nothing, although violent outbursts had happened in their marriage before.

At last she resolved to leave. But first she visited Orunmila, who prescribed an ebbó for her and gave her several recommendations. With that, her problem was settled.

A very beautiful woman worked at a bar. The customers courted her, but she accepted none of them. One of them behaved differently: he had a few drinks, paid, left the change without claiming it and never spoke to her. Over time, that attitude intrigued her. One day she waited for him holding the change and placed it in front of him. That is how they began to talk, and he admitted that he did love her, but that he approached in a different way. They ended up living together.

Time passed and she felt trapped and missed her freedom. She went to an awó, who consulted for her and found this odu. He told her to make an ebbó and organize a party, telling her husband it was for the Jimaguas. She had to invite her friends and, although the announced hour was 8, begin at 6. She followed the instructions exactly and even hired an orchestra.

At the announced hour the husband arrived and did not find the children's gathering he expected, but the customers of the bar. He thought, “How ridiculous I have made myself!”, and, ashamed, he left and never returned.

Freedom is not libertinism.