Two Sides of Me

by Nora Sarel

  “We are from a faraway place, from Jerusalem. Do you know where Jerusalem is?”

  “Move, you’re blocking other people’s path,” he continued sternly.

  “We’re already here, please, we won’t come again, just let us in today,” Liam went on, and then played his last card, “we have something important to say to the shaman, it’s a matter of life and death,” he said, not knowing how right he was.

  “OK, but not everyone at the same time,” the guard surrendered.

  They quickly split into three groups. “Red, go, it’s important to you,” Liam said to Gadi. “You and I will go first; the rest will go in later.”

  The others stayed at the entrance, waiting for the guard’s mercy. Liam and Gadi disappeared into the darkness. The candlelight showed them the way and they joined the group of worshipers. Without saying a word, they sat beside them on the cold floor and nodded at the others. Only after taking their place they noticed that the two backpackers they had met earlier were there too. Ido and Omri, on the other hand, weren’t.

  In the dark smoke-filled room, the group of men and women crowded together. The women wore wide dresses and the men wore white robes. The shaman stood out more than others as he was sitting on a small stone forum, slightly elevated, so he could see his congregation. He could barely place his buttocks, which spilled to the sides, making him lean against the western wall. Above him was a golden crucifix and images of Christ on both its sides. The large shaman, whose upper torso was bare and head was wrapped in a dotted cloth above his peeking eyes, looked like a wizard from a fantasy, the kind one could see in horror movies. On his chest hung a seashell necklace and his every movement made sea-like rustles. The ceremony began with a soft prayer song without any announcement. First, a group of women in white dresses entered the room dancing, they wore colorful necklaces, each had an elegant headdress and veil. They held bowls and danced in a circle around the room’s main pole so they could show all the participants the bowl’s contents. They could see rooster heads with their crests still attached.

  “Gross,” Liam said.

  “Quiet,” Gadi said angrily and asked one of the participants sitting next to him, “Who is this food for?”

  “The Orixás,” was the answer, “each one will feed his Orixásso they won’t get angry.”

  “What is an Orixás?” Gadi kept asking, then regretted his questions since they seemed to be the only ones who came to the ceremony and didn’t know.

  “The Orixás is a God,” his neighbor, a well-dressed young man, replied. A band of conga drums sitting by the shaman boomed loudly, muffling Gadi’s questions.

  “That was frightening,” Liam said. Yet Gadi ignored him as he was fascinated by his surroundings and stared at the women holding the bowls. They disappeared behind a curtain.

  “Now they will feed the Orixás, there is a special place for doing that,” the neighbor completed his explanation. What is a man like him doing here? Gadi asked himself. He looks like my dad. If we hadn’thave met here I would have thought he’s a bank teller, “we’re all faithful to Candomblé,” the neighbor added, as if he read Gadi’s thoughts.

  The women were then replaced by men, who had until then surrounded the shaman. They too started dancing around the pole, moving as a single twisting body. Each participant tried connecting with his Orixás by singing and dancing. First, they moved gently and lightly, but their movements gradually increased and became bolder, turning into a swirl, finally into an exhilarating trance. The women, returning with empty bowls, joined their dance. All waved their hands in the air, side to side, stretched their bodies up high and bent it over, almost sprawling on the ground. The rhythm of the drums slowly accelerated, becoming louder and louder. The dancers as if left their earthly bodies and were mere spirits. They danced with their eyes shut, attuned to the steady beat of the drums, circled the pole again, twirling and twisting, a never-ending spin. Each sent energies to the other participants by hugging and touching them. Then, the person they had touched would join the dancers. Slowly, there were less and less worshipers sitting on the ground, waiting for someone to approach them and bestow their energy.

  “I understand the Orixás is the god and the shaman are his earthly extension,” Liam said to Gadi, “everyday they worship another Orixás. Today they’re celebrating an Orixás called Omolu, the son of Nana.”

  “Who is Nana? Where did you get that from?”

  “She told me,” he pointed at his neighbor, who sat impatiently for someone to touch her and invite her to dance the Orisha dance.

  “He had leprosy and the goddess Yemanjá …”

  “Wait, you lost me,” Gadi stopped him, “What’s the Yemanjá have to do with this?”

  “Do you remember the ceremony in Rio, where they worshiped the sea goddess Yemanjá? So, Omolu suffered from leprosy and the goddess cured him.”

  “It’s hard to hear you with all this noise. What did you say?”

  “I said Yemanjá washed his face with sea water, but he still had scars which he hides with a mask. Look, that’s why our shaman is also wearing one. He’s the sea Orixás, which is also why he’s wearing a seashell necklace. However, because he was also cured of leprosy he’s connected to matters of health.”

  “And now the shaman is the Orixás?”

  “Sort of, he’s dressed as the Orixás, tries to sense him and behave like him.”

  “What a mess. Look, they look like normal people, like you and I, and still they believe all this nonsense, dress up, get into trances. Unbelievable, like a loony bin, living their mythology.”

  The dances kept on going, the drums grew louder. The rhythm was steady and repetitive, like a mantra. The dances were similar and continuous. Everybody seemed addicted to it, as if transported into another level of consciousness. Their sweat dripped on the floor, many were shaking, their entire body contorting in quick movements. Some fell and kept trembling, then lost consciousness, their clothes were wet, and they seemed exhausted. Although some were old and crippled, they weren’t about to give up.

  A thin shriveled woman, who had been dancing for a long time, slowly approached Gadi and Liam. Her scrawny body was covered in a large dress and she prayed to her Orixás with every fiber of her being.

  “She looks very old, at least as old as my grandma, and still she looks as healthy as an ox,” Gadi told later, when retelling the story. She danced towards them, controlled by her movements, threw her limbs into the air and made strong and deep singing sounds. Suddenly, she boldly grabbed Gadi’s hand and squeezed it, singing and dancing, her eyes shut and her face lifted high. Gadi reluctantly stood up and began moving unwillingly, very embarrassed. He tried avoiding her touch, which was unpleasant for him, and searched for someone who could help him escape her. That very moment he saw Ido.

  How did he come in? when? He wondered for a moment and then called out “Ido.” However, Ido’s expressions showed that although he wanted to, he couldn’t help Gadi. The woman would not let him go, and despite her scrawniness, gripped him tightly and painfully. Her shakes and vibrations twisted more and more. Gadi shut his eyes and let her do as she pleased. He could hear yells in the room, singing voices were mingled with cries, and the circle of dancers widened. Despite the room’s dimness, between the shut window-shades Gadi could see flashes of light resembling fireworks. The woman who danced with him came closer, hugged his waist and placed her curly hair on his chest, until they seemed to be one. For a moment he tried freeing himself. He leaned to her and yelled in Hebrew, “stop it, let me go.” But she would not let him go and their dance went on for nearly an hour, until Gadi had almost lost his senses. All of a sudden, her legs weakened, and she fell to the ground, pulling Gadi with her.

  “Não tenha medo – don’t be afraid,” she said while they were both lying on the ground, “now, you too are protected by the Orixás Omolu.” The other dancers kept moving as
if nothing had happened, bumping into them, accidentally kicking them. After she mentioned the Orixás’ name, the shaman approached the woman and attempted to soothe her with soft words and strokes, as if wanting to bring her back to reality. Gadi managed to stand up and lift his partner. She parted from him with a kiss and Gadi could breathe with relief. However, the other dancing worshipers would not let him go and pushed him back into the Orixás’ circle, so the living chain would not be broken. A smell of incense filled the room and clung onto Gadi’s clothes. Occasionally, the shaman prayed out loud, and at times the worshipers replied singing and calling ‘Amen.’ Some shouted in a terrifying voice, as if they were possessed. Their eyes rolled backwards, their irises and pupils disappeared leaving only blank eyeballs. Some lost control and had to be protected by their friends so they wouldn’t hurt themselves. The hall was crowded with dancers, and those who didn’t participate were leaning against the walls.

  Gadi approached the shaman, wanting to touch him, so that he too could loosen up. However, the people around them prevented him from doing so. When he was close enough to the shaman, he stretched out his hand and yelled at him in English and Portuguese, “You’re the Orixás of medicine, please heal my heart, help me find my mother.”

  The shaman removed the veil concealing his face, looked at Gadi with a piercing gaze and asked, “did you shout, my son?”

  “Help me find my mother.”

  “Where are you from?” the shaman tried to be heard despite the noise.

  “I’m from Israel, you are powerful and can help me. I’m asking you to look for the woman who gave birth to me.”

  “Is she Brazilian?”

  “Yes,” his reply was clear and piercing.

  “Come to me for counseling on Monday. We can’t talk here.”

  “I can’t wait until Monday, please.”

  Gadi was emotionally overwhelmed and confused. He felt a strange closeness to these people and Orixás Omolu. Later, when he told of what had happened, he explained he didn’t know what was this energy that overtook him. He understood that the woman who had dragged him into the circle was probably the God’s messenger. “I don’t have any other explanation as to what happened there,” he tried excusing himself.

  The shrills around only became louder and louder. The noise was deafening, the drums rolled and the dancers swirled around the room as if they could no longer feel their bodies.

  Then, the big shaman stood up and walked to the middle of the room. He faced each corner of the room and in each he stopped to pray, roaring like a wounded animal. Dozens of people kept dancing around him. Someone handed him a rooster and he spun it around his head. “Just like the religious Jews do in Jerusalem on Yom Kippur,” Ido said to Omri. When the shaman raised his other hand, the crowd said Amen and then fell silent. Only the rooster, held from its feet, cried, his voice echoing through the large room.

  The shaman turned to the crowd. His face was exposed, he raised his forehead and stared at the worshipers with a piercing look. The rooster was still in his hand, begging for its life, making broken clucking sounds. Suddenly, the shaman threw the rooster down, who ran for its life, and then began throwing the seashells dangling from his neck, one after the other, while crying and begging for the Orixás’ help.

  “What is your name, son?” he addressed Gadi.

  “Bernardo.”

  “And what is your mother’s name?”

  “Nessia.”

  “What do you know about her?” there was a silence and everyone carefully listened to Gadi.

  “I know she was sixteen when she had me, and she gave me up for adoption to an Israeli family. She has green-brown eyes. Up until a couple of months ago she lived in Recife. Now she has left and works in a different city.”

  The shaman turned to the crowd and asked for help. “Who knows Nessia?” he roared.

  “Nessia, Nessia, Nessia,” they replied.

  Someone caught the rooster and handed it back to the shaman. At once he beheaded the rooster with his bare hands, which were now covered with blood, and went into ecstasy. The headless rooster tried running away, however, his flutters made him fall to the floor and his soul returned to the Orisha. Gadi’s body was shaking. Sweat dripped from his red face, and a shiver sent down his spine. The shaman then asked him to sign with his hands movements that were symbolic to expelling obstacles from his path and demonstrated how to perform them. Gadi stood and did as best as he could to please the shaman. He waved his hands as he would have chased a street cat away. “Shoo, go away, get out of here,” he said in Hebrew, and the crowd joined him.

  “I can’t believe it, he, too, got into an ecstasy? What should we do?” Ido tried asking Omri for advice.

  And then, the impossible happened. A young boy, incredibly similar to Gadi, stepped out of the crowd, stood by the shaman, closed his eyes and said loudly in fluent Portuguese, “My mother’s name is Hortensia, her nickname is Nessia. She and I have green eyes. My mother had also left Recife, and my name is also Bernardo.”

  “Nessia, Nessia, Nessia,” the crowd roared.

  “The Orixás has helped Bernardo find his mother,” the great shaman called and as if bewitched the whole crowd lifted their hands up in the air and yelled, “Nessia, Nessia, Nessia, Nessia.” Then the people rocked from side to side and began singing and dancing. The shaman spread out his arms and placed his large palms on Gadi and Bernardo’s hunched heads. They peeked at each other from between his hands.

  Gadi was confused. He felt the earth shaking beneath his feet, but he knew in his very core, that he had found his brother. Ido, Omri and Liam, as if previously rehearsed, approached them from different sides of the room. The crowd bustled and danced. The two Bernardos stood on each of the shaman’s sides, as if they were the only people in the world. Gadi closed his eyes, unwilling to believe all this was happening, and then the shaman declared they were brothers and sent them to figure things out. “Nessia, Nessia, Nessia, Nessia,” the crowd kept yelling, and the two, who were released from the shaman’s grip, fell into each other’s arms and wept.

  “Mom, have I found my soulmate – I have found my brother,” Gadi shouted into his phone when he stepped outside.

  “And Nessia?” Dafne asked, her voice shaking.

  “I love you,” Gadi yelled into the receiver before the call was disconnected.

  The next day he wrote a long letter to Dona Anna but never got a reply.

  CHAPTER 18

  At the end of a steep one hundred and forty-six steps stairway, standing in front of a gray scratched door, Bernardo declared, “that’s it, we’re here.” The sun shone its first rays and the pale dawn broke through the night. Gadi and Ido, who was chosen to accompany Gadi, heaved and sweated as they climbed after Bernardo who was quick and swift. When they arrived at the top of the hill and stood in front of the door, they looked down to see how far they had climbed. However, except for Recife’s sparkling lights, they couldn’t see anything but the last three steps they had just taken.

  “Someone really wanted to come in,” Ido said and pointed at the scratch marks on the door. “Not me, although I’ve been looking for this house my entire life,” Gadi said.

  “Now we’ll get to see if you missed out on anything,” Ido replied. “It’s much more complicated than that,” Gadi tried to explain, yet immediately stopped himself, knowing that even a friend as close as Ido could not understand this situation.

  “Cachorro ou gatto – dog or cat?” Gadi asked in his broken Portuguese, while pointing at a chubby creature, sleeping in a snuggled ball, not showing the slightest interest in the guests who had arrived.

  “Mao gatto,” Bernardo said proudly, shaking off his weariness. “He’s part of the family. I’ll introduce you to the rest.”

  “The cat looks good considering the neighborhood it lives in,” Ido whispered to Gadi who agreed with him.

>   When the door opened no one waited behind it. The house was dark, and they couldn’t see a thing. “Are you excited?” Ido asked when Gadi sighed.

  “I am perhaps a bit excited, but I feel strange more than anything. I don’t feel like I belong here, it feels like an anthropological tour.”

  Bernardo disappeared without saying a word and the two stayed put. “I can’t really understand what’s going on here,” Ido said.

  “There’s nothing to understand. I think everyone is still sleeping and he went to wake them up.”

  “If we take one step further, we might step on someone. Look to your right, something’s moving there, is that a kid?” Ido asked and pointed at the corner of the room. As the cat, it seemed that all the house’s residents were deep asleep. The silence was broken when they entered and heard Bernardo’s voice. Then, they heard the cranky voices of the siblings he had just woken up.

  “He’s probably explaining to them who we are,” Gadi said.

  “If he would turn on the light it would much be easier,” Ido chuckled, “I don’t think they even have electricity.”

  Gadi shushed Ido and tried to make out the voices he heard.

  “Can you hear, he just woke up the children. I think it’s a girl, he’s telling her something and she’s asking him questions. Imagine you’re sleeping and suddenly someone wakes you up and tells you, get up, your new brother came to visit, even though you know that you don’t have other brothers. Can you even imagine what they’re going through right now?” Gadi expressed his emotions.

  “Embarrassing, ha? What do you say in such a situation? Seems very awkward.”

  Gadi tried following Barnardo and when his eyes adjusted, he could identify the people in the room. “I can see the girl, she’s already sitting up. Can you see her shadow? Now he’s waking up someone else.”

  After a few minutes they could see the girl’s shadow standing up. “Can you see, she’s lighting an oil lamp.” They could smell smoke spreading around the house.