Shell Reading

The altar from the Cajon, with a musician. All photos credited to Hector Delgado

So I may be dying in Cuba.  But don’t worry, it’ll be a swift death.

Padrino is in the middle, while Justin (left) receives counsel from a clairvoyant santero, who would later go into trance

I went to have my shells read at the padrino’s house a month or so ago.  It’s in a barrio humilde in Habana Vieja, the same place where the Cajon was.  A padrino (or a madrina) is a godfather, literally translated, and a spiritual leader.  They play friend, confidant, psychologist, marital counselor and interpreter.

I was told that the people I’m surrounded by aren’t good people; they want to do me harm.  For whatever reason, be it my personality, mannerisms, looks or whatever, they cannot stomach me.  Just because someone hugs you, he said, doesn’t mean they care about you; they’re ust trying to decieve you.  Someone will try to take something from me, and oh yeah, that family I have?  Where I’m the youngest?  Yeah they’re not as healthy as I think.  But I shouldn’t react too strongly to news, good or bad.

The doubled over man in white is entranced, during the Cajon al Muerte, while we look on in confusion and curiosity.

Thanks padrino, I’ll try to remain calm.

Gabby told me I got one of the worst signs in all of Santeria, and padrino said I got the worst reading out of anyone in our group.  At one point, Gabby stopped translating because he felt too bad.  I appreciate that, and him interjecting with his opinion that the shells weren’t right, but I still know enough Spanish to know what padrino said.

The only highlights?  The reason people want to deceive me and hurt me is my natural intelligence, of which I have a lot.  Oh and that death?  It’ll be swift, no worries.

When I first came out of the reading I was stoic to the max, and really rather melancholic.  Basically padrino took everything I’m afraid of and told me it’s true.  And I don’t even care about the death bit.

We all dance at the Cajon, in Padrino's house. We (at least 30 people) all fit in this small living room on a hot day.

Once I went back in to have my head cleansed and got my Changó necklace, I truly did feel better.  I suddenly felt wildly silly for having been even a little sad before.  Changó was protecting me, I was just supposed to avoid Santeria and trust in god.  Since then, we’ve joked about my need for a body guard, the meaningless nature of the hugs I get, and we wonder aloud in what ways they could possibly be deceiving me at any given time.

I wasn’t going to write about this, or a bunch of other topics, because I don’t want to be henpecked.  But ya know what?  Santeria is what’s going on down here, and my particular shell reading has become part of the fabric of the group.  So either you can learn to not worry, or I can learn to ignore the concern.