How Osain Became an Herbalist

There are forests in heaven as there are on earth, and both hold herbs for good and evil.

Osain sat on the mat, watching intently as the diviner cast the òpèlè again and again. “Osain,” Orúnmila said, “the forest holds danger for you. For the next seven days do not leave this house.”

Osain smiled at Orúnmila, “I don’t doubt your words, old friend, but I am the forest. I was born when the first blade of grass broke through the earth, and with each living tree that rose, I became stronger. What danger could the forest hold for me? I am its master.”

“My words don’t fall on the floor, Osain,” Orúnmila warned. “Stay out of the forest. Better yet, just stay indoors.”

He ended the divination session, kissing his òpèlè and tucking it safely in his pocket. Quickly, he gathered his things and was heading for Osain’s door. Orúnmila’s haste to leave was obvious to the orisha, and it bothered him. “Why are you in such a rush, Orúnmila,” Osain asked. “Don’t you like my company?” He smiled an annoyed smile.

Orúnmila needed to leave, but realized his quick exit might seem offensive to the orisha. He turned to face him. “I’m sorry, Osain. I didn’t mean to be rude. Olófin called for me earlier today, and now I am off to heaven to divine for him.”

“I have never been to heaven. Take me with you!”

Orúnmila looked at Osain, and his worry was obvious; it creased his brow and narrowed his eyes. “Did you not listen to a word I said to you? You are in danger, Osain. You have to stay home.”

“You worry too much. What danger can there be in heaven? I will be with you and Olófin. How much safer could I be?”

Orúnmila was in a rush; he had no time to argue. “You are a creature of earth. The only way for you to travel with me to heaven is if I carry you, like I carry my bag.”

“Not a problem for me,” Osain said, jumping on Orúnmila’s back. In moments, they were at Olófin’s gates.

Orúnmila marked ebó for Olófin. “We need herbs to make omiero and a goat and a rooster for Eshu,” Orúnmila told him. “That is the sacrifice you must make.”

“It is wise to make ebó,” agreed Olófin. “Please, find what you need, and I will reward you well for your work. Take Osain with you to help you.”

So happy was Osain to be in heaven that he forgot about the warnings Orúnmila gave him, and Orúnmila was so focused on Olófin’s ebó that he gave it not a thought. To save time the two orishas went out together to find the items needed for Olófin’s ebó. Orúnmila went to the stables to find a goat, and Osain went to the forest to pick herbs. “Even in heaven,” Osain said, “there are herbs and plants. This is just like the earth’s forests.”

Enchanted by the woods, Osain wasn’t watching his step and he fell over a stray branch on the forest’s floor; he fell, impaling his leg on another thick, sharp root that stuck up from the dirt. It tore his flesh, ripping a huge gash, and shattering the bone inside. Pain like hot fire shot up his leg and into his chest; he screamed, sending all the birds and small animals in the forest scrambling fearfully. Orúnmila heard his shriek and came running to his side.

When he got to Osain, he was lying in blood and gore.

“Help me,” was all he said before fainting.

Days passed as Osain slept fitfully, trapped in the twilight just below consciousness. When he awoke, his leg was healing, but it was twisted and frozen in at an obscene angle. He couldn’t bend it.

“What am I to do?” wailed Osain. Orúnmila looked at him pitifully. “How can I work and support myself if I can’t walk like a normal man?”

Sadly, Orúnmila shook his head. “My friend,” he said, sadly, “I told you my words don’t fall on the floor. If you had listened, you would still have two good legs.” A single tear slid down Osain’s face while Orúnmila was lost in thought. “But in truth, I am just as responsible. After divining for you, I should have left you home. Wait: I will be right back.”

Orúnmila left for some time, returning with a goatskin bag. Opening it, Osain saw it was filled with small packets of dried herbs, each labeled carefully. “These are all the medicinal herbs of the forest. There are twenty-one for every ailment humans suffer, and there are twenty-one for every sickness not yet born. Study these, Osain, for you can support yourself as an herbalist, healing the sick.”

This is how Osain maimed his leg: This is how Osain became an herbalist. Everyone on earth sought the orisha for his cures.