The War between Fire and Water

Beneath all water and land the fires still burn.

Fire and Water fought; the world trembled in fear; and the young woman over whose affections they dueled watched with morbid delight.

No one blamed them for their rivalry: her beauty was darkly seductive—her skin a deep, rich onyx, smooth like silk but softer. Her body curved gently, full where it was meant to be full and thin where it was meant to be thin. Childbearing hips swayed gently when she walked, like a slow metronome and hypnotic in their movement. Her breasts were round and full, bursting from her robes like two ripe melons—breasts meant for the suckling of children but perfect for the temptation of men. Her face was perfectly round with cheekbones so high they seemed unnatural; and her eyes were two pools of dark ink, dewy and reflective. She was the perfect woman, all things beautiful bound in one body of flesh. Had not the Fire and the Rain been warring for her love, the entire world of men might have fought for a chance with her; instead, the men and their families cowered fearfully, for day by day the war grew greater and more destructive.

What began as a competitive courtship grew into an argument, and soon, a fight; and even that grew until Fire and Water made the world their battleground. Tongues of flame rose up and licked the earth, scorching all it tasted; fire lashed out at the water, and blistering plumes of steam fought back. Water rose up with his full strength, emptying the oceans and the rivers and the seas until they were dry. The Fire burned and the Water splashed, and what was not reduced to ash became mush as water dampened the flames’ fuel. When smoke obscured heaven’s view of the earth, Olófin took notice. Angrily, he came down between the two elements using his body as a barrier between them and ordered, “Enough!”

Even the wet, charred mountains rumbled with the strength of his voice. Fire died down to a small flame while Water drew back into a single drop. They stood and looked at the destruction all around them, smoke and steam rising into a hazy sky. The woman hid her face shyly behind a feathered fan, only her eyes peeking through the thick peacock feathers. She giggled in spite of the destruction around her. Her name was Lust; and lust cared not who or what got hurt in her pursuit.

“This has to stop. It has to stop now!” Olófin ordered. The Fire wiggled nervously, and the Water rippled in shame; Lust giggled and walked away.

“But I love her,” said the Fire. “And no one knows passion more than I.”

“I love her,” said the Water. “And no one knows the depth of emotion in the heart more than I.”

Olófin sighed. “She loves neither of you, but Lust does what she was created to do—she enflames the heart with lust and toys with one’s emotions. End this war now. Give me nine days to figure this out. At the end of this time I will know to whom this woman belongs.”

Olófin left the two elements standing in face-off, but neither dared attack the other. Fire was the first to back down, and he went to see the diviners.

“I am in love,” he said, his flames growing hotter as he thought about the woman. “And my enemy, Water, fights for her hand as well.”

The old diviner frowned. “Water is not your enemy. Lust is the enemy that divides you both. Still, let us see what the orishas have to say.” Carefully he cast the cowries on the mat. “If you want to win this war with Water you must make ebó: a goat to Elegguá, a bolt of white cloth, a bolt of black cloth, a bag of machetes, and plenty of money. Thus will you have the strength to win!”

Fire left the diviner’s mat, his flames growing hotter as lust moved his loins. “Look at me!” he said to himself. “I am strong. I am powerful. The Water cannot hold me back. I don’t need to make ebó. I just need to wait for Olófin to make his decision. Lust is hot, like fire, and only Fire can be with her without being destroyed!”

Water made his way slowly to the diviner’s house; when he got there, Fire was gone but the path was charred where he had walked. He knew he was the weaker of the two elements; but with lust in his heart, Water hoped there was a chance to win her hand. “I need help,” he said.

“With what?” asked the diviner.

“Fire and I are in love with the same woman, and I am afraid she favors him over me. Olófin is trying to decide to whom the woman’s hand and heart belong, but I want to make ebó to overcome the Fire.”

Again, carefully the diviner cast his cowries. “To win this woman’s heart you must make ebó: a goat to Elegguá, a bolt of white cloth, a bolt of black cloth, a bag of machetes, and plenty of money.”

Water fed Elegguá gladly and gave him the cloth and machetes for which he asked. When his ebó was done, he emptied out his pockets and gave the diviner every penny he had. “Is this enough?” he asked the old man.

“It is more than enough,” said the diviner.

That is when Olófin’s call went out over the earth: “My decision is made. Water and Fire are to come to me, and I will give Lust’s hand in marriage to one of the two.”

Quickly, Fire and Water made their way to Olófin’s palace.

Lust filled their hearts as they traveled; it fed Fire’s flames, and as he ran through the world he burned and charred everything he touched. Water’s heart was so full of lust that he thought he would burst; instead, he spread and grew as Elegguá unfolded the white cloth in the sky, and he became the white clouds floating lazily over the earth. Fire saw Water traveling in the sky, and he ran faster across the earth, growing larger and hotter, his smoke rising into the sky and blotting out even the white clouds. Water was angry, and his lustful anger made him darken; Elegguá spread the black cloth over the white, and soon Water was the angry storm, the dark clouds bursting over the earth in a downpour.

Fire tried to hide but with all the trees burnt and charred there was nowhere to hide; and with the earth wet and muddy, he could not withdraw to its center. Fire died that day in the rain, and Water was the only one to enter Olófin’s palace.

He had no choice but to give Lust’s hand and heart to Water, and so full of love and passion was he that he spread over the earth, refilling all the oceans and ponds and lakes and rivers. Because Water was the only one to make ebó, he became the most powerful and won the war for Lust’s heart; and because lust itself is an overwhelming emotion, bringing destruction, even now there are times that the waters of the world rise up and overflow, bringing devastation and desolation with its floods.

Even the Fire comes back, enflamed with lust; but because the water made ebó and he did not, fire never wins. It always dies, and the water goes on forever.