Why The Idé Of Orúnmila Wards Off Death

Ikú had a voracious appetite.

Nothing sated her hunger, and every five days she went through the world gorging herself on whatever was in her path. Fathers wailed, mothers cried, children ran, and elders sighed. Everyone resigned themselves to a life of being little more than food for the greedy spirit of death.

Orúnmila was angry and he divined. He marked ebó with kola nuts and strong liquor, and he gave Eshu a wide array of meats and fruits. He put everything outside his front door and went to bed, assured that Ikú’s defeat was imminent.

That morning, he found Eshu outside his front door, eating greedily. “Eshu,” Orúnmila said, “I made ebó to you for help. Ikú has gone wild and eats everyone she can find. I am afraid that if she is not stopped she will destroy every human being until they are all gone.”

“Even worse,” said Elegguá, “you yourself are human now. She will feast on you if you are not careful.”

Orúnmila shuddered. He had no intention of being food, at least not yet. “Can you help me?”

“Of course I can help you. I can do anything. But you need to cook more food, Orúnmila. And do it quickly, and bring it here to me. Because today I am afraid that Ikú will come for you and all your babalawos.”

Orúnmila spent his morning slaving over a stove. He seasoned and cooked every type of meat he had, putting it in a jícara before serving it to Eshu. He called to his babalawos to bring more meats, and they did as he asked. Eshu tasted everything Orúnmila cooked and set the rest on the road leading to Orúnmila’s front door. When the sun hung high in the afternoon sky and the last bit of food Orúnmila had in his home had been cooked, Elegguá told him, “Go back inside and hide. Let me do the rest.”

No sooner was Orúnmila safely tucked away with his babalawos than Ikú came down the road leading to Orúnmila’s house; she walked toward the front door, sniffing the air. Hungrily, she emptied the contents of each jícara into her mouth and howled in anger when its contents only teased her appetite. Nothing sated her.

“Ikú,” said Elegguá, “what is wrong with you?”

“I am hungry,” she screamed, pulling at her hair in anger. “Nothing I eat fills me. The more I eat, the more I want. I will eat this entire world if need be to feel full.”

“Sit here with me and eat,” said Eshu. “I have plenty of food left.”

“No, Eshu, I have eaten everything laid out on this path. Nothing filled me. I am going to eat Orúnmila, and when I am done with him I am going to eat all his babalawos. Then, maybe, I will be full.”

“You ate everything in the jícaras and still you are not full?”

“I am hungry,” she roared.

“All that food you ate and still you want to eat Orúnmila and his children?”

“Yes!” she cried.

“What an evil creature you are,” said Elegguá, “to want to do that.”

“Evil?” she hissed. “I only do what Olódumare has charged me to do.”

“Yes, but Orúnmila himself prepared all those tasty dishes from the meats of all the sacrifices his babalawos offered him, and even after such kindness you want to eat them all? Olódumare might have something to say to you about that!”

Ikú froze, her face twisted in anger and surprise.

“You cannot eat someone who served you,” Eshu said. “I will go immediately to Olódumare and tell him how evil you have become. I’d be very afraid if I were you, for although you are immortal, Olódumare’s powers far outweigh your own. God might not be able to remove and destroy death in the mortal world, but he can make you wish you were dead.”

“That man Orúnmila tricked me!” she screamed.

“No, he didn’t trick you. He divined. He made ebó. And now that you accepted his kindness, you can feast neither on him nor on his children, at least not until Olódumare himself says it is their time to die.”

In anger, Ikú turned and started to flee. “By the way, Ikú,” Elegguá called out, “people wearing green and yellow bracelets on their left wrists are Orúnmila’s children. Those are the ones you cannot eat.”

That same day, humans all over the world put on the idé (bracelet) of Orúnmila, and Ikú’s gluttonous hunger remained unsated. She was a miserable creature, crying in despair.

Since that day, Orúnmila’s children and his babalawos have worn the green and yellow idé on their left wrists, and when Ikú seeks to feed on those, she checks with Olódumare to see if it is their time. Only if Olódumare gives his consent can she take one who wears his bracelet.

And Ikú remains hungry.