Homage To The Pretos-Velhos and Pretas-Velhas | “Elder Black Spirits"
Homage to Pai Juvêncio do Congo | "Father Juvêncio of Congo"(Representing all the pretos-velhos of Umbanda)
Anxiety, tension, and even despair had taken hold of all who lived. Horrible days were endured. The news that they were to be sold and transported to a new continent had left them tormented. Leaving their wives, their small children, and the land—this earth that had soaked up their sweat for years—was overwhelming. Death would have been a better option!
But there was no solution, and with weary, red eyes from so many tears shed, they walked like the living dead toward those responsible for their suffering.
The whips sliced through the air, striking their flesh and causing immense pain in those bodies already weakened by great spiritual suffering. Dark clouds loomed, the wind howled fiercely, and lightning flashed across the sky: it seemed as if nature itself was rebelling against such cruelty!
The hold was filled with chained slaves, suffering from hunger and thirst!
Then came the sound of an anchor being hoisted: it was the signal for departure to the unknown. The memories, the image of the little ones—everything was already becoming a distant past; perhaps they would never see them again!
Not long after, the strong waves and the raging sea revealed to the small ship that they were at sea. Within a few days, many succumbed to cholera; suffering intensified. Finally, signs of land appeared, and on the horizon, a city emerged: Bahia! It was the beginning of a new life!
The first few tumultuous and painful days were being overcome; only the faith in the Orixás (pronounced: oh-ree-SHAHS) and the strength of their guides gave them hope.
Years went by. The arduous work left them little time for reflection. What were once strong and agile bodies now showed signs of deep fatigue. Muscles no longer had the same elasticity. Their faces were already etched with wrinkles. Hair that was once black was now whitened, like the silver of the foam of the waves at sunset.
How were the children left behind? Did they survive? What about their companions? These were questions that the years did not erase or answer.
Suddenly, news brought the past rushing back: their master had died, and they would be sold again. Everything was starting over, but now they were thirty years older, and their bodies could no longer endure such exertion.
The new master did not understand this. Because the slaves could no longer work from dawn to dusk as they once had, one of them was condemned to die of hunger and thirst, tied to a tree trunk: Father Juvêncio of the Congo!
And to you, Father Juvêncio of the Congo, who on a tranquil night shared this narrative with us, we ask in this moment for your strength, protection, and humility, so that we may endure the hardships of this earthly life and forgive those who have wronged us.
Saravá to all the pretos-velhos!
Saravá, Father Juvêncio of the Congo!
-- Babalorixá Paulo Newton de Almeida --
Homage to Vovó Maria Conga | "Grandma Maria Conga"
(Representing all the pretas-velhas of Umbanda)
(Representando todas as pretas-velhas de umbanda)
In a simple village, in a small house made of clay and bamboo, there was a kind and friendly figure who enchanted everyone she met: she spent her days weaving, creating stars adorned by the moonlight.
She greeted everyone with warmth and always had a kind word of comfort to heal and uplift those in need. Her eyes sparkled like two precious jewels, filled with love and goodness.
In those tranquil nights, her voice and songs could be heard, calling upon the strength of nature, drawing energy from her surroundings to bring peace to those who sought her for spiritual help.
With the arruda (rue) plant, you would pray, and with scissors, you would cut away the evil eye, misfortunes, and illness. You restored health and life, just as you did for me, my beloved Grandmother Maria Conga, dear preta-velha, who walks along the paths of life.
-- Babalorixá Paulo Newton de Almeida --