Home »

UP FRONT | RELIGION: Brazilian high priest has S. Fla. following

A high priest of the Afro-Brazilian religion of Candomblé has gathered a small following in South Florida. He will speak at the Brazilian consulate.

BY CASEY WOODS

cwoods@MiamiHerald.com

Antonio Carlos Encarnac¸ao, spiritual son of a revered Brazilian Candomblé temple, caressed the creamy white cowrie shells on the small table in front of him.

''They can tell you how to stop bad omens, how to resolve a conflict or when to have patience,'' he said. ``They tell you what you need to know.''

In the shells' upturned faces, Encarnac¸ao -- a babalorixá, or high priest -- finds answers to marital woes, financial dilemmas and health worries. Since his arrival in South Florida late last year, he has gathered a small local following -- including several from outside the Brazilian community -- who come to him for readings, spiritual advice and to participate in the occasional Candomblé ceremonies he organizes in a follower's house.

''People here need someone who can give support to their spirituality,'' Encarnac¸ao, 43, said. ``I want to teach them the story of this religion that was so important to slaves and how it lived and survived in Brazil.''

Now, Encarnac¸ao's teachings will have an even broader audience through a lecture Thursday at the Brazilian consulate, part of a series on the Afro-Brazilian region of Bahia, organized by the Brazil-USA Cultural Center of Florida.

''He feels his mission is to promote the religion in a serious way,'' said follower Augusto Soledade, with whom Encarnac¸ao has been living since he came to Florida. ``That's basically what brought him here to the United States.''

NUMBERS UNCLEAR

Millions of Brazilians declare Candomblé as their religion, though it's unclear how many in the local Brazilian community are adherents to it. According to the 2000 Census, more than 30,000 Brazilians live in Miami-Dade and Broward counties, though members of the community estimate they number more than 150,000.

Candomblé, like Cuban Santeria and Haitian Vodou, has its roots in the African religions that slaves adapted to their tumultuous new lives in the Latin American colonies of Spain, France and Portugal. While it was eventually declared an official religion in Brazil, it was banned by the Catholic Church and was the target of centuries of persecution.

Although Candomblé has become more popular and its believers cover all races and social classes, it remains controversial to some Brazilians, particularly evangelical Christians who view it as devil worship. Even in cosmopolitan and diverse Miami, there are those who questioned why Encarnac¸ao would be invited to lecture as part of the culture center's Bahia series. At least one of the center's board members objected.

''Where before its followers were mostly black and poor, Candomblé is much more accepted today and you have followers of all social classes. . . . Nowadays, its main [opponent] is Protestant evangelism,'' said Adriana Sabino, president of the cultural center. ``But Candomblé was born in Bahia, and it is more than a religion; it's a cultural context.''

The religion centers on the worship of orixás, or gods, each with his or her own personality and affinities. Each person is born with a patron god or goddess, who is often revealed in a reading by a priest or priestess such as Encarnac¸ao.

Since its earliest days, the religion has been led by women. Encarnac¸ao says Candomblé began with two African princesses enslaved and then brought to the Brazilian region of Bahia around 1650.

''These women began performing the ceremonies for the orixás in the slave houses,'' he said. ``As the years have passed, men have become more involved in the religion, but only in certain things.''

In the Bahian city of Salvador, two women founded the Casa Branca, or White House, which today is considered the oldest of the Candomblé ''houses,'' or temples, Encarnac¸ao said.

Generations later, Encarnac¸ao's great-grandfather, the son of slaves, became a babalorixá, opening his own house.

It wasn't until Encarnac¸ao, then 27, was studying theater in Lisbon, Portugal, that he felt the call to deepen his role in the religion. He fell into a trance and fainted while walking on the street. Strangers took him to the hospital, where a doctor told him he was having a nervous breakdown. But Encarnac¸ao said he knew it was a ''manifestation,'' essentially a temporary possession by one of the orixás.

He returned to Brazil and went to a priestess at the Casa Branca for guidance, eventually training to become a Candomblé priest. Years later, with the necessary blessing from his spiritual ''mother,'' or priestess, he opened his own Candomblé house in Salvador.

In ceremonies he takes on the spirit of the orixás, sometimes wrapping his tall, thin frame in the folds of a gold half-dress for Oxum, goddess of rivers and motherhood, or in a white handkerchief top and a flowing white wrap for Ogum, god of iron. The ceremonies, which throb with constant drumming and trance-like dances, can last six hours or more.

He holds small ceremonies in Soledade's house, where he has set up small altars to several orixás.

FINDING A CALLING

His ministrations have led several of his South Florida followers to discover their calling to Candomblé just as he did, through a manifestation.

''I was in the house with [Encarnac¸ao], and suddenly I began to cry and cry,'' said Fabricio Lemos, 26, a Brazilian culinary student who is from Salvador. ``I didn't know what it was and I was startled, but he explained to me that it was my orixá.''

Lemos, like many of Encarnac¸ao's followers, found the babalorixá through his side business selling acarajés, a traditional Bahian hors d'oeuvre made of a fried bean paste. The fritters are often used as spiritual offerings in Candomblé ceremonies.

Encarnac¸ao says that the length of his stay in South Florida is the ''determination of the orixás'' but that he thinks he'll be returning to Brazil in December.

Before he returns, he hopes to reach more people, especially African Americans.

''Life here has severed their ties with the practices of their ancestors in Africa,'' he said. ``We need to preserve people's ties to their origins.''