We present to the international audience Djamila Ribeiro’s series of articles on the orixás, originally published in Folha de S.Paulo throughout 2024. In these texts, the philosopher delves into the richness of Afro-Brazilian mythology to reflect on fundamental values for the present. Through the stories of the orixás, she reveals how these ancestral narratives carry lessons of resistance, courage, transformation, and the pursuit of balance.

The orixás are not merely mythical figures; they are symbols of forces in motion, of battles fought both in the spiritual realm and in everyday life. In her writing, Djamila rescues these teachings and connects them to urgent issues such as social justice, identity, and the fight against structural racism.

By bringing to light stories like that of Oxaguiã, the “orixá builder of palaces,” she invites us to reflect on nonconformity as a driving force for change and on the need for continuous improvement—both individual and collective. Just as the young Yoruba warrior did not accept what was already built but always sought something more solid and grand, his story challenges us not to passively accept the world as it is but to act consciously to transform it.

More than a cultural recovery, Djamila Ribeiro’s series is a call for the values of the orixás to inspire a more just present and future, strengthening ancestry as a tool for social transformation. Enjoy it!

Yoruba mythology tells the story of an orixá who wandered through the world without a path, collecting pain and enemies along the way.

Oxaguiã was born without a mother or father, shaping himself from nothing, constantly getting into conflicts with those he encountered. He was rebellious and idealistic, but above all, he was known for his fiery temper and short fuse. He lived each day as if it were his last, aimless and unrestrained. If he were to die, so be it—but only in the heat of battle.

After countless fights, this warrior eventually crossed paths with Iku, the spirit of death. Iku offered him a cool head, which he accepted immediately, weary of the burden of his hot temper. However, this new head affected him in a different way—he became withdrawn, resigned, melancholic. While before, his tragic end might have come in battle, now, with his cold head, death loomed over him constantly.

Perhaps if that warrior had lost one of his fights and died, or even given up on life, we would not be telling his story today. But at a crossroads in search of his purpose, he met Ogum, the great warrior blacksmith, who armed him with a sword that drove Iku away.

Ogum then attempted to fix Oxaguiã’s cold head, tightening it so firmly that it fused with the old hot-headed one, creating something new—neither hot nor cold, but balanced.

This itã—a mythological narrative—of Oxaguiã teaches us the importance of balance. It speaks of fighting for one’s ideals, but with strategy. Of the need for introspection and self-reflection, but with an eye toward action. It teaches about maturity and focusing on what truly matters.

The leadership of General Ogum made a profound difference in the young orixá’s life. Oxaguiã began to follow him, and the stories of their adventures together tell us much about loyalty. On one occasion, Ogum was on the battlefield, fighting for the people’s survival, and tasked Oxaguiã with returning to his city to gather more supplies.

Upon arriving in Ifé, Oxaguiã discovered that the people had just completed the construction of a palace in Ogum’s honor. The young orixá praised the palace’s beauty but argued that Ogum would take a long time to return from war—enough time for the people to build an even larger, stronger, and more magnificent palace. Using the power of his sword, he struck the palace walls, bringing them down completely.

Oxaguiã returned to the battlefield the next day and, after some time, returned to the city once more. There, he found a new palace—grander, more beautiful, and sturdier than the last. Yet, even then, he demolished it again, demanding the construction of an even more complete structure.

He repeated this process many times until Ogum finally returned from battle and found a palace truly worthy of him. The city’s residents had rebuilt so many times that they became known as perfectionist engineers. Their mastery of construction grew so advanced that they began working in other communities, bringing economic prosperity.

Reflecting on this itã of Oxaguiã—also known as the “orixá builder of palaces”—I see how his relentless drive for improvement serves as a powerful force against stagnation. His story embodies a creative and insatiable pursuit of progress.

Typically, Oxaguiã is depicted holding a sword in one hand, a shield on his forearm, and a pilão (mortar) in another. This symbolism is striking—on one side, weapons for battle; on the other, the tool with which he pounds his yam to share in communal feasts.

After his success alongside Ogum, Oxaguiã set out with a loyal companion to establish his own kingdom in the city of Ejibô, where he built new legacies. In one of his most famous stories, his reign suffered greatly after his guards committed an injustice against his faithful squire, demonstrating that loyalty and the pursuit of justice are central to the community blessed by this orixá.

In Brazil, followers of candomblé honor Oxaguiã on Fridays, wearing white. To greet him, we say Epa Babá! At his feet, we ask for his power of renewal and the courage to face the great battles of life. As the saying goes, when Oxaguiã enters a war, it is to win—nothing less.

May his lessons on balanced nonconformity inspire us all. Wishing everyone a good Friday. Epa Babá!