Episode 109 – As Above, So Below

Episode 109 Show Notes

Source: Yoruban Mythology

• This week on MYTH, we’re going to break in this new year with a creation myth from a new pantheon – the Yoruba people of western Africa.  You’ll learn how much gold it takes to reach the sky, how much sand it takes to fill the ocean, and how much clay it takes to build a person.  Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’ll fight over colors with a new trickster god. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory.  Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them.  This is Episode 109, “As Above, So Below”.  As always, this episode is not safe for work.
• We’re still early in this new year so I figured a creation story might be appropriate. I got a stack of lovely books for my holiday festivities, including the source for this week’s story: African Tales edited by Jake Jackson. This particular tale comes from the Yoruba people of western Africa (especially around Nigeria) and is one of their creation stories. As an FYI, I had dental surgery a few days ago, and my jaw is still feeling it a little, so apologies if I sound a little off this week. Anywho.
• In the beginning of things, before the universe proper existed, there was only the sea and the sky, an endless stretch of vast empty space and uninhabited marshland. There might not have been any people, but there were already a few gods. More correctly, these figures are known as Orishas (oh-reesh-uhs), which are entities that reflect some aspect of Olodumare (oh-low-du-mar-ay), the important state of existence and also serve as intermediaries between the mortal world and the supernatural. Olorun was the wisest of them and thus was also the ruler of the sky above. Olokun was his counterpart in the seas and marshlands below, being the most powerful goddess in existence. 
• At that time, these two kingdoms were entirely distinct and separate, and they coexisted peacefully without any turmoil or conflict between the regions or the ruling deities. Olorun barely bothered to notice anything that existed beneath his glorious skies and Olokun loved her vast, empty oceans and marshes. No life existed there, but neither god nor goddess thought anything of it. Neither felt that anything was missing. Things might have continued on in this way forever if only this god and goddess had been around. They were not alone, however – the younger god Obatala was far less satisfied with the status quo. Gazing out over the emptiness of existence from his spot in the sky, Obatala thought it all pretty much sucked ass. 
• The young god had a lot more imagination, and he thought everything would be much nicer with a little variation and he mused aloud to no one on this random section of timeless existence. “Bored bored bored BORED! This whole place is murky and dreary and dull. Surely we can do better than this bullshit, right? Like, I bet some mountains over there would really brighten up that horizon. And maybe adding some forests over there would break up the monotony a little. This place needs a total overhaul, but I bet we could get it nice and pretty, a perfect home for all sorts of living creatures we could add to the place.” Having come to a decision in his own mind, Obatala decided he would go talk to Olorun, who was always willing to give the younger god an audience.
• The elder sky god listened politely (possibly providing our first ever exception to the ‘sky gods are assholes’ rule) before nodding sagely. “I like it. Your description of hills and valleys and lush green places sounds a hell of a lot better than the endless gray of ocean and marsh. It’s ambitious though – who’s going to actually make all of that shit? And how? Nothing like that’s ever been done before.” Obatala smiled. “I’m glad you like the idea. And as for the rest, I volunteer as tribute. As long as I have your blessing, I bet I can figure out the rest. How hard can it be to build a mountain?”
• Olorun smiled back and clapped his hands. “It is decided. You have my blessing to proceed. For reasons that you and I both know intuitively so we don’t need to explain them in the narrative and it is assumed to be totally reasonable, I obviously can’t help you. What I can do is send my son Orunmila to stop by. He can guide you in your labors.” Obatala bowed his head in thanks and departed to begin planning for this epic undertaking.
• The next day, Obatala took the initiative and went to visit Orunmila, the eldest son of the sky god Olorun. He was an excellent choice of guide for Orunmila had the power to gaze into the mists of the future and see what may come to pass as well as to fathom the secrets of existence. His knowledge would prove invaluable to this creative undertaking. Greeting Obatala warmly, he invited the young god inside and fetched his divining tray. On it, he placed sixteen palm nuts, then shook it and tossed the nuts into the air. As they dropped to the ground, the god read the patterns that they made to get a sense of the future and what needed to be done.
• “Here is what I see, Obatala. First, you must find a gold chain long enough for you to climb down from the sky to the watery wastes below. As you climb down, take along with you a snail shell filled with sand, a white hen, a black cat, and a palm nut. This is how you should begin your great quest.” Given the earlier descriptions of empty nothing, I have to assume that Obatala would have to begin by creating these new creatures – although palm nuts apparently already exist…somehow. Get used to this paradox. We’re about to discover that a lot of things already sort of exist, unless they are perhaps summoned into existence by Obatala’s searching for them.
• Obatala thanked his friend for his help and his counsel, then set out to find the things that had been laid out. First stop – a skilled goldsmith. He wasn’t likely to find a gold chain that long just, you know, lying around because why would you, so he figured he’d need to commission one. The young god knew of just such a craftsman and headed to see him. The goldsmith considered the brash young god and his strange request. “Hmm, well I don’t see any reason I couldn’t make a gold chain long enough to stretch from the sky above to the ocean below, provided that you can get me enough gold for it. I don’t know where you’d get that much of it though – it’s not like we just have shit-tons of gold just lying around.”
• Obatala was insistent though and would not be dissuaded from his great endeavor. He convinced the goldsmith to go ahead and get started on forging his golden chain – he’d figure out the missing material requirements. While the smith worked, Obatala went around existence to visit the various gods and goddesses. He explained to each of them his grand vision and told them of the mysterious prognostication of the great seer Orunmila. For their part, the members of the pantheon were all extremely willing to pitch in for this cool-ass project. They each contributed whatever gold they possessed into the communal pot to be brought to the goldsmith. Some had only gold dust, but many had rings or bracelets or necklaces to add to the ever-growing pile. The goldsmith examined each all as they came in, surprised at the amount that Obatala was able to acquire on such short notice. It was an incredible amount but, after close examination and some math, he declared it not nearly enough. A gold chain that reached from the sky to the earth required a metric ass-load of gold to forge.
• Obatala was crestfallen. “It has to be enough, goldsmith. There’s no more gold to be found in the kingdoms of the sky. I’ve been to see every single god and goddess up here, and all of them willingly gave up all of their gold. There’s nothing left. Do the best you can. Make this chain as long as you possibly can and then, I guess, put a hook on the end. Even if it’s too short to reach all the way to the ocean, I am bound and determined to climb down it no matter what.”
• The goldsmith shrugged and got back to work. He’d made it clear to Obatala that this was going to come up short, so it was no skin off his dick if something went wrong. If the god wanted a gold chain made out of all the gold they had, then by him that’s what he was going to get. He worked hard and soon the golden chain was done. The hooked end was fastened to the edge of the sky and the other end was lowered down towards the sea far below. Looking over the edge of the sky, the distance looked a lot farther than Obatala had imagined. He swallowed hard, nervous but still very much determined.
• From stage left came Orunmila to see his friend off on his quest. With him, the god brought a bag containing the snail shell filled with sand, the white hen, the black cat, and the pine nut. There is again no explanation offered for where these mysterious creations came from exactly. Don’t worry about it. Obatala slung the bag over his shoulder, took a deep breath, and then grasped the golden chain in his hands. Swinging himself over the edge of the sky, he began climbing down, leaving the world of light behind as he descended into the world of twilight. 
• He wasn’t sure how far he climbed, but soon Obatala could feel the cool damp mists rising up from the waters below. Almost as soon as he recognized the chill of the vast ocean, he also realized that he had almost reached the end of the gold chain. He risked a look down, and it wasn’t good. “Shit, that’s not nearly close enough. Even if I just kind of let go and fell, I would surely crash deep into the ocean and drown. I may be a god, but even I can’t survive that. Probably.” 
• As he pondered helplessly, Obatala heard a familiar voice calling from high above. “Use the Force, Luke.” Wait no, that’s not right. It wasn’t Obi Wan, it was Orunmila. “Use the sand, Obatala. I gave it to you for this moment.” The young god had no better idea and he trusted his future-focused friend, so he fished the shell out of the bag and poured it out into the ocean below. As it sprinkled down, he heard Orunmila’s voice a second time. “Now for the hen, Obatala. Release it.” Confused but still game, Obatala did so.
• She fluttered her wings as she fell, slowing her fall until she came to rest on the huge pile of sand rising up from the ocean. As soon as she landed, she began to scratch furiously at the sand with her claws. It scattered in all directions, grains flying on the ocean breeze with the force of the hen’s scratching. Wherever sand fell into the water, dry land sprouted instantly. The larger piles became hills and mountains while the spaces between became valleys. It was still a long fall, but there was at least something solid to land on now. Obatala took a steadying breath and let go of the chain, falling to the brand new land that had sprouted from the scattered sand. 
• The sand made for a surprisingly soft landing, and Obatala stood up with a smile. He began to walk along his new creation, his smile widening as he went. The previously endless straight horizon had been replaced with a variety of vistas that were far more pleasing to the eye. It was all pretty wonderful, but Obatala was proudest of all of the place where his feet first crashed into the sand. In honor of this event, he named the place Ife, also known as Ife Oodaye or ‘the cradle of existence’. Dropping to one knee, he began to dig a hole in the sand right at the center of the crater and planted the palm nut in it. 
• Obatala was a god, and so the palm tree sprung instantly out of the sand and reached for the sky. As it towered overhead, it dropped more palm seeds all around, which promptly erupted into more palm trees until a small forest soon grew in Ife. Smiling at his success, Obatala began to fell some of the trees (with what is not clear since an ax was very much not included in his starting equipment – maybe he just punched them down) and built himself a sturdy house with a palm leaf roof. Settling himself down in his lonely house apart from all the other sky gods, Obatala began to dwell on his brand new land with only his black cat for a companion.
• As it turns out, this proved to be a pretty ideal living situation for the young god. He dwelt in his cabin with his little black cat for many years, completely forgetting that Olorun (and the other sky gods for that matter) might be curious about how his project was going. They had all donated their gold supply for it, after all. Olorun did not forget and, when Obatala did not return or check in or even send a little note, he got understandably impatient. 
• Figuring that someone needed to go check on, you know, this whole creation thing, Olorun called for Agemo the chameleon and sent him after Obatala. Being a cool-ass lizard with sticky feet, Agemo had no trouble clambering down the long golden chain that fell from the sky to the new sandy earth. Since there was actually a place to drop to now instead of vast, empty, certain-death ocean, the chameleon dropped down to the earth and found himself standing right in Ife right next to the comfy cabin. He knocked timidly on the door. I mean, it was probably Obatala in there, but where mythology is concerned you never really know what’s behind door number 1.
• Lucky for Agemo, it was indeed Obatala who answered. “Hey there, buddy. It’s been a while. Listen, Olorun sent me to check up on your whole creation thing and see what kind of progress you’ve made. Have you succeeded at what you set out to do?” Obatala grinned like a child presenting his prized finger painting. “I sure have. Just look around – all of this soil and all of these plants were raised from nothing by me. You can tell Olorun that the world below is now a much nicer, more pleasant place than it was before. Honestly, I’d be pretty stoked to spend the rest of existence down here if it weren’t for one little thing. It’s always fucking twilight down here. I miss the light of the sky.”
• After taking the grand tour of the new creation, Agemo hopped back onto the chain and clambered back up to the sky to report. Olorun smiled contentedly as he listened to the chameleon’s litany of all the cool shit Obatala had created down below. It pleased him greatly to hear of the younger god’s success (and it didn’t hurt that Obatala had always been a favorite of the chief god to begin with). He pondered for a moment and then decided that this kind of success deserved a special reward. If Obatala wanted light, then he would have light. With his own hands, Olorun fashioned a dazzling golden orb (that I don’t think was actually made of gold since all of that was currently in chain form) and tossed it into the sky so that it would shine on the world below. “For you, Obatala, I have fashioned a source of light I call the sun. It will shine down on the world you have created and provide warmth and comfort for the world below.”
• Being the sky god, his resonant words carried to Obatala below, who looked up as the first light of the sun washed across the world. It was beautiful and glorious and it calmed his restless spirit. He settled back into his daily routine, all alone with his little black kitty cat. Things were great as the days turned into weeks turned into months. As time went on, things were less great. The kitty cat was great, but not much of a talker. Obatala was beginning to feel lonely, what with being all alone without another soul to talk to. He began to dream of having companionship again, of having other beings like himself that he could talk to and confide in. He wanted a friend.
• Being a literal god, Obatala was less helpless than you or I would be in this situation. He went out into the fresh soil he had dumped all over the ocean and began to dig into it, imagining the shapes of the creatures he could create to keep him company. The clay was soft and warm and pliable under his fingers as he shaped and molded. His great desire was a creature like himself that he could talk to about the things that mattered to him, his thoughts and feelings and worries about the future, so he intuitively began to sculpt the clay into a form much like his own. Once the first was done, he laid it in the sun to dry and began work on the next. He created several more while he waited.
• Hours had passed with this detailed work before Obatala realized just how hot and thirsty he had become. He cleaned off his muddy hands as he considered. “You know what sounds absolutely smashing right now – a nice bowl of palm wine!” Standing, he headed for the nearest palm tree, placed his bowl beneath it, and collected a nice volume of it. Then, he left it to ferment in the sun as he worked a little more. Once the heat had done its thing, Obatala was glad to be able to take a long pull of delicious wine, which was still a fairly new invention. In fact, this may be the very first time palm wine had been fermented, which is why Obatala didn’t realize that downing bowl after bowl of the refreshing liquid was getting him well and truly schnockered. 
• He kept working as he slurped his wine, getting drunker and clumsier with each bowl. His previously dexterous fingers were now awkward and his previously perfect clay figures were now ill-formed. Some had crooked spines and others crooked limbs; many had arms and legs that didn’t match and were the wrong lengths. At long last, he felt he had enough of the clay figures and, still being drunk off his ass, Obatala was incredibly pleased with himself and didn’t notice any of his many, many mistakes. Drunk with power and also drunk with wine, he turned his head upwards and called out to the sky kingdom above. “I have created these beings from the clay Olorun, but only you can actually give them life! Breathe life into them so that I may always have these creatures, who I have named human beings, to keep me company here below.”
• Olorun was very happy to hear how well his protege was doing and so granted his request without hesitation or inspection. He trusted the young god implicitly, but he really should have heeded the old ‘trust but verify’ adage. He breathed life into them and watched with interest as they rose up from the dust to circle around their creator, Obatala. Seeing the home he had built for himself, they followed his lead and began to cut down palm trees and make their own houses until a little village had sprung up in Ife, the first Yoruba village in existence. Obatala’s chest puffed up with pride at his creations and their success at building homes around his own and, more importantly, a community they could all share in now.
• As he began to sober up however, he also began to notice his own mistakes. They struggled to complete their daily tasks with their crumpled spines and twisted limbs and awkward, uneven gaits. This was especially difficult since the drunk god hadn’t thought to make accessbibility aids. He felt sad and guilty for letting the alcohol fuck up his judgment so badly. “Shit, my drunkenness caused this suffering. It’s needless and it’s my fault. I hereby swear that I will never touch palm wine ever again. From this day forward, I will make myself the special protector and patron god of those who are disabled. They deserve a happy, healthy life and I will do my utmost to see that they get it.”
• And so he did. He took care of all the human beings he created in their Yoruba village in Ife, and he always made sure to take time to provide appropriate support to the disabled people in the village. Everyone prospered and were happy, and the little village soon expanded into a thriving city. Thanks to Obatala’s inventiveness and dedication to the people, they had all of the tools they needed to clear the palm trees and cultivate the land. Each man was presented with a copper bush knife and a wooden hoe to grow millet, yams, and a wide variety of other wonderful crops so that humanity would have plentiful food for everyone.
• Life continued in this way in Ife for many, many years until, at last, Obatala looked around and realized that he had done all that he could for humanity. It was time for him to climb back up the golden chain into the sky and retire from this whole earthly deity gig. The people loved him and he promised that, even though he was retiring, that didn’t mean he was leaving forever. He’d come back often to visit with them and to take stories back and forth between the earth and the sky. As much as humanity loved his visits, the sky gods loved them just as much. They never tired of hearing of the strange world Obatala had created below and of the strange creatures that lived there. Indeed, many were so captivated by the incredible picture that the young god painted with his eloquent stories that they resolved to leave the sky and move to the world below to live amongst these ‘humans’.
• As they prepared for their journey, the chief sky god Olorun took them aside to prepare them for what was to come. “Since there will be so many of you living down there now, literal gods among men, I have assigned each of you a special realm to be under your supervision. Make sure you always fulfill your dedicated role and never forget your dedication to the people that Obatala has created. Listen to their prayers and help them when they are in need.” The assembled gods all assured Olorun that yes yes they would of course be good deific personifications of natural phenomena. There was one god however who was not at all happy about how things were progressing. Remember Olokun, the goddess of what had previously been a vast, unbroken expanse of sea and marshlands that were her exclusive domain? Yeah, she was mighty pissed that this upstart Obatala had invaded her space and ruined it with this ‘dry land’ bullshit and then covered it in humanity. The praise he received from Olorun for this indignity was the cherry on top of the shit sundae that was this new creation. 
• She watched in growing fury as, one by one, more of these sky god assholes began to move down from the sky to the ‘dry land’ that Obatala had made and divide what should have been her kingdom amongst themselves. I like Obatala for the most part – he seems like a pretty chill dude who owns up to his mistakes and tries to make sure that everyone has a good life, which is admirable. However, I do have to admit that Olokun has a totally valid complaint here. Not once in all of this did he or Olorun ever think to consult with her about the changes they were making to her realm or to ask her permission or advice before changing everything to suit themselves. So maybe sky gods are still assholes, even when they mean well and try to be cool.
• Anyway, Olokun vowed that Obatala and the sky gods would pay for this terrible insult to her honor and for the invasion of her territory. Given what we’ve seen over and over since the very first episode of this podcast, you may already know what’s about to happen. Being the goddess of the wild oceans, Olokun’s vengeance came in the form of the Deluge – the Great Flood. Since pretty much all early civilizations began on riverbanks for ready access to fresh water, they were also pretty much all subject to the effects of devastating floods, which are reflected in these almost universal stories of the great flood. 
• Raising towering waves that crashed with all the rage and fury in her heart, Olokun sent them breaking across the land fully intending to drown the world completely. Her greatest hope was to swamp the dry earth completely and return everything to a fully aquatic realm as it had once been. The roaring waters surged across Ife, drowning the crops and sweeping away countless poor souls to a watery doom. Thousands died in an instant as this unprecedented divine fury wreaked havoc across the world. Those who survived the initial destruction fled to the highest hills that still rose above the waves and called to Obatala for salvation. Alas he could not hear their pleas from his high home in the distant heavens. 
• When their favorite god did not respond to their fervent prayers, they turned instead to one of the gods who had recently moved into the neighborhood – Eshu. “Please,” they begged him. “Please climb back up the chain to the sky and tell the gods there what is happening. Tell them of this terrible flood that threatens to destroy everything we’ve built and kill us all.” Eshu was not unmoved by their plight, but his help came with a price. “If you want me to carry your message to the gods above, then first you must prove your devotion to the gods. Offer up a worthy sacrifice and pray with all your might that you be saved.” Clinging to this thin hope, the Yoruba people hurried to fetch a goat, which they sacrificed and offered as food to Obatala. Eshu shook his head and refused to carry the message. “You ask me for a favor but when I tell you to offer a sacrifice for aid, you offer it to Obatala? I’m the jackass that has to do all the work. If you want me to be your holy messenger, then I deserve a little something something, don’t you think?”
• Terrified and frustrated, the people hurried to do as Eshu bid. They gathered more animals to sacrifice to Eshu and only when his pride was satisfied did he finally move his ass and head up the golden chain to the sky. When word reached Obatala (though probably not the part about Eshu’s little extortion racket), he was at a loss about what to do. He was horrified at the suffering of his people thanks to his failure to involve a powerful goddess, who was now pissed off. He wasn’t sure just what he could actually do against a force as powerful as Olokun. 
• At his wits end, he decided to again consult his seer friend Orunmila and ask for advice. Happy to help, Orunmila grabbed his palm nuts and cast them before him to read the patterns. After considering them for a long, silent time, he turned to Obatala. “Wait here while I head down the golden chain. I think I can use my powers to turn back the waters and make the lands rise above the seas once more.” Obatala was worried about the risk but trusted his friend implicitly. If Orunmila said this was the best course, then Obatala would just have to put his faith in him.
• Orunmila headed immediately for the chain (not needing the sacrifices that Eshu demanded to do his duty) and climbed down. Using the knowledge gleaned from his divination and his unspecified but apparently relevant special powers, he was able to calm the ocean waves again and bring the sunken lands up to dry under the sun’s light once more. The people saw him calm the storm and they rushed to gather around him, praising him for saving them and begging him to stay in Ife and be their protector. Orunmila was pretty socially awkward however and the thought of living here amongst so many strange, needy people was not his idea of fun. Being very honest, he told them plainly that he would not remain here on earth, but desired to return to his home in the heavens.
• He would not simply abandon them to their own devices however. Before he departed, he brought the people together and gave them many gifts as well as the knowledge to use them. He taught them the secrets of casting the palm nuts to divine the future and of soothing the waves and calming the winds. By the time he was done, the Yoruba people knew as much as he did about controlling natural forces for the good of all, and this knowledge was passed down from generation to generation like the precious heirloom it was.
• Things settled down after Orunmila returned to the sky, but all was not yet settled. Olokun still had a watery bone to pick with the sky gods (who still hadn’t done anything to apologize to her or assuage her hurt and anger). Thus her rage and sense of betrayal at the sky gods only grew. She certainly considered them all to be assholes. She began to scheme and plan a way to get revenge almost as soon as Orunmila left and she soon had an idea. She knew that no one in the sky knew as much as she did of the art of weaving cloth, which made it her best option. She sent a message up into the sky challenging Olorun to a weaving competition with Olokun.
• The king sky god received her challenge and it worried him greatly. He had no illusions about his weaving skills but he also had a great deal of pride, as was fitting for a king sky god, and so he couldn’t stand the thought of letting Olokun be better than him at anything. This was quite a predicament and he muttered about how to respond to her challenge to himself while seated uncomfortably on his throne. “Well shit. Olokun knows more than I could dream of weaving and cloth-making, but it’s simply not a fucking option to let her think she’s superior to me at anything ever for any reason. What I need to figure out is a way to appear to meet her challenge without actually having to participate in her challenge, but how in the hell do I do that?”
• Long did Olorun ponder on this thorny problem but eventually he hit on a clever idea. With a small smile, he summoned Agemo the chameleon to carry a message down the chain to Olokun. After listening closely to the sky king’s words, Agemo crawled down the golden chain to the earth and went in search of Olokun’s home. When he stood before her door, he knocked and called out to her. “Olorun, ruler of the sky, greets you! He bids me say that if your cloth is as magnificent as you claim, then he will gladly accept your challenge to him. He thinks it only fair for you to submit some of this incredible cloth in advance for him to review, but he has authorized me to examine it for him to report back on its quality.” 
• Now, there’s no actual legitimate reason that Olorun would need to see the ocean goddess’ work to accept her challenge. It doesn’t actually matter if she’s telling the truth or not, since the whole point of the competition is to prove that very point. This was clearly part of some underhanded scheme, but Olokun was fairly straightforward in her thinking and very proud of her skill, so she was only too happy to show off her work (and didn’t sense the subtle risk). 
• Telling Agemo to wait, she headed into her back room and put on a magnificent skirt of luxurious green cloth that she had woven. It swayed and rustled around her as she strode confidently out to stand before the chameleon so he could see her work. He gazed upon her cloth and said that it was indeed as fine as she said, which made her feel proud though she was surprised that the chameleon’s skin changed to match the exact brilliant green of the skirt. She headed back into her room and changed into a second skirt, this one a brilliant orange. 
• To her astonishment, Agome’s skin changed to match the brilliant orange of the skirt exactly. One by one, she changed into all of her many brightly colored skirts and, each time, the chameleon’s skin shifted to exactly match the brilliant hue of her weaving. As this process went on, it began to worry Olokun. “This is just Olorun’s messenger and yet he has the power to perfectly match the exact shade of every garment I’ve ever made, no matter how hard I had to work to dye the cloth. How much greater must Olorun’s power be if his mere messenger has such skill? I guess I better call off the challenge and admit defeat.”
• Bowing her head, Olokun spoke to Agome. “Tell your master that the ruler of the seas sends her regards to the ruler of the skies. Say to him that I acknowledge his supremacy in weaving and in all other things as well. I will not challenge his skill again.” Thus did Olorun gaslight Olokun into thinking he was better at something he absolutely was not, which allowed their friendship to resume on his terms and restore peace to the universe.
• This is a really fascinating creation story for me, where the sky gods are ostensibly the good guys, especially from the point of view of humanity, but the story also subtly acknowledges that Olokun had a valid point every step of the way and was either tricked or steamrolled into submission each time. It’s a rich variation of the duality of sky gods – chaos and control in equal measure, capable of creating and sustaining life or washing it all away. And so with everything at peace once more, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story.  This week’s god is Eshu.
• We briefly met this Orisha in the main tale and got a little taste of his role. He is the embodiment of orderliness and the enforcement of divine laws. He is also known as A-ba-ni-wa-oran-ba-o-ri-da or ‘He-who-creates-problems-for-the-innocent’ and Esu-oba-odara or ‘He-who-has-his-abode-at-the-crossroads’ because, being a creature of balance, he is both an agent of order and an agent of chaos. Specifically, Eshu is the personification of Mischief – that’s right, he’s a trickster god. As we have seen, he is also a messenger between the mortal and the divine. He is the center point between opposing forces, helping to regulate the extremes. He always asks a price for what he does, usually in the form of sacrifices (a practice we saw him initiate in the main tale).
• Eshu famously speaks all languages on earth and works to ensure that they never change so much that people stop being able to understand each other. He wants words and concepts to hold on to their meanings, even as times and customs change. As trickster gods often are, he’s a god of liminal spaces, the in-between places (especially crossroads, which are heavily associated with choice and change). As such, his nature can be hard to pin down. He’s the god who protects travelers but he’s also the god who causes conflict between friends. To Eshu’s credit, there is almost always a lesson to be learned from the the trouble he stirs up.
• One famous and simple version of this is in a simple, common story. Once upon a time, maybe long ago, maybe not-so-long ago, two friends were walking down the street on a particularly hot day. The weather had been insufferable for days and everyone’s tensions were running high, minor irritations on the brink of boiling over into serious heated conflicts. Thus it was with these two friends. 
• See, a stranger had walked by them, going the other way and had been rude enough to force his way between them. This pissed off both friends but, since the stranger had already hurried on his way and was gone, the two friends turned their bitterness on each other. “Can you believe the gall of that asshole in the red hat?” The other friend slapped the first in the shoulder. “Red? Your eyes are as bad as his manners – that was clearly a black hat!” That was all it took. Like the epic shitstorm that was the controversy of the white and gold dress or the blue and black dress, the two friends began to argue with each other. One insisted the hat had been red and the other that it had been black.
• Arguing escalated to screaming and then to punching. The two men, who were supposedly friends remember, began to beat the shit out of each other over the color of a hat. It was ridiculous and it almost immediately began to draw a crowd. The two combatants squared off, both exhausted and taking a moment to catch their breath when they noticed the crowd for the first time. Standing front and center, watching the fight with a shit-eating grin, was none other than the stranger who had started the whole thing. Looking at him from the front as they both now were, they realized the truth – the hat was in fact both red and black. One side was red and the other black, so they were both right and they were both wrong. Just like that, their anger was broken. Laughing, they hugged it out and went on their way in a better mood. As you’ve probably already guessed, the stranger in the hat was none other than Eshu himself come to cause a little mischief with a purpose. So the next time you find yourself getting unreasonably angry at something silly, stop for a moment and consider that you might be the butt of Eshu’s current hard lesson.
•  That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated.  Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth, on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod, and on Tumblr as MythsYourTeacherHated.  You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line.  I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated.  The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff. 
• Next time, we’ll see if we can’t stir up some old-fashioned romance in our annual Valentine’s special. You’ll see that you should be careful how you spurn a suitor, that not all magical snowmen are created equal, and that so-called Nice Guys have a tendency to take things way too far. Then, in Gods and Monsters, sometimes love finds you in the most unexpected of places. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.