Maria stayed with Oxum until she felt the cleaning and blessing were done. When Oxum told her she could go, Maria swam back to the shore. Iya Larissa and Alma were waiting for her.

“I’m hungry. Shall we go back to the temple?”

“Of course, Maria, let’s go. All the filhos de santo are waiting for you to celebrate you, and I’m sure they all have loads of questions. Let’s celebrate. You are back!”

Arriving at the temple, Maria stopped to look at all the filhos de santo of the Sacred Grounds. How much they had changed. Some grew up, some grew older, new children had been born while she was away. Some who were her age when she left were now women expecting children, and boys had turned into men. So much she had missed. Times that she would never have back. She knew she didn’t belong to the Sacred Grounds and felt sad for something she would never get to experience. She felt saudade. The pain the heart feels only when it knows that something so much wished for will never happen. An outsider looking in.

“Maria, what’s wrong? Let’s go, they are all waiting for you.”

“Yes, let’s go.”

Maria greeted each and every filho de santo, met the newborns, spoke with her friends who were once children her age she played with, hugged and kissed them warmly, cried and laughed with all the memories. Finally, her brothers. Her older brothers were already married and had children. Just the youngest, only two years her senior, didn’t have a wife and children of his own yet. They hugged and cried. Maria held their babies and cried, for she had lost important parts of her own blood’s lives that could never come back. But touching them, she saw their happiness, she felt them falling in love with their wives, she felt the happiness of each birth. She saw through their touch how much they missed her.

“How is Mother?”

“She is fine, you know Mother,” Maria answered, and they understood.

In reality, Maria didn’t know how her mother was. A wall had been built between them, and for Maria, it was impossible to feel or get to know the woman who gave birth to her.

Then she went to sit with her father, Lúcia and Amada.

“Minha filha, it took you a long time to greet everybody. That is how much all of us were missing you.”

“I was missing all of you too, Father, and I’m so happy to be here, to be wearing white, to be able to have my hair white. I’m happy to finally be able to feel the soil and breathe real air. Father, there’s no place like the Sacred Grounds.”

“We still live in a piece of untouched paradise, minha filha. Years ago, some businessmen, developers they called themselves, came here and offered money to buy the Sacred Grounds. But this is the home of the Orixás. We are lucky to be allowed to live here, and I cannot sell what does not belong to me.”

“To whom does it belong, Baba Carlos?” Amada asked.

“To the Orixás, minha filha.”

“Amada, what Baba Carlos means is that he considers these grounds owned by the power you feel coming from the ground.”

“I don’t feel any power, Mother. I actually don’t feel power anywhere.”

“It’s okay, Amada. Not everybody feels it straight away. Some need to develop and go through rituals to feel it, and sometimes when a person doesn’t feel it, it’s because that power doesn’t belong to the person. You will feel the power that belongs to you. You will feel it.”

“But Baba, what if I don’t want to belong to the power that I feel? What if I don’t agree with that power, don’t believe in it, but still feel it?”

“Then you’ll need to find out more about that power and understand why you don’t like it. After that, either you learn how to like it or you just ignore it and work to develop the power you like, so with time you start feeling it.”

“Amada, where do you feel power?” Lúcia asked her daughter.

“At school, Mother, with the nuns.”

Baba Carlos looked at Lúcia but didn’t say anything. They both understood. They didn’t have to speak.

Maria also understood her friend belonged to the normal people but didn’t want to accept it.

They ate, drank, danced, and when night came and the filhos de santo went back to their homes, at the entrance of the temple, Zita and the two witches appeared.

“Come inside, ladies.”

“Thank you, Baba Carlos.”

“Please, Zita, what would the ladies accompanying you like to be called?”

“I’m Nara, Baba Carlos. Thank you for opening passage for us.”

“I am Nei, Baba Carlos. Thank you for giving us free passage.”

“You are always welcome to the Sacred Grounds. Come whenever you want. Please sit with us.”

The witches sat on the floor at the table Baba Carlos had prepared for all of them with fruits and fish.

“Zita had come all these years and sat with me when Maria fell asleep. She told me how her days were going, the improvements Maria brought to her mother and grandmother’s house. She told me about her crochet work. Zita even learned new designs with the women of the temple so she could teach Maria the next day, and this helped me to feel less sad without my girl. My boys kept me up, seeing my blood grow up and having their own blood. My legacy, my boys close to me, brought me joy, but having my daughter away, even knowing it was all decided, brought big sadness.”

“Even the most spiritual man isn’t protected from feeling human pain, no matter how connected with the spiritual world one is.”

“That is true, Zita. You speak with the wisdom of one who saw hundreds of years of human feelings and behaviours.”

“And so I did, Baba.”

“And what do you have to say about not being able to hold back sadness, no matter what I know about the spiritual world and being a Baba?”

“Knowing but still being capable of feeling love, loss, sadness, happiness, crying, laughing, screaming and all the million feelings that exist is what is so beautiful about having a soul. Here in the Sacred Grounds, it’s called Ori. When you know so much that you just accept what is with no reaction, that is when you are dead and have no soul.”

“Aren’t you spirit witches dead?” asked Amada.

“Yes, we are. We are dead, we are spirits, but who told you that our soul is dead…? Feelings come from the soul, and there’s no amount of knowledge that can prevent someone who has a soul from loving. And what are all these feelings if not love?”

“What about hate?”

“My dear Amada, only someone who is able to love is able to hate.”

Amada looked at her witch, Nei. She looked lost, but Maria understood.

“It’s time to go rest, Amada, and I’m sure that Baba Carlos wants to be alone with Maria.”

“I’ll take you to your room.” Baba Carlos accompanied Lúcia and Amada with their witches to their room.

“Now we are alone, Maria. Come here, let me hug you, my sweet daughter. My heart is singing with happiness and my feet feel like dancing. You brought me so much joy.”

“Father, I love you. I missed you so much. There was no day when I didn’t think about you, your voice, your hug.”

“Maria, I need to ask you, even though I know the answer. Do you want to stay in the Sacred Grounds? You don’t have to leave.”

“I love you, Father, and I’ll come back every time I can, but I want to understand to what power I belong.”

“Do you feel the power? Did you see it?”

“I felt it and I saw it, but it was just a piece of it, Father. I want to see it all, to feel it all, to know it all. I want to understand who I am supposed to become. Father, would you throw the búzios for me?”

“Yes, minha filha.”

Baba Carlos prepared his table, said his prayers and threw the búzios.

The cowries had turned from white to black. Nine had fallen open.

“What do you see, Father?”

“Now I know to which power you belong.”

Outside, Zita smiled, looking at the brightest star.

“Let it all begin now.”