Naimah by the Sea

Copyright © 2023 by A.R. Bey.

Cover art and Illustration by James Patterson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Rev. date: 10/19/2023

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Contents

Mermaid

Foreword

Yemanjá

Chapter 1

Oya

Chapter 2

Elegba

Chapter 3

Ogun

Chapter 4

Oshun

Chapter 5

Shango

Chapter 6

Olokun

Chapter 7

Obalata

Chapter 8

Oya

Chapter 9

Yemanjá

Chapter 10

Oba

Chapter 11

Elegba

Chapter 12

Oshun

Chapter 13

Orula

Chapter 14

Shango

Chapter 15

Yemanjá

Chapter 16

Obalata

Chapter 17

Oya

Chapter 18

Olokun

Chapter 19

Oba

Chapter 20

Elegba

Chapter 21

Ogun

Chapter 22

Oshun

Chapter 23

Shango

Chapter 24

Olokun

Chapter 25

Obatala

Chapter 26

Oya

Chapter 27

Yemanjá

Chapter 28

Oshun

Chapter 29

"You see me, but I know my enemies.

Therefore, I owe you nothing."

- A. R. Bey

For Elihu,

my lovable Father,

the best noble man, who taught me

Somehow we know what we know…

- Toni Morrison

Mermaid

a lone fisherman cast his net

across the sparkling marine,

it seemed for a moment

that the earth

came to a sudden halt

as the wind began to speak,

a lush wave rushed over

changing the flow of the tides,

an intrinsic force

fervently emerged

to claim what belonged to the sea

engulfing bronze feet that glistened

beneath the hot sun,

infinitesimal grains of sand

scattered into the air

before returning among the dunes,

she met the running water

with great anticipation

embracing it as a distant lover,

within an instant

the current carried her afar

like an empress on her throne,

as if by magic

her radiant tail transpired

blinding the man

who gazed

from his boat

By A. R. Bey

Foreword

In first grade, I said, I cannot wait until I’m forty- two, gleefully declaring. A few classmates asked, Why forty-two? Then I was not certain why I felt what I would know. At sixteen, I prayed and desired wisdom more than anything. While I was praying on my knees to a false god, a true goddess had always been there, and she came towards me in many subtle ways. She was there when I was a soul. She knew I would fall away when I had been stolen by an enemy. But she knew I would return. Eventually, I would know at the right time about my destiny, spirit and magic.

Yemanjá never had to speak through my mouth, but she became a mother to me, who nurtured me, and she taught me. I learned to stand and walk through my agony and pain, which led to my path. I opened secret doors that were made only for me. But I believed in something wonderful, if not amazing. Some prefer using the word miracle, which is magic, and all the above is beyond real. While in graduate school, a woman of color from my class once shared, Audrey, you have magic.

Somehow, I did not understand what she saw or knew. I realize I was in denial about spirit. When I was nineteen, while sleeping, something came through me stating, I have to come out, I have to come out.

Until I began to see what magic is in the spirit realm, and how it projects to the physical, I needed to accept what has always been. How did I become fearful of the unknown, which was only a touch if not a small leap away?

Finish your book, Professor Toni Morrison said to me. On the other side, I visited her while she sat peacefully on a chair. It was last spring in 2021. Never a need to speak too much, but we understood what we knew.

Calm and composed, Morrison looked up around the realm where we were. When I returned, I remembered. I awakened to the spirit realm often like others and was no longer afraid of dreams. It was an afternoon, July 7, 2022, when I evoked Yemanjá. I stood before the window, and she appeared to me.

No longer afraid of dreams, I awakened to the spirit within. When I was seventeen, we both made a pact that we would let each other know that we were okay through the veil. Though I missed my Dad, he and I would visit each other from the other side. When I miss my Dad, he and I would visit each other from the other side. When I was seventeen, we both made a pact that we would let each other know that we were okay through the veil. I began to meet the devil personally, and I eluded him so often.

Later one night, another ancestor visited my home. It was my paternal great-grandmother, Ma Mary. While here, she knew the earth very well, and she had her magic. Never celebrate that thing, he’s evil, she said. That is your magic, I recall Yemanjá taught me the same. I learned more wisdom, knowledge and truth beyond the Orishas, including Oya, Elegba, Obatala, Olokun, Oshun, Ogun, Oba, Shango and Orula.

In August of 2005, I wrote the poem, Mermaid, before I felt ready. I knew I could learn to leave what did not serve me. I had to become an oak tree with strong roots that were ready for death. Yes, it took time for me to learn more about my soul and spirit.

From time to time, I enjoyed writing poetry, and I realized Yemanjá, conjured my visions in secret. She desired to inspire me before I was twenty-one. I was taken to my realm, to the surface of the ocean, and seven dolphins swam around me. In time, I learned more wisdom, knowledge and truth within.

You’re going to become more powerful, Yemanjá informed me.

Through great divination, Olokun revealed to me that I had been born and lived in Benin. Bondage is within certain parts of the spirit realm, and slavery is beyond Africa. Certain souls will learn to see and believe that the so-called ‘new world’ will continue to die day after day.

I was blessed to see beyond the veil, and how to break evil spells through darkness and my magic. Throughout my journey, too many attempted to harass, abuse, and silence me through wicked curses and evil spells. I destroyed them and their weak jinxes and hexes. Broken souls prefer their chains, and they will never have a true voice, self-love, joy, peace, and abundance.

Only I can see and know myself as a child, but I have been through human reincarnations many times. The Dark Divine stands with me. Yemanjá and Elegba knew that I would awaken. Regardless of how I was forced to grow, I have my salvation. Jesus was never here, and I cast all devils away. One day soon, others will awaken on their journey away from mine.

Yemanjá

Recipe

Supper

Codfish, yellow squash, plantains & brown rice

clean and bake seven codfish

wash and steam seven yellow squash

fry seven plantains

wash and steam brown rice

add three cups of water

slice three medium white onions

one-fourth of sea salt

one-fourth of pepper

two tablespoons of olive oil

Chapter 1

Mother Yemanjá loves her children, and I did not desert you. I chose not to share much about myself, but the Orishas and I, will tell this story. It is only for your own sake and will. Though I know your desires, and what you need, never expect me to give you something for nothing. The Orishas and I knew many, who stole treasures and offered slaves. Royal magic was not theirs or yours. A debt for all must be paid to be birthed in the universe into a soul and to venture to earth. Very few could ever be chosen to sit high in the heavens, and none could steal a true royal crown.

Most were not queens and kings, but the majority were to be on earth for a season. I will share the story of a goddess, who came to earth as a human. Once she was known as Naimah de Sousa, she would learn many secrets about life and death.

Naimah would see that Jesus was never here, the way most thought. He was never chosen to sit on a royal throne. For eons, he lied and cheated far too many times. Yet he was cast down in a dungeon of hell forever. But he was unusual and learned many things, and how to conjure stolen magic against the universe’s just law. He and many chose to deviate, to become deceivers and disruptors of peace, who desire pain and suffering.

I want to be up there, he often said. I have a soul. But like many, he was counterfeit unlike the original beings, who became noble and strong gods. From the universe known as the creator, we knew Olódùmarè, who offered no response to the troublemaker, and his desires for greed. Many called him the devil, the trickster, which is an adversary, an enemy to all and our royal nobility. Many on earth would soon know themselves, and their wicked ways.

Goodness is within those who know the creator’s law and truth. Ifá was best through our oral tradition consisting of divination, culture, and knowledge. Outside West Africa: Togo, Benin, and Nigeria, many have known the Orishas, which grew into other religions known as Candomblé and Santería from Cuba, and throughout the Caribbean, including South America: Brazil, Venezuela, Argentina, Paraguay, and Uruguay.

I, Yemanjá, had another side, but recall me as a loving goddess, and mother to all. Remember me, who always loved her children and I did not desert my children. The ones who know me the most charm me with a silver bell, and I come to them on any day.

If one cannot meet me at the surface of the sea, I would prefer to be greeted on a Saturday in a tidy home. Wear the cleanest clothes, which represent my colors through white or blue. Know that I enjoy delicious food, but I never accept anything from an aluminum can. Freshwater, ginger tea, pineapples, watermelons, and more are acceptable. Peppermints and pork rinds are okay, but you must taste each meal and taste each beverage first, based on respect and honor to all Orishas, who knew you.

Get to know us properly, and the machete will be placed down. We are beyond Yoruba in West Africa, and we crossed over seven seas. Isabel de Sousa became Naimah’s nana, who wanted others to know how they learned of the Orishas in the village, in El Salvador, Bahia, Brazil, during the Portuguese slave trade.

Isabel knew me as a child and knew Candomblé, which was our secret way from her paternal grandmother, Marisa Florez, including her mother, Amira Cortes. While in church Roman Catholics appeared to worship a false Jesus and his Virgin Mary, who was never here to be his mother. Within their broken spirits, they only secretly worshipped I, Yemanjá, and many Orishas. We protected more than you knew, including priests and nuns, who despised their wicked devil, who knew only perversion, and many hateful spells of torture on earth and thereafter.

Jesus enjoyed hate: flogging, caning, whipping, and raping my children for pleasure, and placing bits in their mouths like cows. We hoped they would awaken from the spell of deception, and if they could not remember us again, maybe throwing themselves over the ship into the sea, could lead them to the other side and never come back to their hell.

Slavery was beyond earth, and on the other side, they would know, who they were and how they chose a different destiny, who were tricked into paradise through too many wicked games. So many became wicked like many devils, who made most of you falsely believe that he was the father of his only son.

Isabel grew very fast and became a wise woman, who could never conceive children. She was a mid- wife, who chose to care for Naimah, a child born August 7, 1976, through Inez Nunez. Though Isabel was not Naimah’s biological grandmother, a noble mother becomes a prideful and strong caregiver. That same day, Isabel loved and thanked me,

Yemanjá, for the blessing of Naimah being brought to her. For supper, Isabel offered me a glass of water from the fresh springs, and she placed a china plate of baked cod fish, steamed yellow squash, brown rice, and fried plantains. Her recipes were acceptable.

Naimah’s sepia-brown skin was smooth and clear, and her oval-shaped face appeared lively. Her dark brown hair was more wavy than curly and could be pressed through a hot iron comb. By the time she turned seven, her hair continued to grow longer. Isabel took Naimah to the beach on Saturday afternoons and told her about the sleeping jellyfish, who washed away from the surface of the sea.

"Menina, never touch them, they may sting you, Nana warned. And most men are visual when it comes to judging a woman’s beauty and her value. A woman’s worth is more than skin deep."

Naimah was not fair like the common girls her age. During the fall, her red tide flowed when she turned twelve. Yet there was something womanly about Naimah’s petite figure. Nana assured her that many things would change within and around her, and nothing would ever stay the same. She cautioned Naimah about asking the Orishas for beauty, money, or wealth unless they offered certain blessings.

Every gift known to man and woman comes with a burden, and some are not strong or noble enough to grow. Most girls prefer beauty and riches over wisdom, Nana explained. On one cheek, they wear a falsehood, which comes with another curse. Menina, can you bear that?"

Of course, ma’am, Naimah said, I’m strong like the roots beneath a willow tree.

Roots? Nana laughed. You mind your wits when it comes to roots and people.

Ma’am, whatcha mean? Naimah wondered.

"Menina, in time, you’ll see, Nana said. I believe you will manage whatever this crazy world sends your way."

Nana chuckled as she threaded a new pattern, pressing firm material through the needle of her sewing machine. Naimah began to see me, Yemanjá. This time, she was no longer afraid.

Naimah, you have magic! I, Yemanjá, spoke through Nana and told her. You will become more powerful.

She seemed to believe then, and she learned how we sent magic from our world. Magic is more than medicine, but we allowed elements to conjure and grow like soil on earth, or blooming rain and sunlight. Our majestic seeds were stronger than most and our children knew about wealth from cowries shells, which grew through humble snails, who offered more than beautiful gems from the deepest ocean.

***

The New Year in El Salvador, Bahia, Brazil was less than six weeks away, and Isabel was preparing to make a new white polyester dress in honor of me. She and I worked together as we sewed every thread, every day for three weeks. We are the nectar before the bees that took from each flower. I sensed that Isabel still needed my approval as she sewed gracefully through the sewing machine.

"Almost, menina, almost," I said.

Naimah was a diligent child, who was nothing like her former parents. She understood things so easily and could learn in the subtlest ways without disrespecting her elders or revealing too much soon. Such secrets were gentle and hidden beyond her spirit.

"Menina, be patient! Nana said. A woman should have a respectable dress, especially every new year, even if she has to make it from scraps herself."

For the past several weeks, Isabel made another dress. She offered Naimah a silk blue pattern by hand, and she was getting better each time. There was the magic behind her strong hands, and Naimah was fascinated by the patterns developing with the whitest pearls. It had been less than two years since Nana owned the sewing machine.

Now and again, Isabel would share tales about the Orishas with certain folk within the village, who could visit on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday evenings. Word traveled at the speed of light, and it was not long before the curious ones found out about Isabel’s swift magical hands.

Before dawn, Isabel sat on a wooden chair, and a humble table. She was the only woman in the village, who knew how to use a sewing machine. Most were poor and too desperate and would beg to sit by her window to see Yemanjá magic. The women began to share their tales with the men. And they became more mesmerized by the device and wanted to see it, and needed to know that it existed.

Many had been sewing by hand all their lives. That was their way of life and all they knew. Others who were ignorant and jealous felt that all machines were evil. But I made sure that Elegba, Ogun, and Shango would keep the wicked ones away, who sought to steal and take what did not belong to them.

Isabel was never sinful, and she never lied. She never shared false stories to tickle anyone’s ears, because of her noble repute and her ability to understand her people. Isabel was well-respected within the village, and she never crossed any enemies. We knew