Santeria Religion

Worried about her son, Julie Quijano stopped by the Botanica Ochun on a recent Friday seeking help. "He's 16 years old, and a little wild," she explains. "I just want to calm him down." The man behind the counter of the tiny shop crammed with religious statuettes, potions and amulets recommends a balsamo tranquilo , a calming balm.

Francisco Aguabella, an Afro-Cuban percussionist considered a master sacred drummer who also had a wide-ranging career in jazz and salsa, has died. He was 84. Aguabella died Friday of cancer at his Los Angeles home, said his daughter Menina Givens. His career "bears testimony to the existence and continuity of a sacred tradition in dancing and music that has been present throughout the development of popular music in the Afro-Cuban style," UC Irvine professor Raul Fernandez said in his 2006 book "From Afro-Cuban Rhythms to Latin Jazz."

A bloody, painted cow's tongue found outside the entrance to a welfare office represented "a Santeria or voodoo ritual" but not a death threat, concluded a report by Los Angeles County sheriff's investigators released Thursday. Scraps of paper bearing the names of 14 workers at the county Department of Public and Social Services office were pinned to the yellow-painted tongue, which was discovered hanging from a tree at the department's office on East Avenue K early on July 28.

Jesus Suarez, a Santeria priest, had slit the throat of one goat that June afternoon. He had three more goats, two sheep and 44 chickens to go. But before he could finish the ritual sacrifice, Coral Gables police swarmed the house where he and some 20 other followers of the Afro-Cuban religion had gathered to worship. The officers, Suarez recalls, pointed their guns at the devotees and screamed at them to freeze. Suarez could hear a couple of worshipers in the front yard yelling, "No dispare!"

On a hot and yellow Saturday afternoon in Hollywood, a dozen people gathered at a seance for Olga, a young Russian Jew seeking help from Manuel. They sat in the cramped rear room of a botanica shop on Santa Monica Boulevard, before an altar topped with a portrait of Jesus Christ. Charles Guelperin, the Santeria priest, explained the day's aim: "We're doing an investigation of the spirits that work with her, or for her," Guelperin said, his English inflected with his Argentine roots.

On a shelf in the office of Chicago White Sox Manager Ozzie Guillen, mixed in among the family photos, the Roberto Clemente bobblehead and the Napoleon Dynamite figurine, are four small but intimidating religious icons. "If you see my saints, you'll be like 'Golly, they're ugly,' " Guillen had said before inviting a visitor to come in. "They've got blood. They've got feathers. You go to the Catholic church, the [saints] have got real nice clothes.

Smiling sweetly, a customer pauses on the threshold of Botanica CB, a narrow shop tucked into the corner of a Santa Ana mini-mall. Glancing inside at a twinkling shrine of St. Lazarus surrounded by Snickers bars and loose change, she crosses herself and enters. She passes rows of spray cans containing potions to attract good luck or ward off evil; black, cobra-shaped candles; and racks of medicinal herbs. Then the woman greets and fondly hugs shop owner Carmen de la Cruz James.

Seeking to curb an increase in ritual animal sacrifices, the Los Angeles City Council on Tuesday gave tentative approval to an ordinance that would ban occult-style slaughter and make such killings punishable by up to six months in jail and a fine of up to $1,000.

Jesus Suarez, a Santeria priest, had slit the throat of one goat that June afternoon. He had three more goats, two sheep and 44 chickens to go. But before he could finish the ritual sacrifice, Coral Gables police swarmed the house where he and some 20 other followers of the Afro-Cuban religion had gathered to worship. The officers, Suarez recalls, pointed their guns at the devotees and screamed at them to freeze. Suarez could hear a couple of worshipers in the front yard yelling, "No dispare!"

In a patch of forest clustered around the 28-mile marker of Angeles Crest Highway, Los Angeles County Sheriff's Deputies Randy Rousseau and Shane Maloney point to the dead chicken splayed out in the muddy grass. Alongside the chicken lies a doll fashioned out of burlap and purple ribbon. Up a little farther, red, black and white squares of cloth are scattered on the ground.

Skulking in the dead of night in the remote and overgrown Las Pavas section of the Southern Municipal Cemetery, robbers armed with crowbars and sledgehammers first shattered the tomb's concrete vault and the granite marker that read, "To our dear wife and mother in heaven, Maria de la Cruz Aguero." Then they lifted the coffin lid and stole leg bones and the skull of the woman, who had died Sept. 9, 1993.

A public school principal accused of paying a woman to sprinkle chicken blood on the high school in an attempt to cleanse it of negative energy will be fired, the Department of Education said. Maritza Tamayo, principal of the Unity Center for Urban Technologies, paid Gilda Fonte to lead several Santeria religious rituals at the Manhattan school during midwinter break in 2006, when students were not present, according to Richard J.

On a shelf in the office of Chicago White Sox Manager Ozzie Guillen, mixed in among the family photos, the Roberto Clemente bobblehead and the Napoleon Dynamite figurine, are four small but intimidating religious icons. "If you see my saints, you'll be like 'Golly, they're ugly,' " Guillen had said before inviting a visitor to come in. "They've got blood. They've got feathers. You go to the Catholic church, the [saints] have got real nice clothes.

On a hot and yellow Saturday afternoon in Hollywood, a dozen people gathered at a seance for Olga, a young Russian Jew seeking help from Manuel. They sat in the cramped rear room of a botanica shop on Santa Monica Boulevard, before an altar topped with a portrait of Jesus Christ. Charles Guelperin, the Santeria priest, explained the day's aim: "We're doing an investigation of the spirits that work with her, or for her," Guelperin said, his English inflected with his Argentine roots.

In a patch of forest clustered around the 28-mile marker of Angeles Crest Highway, Los Angeles County Sheriff's Deputies Randy Rousseau and Shane Maloney point to the dead chicken splayed out in the muddy grass. Alongside the chicken lies a doll fashioned out of burlap and purple ribbon. Up a little farther, red, black and white squares of cloth are scattered on the ground.

Strangers who burst into a funeral chapel before dawn Wednesday ejected three women who were mourning a relative, then performed Santeria rituals and started a gunfight among themselves, police said. One man was in serious condition after surgery for a gunshot wound to the chest. There were about 10 men in the group that burst into the funeral home in Little Havana. Police would not identify the dead man. "These men started performing Santeria acts to the body of the deceased," said police Lt.

Los Angeles County supervisors Tuesday ordered an investigation into ritualistic animal sacrifices in religious ceremonies and indicated they may legislate against the practice. "I do not believe we should tolerate animals to be used for sacrifice in some religions," Supervisor Kenneth Hahn said. "I think we should thoroughly investigate this and stop it."

Los Angeles became the first city in the nation Tuesday to ban animal sacrifices under any circumstances, including during religious rituals. The City Council approved an ordinance that makes such killings punishable by up to six months in jail and a fine of up to $1,000. The only dissenter in the 10-1 vote was Councilman Robert Farrell, who argued that such a law would restrict religious freedoms in immigrant communities, where animal sacrifice is "an expression of people's faith."

A bloody, painted cow's tongue found outside the entrance to a welfare office represented "a Santeria or voodoo ritual" but not a death threat, concluded a report by Los Angeles County sheriff's investigators released Thursday. Scraps of paper bearing the names of 14 workers at the county Department of Public and Social Services office were pinned to the yellow-painted tongue, which was discovered hanging from a tree at the department's office on East Avenue K early on July 28.

Dressed in a blue gingham dress, kerchief and flip-flops, a life-size mannequin representing an ancient African spirit sits in the corner of Botanica San Jose, keeping watch over the shop. Nearby, a 4-foot statue of Lazarus, patron of the sick and poor, hangs in the window. On the counter two candles burn--one for Lazarus, the other for St. Simon, a Catholic saint and one of the 12 apostles.