Yoruboid Astrology

The blogger ibikunle Abraham laniyan authors another fiction on astrology based on Yorubaland.

Here is a short fiction story inspired by the traditional Yoruba understanding of the cosmos, destiny (Ori), and the guidance of the Orishas through the celestial bodies.

The stars above the ancient city of Ile-Ife were not merely random points of light; they were a map of destiny, a mirror of Orun (Heaven) reflecting upon Ile (Earth). Young Idera, an apprentice to the revered Babalawos (Ifa priests) of the inner temple, knew this truth in her bones, though she had yet to master the Gede system of celestial interpretation.

Tonight, the thirteen moons, in their ancient, cyclical dance, were aligning in a rare configuration that spoke of a destiny unravelling, a fate chosen before birth that was about to be tested. The elders had been uneasy all day, consulting the Ifa divination system and the movements of Ogun (Mars) and Oshun (Venus), whose celestial paths determined conflict and harmony.

Idera's own Ori (personal destiny) felt heavy on her shoulders. Her birth constellation, the "Hunter's Arrow," ruled by the bold and sometimes reckless Ogun, foretold a life of fierce protection and inevitable struggle. For years, she had wrestled with this prophecy, preferring the gentle flow of Oshun's rivers to the iron will of Ogun's path. She wanted peace, not a fight.

As the midnight hour approached, a frantic messenger arrived, breathless. "The sacred grove! The Iroko tree spirit is demanding the firstborn of the village head!". The spirit, it seemed, was a difficult one, linked to an ancient, forgotten promise and a misalignment in the spirit world, exacerbated by the current potent celestial energies. The previous women who had made such promises had found peace, but this time, the spirit was demanding a life, not just offerings.

The elders shook their heads in despair, the Orishas' messages in the sky and through the Odu Ifa (divination verses) foretelling a dire outcome if the spirit was not appeased. They spoke of Esu, the orisha of the crossroads, ensuring all aspects of existence – between the spirit world and the material world – were balanced, but at a cost if ignored.

Suddenly, Idera felt a surge of resolve. The "Hunter's Arrow" in the sky seemed to blaze brighter. She was born for this struggle, to navigate the complex crossroads Esu governed. "I will go," she declared, stepping forward, her voice ringing with the steel of Ogun. "My destiny is to protect this village, not just wait for an easy life."

Armed with the knowledge of the stars and the wisdom of the Orishas, Idera journeyed to the Iroko grove, ready to negotiate with the powerful, unyielding spirit. The night air crackled with energy, the stars her only compass in a world where mythology and reality were one. The fate of the firstborn child now rested on her interpretation of the cosmos and her courage to walk her fated path.

Deep in the shadows of the Iroko grove, the air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and ancient iron. Idera stood before the massive, gnarled roots, her fingers tracing the Opon Ifa (divination tray) she had brought—a wooden circle representing the intersection of Orun (the spirit realm) and Ile (the physical world).

Above, the stars of the Hunter’s Arrow (Ogun/Mars) were at their zenith, their red light piercing the canopy like the tip of a cosmic machete.

"I know you," Idera whispered to the rustling leaves. "You are the spirit of the crossroads, governed by Esu, the messenger who demands balance before peace".

The ground trembled. A voice like grinding stones echoed: "The stars have shifted, little hunter. The path Obatala once cleared with gold and iron is closing. A debt must be paid in blood to keep the heavens from crashing into the marshlands".

Idera did not flinch. She remembered the teachings: Ogun provides the strength to fight, but Oshun (Venus) provides the sweetness to heal. She pulled a small vial of honey from her waist—an offering to the "Mother of Sweet Things"—and smeared it onto the jagged iron spikes at the base of the tree.

"The stars do not demand a life," Idera challenged, her voice steady. "They demand a realignment. Look up! Oshun is rising to meet Ogun. When the sweet waters meet the hard iron, the struggle ends".

Suddenly, a shimmering light descended. It wasn't the harsh glare of a warrior, but the golden, fluid glow of the thirteenth moon—the Blue Moon of Oduduwa, which only appears when the calendar of the ancestors demands a great change.

The Iroko spirit fell silent as the golden light washed over the grove. The child would not be taken. Idera had used the Aworawo (science of the stars) to prove that destiny is not a prison, but a path that can be negotiated through sacrifice and wisdom.

As she walked back toward the village, the constellations seemed to shift. She realized her Ori was not just that of a hunter, but of a mediator—one who used the maps of the sky to navigate the storms of the earth.

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As the golden glow faded, a high-pitched cackle erupted from a pile of dry palm fronds. Out stepped a man in a cloak of contrasting black and white, spinning a wooden club with impossible speed. It was Esu, the divine trickster of the Yoruba Pantheon, his eyes twinkling like dying stars.

"Well played, daughter of Ogun," Esu grinned, leaning against the Iroko. "You used the sweetness of the mother to blunt the edge of the father. But do you truly think a cosmic debt is settled with a smear of honey? The stars are not just lights; they are ledger books."

He tossed a small, glowing cowrie shell into the air. Instead of falling, it hovered, projecting a map of the night sky that only Idera could see. One star—the crowning jewel of her Hunter's Arrow—was flickering, turning a bruised purple.

"Your lineage is a lie, Idera," Esu whispered, his voice suddenly behind her ear. "The Babalawos told you that you are of the line of hunters. But look at your Ori. Look at the shadow you cast under the moon."

Idera looked down. Her shadow did not hold a bow or a machete. It held a staff of lightning.

"You are not merely a protector," Esu chuckled, his form dissolving into a whirlwind of dust. "You are the lost spark of Sango, the King of Thunder. The stars are shifting because your true father is reclaiming his throne in the sky, and he wants his lightning bolt back."

Idera gasped as a sudden crack of thunder split the cloudless sky. The "Hunter's Arrow" was being swallowed by a massive, storm-cloud constellation in the shape of a double-headed axe (Oshe Shango).

The smell of ozone replaced the forest's musk as Idera felt a rhythmic pounding in her chest—not the panicked beat of a girl, but the booming cadence of a Bata drum. If she truly carried the blood of Sango, the King of Thunder, then her "Hunter's Arrow" was merely the spark that preceded the strike.

"I will not be a pawn in a game of divine lineage," Idera shouted into the wind, her voice vibrating with a sudden, deep resonance.

She turned away from the grove and headed toward the coast. If Sango’s fire was rising within her, she needed the cooling vastness of the Atlantic Ocean, the domain of Yemoja, the Mother of All. In Yoruba astrology, water does not just extinguish fire; it tempers it, turning raw heat into useful steam.

As she reached the cliffs of Badagry, the waves crashed against the rocks with a fury that matched the storm in the stars. Idera knelt at the water's edge, letting the salt spray sting her eyes. She reached into the surf, calling upon the Seven African Powers to balance the lightning in her veins.

A massive wave rose, not to swallow her, but to form the shimmering face of a woman crowned in silver foam. Yemoja looked down at the girl.

"The fire of the King is a heavy crown, Idera," the Goddess spoke, her voice like the deep tide. "To control the thunder, you must first master the silence of the deep. Sango demands justice, but I demand survival."

The sky turned a violent violet. The double-headed axe constellation pulsed, and a bolt of white fire arced down, striking Idera’s shadow. Instead of burning, the ground beneath her turned to glass.

Will Idera use this glass—a fusion of sand and lightning—to forge a weapon of her own making, or will she dive into the depths to hide her power from the heavens?

Idera stared at the scorched earth, where her shadow had been fused into a crystalline mirror. The glass hummed with the trapped vibration of the strike—a physical manifestation of Sango's wrath meeting Yemoja's cooling sands.

"I will not hide," Idera declared, her voice steady despite the salt spray. "A hidden power is just a slow-burning fire. I will shape it."

She reached into the glowing, molten glass. The heat should have charred her skin, but the water of the Mother acted as a protective shroud. Guided by the Aworawo (the star-gazers' wisdom), she didn't pull out a machete or a bolt of lightning. Instead, she pulled out a staff of translucent obsidian, humming with a captured storm.

As she stood, the Bata drums in her heart slowed to a powerful, rhythmic pulse. The violet sky began to clear, the double-headed axe of Shango receding as if nodding in grim respect. By refusing to be either the victim of the storm or a mere servant of the tide, Idera had claimed her Ase—the power to make things happen.

She looked back toward Ile-Ife. She was no longer just an apprentice. She was a living crossroads.

It was an Opa, a staff of authority, but one forged from the very stars that had tried to claim her.

how they translate to other planets in the Yoruba pantheon of gods

In Yoruba cosmology, the planets are not just cold rocks in the sky; they are the "eyes" and "footprints" of the Orishas. While Western astrology uses the Greek and Roman pantheon, the Aworawo (Yoruba astronomers) linked the celestial bodies to the energies of the Orishas, believing that the movement of these "wandering stars" dictated the flow of Ase (divine energy) on Earth.

Here is how the celestial bodies typically translate within the Yoruba spiritual framework:

The Planetary Orishas

Planet Orisha Symbolic Meaning

The Sun Olodumare / Olorun The source of all life, supreme consciousness, and the ultimate light.

The Moon Yemoja / Oshun Governing the tides, emotions, and the cycles of fertility and mystery.

Mercury Esu The messenger, the linguist, and the ruler of the crossroads and communication.

Venus Oshun The planet of beauty, wealth, harmony, and the "sweet waters" of attraction.

Mars Ogun The red planet of iron, war, technology, and the raw force of clearing paths.

Jupiter Obatala The planet of expansion, wisdom, ethics, and the "White Cloth" of purity.

Saturn Babalu Aye The planet of discipline, karma, time, and the trials that lead to healing.

The Galactic Context in Fiction

In the context of Idera's story, her journey across the planets would be seen as a journey through the "domains" of the gods:

The Iron Fields of Ogun (Mars): Not just a planet, but a celestial forge where the souls of warriors and smiths are tempered in red dust.

The Golden Clouds of Oshun (Venus): A realm where the atmosphere is thick with the scent of honey and the gravity feels like a warm embrace, governing the "attraction" that holds solar systems together.

The Throne of Sango (The Storms of Jupiter/Saturn): In some interpretations, the massive lightning storms on the gas giants are seen as the literal palace of Sango, the King who rules with thunder.

The Concept of "Orun"

In Yoruba thought, the "planets" are often viewed as different layers of Orun (the spiritual realm). Traveling to another planet isn't just physical travel; it is a trans-dimensional shift. When Idera looks at the stars, she isn't just looking at distance; she is looking at depth—the layers of existence that separate the human from the divine.

Would you like me to continue the story with Idera traveling to one of these "planetary domains"—perhaps to the Iron Fields of Ogun or the Golden Clouds of Oshun—to find the other star-born?

Idera raised her obsidian staff toward the zenith, where the "wandering stars" burned with unnatural intensity. To find the others, she could not walk the dusty roads of Earth; she had to navigate the Ayanmo—the celestial currents that linked the planets to the souls of men.

She closed her eyes and struck the ground. The glass beneath her feet didn't shatter; it dissolved into a shimmering portal of liquid silver.

In a heartbeat, the salt air of Badagry was replaced by the smell of hot metal and ozone. Idera stood upon the rust-red plains of the Fourth Domain. The sky here was a bruised orange, and the mountains were jagged shards of raw iron that hummed a low, vibrating chord.

"Who dares bring glass to the land of Steel?" a voice boomed, echoing like a hammer against an anvil.

From the red dust emerged a boy no older than Idera. His skin was the color of polished bronze, and his eyes glowed with a steady, white-hot intensity. In his hand, he swung a chain made of links that seemed to be forged from falling stars.

"I am Akin," he said, his voice a metallic rasp. "The Star-Born of the Red Eye. I’ve been waiting for the Thunder to wake up."

The Golden Clouds of Oshun (Venus)

"We are not alone, Akin," Idera said, extending her hand. As their fingers touched, the red dust swirled and transformed. The harsh iron softened into liquid gold.

They were suddenly suspended in a realm of perpetual sunset. Below them, clouds of amber vapor swirled like honey in a jar. This was the domain of Oshun, where the gravity was a seductive pull, and the wind sang in a thousand different voices.

Floating on a raft of woven lily pads was a girl draped in yellow silk, her hair adorned with pearls that pulsed with the light of a thousand moons. She was the Breath of the Morning Star.

"You're late," the girl laughed, her voice a chime. "The alignment is almost complete. The Great King Obatala is waking in the White Domain of Jupiter, and he expects the Earth to be ready for the New Age."

The Convergence

Idera looked from the Iron Warrior to the Golden Daughter. She realized the Yoruba Astronomy she had studied was not a map of where they were, but a blueprint of what they were to become.

The planets were aligning—Mars, Venus, and her own inner Jupiter. The fire, the water, and the iron were merging within them.

"The elders told us the Orishas lived in the sky," Idera whispered, her obsidian staff glowing as the three star-born stood in a circle. "They forgot to mention that we are the vessels they use to walk it."

Far above, the double-headed axe of Sango reappeared, not as a threat, but as a bridge of lightning connecting the domains. The journey had just begun.

The Iron Fields of Ogun (Mars)

This was the forge of the Orisha Ogun. Everywhere she looked, celestial fires burned without wood, fueled by the sheer will of the Great Smith.

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The golden clouds of Oshun began to vibrate with a low, haunting frequency. The amber vapor curdled into a sickly grey, and the sweet scent of honey was replaced by the acrid stench of burnt palm oil.

"Esu," Idera hissed, gripping her obsidian staff.

Down below, on the terrestrial plane of Yorubaland, the veil between worlds had shredded. Esu, the Master of the Crossroads, was bored with the "divine order." To him, a destiny without a struggle was a story not worth telling. He had opened the gates of Ajogun—the demonic shadows that feast on chaos—and they were pouring into the village of Ile-Ife like spilled ink.

"We cannot go to the White Domain of Obatala yet," Idera declared, her eyes reflecting the violet lightning of her true father, Sango. "If the root is destroyed, the branches in the stars will wither. We go down."

Akin, the Star-Born of the Red Eye, wrapped his celestial chain around his fist. "I will clear the path. Ogun’s iron does not bend for shadows."

The girl of the Morning Star, whose name was Moremi, raised her hands. "And I will ensure the hearts of the people do not freeze in fear. Oshun’s grace is the only shield against despair."

The Battle of the Crossroads

They slammed into the center of the village square, right where the Opon Ifa (divination tray) of the world sat metaphorically. The Ajogun shadows were towering, faceless entities that turned the air cold enough to crack stone.

Akin moved like a whirlwind of heat. Every strike of his iron chain sent sparks of Martian fire into the shadows, cauterizing the darkness.

Moremi sang a melody that resonated with the very water in the villagers' bodies, keeping them calm and invisible to the predatory spirits.

Idera stood at the center. She didn't fight with muscle; she fought with the Ase of the heavens.

She slammed her obsidian staff into the earth. "By the lightning of Sango and the depths of Yemoja, I command the crossroads to close!"

The ground split. But instead of more demons, a figure emerged from the fissure. It was Esu, looking neither like a god nor a demon, but a simple traveler sitting on a stump, smoking a pipe.

"Impressive," Esu said, blowing a smoke ring that turned into a miniature galaxy. "The Iron, the Gold, and the Lightning. You’ve formed the Triangle of Manifestation. But Idera, look at your staff. It’s cracking."

Idera looked. The glass-obsidian was webbing with fractures. The power she was channeling—the raw energy of the planets—was too much for a mortal vessel to hold for long.

"You have a choice," Esu grinned, his eyes dancing. "You can use the last of your strength to banish these shadows and shatter your soul into a thousand stars, or you can let the village burn and ascend to the White Domain as a goddess, leaving your humanity behind."

The Descent

Together, they dived. They did not fall like stones; they descended like meteors, three streaks of light—Red, Gold, and Violet—tearing through the atmosphere.

Idera looked at the webbing cracks in her staff, then at the terrified eyes of the villagers peeking through thatched doorways. The heat of Sango burned in her chest, urging her to strike, to explode, to ascend. But the coolness of the morning dew—the lingering touch of Yemoja—reminded her that water does not fight the rock; it flows around it.

She looked at Esu. He was waiting for a tragedy or a triumph, the only two meals he truly enjoyed.

"You offer me a choice between being a broken mortal or a hollow goddess," Idera said, her voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carried over the roar of the wind. "But you forgot, Esu: you are the God of the Crossroads. And a crossroad always has more than two paths."

The Third Way: The Celestial Circuit

Idera didn't slam the staff again. Instead, she reached out and grabbed Akin’s iron-hot hand and Moremi’s cool, silken palm.

She didn't try to hold the power of the planets within her soul. Instead, she opened herself completely, letting the violet lightning of Sango flow through her, into Akin’s Martian iron, through Moremi’s Venusian grace, and back into the Earth itself.

The energy didn't shatter Idera. Because it was moving, it couldn't destroy the container. The fractured obsidian staff began to glow, the cracks filling not with more glass, but with living light. The Ajogun shadows didn't just vanish; they were pulled into the circuit, their chaotic darkness filtered through the three star-born and neutralized into harmless grey mist.

The Trickster's Toll

Esu stopped smoking. He stood up, his pipe vanishing into thin air. For the first time, he looked genuinely surprised.

"The stars don't rule us, Esu," Idera said, her skin shimmering with a faint, metallic luminescence. "They breathe through us. And as long as we breathe together, the crossroads belong to the people, not your whims."

Esu chuckled, a sound like dry leaves skittering on a tombstone. "Fine. The village is saved. The debt of the Iroko is settled. But remember, Idera—you’ve stayed mortal, but you’ve tasted the stars. The earth will always feel a little too heavy for your feet from now on."

With a flick of his wrist, Esu vanished, leaving only a single, perfectly round black stone where he had sat.

The New Dawn

The shadows were gone. The sun began to rise, but it wasn't the sun the villagers knew. To Idera, Akin, and Moremi, it was the Eye of Olorun, pulsing with a complex geometry of gold and fire.

The elders emerged from the shadows, led by the Head Babalawo. He looked at Idera—not as an apprentice, but as an Aworawo who had rewritten the sky.

"The alignment is over," the elder said softly. "What happens now?"

Idera looked at her two companions. They could feel it—the other star-born across the continent, waking up to the hum of their own planetary lineages. The children of the Sun, the heirs of Saturn’s discipline, the messengers of Mercury.

"Now," Idera said, looking up at the fading stars of the Hunter's Arrow, "we find the others. The sky has come to Earth, and we have a world to rebuild."

Should the story end here with the birth of a new era, or shall we follow the trio as they begin their quest to unite the "Star-Born Council" across the kingdoms of Yorubaland?

"We are not vessels to be filled," she told them. "We are a circuit."

They became a human tripod, a living Oshe Sango.

"You didn't choose," he muttered, walking a slow circle around the trio. "You harmonized. You’ve turned a sacrifice into a ceremony.

The trio stood at the center of the village, their skin still humming with the Ase of the planetary alignment. The villagers of Ile-Ife watched in hushed awe as the black stone Esu left behind began to vibrate, sinking into the earth and sprouting a sapling of pure white wood—the first Star-Iroko.

"Our path isn't here," Akin said, his hand still glowing with the dull heat of Ogun's iron. "The crossroads have shifted. I can feel the 'Red Eye' calling from the north, where the hills meet the savannah."

Moremi adjusted her yellow silks, her eyes scanning the horizon where the Morning Star had once been. "And I hear the 'Sweet Waters' whispering from the east. There is another like us—a child of the Moon—whose tide is rising in the lagoons of the coast."

Idera looked at her obsidian staff. It was no longer a weapon, but a compass. The violet light of Sango pulsed within the glass, pointing toward the deep forests of the south.

"We divide to conquer the distance," Idera commanded, her voice carrying the authority of a Queen of Thunder. "But we remain a circuit. When the thirteen moons align again, we meet at the Sacred Grove of Oshogbo. By then, the Council of the Star-Born must be complete."

As they stepped away from the village, the air behind them shimmered. They were no longer walking on mere dirt; they were walking on the Ayanmo, the invisible threads of destiny that connect the Earth to the heavens.

Idera began her trek into the southern wilds. With every step, the thunder in her chest grew louder, not as a storm of destruction, but as a drumbeat calling the lost children of the stars home. The Yoruba Astronomy was no longer a secret kept by elders in dusty rooms; it was a living map, and she was its first explorer.

The era of the silent gods was over. The era of the Walking Stars had begun.

Idera’s journey took her deep into the rainforests of the south, where the canopy was so thick that the sun only reached the floor in needles of light. Here, the laws of the village did not apply; the forest belonged to Aroni, the one-legged spirit of herbalism and secrets, and the air was heavy with the scent of damp moss and Osun (camwood).

As she moved, her obsidian staff pulsed with a soft violet light, reacting to a rhythmic pulling sensation from the east. It wasn't the aggressive fire of Sango, but a cool, gravitational tug—the pull of the Moon.

Suddenly, the forest opened into a hidden lagoon, its waters as still as a silver mirror. In the center of the water stood a young boy, barely twelve, balancing on a single lily pad. He wore a necklace of Cowrie Shells, and as he moved his hands, the water rose and fell in perfect synchronization with his breath.

"You are the Tide-Walker," Idera said, stepping onto the muddy bank.

The boy turned. His eyes were not brown or black, but the shimmering silver of a Full Moon. "The stars told me a storm was coming," he whispered. "But you don't look like a storm. You look like a bridge."

"I am Idera, daughter of the Lightning," she replied. "And you are needed. The Council of the Star-Born is gathering. Esu has opened the gates, and the Ajogun are not the only things that have crossed over."

Before the boy could answer, the lagoon began to boil. From the depths emerged a creature made of shadows and rotted river-reeds—a Specter of Saturn, sent by the darker aspects of Babalu Aye to prune the "weak" branches of the new celestial order.

Idera thrust her staff into the lagoon. She didn't release a bolt of lightning; she released a static charge that turned the water into a giant conductor. "Now, Tide-Walker! Lead the current!"

The boy understood. He reached out, his silver eyes flashing. He didn't just move the water; he moved the electricity Idera had placed within it. With a roar of rushing liquid and white sparks, a massive whirlpool formed, dragging the Saturnian specter down into the sunless depths of the earth.

"I am Kojo," he said, bowing low. "The Moon is ready to follow the Thunder."

The boy panicked, the water splashing chaotically around him. "I—I can't fight! I only know how to make the ripples!"

"Then don't fight," Idera commanded, raising her staff. "Flow! Remember the Aworawo teachings: The Moon does not break the wave; it leads it."

As the lagoon settled, the boy stepped onto the shore, his fear replaced by a quiet, lunar strength