Being ridden.
The vocabulary is explicit — the orisha mounts the devotee as a rider mounts a horse — and the person has no memory afterwards and is told what happened. The community does not accept every instance: what is watched is whether the behaviour is characteristic of that particular orisha, and a false one is spotted.
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Hearing your odu.
The babalawo casts, marks the figure, and begins reciting verses about people you have never heard of. The identification is the client's job, not his, and people describe the disconcerting experience of listening to a story about a stranger and realising partway through that it is an account of their own situation.
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Talking to your head.
Cool water and your own hands on your own head, addressing directly the destiny you chose before birth and cannot remember choosing. Practitioners describe it as the difference between fighting your circumstances and asking them what they are. No priest, no shrine, no fee.
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When it comes out.
People report fear, and the young men with switches keeping the crowd back are not there for effect. The covering is absolute — no skin, no eyes, no hands visible — because what is present is not held to be the man inside. The crowd's reaction is treated by the tradition as part of the evidence.
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The drum knows your name.
Bata drums reproduce the tones of Yoruba words, so a drum can say a praise name, and each orisha has rhythms belonging to no other. Devotees describe recognising their own orisha's rhythm in a crowded room before consciously registering that they have heard it. The drumming is not accompaniment — it is the summons.
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