Yoruba religion and culture were spread throughout the Diaspora via the trans- 
Atlantic slave trade. The religion and its associated arts have taken new forms 
across the world. In Cuba, Yoruba religion is commonly known as Santeria, and 
central to its spiritual practice are the bata drums. 
On the 24th of May 2000, Amelia Pedroso, who was a Cuban priestess of 
Yemonja for 50 years, died of breast cancer in her home in Havana. Amelia was 
acquiring international fame both as an akpon (singer of sacred songs accompa- 
Interviewer: Amanda Vincent Translator: Joy Woolfe 
nied by bata drumming) and a bata player. Amelia's notoriety, in Cuba and 
internationally, was only partly due to her extraordinary musical talent and 
ritual knowledge, she also broke religious taboos by playing a drum traditionally 
reserved for males. 
The hour-glass Cuban bata, which are played in sets of three and are descendent 
from the Nigerian bata, survived through slavery only in Cuba, despite 
the fact that Yoruba traditions are equally strong in other parts of the Diaspora. 
However, the Cuban bata has diverged and evolved both musically and theologically. 
Like in Nigeria, the drums are considered to be sacred, and are used to
communicate with the 
Yoruba gods, orisa. 
These drums now sit at 
the heart of heated debates 
about religious 
protocol, cultural ownership 
and gender politics. 
Amelia Pedroso fearlessly 
challenged religious 
conventions, 
which exclude Cuban 
women from two of the 
primary religious power 
bases - divination and 
the sacred drumming. 
Amelia did both. 
In Cuba, it is highly 
taboo for women to play 
the consecrated bata 
called fundamento. As a 
powerful and highly 
respected Santeria 
priestess, Amelia dedicated 
the last few years 
of her life to the questioning 
of the prohibition 
against women 
bata players. She agitated 
for the right of 
women to learn the sacred 
rhythms, through 
her actions and her educational 
work in Cuba 
and abroad. 
On her visit to the 
UK in March 1999,1 
asked Amelia how 
she managed to 
learn the bata in an 
environment which 
is traditionally hostile 
towards female 
drummers. 
Amelia: I have been singing for the bata for 31 years and 
the sound of the bata always called and moved me, and I 
thought, "oh, if only I could play!" 
G.R: And when you thought "if only I could play," did you 
feel that there were obstacles? 
Amelia: Yes, there were many obstacles, principally that 
women don't play bata. Then I started to investigate about 
women and bata and realised that women can play 
aberinkula [unconsecrated bata] and that they play consecrated 
drums in Nigeria. I read this in a book while on tour 
in France, and there was a drawing of African women 
playing bata. African people have also told me that women 
can play there. 
G.R: So, in a sense, your permission came from outside 
Cuba. 
Amelia: (Laughs). I decided to go ahead and study bata 
because I knew that women could study aberinkula because 
it's got nothing to do with religion. It's separate. It's like a 
percussion instrument, like any other drum, congas. So I 
gave myself the task to really, really listen and play bata. 
G.R: You taught yourself? 
Amelia: Yes, through listening. 
G.R: How old were you when you started? 
Amelia: I started five years ago.
Amelia Pedroso 
Set of Bata drums (right). 
G.R: Were there other women playing bata? 
Amelia: Women, like my group, Ibbu Okun. There weren't 
women doing what we were doing, in the sense that we 
were doing everything, including the oru seco (a ceremonial 
series of toques (rhythms) for all of the or/sa). There 
were no other women doing that in the way my group was 
doing it. And there is still no group which plays like us. 
G.R: When you started performing, did people speak out 
against you? 
Amelia: Up to this moment, no. 
G.R: Have you 
heard rumors? 
Amelia: If I haven't heard up till now, at this level 
that we are, already traveling and performing all over the 
world, and other women are expressing their desire to 
play, then I know nothing of it. If there are rumors, it 
wouldn't make any difference. 
However, rumors have been flying around since her 
death. There has been unsubstantiated gossip in New 
York claiming that Amelia played a set of fundamento 
bata on one occasion, fueling talk about the nature of 
her illness. Some say fhat her decline was a result of the 
poor treatment of the disease, due to the US blockade of 
pharmaceutica/s to Cuba. Others whisper of the power of
Ana. 
The Cuban term Ana is derived from the Yoruba word 
Ayan, which is fhe spirit of the wood and deity of (all) 
drumming. In Nigeria, Ayan is passed down through male 
lineages and many drummers have an Ayan prefix to their 
name. In Cuba, Ana has evolved info Anya, which refers 
to both the spirit of bafa and a secref medicine (or 
fundamenfo). The Ana is constructed by a babalawo 
[divining priesfj, an Osain (Osanyin) priest (herbalist) and 
an omo Ana [drumming initiate] and placed inside the 
drum. If is believed that this secret enables the drums to 
communicate directly with the orisa. Only drummers who 
have been initiated into the secret brotherhood of Ana are 
allowed to play the consecrated drums. Ana poses this 
primary theological problem for female drummers in 
Cuba. Some religious practitioners consider the medicine 
to be potentially harmful to women. However, there are 
many confusing and contradictory arguments against 
women playing of bata. Some say that since fhe drums are 
"owned" by the male orisa, Sango, only mole energy can 
negotiate fhe drums. Others who recognize Ana as a 
female entity state: "a female cannot touch a female." 
Other contradictions abound. A woman may not touch a 
fundamenfo bafa drum, or even stand too close to it, yet 
she is expected to salute the drum by bowing and 
touching her forehead on each drum. 
Amelia was adamant that the existing arguments against 
women playing bata need review. 
G.R: Is Ana a male or female orisa? 
Amelia: Ana is like any other orisa. It is a saint and it is 
an entity that is masculine. 
G.R: In Nigeria, the divinity is usually considered to be 
female and it appears that Ana has become male in Cuba. 
Amelia: (Laughs). Everything is clear. 
G.R: Ayan in Nigeria is a patriarchal lineage', which 
comes through the father. It is rarely divined. But I have 
heard it is said that if a man has no sons, the daughter will 
be accepted into the house of Ayan. 
Amelia: Yes! Yes! In the future, women will be able to play 
Ana...In that passage from Nigeria, which is the root, to 
Cuba, there has been this machismo. 
G.R: Likewise, in Nigeria, a woman can become a 
babalawo and is called an iyanifa. It seems to me that in 
the drumming, Ana is where all the power is, and at the 
present women are forbidden from appropriating this 
power. What is the reason why women are prohibited from 
Ana? 
Amelia: If in Nigeria, the root of the religion in Cuba, the 
root of the orisa, the root of everything, the principal base, 
if there, women can be initiated, why is it not so in Cuba? It 
must be for the simple reason that men have taken control 
of the whole power, and why would that be? It must be 
because of menstruation. 
G.R: What about menstruation? 
Amelia: Menstruation debilitates Ana. It puts me in a 
weak position towards the saint. The problem is that when a 
woman is menstruating, she can't touch the drum or have 
any contact with Ana. 
If is believed by some that menstruation ls*b cleansing 
process, which transcends the need for women to cleanse 
themselves by playing bata, while an archetypal belief in 
West Africa and other parts of the world is that menstruation 
has polluting properties. Blood sacrifice is essential to 
Yoruba religion, and as the orisas 'eat' blood, direct 
contact with a deity is considered to be threatening to a 
woman's health. Yet no one seems able to offer a theological 
explanation on why women are still prohibited from 
playing after menopause. 
Amelia: That's their way of keeping women away. It is a 
form of taboo to distance us. If there is no woman, there is 
nothing in the world. A woman gives everything. 
The religious prohibition against women playing bata is in 
conflict with the government policy on fhe equality of 
women. Cuba's ] 976 Constitution states that women have 
the same rights as men in economic, political and social 
spheres, and this coincided with fhe institutionalization of 
folkloric and religious music by Castro, thereby producing 
professionals in performance and education. As such, an 
environment where drummers were not allowed to refuse 
foreign, female students who went to Cuba to study bata 
emerged. The economic problems in the country was 
softened for many bataleros who were able to line their 
pockets with foreign currency brought in by women and 
men alike. 
G.R: When I was staying in Matanzas, I was staying with a 
woman who insisted on coming to my lessons. She said, 
"No one will teach me, but they will teach you because you 
have dollars."
Amelia: I have been saying this for years. I am always 
telling people. I am always speaking very clearly: for many 
years now in Cuba, the men still don't want their women to 
play drums, but foreigners arrive and they teach them. They 
are not a threat because they would eventually leave. The 
reason for all of these is that they think that if more and 
more women get together, and more and more women are 
playing, they will be the ones who are pushed aside. But it 
is logical for them to be fearful in their own narrow way, 
because women are much, much stronger on every level. A 
man is just a man, but nothing more. 
G.R: Apart from the spiritual power which men are protecting 
and holding on to, can I suggest that there is also a 
commerce in bata because it is the most expensive drum to 
hire? 
Amelia: Absolutely. 
G.R: Do you think that women coming along is also a 
threat to this economic power? 
Amelia: Absolutely. 
G.R: However, we have a situation where women are 
excluded, but foreign men can be initiated into Ano. Is there 
any corruption? 
Amelia: Yes, there is. It is no longer a question of love 
towards the religion, but financial wheeling and dealing. 
G.R: How does that make you feel? 
Amelia: You can imagine. I can't understand it. It 
shouldn't be like that. But it is business. 
Amelia and her group, Ibbu Okun, were not only breaking 
with tradition by learning the sacred rhythms and performing 
in secular contexts, they were equally pushing frontiers 
by playing in ceremonies with the aberinkula bata, and 
managing to appropriate the necessary "secrets" through 
their own listening. 
G.R: As a female group, do people see you as a novelty, a 
phenomenon, or do they judge you purely on your musical 
credit? 
Amelia: All three. There are people who say: they are "a 
novelty, they're women, and they play well!" We are catalogued 
in all three ways. 
G.R: Why does your group get asked to play in ceremonies? 
Amelia: People like our group. But it is usually more 
because we play in the dia de medio, which is the second 
day of an initiation. That's when we play the oru seco. They 
like the way we play, and because I have been singing for 
the or/sa for so many years, they know that it will be done 
well. 
G.R: Do the or/sa possess devotees when you are playing? 
Amelia: Yes. 
G.R: So, in a sense,-you have just as much power as male 
drummers with Ana? 
Amelia: I don't know for sure, because I have not been 
taught, but I know that in certain moments when we do 
certain things, that is a key thing in bringing the orisa down. 
In the toques for Sango and Yemonja, I hear it and then 
play it. 
G.R: I heard it said in Cuba that if someone becomes 
possessed and is speaking Spanish, then the person is 
faking it. If it's authentic, such person would speak Lucumi 
[dialect of Yoruba now only used in liturgical contexts]. 
Amelia: I don't agree. Sometimes people speak Lucumi, 
and sometimes they speak Spanish. 
G.R: Do you think that many people feign possession? 
Amelia: Yes. 
G.R: Can you tell the difference? 
Amelia: Yes. 
G.R: Why don't they stop it? 
Amelia: Because they're crazy. 
To the more orthodox bataleros, it is the actual rhythms 
which are sacrosanct. They consider it to be a religious 
fransgression if a woman learns and understands these 
rhythms. As part of the initiation process, Ana drummers 
take an oath not to teach women and may risk their 
livelihood within the religious community if they accept 
female students. There is an alleged "secret drum language" 
which some say can only be accessed by inifiafes 
of the Ana brotherhood.
G.R: Do you know the secret drum language? in the final months of her life. She was working on a book 
of Lucumi songs and planned to deepen and exchange 
her knowledge in Nigeria. 
Amelia: I want to publish the songs, otherwise the religion 
is lost. Even in Africa, they say that the religion in Cuba still 
manages to keep ahead in some ways because a lot of 
things have been lost in Africa. I am worried that more will 
be lost, which is why I need to publish this book, 
G.R: Some Nigerians feel very angry when they hear that 
said. 
Amelia: I have not been taught; but I arn not sure to what 
extent it is secret, in the sense that if you can hear, then you 
can play. I have done everything by hearing others play. But 
I don't think that it is secret, it's just that they don't teach it. 
On occasions, I have heard them speak and they say: "this 
toque means this." Not everyone knows these things, but 
quite a lot of drummers do. I know people who know it, and 
they would be able to play something, and the other one 
will reply with the drum. I communicate with the drum, but 
more with the song. There are moments when the song is 
very important for bringing the or/so down, but I think the 
Amelia: I am not the one who said this - it was a Nigerian 
man. 
drum alone can bring the orisa. This is done with the 
conversation of the drum. I have heard it done, and I have 
done it myself through hearing. 
G.R: Is it possible that everybody learns that way and 
actually there is no secret drum language? 
Amelia's death brings a great loss to the Santeria tradition. 
Her passing is particularly sad for the growing number of 
women who have been challenging the long-held taboo 
against female drummers. Amelia will be remembered for 
her beautiful voice, her phenomenal wealth of knowledge, 
and her warrior spirit which will undoubtedly pave the way 
for change in the 21st century. GR 
Amelia: I believe that. It is as if having a secret is more 
important than the content of the secret. It's like saying "this 
box is green inside," and someone says "why is it green 
inside?" There should be a reason for things. 
bruba religion has become highly politicized in Europe 
and the United States, where it is often argued that only 
people with African ancestry have the birthright to this 
spiritual practice. Amelia is outspoken in her disapproval of 
this view. 
Amelia: That is totally out of order. I have always been a 
just person. Olofi [Lucumi for Olorun or God] created the 
world and the orisa for all people of all races. The religion 
has got nothing to do with helping to get a better house, a 
better job, and a new wife. It's just for devotion in the 
spiritual realm. 
G.R: Have you ever seen discrimination against white 
people within the religion in Cuba? 
Amelia: No. There are almost more white people in the 
religion than blacks. I have white American god children 
who are about to do their initiation in Cuba. It's not that the 
whites want to rob the religion, and sometimes some of 
these people (whites) have more faith than some black 
people. The religion gives you so much when you're close 
to your orisa. It fills your life so much. These white people 
have experienced that, and that's why they're drawn to it. 
While in the UK, Amelia met a Yoruba chief from Osogbo 
who promised to fake her to Nigeria in late 2000. It was o 
dream which Amelia held dear and frequently spoke abouf