[He is always accompanied by dogs, a symbol of his loyalty].

Continuing our series on orixás in this journal, today we reflect on Ogum, the warrior orixá. Owner of iron, war, and technology, Ogum was a pioneer who forged paths in the world, creating trails and opening roads. He is known for his unmatched strength and courage, and for bathing himself in red before battles.

After many victories, Ogum decided to return to the city where he once reigned as king. He had been away for years, fighting to protect his people and expand his territories. However, something unexpected happened as he approached.

He anticipated a grand welcome at the city gates—songs, dances, and celebrations. Instead, he was met with a sepulchral silence. No one came out to greet him; the people stood together, quiet. Feeling disrespected, Ogum became furious. To him, their silence was not just a lack of recognition—it was a betrayal.

Without hesitation, Ogum unsheathed his sword and, in a fit of rage, began to kill everyone he encountered. Wielding his iron sword, he took the lives of many until only one person remained to tell what had truly happened.

That person revealed to Ogum that the silence was not out of contempt or disloyalty, but because the people had been fasting and praying for his safe return, in profound reverence. Upon hearing this, Ogum was overwhelmed by guilt and remorse—and it was in that moment that he became divine.

I believe this itã is crucial for understanding the human nature of the orixás. Ogum is a relentless protector and a just figure. Yet, he is also impulsive and severe. It is precisely this complexity that invites deep reflection.

Worshiped across different regions since ancient times, orixás are surrounded by numerous itãs—some even contradictory. There is no single canonical version of their stories. Yet each narrative offers insights into the essence of these deities, if we are willing to engage with them critically.

Incidentally, I previously mentioned Ogum in this same series when writing about Iansã. In that piece, I recounted how Ogum stole the buffalo hide from the orixá and the reflection that followed.

What I didn’t mention, however, is that in another itã, Ogum returns from war and finds a child in his home—born to his wife during his absence. By his calculations, the child could not be his. Iansã holds the child in her arms and says, “The child is yours.” Ogum accepts her word without question and raises the child as his own.

His love for Iansã is evident, as are his affections for other orixás, such as Oxum and Yemanjá—who will be the subject of our next piece, and who is often considered Ogum’s mother in many itãs. As Mateus Aleluia sings so beautifully, the relationship between these two orixás is truly unique.

In Candomblé communities, Ogum is greeted with a powerful “Ogunhê!” as we ask for his protection in our daily struggles. He is always accompanied by dogs, which we can understand as a symbol of unwavering loyalty.

On this theme, Zeca Pagodinho is remembered for the song “Ogum”, though another of his songs also reminds me of the warrior orixá. In the chorus, he sings:
“Quando a gira girou, ninguém suportou, só você ficou, não me abandonou,
quando o vento parou e a água baixou, eu tive a certeza do seu amor.”
(When the wheel spun, no one endured, only you stayed, you didn’t leave me.
When the wind calmed and the water receded, I was certain of your love.)

May our father Ogum always bless us.