By the Gods!

Sango

Alright, let me level with you here: when it comes to the mythic structure of the Yoruba religion (the Yoruba being one of the largest ethnic group in West Africa), I’m not exactly in my comfort zone. I’m familiar with the concepts, but the specifics are new for me, as I’d imagine they’d be for many of you. That said, we’re setting on the proverbial goldmine of interesting info, so let’s dive in by talking about Sango, the god of thunder and lightning, and the progenitor of the Yorubas themselves.

Sango (also Shango) has a variety of stories floating around about between different cultural groups, and it’s difficult to hammer down any consistency in the myths, but there was definitely somethin’ going on with those wives of his, Oba, Oshun, and Oya. Sango had three wives and three families, who in some stories he lived with at the same time in the same compound, thus creating the first Full House scenario centuries before it would be popularized and perfected by Saget and Stamos. 

In one of the Yoruba stories, Sango is trying to get rid of his powerful and ambitious generals, Timi and Gbonka, by pitting them against each other. Each of them wields the power of fire, and after what can only be an incredible elemental battle (á la Avatar: Last Airbender, probably) Timi is slain. Gbonka then asks to be burned alive, and is reduced to ashes. However, three days after his death, he is resurrected (alert: be aware of diffusion and popular mythological facets being borrowed and reused between cultures!). His resurrection shames Sango, who then leaves town and takes his own life, supposedly. It was the hope and belief of the Yoruba, however, that he did not truly kill himself, but instead left to watch over the people from on high. The followers of Sango would kill any who claimed that the god had taken his own life with the lightning they had been allowed to wield by their now-gone lord.

In Haitian Vodou, Sango is seen as a more powerful god of thunder and lightning, but the Yoruba stories venerate him as a legendary, mostly-human founder of their line, and attribute fewer omniscient qualities to him, instead seeing him as a holy ancestor. As we’ve seen before, it’s only natural for a degree of deification to filter its way into veneration in polytheistic and/or natural religions. Hey, when I think about my great-great-grandfather, you’d better believe he’s shooting fire from his fingers and riding a manta ray through the sky.

Indra

One of the chief deities of Indian mythology was Indra. God of war, storms, and rainfall, he was also known as the king of the gods in the Rig Veda, the ancient hymns forming part of the sacred knowledge of hinduism. His role as king of the gods would diminish, however, as Hinduism matured, and the role of the Trimurti (the trinity of Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva) came to the fore. 

Indra is usually depicted as red or gold-skinned, and is usually an intimidating deity to look upon. He’s big, he’s fierce, he’s warlike; he wants to eff you up. He carries a thunderbolt in his right hand, which he uses to either slay his enemies or revive those killed in battle, depending on his mood. He was said to ride through the heavens in a chariot, (often said to be the sun itself) but in later depictions he was often shown riding the elephant, Airavata. 

Indra was born from heaven and earth, which he then separated forever. He challenged the old order of gods and became king of the new, and led the gods against hordes of demons and the Asuras. He was credited with bringing light and rain, worshipped in some ways as a fertility god and god of creation. His importance declined in time, however, and though he remained a terrifying god of thunder and war, he came to be regarded as a divine earthly monarch, rather than divinely conceived god.