Ancestral Veneration: Returning to the Root

Ibase Egungun, Ibase Baba, Ibase Yeye.

We honor the ones who came before. We pour the cool water, we light the flame, we whisper names that live beyond the veil. Before there was religion, there was remembrance. Before there was prayer, there was the calling of names.

Ancestral veneration is the oldest practice of our people, the foundation of every sacred path across the African Diaspora. From the shrines of Ifá to the candles in a Hoodoo kitchen, from the veves drawn in Haitian soil to the offerings of Lukumí altars, we all reach back to the same truth: we are the continuation of those who came before.

Why We Venerate

Our ancestors are not gone; they have transitioned into wisdom. They are the invisible hands guiding us through storms and silence alike. To venerate them is to build relationship, a bridge between the living and the realm of spirit. In Ifá, we call them Egungun, those who have become powerful in spirit. In Hoodoo, we keep them close, housed in photographs, pipes, and perfume bottles that still hold their scent. In Vodou, they are the Gede, laughing at death and teaching us to live fully.

Through veneration, we remember who we are. Every prayer, every libation, every candle flame reawakens our lineage’s Asé, the living current of power that connects us to Creator and creation.

Levels of Veneration

There are four main ways we commune with our ancestors:

Remembering: speaking their names, keeping their photos, telling their stories.

Honoring: offering food, drink, flowers, or song in gratitude.

Elevating: praying for those who were troubled, assisting their spirits to rise in peace.

Invoking: calling on the elevated ones for guidance, protection, and clarity in our daily lives.

Not everyone will do all these levels at once, and that’s okay. Begin where your heart feels steady. Relationship takes time: even across worlds.

Daily Practice

Each day, I greet my ancestors before I greet the world.I ]whisper my gratitude, and listen in the stillness. My altar holds a white cloth for purity, a bowl of water to cool and cleanse, a candle to illuminate their path, and offerings that remind them of home, coffee, tobacco, rum, or a small plate of food.

When I pour libation, I do so slowly, with intention:

“Ibase Egungun, those who walked before me. I offer this water to cool your path. May your wisdom flow through my life as this water flows upon the earth.”

Sometimes gin or rum is added, the fire awakens their attention, the scent calls their spirit. Tobacco smoke, when blown gently, becomes breath upon breath, our spirit meeting theirs.

This is not superstition. It is communion. It is relationship. It is remembrance turned into ritual.

A Diasporic Remembering

For those of us born far from our ancestral lands, veneration becomes an act of reclamation. It is how we heal the rupture of displacement, by calling our people back into the circle. Every prayer, every glass of water on a nightstand, every candle lit in their name becomes a declaration: We are not lost. We remember.

A Call to Begin

If you have never venerated before, start simply:

A white candle.

A clear glass of cool water.

A quiet moment to say “Thank you.”

Their presence will meet you there.

Ibase Egungun.

Asé.May the ancestors walk with you, speak through you, and make your path firm beneath your feet.

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