As the practice of Ifá and Òrìṣà continues to flourish in Brazil, the country regarded as the largest Òrìsà nation outside Africa is witnessing a troubling rise in fraudulent individuals presenting themselves as Babaláwo or Oluwo. What began as a spiritual revival rooted in ancestral connection is now shadowed by exploitation, as unscrupulous individuals take advantage of Brazilians’ desire to connect with the Yoruba homeland and its traditions.
Today, Brazil has become a fertile ground for Nigerians who, in their homeland, were neither priests nor initiated practitioners of Ifá and Òrìṣà. Many arrive under different identities—some even as pastors or laymen—and within weeks proclaim themselves as spiritual authorities. The phenomenon has created confusion and mistrust within the Brazilian spiritual landscape. Stories abound of men named Chukwuemeka, Abdul, or Abram, who rebrand themselves in Brazil as Ifáyẹmí, Òrìṣàbunmi, or Èsùwandé, taking on sacred names to attract followers.
“I honestly couldn’t tell the difference between a real Babaláwo and someone faking it. One day he arrived as a pastor, the next he was calling himself an Olórìṣà. It’s confusing for us, because we want to honor the tradition, but how can we trust who is genuine?”
“It’s hard to know who to trust. One moment he is Abram, a Christian from Nigeria; the next, he is performing Ifá rituals and calling himself a Babaláwo. For someone seeking real spiritual guidance, it’s very unsettling.”
Brazilians, who often see Yorubaland not only as an ancestral homeland but as sacred soil, are particularly vulnerable. They search for guidance, initiation, and authentic connection to the roots of their faith. Yet in this search, many fall into the hands of impostors. Reports from across Brazil reveal Nigerians, who had no link to Ifá in their country, now conducting divinations, sacrifices, and initiations. They perform rituals while singing old songs of King Sunny Adé and Ebenezer Obey as if they were sacred incantations (ọ̀fọ̀), deceiving devotees unfamiliar with the true liturgical language of Yorùbá spirituality.
One Brazilian devotee, Ifábunmi Paula, shared her ordeal: “I was initiated into Ifá by a Nigerian who I later discovered was a Muslim. He had no background in Ifá at all. I trusted him because he claimed to be from Yorubaland, but it was all a lie.” Similar testimonies emerge daily, showing how deep the problem runs.
The situation is not limited to the Yoruba ethnic group. Nigerians from Igbo, Rivers, and Benin origins also adopt the title of Babaláwo once in Brazil, despite never practicing it in Nigeria. A striking example was shared by Sandro de Ogun, who revealed how a Nigerian friend in Santa Catarina arrived as a pastor but, seeing the lucrative demand for Òrìṣà priests, quickly reinvented himself as an Oluwo. “That was the simplest way for him to make money in a country where people seek the Òrìṣà daily,” Sandro explained.
The crisis is aggravated by social media. Many of these self-styled priests maintain strong online presences, fighting among themselves publicly while simultaneously advertising their services to unsuspecting Brazilians. Pai Orla de Olokun, a respected Brazilian priest, expressed his concern: “The worst part is not only that they deceive Brazilians, but now they are training Brazilians to join them in scamming others. It’s becoming a cycle of deception.”
Brazil’s spiritual seekers, particularly those moving away from Candomblé and Umbanda toward Ifá and Òrìṣà, face a dilemma. Without a regulatory body, it is difficult for them to know who is genuinely trained and who is not. The Nigerian embassy, critics argue, has failed to grasp the seriousness of this situation. Many suggest that the embassy should have already established a structure to guide Brazilians toward legitimate priests and practitioners from Nigeria.
While Brazil indeed hosts authentic Nigerian Babaláwo and Oluwo, whose dedication and knowledge enrich the religious landscape, their presence is overshadowed by the proliferation of impostors. The bad actors seem to dominate, traveling across the nation in search of vulnerable victims who, out of faith and longing for ancestral connection, open both their hearts and wallets.
If unaddressed, this issue threatens not only the reputation of authentic Nigerian priests but also the trust and stability of the growing Ifá-Òrìṣà movement in Brazil. The flourishing of Ìsèsè in the country could either continue as a powerful bridge of ancestral reconnection or risk being stained by unchecked fraud.
