Our Lady of Candelaria (Nuestra Señora de la Candelaria or La Virgen de Candelaria) is the patron saint of Tenerife in the Canary Islands (Spanish islands off the African coast of Morocco), the African Diaspora, and miners.
In the Colonial Era, many Canary Islanders moved to the Caribbean and South America. They brought Candelaria with them. She has been adopted as the patron saint of Black communities across the Americas including in Cartagena, Colombia and Mayagüez, Puerto Rico. She’s also associated with candlelight, so is the patron saint of mining communities across the Americas, including in Oruro, Bolivia where there is a great festival.
Candelaria’s feast is on February 2, Candelmas, the end of the Christmas – Epiphany season.
The Story of Our Lady of Candelaria
The legend is that her statue was found on a Canary Island beach by Indigenous Guanche herders, a North African Berber people. Being unable to destroy the statue, the Guanche began to worship it as a manifestation of God.
An enslaved and converted Guanche saw the statue and claimed it for the Spaniards as the Virgin Mary. After further adventures, the first Feast of Our Lady of Candelaria was held in 1497.
[Editor Kíko Kí: Personally, I love and respect the Virgin in all her forms. Even had a mystical experience with Nuestra Señora de la Candelaria. However, considering the legacy of colonialism, her founding story reads more like a justification for the enslavement of humans, than genuine religious experience. That doesn’t take anything away from how much the people love her.]
Our Lady of Candelaria is Candelmas
The Catholic Candelmas is the 40th day of the Christmas – Epiphany season. It celebrates the presentation of Jesus at the Temple and the purification of the Virgin Mary. It may have evolved from the ancient Roman spring purification festival of Lupercalia.
In some parts of the Latin world, Candelmas is when we take down our Christmas decorations. In France, we celebrate Candelmas by eating crêpes.
Oyá and Atabey
In the Americas, most Catholic saints have a syncretized African Diaspora pair. Our Lady of Candelaria is syncretized with Oyá, the Yoruba orisha of wind and storms, of death and rebirth.
The similarities between Indigenous African traditions and Indigenous American traditions are striking. Oyá has the same character as the supreme Taíno god Atabey, the face of fresh water, fertility, and hurricanes.
La Fiesta de la Candelaria
Our Lady of Candelaria is a Black Madonna (La Morenita) who is the patron saint of the Canary Islands. She is also venerated in the central Philippines, Jacaltenango, Guatemala; Mexico; Puno, Peru; and parts of Puerto Rico.
After the Spanish took the islands from their Indigenous Berber peoples in 1496, they set up a sugar colony. During the colonial period the Canaries were an important stop for Spanish galleons on their way to the Americas. They carried Canary Island traditions to the New World and as far as the Philippines.
When in the 1700s, it became cheaper to produce sugar in the Caribbean, many Canary Islanders moved with their sugar-growing expertise and brought their traditions with them.
The Fiesta de la Candelaria in Puno, Peru is one of the biggest cultural festivals in South America.
Some Puerto Ricans have a Canary Island heritage. The Mascaras Festival in Hatillo, Puerto Rico is a Canary Island festival. It is wild. For three days and nights, locals roam the countryside reenacting the biblical massacre of the innocents in wild costumes on carnivalesque jeeps and trucks, blaring air raid sirens and fighting mock (and sometimes real) battles. The kids spray shaving cream on everyone. People die almost every year, but it’s a great party.
The Black Madonna
The way we see Black Madonnas is probably a vestige of colonial racism. Being born, raised, and educated in the United States, I used to think a Black Madonna made sense in Africa. I apologize for the poverty of my education.
Africa is a very large and very diverse continent. Skin color is a false flag. There are dark-skinned and light-skinned people all over the world. There are Black Madonnas all over Europe too. Some woods darken with age and exposure, especially to candle smoke.
Even so, for those of us with darker skin [this writer included], Black Madonnas offer a way to connect with the divinity in ourselves. We are tired of always seeing religious images represented as European. God looks just like you. The essential miracle is the miracle of being alive. That has nothing to do with skin color or religious choice. We are all God’s children.
Whatever she represents, and whatever you see in her, Our Lady of Candelaria is beautiful.
Editor Kíko Kí’s First Experience With a Saint
I had a personal experience with Candelaria. My life is now in conversation with the saints, but she was the first one I saw with my own eyes. At the time, I didn’t know much about the saints or the orishas.
The Virgin Mary is In Our Backyard
My girlfriend came into the house very excited. She said, “the Virgin Mary is in our backyard.” I thought, “ya right,” but went to look. Sure enough on the backyard wall made from old Hudson River stones, there was the figure of a woman in Spanish colonial dress. The children saw her too. In fact the entire family saw her (I’m not just being crazy). She was there for a few days and then faded away. I have pictures of her in storage in Harlem. My girlfriend said, “it’s a queen of Spain. This is a sign that you should write about Spanish culture.”
I didn’t think much about it, other than to now believe in Marian apparitions because you can’t deny your own eyes while completely sober. I wondered who my saint might be, and thought it would be Guadalupe, because I was born in Los Angeles (la tierra Mexicana), and Guadalupe is the patron saint of mixed race people like me.
Years later, while researching Candelaria on Wikipedia, I saw a closeup picture of the saint in her church in Tenerife, Canary Islands, Spain (wikipedia.org). I was shocked because it was the woman on the wall. I’ve seen many Marian figures, but this was her who visited my back wall. I realized my girlfriend was wrong. The visit wasn’t a sign to write about Spanish culture. It was a sign to write about African Diaspora culture.
After many more “strange” experiences and some powerful mentoring, I now believe the saints brought me to the Caribbean to write about them because I love all peoples and am not afraid. I get it that it’s strange that the saint of the African Diaspora would come for me, but she did. I didn’t chose this. It just happened, and keeps happening. Anyway, Candelaria is very important to me.
The Drum
I survived the pandemic alone in Puerto Rico by studying bomba drumming with Héctor “Coco” Barez, Calle 13’s percussionist. His bomba crew was my community and only human contact, through the drum of course.
On February 2, 2022, I updated this story, so Candelaria was on my mind. I’ve long wanted to share my personal experiences, but have been a little shy about it because some people think I’m nuts, or are scared by my experiences.
When I went to Coco’s drum class, he said, “Candelaria” and turned to talk with someone else. I was surprised because I hadn’t said anything about her and most people don’t have the saints in their daily lives. I asked one of the other drummers if Candelaria was important. He said, “She’s very important to drummers, Black people, and you.”