Quimbanda and the Myth of Universal Initiation

When I first stepped onto the road of Quimbanda more than twenty years ago, there was no talk of “formal initiation” as a universal requirement for working with Exu and Pomba Gira. There were consecrations, yes. But you did not need a certificate, a title, or a set of secret rites that only a select few could perform. What you needed was the ability to work, the willingness to learn, and the discipline to maintain a real relationship with the spirits.

To call yourself a quimbandeiro meant one thing above all: you did the work. You knew how to make Uanga (yes, this is the same word as is used in Haiti), how to call an Exu to the table, how to listen to what he wanted and how to deliver it. You knew which Pomba Gira would take the drink you poured, which crossroads to use for a particular job, and how to speak in a way the spirits would understand. The road was built through daily, lived practice, not through a single ceremony that declared you “in” or “out.”

The vast majority of quimbandeiros in Brazil have never been formally initiated into any kind of codified Quimbanda lineage. Instead, they often come to Quimbanda through other Afro-Brazilian traditions. Many begin in Umbanda, where they learn the songs, rhythms, and ways of working with Exu and Pomba Gira in a religious context. Others enter through Candomblé, where they may meet these spirits in the barracão during parties or in private works. Some are rooted in Catimbó, Jurema, or regional folk sorcery. They carry forward what they have learned, adapting it to the demands of Quimbanda’s direct, pragmatic style.

In Brazil, Quimbanda has never been one single unified body with a fixed initiation system. It is a web of practices, houses, and lineages, many of which blend influences from multiple sources. What holds them together is not a central authority, but the shared recognition of Exu and Pomba Gira as the primary spirits of the tradition. A terreiro may run its Quimbanda works entirely separate from its Umbanda sessions, or the two may be intertwined. A pai de santo may have learned Quimbanda from his own elders without ever going through what outsiders would call a “formal initiation” into Quimbanda itself.

The idea that Quimbanda requires a specific initiation, and that without it you cannot truly practise, is a far more recent development; and it has been pushed most strongly outside Brazil. In the diaspora, particularly in North America and Europe, there is often a hunger for structure, clear boundaries, and credentials. Some houses have formalised their rites for newcomers, creating a standardised initiation process and treating it as the marker of legitimacy. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, but it does not reflect the full reality of how Quimbanda has been lived in its homeland.

In Brazil, the proof of a quimbandeiro has always been in the results. Will the spirits come when you call them? Can you work a case from start to finish, with the spirit’s agreement, and get the desired outcome? Do the lives of the people you work with improve, or deteriorate? These are the questions that matter. A piece of paper or a single ceremony means nothing if you cannot do the work.

This is not to say that Quimbanda has no initiations at all. Some houses do perform rites of passage, often marking a deeper commitment or a particular role in the house. In my own house, initiations are done in a single day, sometimes overnight if someone has travelled far, but never as prolonged or elaborate as the kinds of processes now being promoted. They are a moment in the path, not the whole path itself. These rites are not universal and they do not define the tradition as a whole. You can find highly effective quimbandeiros in Brazil who have been working for decades without ever going through such a rite, and others who have done so but place far more emphasis on ongoing work than on the moment of initiation itself.

The heart of Quimbanda is relationships - with the spirits, with the road, with the community you serve. You cannot buy it, shortcut it, or substitute it with titles. You build it through years of offerings, works, and keeping your word. You build it by showing up when the spirits call, by knowing their likes and dislikes, and by holding the trust they place in you.

When we forget this, we risk turning Quimbanda into a hollow performance, a set of outward forms without the inner fire. We also risk erasing the lived reality of the thousands of quimbandeiros in Brazil whose work has never depended on a recognised initiation but on the unbroken chain of practice passed from hand to hand, spirit to spirit.

Quimbanda is not about belonging to a club. It is about walking the road, keeping it clear, and working with the spirits who walk it with you. Whether you came to it through Umbanda, Candomblé, Catimbó, or another path entirely, what matters is not the label you carry but the work you can do and the relationships you can sustain.

In the end, Exu and Pomba Gira do not care about certificates or ceremonies for their own sake. They care about the padê you make them, the cigar you light, the promise you keep. They care that you know how to speak their language and that you mean what you say. This is the measure of a quimbandeiro, and it always has been.