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FEATURE:
Botanicas: Markets of The Divine
July 30, 2004 Episode no. 748
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BOB ABERNETHY, anchor: Lotions to drive away evil spirits, candles whose flames protect their owners, powders to prevent destructive behavior. Products like these are sold in "botanicas" -- shops that cater to all kinds of physical, spiritual, and religious needs.
Saul Gonzalez reports from Los Angeles.
SAUL GONZALEZ: Strolling musicians singing songs of love, sidewalk food vendors, and murals in a rainbow of colors. They're all common sights in Los Angeles's immigrant Latino neighborhoods. So is an unusual kind of store called a botanica. On some streets, there seems to be one on every block.

Although a typical botanica can appear humble on the outside, come within and one finds a rich array of spiritual and religious merchandise: candles and incense, potions and powders, icons and statues. Taken together , the products represent a kaleidoscope of faiths and folkloric practices.
YSAMUR FLORES (Folklorist): You can call them supermarkets of the divine. Anything that has to do with the spiritual world you will find in a botanica.
GONZALEZ: Ysamur Flores is an expert on Caribbean and Latino folklore who lectures about botanicas at UCLA, among other universities. He admires the stores' freewheeling spiritual eclecticism.

Mr. FLORES: You can find icons from any religious tradition in the world. You have Catholicism. You have Judaism. You have Buddhism. You have any "ism" that you can think of, because the idea is that the botanica is really a polyglot. It speaks all religious languages. So any religious or spiritual language can be found in a botanica.
GONZALEZ: The stores first emerged in the Caribbean, where they originally sold traditional herbal remedies and items used in the practice of Santeria, a faith that mixes together indigenous West African religious beliefs and Christian customs.
In this country, says Flores, botanicas still reflect a uniquely Caribbean approach to faith, one that blurs the borders between different religions while encouraging spiritual self-expression.
Mr. FLORES: In the Caribbean, there is no conflict of being many things at once. If you ask anyone in the Caribbean what is your religion, most likely they will tell you, "I am Catholic," but add after a short pause -- "in my own way."
GONZALEZ: In Los Angeles, botanicas have shown their adaptability by expanding their selection of merchandise to appeal to the city's large Mexican and Central American immigrant communities.
One of the largest botanicas in Southern California is Indio Products. With its vast selection of merchandise, it has the feel of a spiritual and supernatural Wal-Mart.
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Here, you can buy everything from lotions to ward off evil spirits to powders to keep a spouse from straying. The hottest-selling items, however, are candles. When lit, each is supposed to have a unique purpose. Shopper Sonia Williams believes the candles she's buying will protect her and her loved ones.
SONIA WILLIAMS (Customer): This is Saint Ramon and I use him for my own benefit, to protect my children, to protect them from gossip. Protecting them from the evil eye. Somebody might wish me bad thoughts and unhappiness. He keeps all of this away from my door. I believe in him very much.
GONZALEZ: For immigrants in Los Angeles and other American cities, botanicas are far more than spiritual curio stores; they are safe havens, places where newcomers to this country can go to sustain their beliefs, traditions, and customs in a strange new land.
This icon of a conservatively dressed gentleman, which is sold in botanicas across L.A., is an example of immigrant beliefs brought to this country. He is San Simon, also known as Maximon, a Catholic-Mayan folk saint revered by Guatemalans as a champion of the poor and dispossessed.
This L.A. botanica has a whole temple devoted to San Simon. As in Guatemala, people who come here leave offerings of candles, food, and hard liquor.
In a back room, Carlos Figueroa, like many other botanica owners, offers visitors spiritual consultations. He says he tries to solve practical problems for his largely poor and immigrant clientele.
CARLOS FIGUEROA (Botanica Owner): Let's say you are the manager of a company, someone who wants to see immigration papers, but you the worker don't have them. You will come here, and we will do something so you can get papers. People come here for their work and for their health. And we will make a spell or ask San Simon so they get what they want.
GONZALEZ: The owners of botanicas have been criticized as modern-day snake oil salesmen, taking advantage of people's superstitions. Others are uncomfortable with the stores' smorgasbord approach to faith.

Their defenders, however, argue that botanicas play a vital role in the spiritual life of communities, helping people sustain deeply felt, if unorthodox, forms of faith. Flores calls this the theology of the street.
Mr. FLORES: And that is what the theology of the street means. It is the idea that what people do at home with God, most of the time, is not what they do at church. It is a completely different relationship. It is more private and more empowering.
GONZALEZ: For RELIGION & ETHICS NEWSWEEKLY, I'm Saul Gonzalez in Los Angeles.
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