IMPERFECT IDOLS

By Alexandra Olson <a href=www.sun-sentinel.com>The Associated Press Posted May 11 2003

CARACAS, Venezuela · Venezuelans have long practiced novel versions of the Afro-Caribbean Santeria faith, whose local pantheon includes 19th century South American liberator Simon Bolivar.

But there had been nothing like the newest icons at Santeria shops: criminals who are legends in Caracas slums. The foot-high statuettes, sporting guns and knives poking from jeans pockets, represent spirits trying to repent for their sins by warning youngsters to avoid crime, helping people get out of jail and curing drug addiction.

There's Kid Ismael, a bank robber who some say killed dozens of people in the 1970s before police gunned him down. His statue wears a baseball cap sideways, smokes a cigar and clutches a .38-caliber pistol.

The likeness of Kid Isabel, a prostitute and thief who died of venereal disease in her 20s, wears sunglasses, a tight pink T-shirt showing her bellybutton, a ski hat over blond hair and a knife in an ankle pocket.

These spirits are part of the 200-year-old sect of Maria Lionza -- the basis for Venezuelan variations of Santeria, a faith that emerged in Cuba when African slaves began blending Yoruba spiritual beliefs with Roman Catholic traditions.

A beautiful Indian woman from the western state of Yaracuay, Maria Lionza presides over various courts of spirits. Original Santeria deities such as Eleggua, the Yoruba god of destiny associated with St. Anthony, belong to the African court. Another court includes Simon Bolivar, who liberated Venezuela and other South American nations from Spanish rule.

Kid Ismael and Kid Isabel are members of the corte malandra, or criminal court.

The Catholic Church frowns on the following of Maria Lionza but long ago abandoned efforts to eliminate it. Her supplicants come from all classes, especially the poor. The size of the sect isn't known, though each year hundreds of thousands of people trek to Maria Lionza's reputed home -- Sorte Mountain, 180 miles west of Caracas.

Shopkeepers say malandro statuettes began hitting the shelves two years ago. Malandros as spirits surfaced in the early 1990s, along with a rise in crime, said anthropologist Patricia Marquez, academic director of the Institute of Higher Administration Studies in the capital.

"For the upper classes, the malandro personifies the growing threat of urban violence. In contrast, in the slums, the figure of the malandro oscillates between hero and villain," Marquez writes in a chapter of the book 20th Century Venezuela, published by Fundacion Polar.

Many shantytown residents seek protection from malandros, dominant figures who controlled turf and commanded respect and fear.

Most malandros were killed by police or rival gangsters in the 1950s, '60s and '70s. They are viewed as folk heroes -- Robin Hoods who stole for the poor and protected neighborhoods. "Ismael robbed, but it was to help the neediest," said Juan, a mechanic shopping at a downtown Santeria shop.

Juan said he bought an icon of Ismael, the most popular malandro, after the spirit persuaded his son to "stay away from bad neighborhoods."

In contrast, Marquez said, the upsurge in crime has few people romanticizing the current crop of criminals as good guys. "Among other things, the corte malandra reflects nostalgia for that supposed malandro of the past, the one that protected the neighborhood," she said.

As with other spirits in the sect, malandros are thought to give counsel through mediums known as santeros.

"Things were different back then. Not as many people had guns. We mostly used knives, and we never killed anybody just for kicks," said Saul Abache, a medium channeling the spirit of 1950s outlaw Armando Cedeno.