A Botanica Is Ready to Help When Evil Spirits Come Calling

This has been a rough week for Marta Limon. Her neighbor began selling crack, her son has joined a gang and her husband spent their savings when he flew to Mexico for his mother’s funeral.

If Limon were still living in the small Mexican village where she was raised, she would visit the local curandero (folk healer) to solve her problems. He would light candles to change her luck and then go into the mountains to pick a few herbs that would calm her nerves and help her sleep.

But Limon lives in an apartment near downtown Los Angeles, so--like many other Latino immigrants in the city--she goes to her local botanica for help. On a recent afternoon, Limon wandered the isles of the Nina Religion botanica , the city’s oldest and largest purveyor of folk remedies, lucky candles, herbs, amulets and religious icons.

Limon buys a tiny bottle of oil with “Go Away Evil” emblazoned on the label to sprinkle on her neighbor’s doorstep. She picks up a green and yellow “Money Drawing” candle, emblazoned with dollar signs and a prayer on the back, for her financial problems. She buys a bottle of “Run Devil Run” bath oil for her son, to keep gang members away. And for herself, she buys two bags of herbs for tea--valerian to help her relax and dried orange blossoms for her insomnia.

Many recent immigrants from Mexico and Central America who live in Los Angeles rarely see doctors; they are unfamiliar with pharmacies; they do not visit therapists when they are stressed out. In times of trouble they seek out familiar remedies, remedies that are found in the hundreds of botanicas that are scattered throughout Los Angeles’ Latino neighborhoods.

Some Latinos are not familiar with public health and counseling centers. Many avoid doctors and hospitals because they are afraid of signing forms that might jeopardize their status here. And the spiritual realm, an important part of life for many Latinos from rural villages, is not addressed in the standard American mall.

“Doctors just want to give you pills, but sometimes that isn’t enough . . . sometimes you need things for the spirits,” said Limon, who works as a maid in Santa Monica. “When I found this botanica I felt at home in America for the first time.”

Inside the dim, musty botanica there are row upon row of perfumes, incenses, sprays, powders, candles and lucky bath soap--such as “Fast Luck Soap,” which doubles as a floor cleaner. Rosary beads hang from the ceiling, and the walls are covered with pictures of saints and wooden plaques with large eyes, to keep evil spirits away.

Every day, dozens of people file in and out of the store, on a bustling corner near Pico Boulevard and Vermont Avenue, where Latin music blares from a music store and sidewalk peddlers hawk mangoes, cactus leaves and bunches of cilantro.

A man from the mountains of Mexico buys a bag of eucalyptus leaves for his chest congestion and dried rosemary for his cough. A teen-age girl from El Salvador who wants her boyfriend back buys a brown “Break-Up” candle, in the hopes of luring him away from his new girlfriend. An elderly woman from Guatemala, who is not getting along with her daughter-in-law, buys a cup of “peace powder”--ground up eggshells--to sprinkle around the house. A woman from Belize who is being pestered by a male co-worker buys a bottle of “Go Away” perfume.

A number of African-Americans also are longtime customers of the botanica , which opened 29 years ago. Many buy mojos , lucky amulets that have been used in Africa for centuries.

Some doctors contend that botanicas are rip-off parlors that do nothing more than separate the poor from their money. Others recommend the herbal remedies and say the occult items can be effective placebos.

Although some customers know exactly what they need, others are uncertain and ask the advice of the botanica ‘s staff. Michael Orta, an owner of the store, explains the items’ various spiritual properties and makes suggestions, in a soft-spoken but authoritative manner, like a doctor employing a solicitous bedside manner.

Pernellia Reed walks up to the counter and asks what she should do for her grandson, who is facing trial for car theft. Orta recommends the “Court Candle,” which depicts the scales of justice and includes a prayer on the back. The candle is $2, and for another $5, Orta “dresses” the candle for added potency. He takes it into the back room and adds three types of oils, sprinkles dried lavender blossoms, recites the 23rd Psalm and burns a slip of paper with Reed’s wishes scrawled on it.

Virgie Lee, who accompanied Reed to the store, is more of a skeptic. To determine whether the botanica ‘s items truly have special properties, she invests $7 in a racetrack candle--covered with a picture of jockeys and horses and sacks of money--and will soon visit Santa Anita Park. If she does not leave the track a winner, she says, she will not be back to the botanica .