The Secret Medicine: Nana Sula on Protecting the Sanctity of the Sacred

Nana Sula, a veteran priestess and vice president of the Congo Square board, rejects the modern tendency to broadcast ancient rituals, viewing the public display of spirituality as a betrayal of the ancestors who fought to preserve these traditions in secret. She argues that the commercialization of the craft has stripped it of its inherent sanctity, noting that when anyone can claim the title of priestess after watching a video, the depth and power of the tradition are diminished.

“We need to get back to ways of holding these traditions sacred so that the sacred can be returned to them,” Sula said. “If it’s a dime a dozen and everybody can watch a video and be a priestess tomorrow, well then, where is the sacredness? It is no longer sacred.”

Born Janet Evans, Sula’s path to the priesthood was forged through a profound personal transformation rather than digital exploration. At age 40, a breast cancer diagnosis served as the catalyst for her spiritual calling, an illness her Ghanaian godfather had predicted would lead her to the shrine. Having served as a priestess of Mami Wata for 20 years since her initiation in Ghana, she now serves as a guardian of the spiritual traditions of New Orleans, remaining highly critical of the sensationalized versions of the craft found in French Quarter boutiques and online. She views the rise of internet-based practitioners as an affront to those who spent years studying under the guidance of elders.

“You should not play on grounds you don’t know nothing about,” Sula said. “These traditions are not to be played with. If you think you’re going to play with them, they’re going to play with you. That’s not because they’re spooky; that’s because they’re powerful.”

For Sula, the true essence of the work lies in the invisible labor performed away from cameras and public scrutiny. She maintains that the role of a practitioner is to act as a community mother, ensuring stability through internal integrity that cannot be acquired through retail purchases. She warns that those who operate without proper training or wisdom risk causing significant harm to the people they claim to help.

“A lot of people practice now who are harming others because they haven’t been trained,” Sula said. “They’re trying to give advice as a trained person and they’re not. You might lead someone into terrible waters and redirect their life for years. We have to practice with wisdom.”

Sula emphasizes that the solution to this dilution is a dedicated return to ancestor worship. She expresses frustration with those who seek the status of high priesthood while ignoring their own family history, insisting that healing a community is impossible without first addressing one’s own lineage.

“People want to jump into Vodun and they don’t even know their great-grandmother’s name,” Sula said. “Get off this road, because this is going to be a failure for you. This whole thing is about facing your ancestry.”

As New Orleans maintains its position as a primary hub for African spirituality in America, Sula remains a dedicated sentinel of the old ways. She operates with the belief that authentic spiritual practice requires silence and humility rather than public spectacle, trusting that the work itself will draw the sincere toward her.

“Keep the sacred traditions sacred,” Sula said. “There is a reason why it is like entering a secret society. We’re not really supposed to be sharing a bunch of our things; we just do the work.”

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This story is part of a semester-long investigative reporting project into African spirituality, history, and culture. It was created by an immersion journalism class in the Journalism, Advertising, and Media Studies program at UW-Milwaukee. Other stories from the project are available on The Power of the Tongue: From Walker’s Point to Congo Square.

This work was made possible through the support of MPC Endowment Ltd., the philanthropic affiliate of the Milwaukee Press Club, and a private donor.