Good morning Snake God, how are you today?

Today, you woke up and feared for your own mortality. This is understandable. Attempting to find some solace from what you believe to be an unavoidable fate, you have decided to become a practicing member of the Bamileke tribe. You move to the western highlands of Cameroon, and tomorrow when you awake, death shall have no meaning to you. As a Bamileke, you have no death. Granted, when the breath has left your body, you will be buried by your family and friends. However, you are destined to become an ancestor of the family, so long as you had at least one legitimate child anyway. As an ancestor, you shall be tasked with defending your family from evil spirits. In order to receive your protection, your descendants will dig up your skull after it's been in the ground a few months and keep it in a sacred place, guarded by a living legitimate heir. Animal skulls have no power, obviously, only the skulls of men. See, as a Bamileke, you know that skulls have the ability to communicate with the higher powers that inhabit this world (and beyond). The holder of such a skull will be able to discuss matters, and plead for assistance, from the former inhabitant. Using the ancestor as a sort of mediator, the holder will be able to grant wishes or request things directly from the “creator”, Si. Your job as an ancestor, however, is temporary. You know that you will eventually be reincarnated into a future family member. The family itself will come to recognize you again, when one of their children begins to show habits and attitudes that they know you possessed. In fact, as a recently reincarnated, you will swear to have perfect memory of your more recent former lives, with memory fading as the generations go back. In this way, you no longer have anything to fear from death.
But perhaps this morning, you already come prepared to face your ultimate demise. Perhaps you fancy yourself more of a snake worshiper who values knowledge and insight. If so, oh man, have I got a job offer for you. You see, you now worship the god Lebe, the old-man serpent of the Dogon people. Living in the central plateau region of Mali, your people first came to this fertile land centuries ago, led by Lebe Seru, the first Dogon ancestor who chose, at the time, to take on the form of a snake. Not wanting to forget the past, soil from your ancestral homeland was brought on this pilgrimage, and in each city, an alter was constructed by mixing this old soil with the soil of this new place. This was the first way in which Lebe was worshiped by your people. Since then, these original alters have grown in size and grandeur, with each generation adding a little something. As you have gotten up in age, you wake up one day to find a note from the rest of the village telling you not to bother going out today. See, the communities old Hogon (high priest) has just died, and without your input or consent, the town had long ago decided that YOU would be next in line. Why would they decide such a thing without your input? Well, to be honest, being a Hogon isn't exactly something the Dogon people aspire to. Your job, from now until death, will be to preside over decisions on the cultivation of soil, and who shall have children. Where will you gain the celestial insight to lead over these town meetings? Why, from the magical snake spit of course. Every night when you fall asleep, a mystical snake shall slither up next to you. He shall lick you. He shall lick you all over! Be glad of it, as it is the snake spit covering your body that shall give you sustenance and the strength to live another day! This is because, covered in snake spit, YOU are now magical. Hooray! Wouldn't want to wash that off of course, so no showers. Also, don't want it to rub off on the ground, so you'll be wearing shoes for the rest of your life. Also, you wouldn't want to accidentally rub it onto anyone else, so you're forbidden from making any form of contact with anyone from here on out. This includes your wife and kids. Also, just to be safe, you're forbidden from sweating. Let's just say you shouldn't leave your hut... actually it's forbidden. So yea, happy snake spit days for you! And yea, you do have this job until you die. Oh, but the good news is we know exactly when you're going to die! It shall be on the day you fear the snake. So, relax why don't you? The towns gotta go plan for your replacement in secret from whoever that guy is.
Know any recovering heroin addicts? If so, they might have a promising career choice ahead of them as Bwiti priests. See, Bwiti is sort of a hybrid religion of Fang and Christianity. All Bwiti rituals focus around a sacred plant called iboga. See, the Bwiti believe that one day there was this little pygmy dude who got hungry. Looking around, pygmy dude see's a tree with some really delicious looking fruit waaay up top. The pygmy, being a brave, strong, but very hungry fellow, climbs up to the top of the tree and starts just nashin on the fruit up there. Meanwhile, god is just wandering around the woods somewhere nearby, and he's bored. God is, I should say, kinda a doof. He comes over to the pygmy in a tree and thinks “ah, someone to talk to.. finally!” and shouts up to the pygmy “HEY! Wanna hang out?”. Problem is, pygmy didn't hear god coming, he's too busy snacking down on some delicious fruit. So, when god yells at him, he's kinda startled and does what any of us up in a tree would do if god started yelling at us. He fell. He fell out of the tree, and he died because the tree was so very high up and god is a douche and didn't even try to save him. “aw man,” says god, his evening plans for hanging out with this fruit gathering pygmy now ruined, “what am I gonna do now... I'm so BORED!”. And you know what happens when god gets bored don't you? He starts acting like a jackass. So god gathers up this poor pygmy dudes soul (since it was kinda his fault) and starts cutting off the dead spiritless pygmys fingers and toes. Why? I told you, gods a weird kid. Anyway, he spends the rest of the day wandering around to woods planting the dead pygmies fingers and toes around the woods. Ever since, iboga plants have sprung up at those spots. SACRED PLANT ORIGIN. Anyway, back to your heroin addict friend. See, much of a dork as god is, the Bwiti figure somebody gotta go talk to him, presumably so he doesn't go around startling anymore poor pygmies. So, they start eating copious amounts of iboga, which has a hallucinogenic effect in small amounts, but at high enough concentrations, puts you into a day long coma. The Bwiti believe that it is in these comas the soul can wander from the body to go hang out with that dork god in the afterlife. Too much of iboga will, unsurprisingly, kill you. But, as of 2002, it was patented by some gal at the University of Miami as an effective treatment for the addiction of heroin. So there you go. I didn't even know you could patent a plant. “Yea, that shrub over there? My idea.” I'd think that god would be pissed at that kind of arrogance, but from what I know about that guy, he's probably too busy trading pokemons and flicking peoples ears.

Of course, if you are are born a Yoruba (quite possible, as they are one of the largest tribes in all of west Africa), which god you serve isn't really up to you. When you are born, your parents take you to a babalawo, who will tell them which orisha (mini-god that acts in the service of man) they should serve. Of course, as you get older, you can serve multiple gods. Maturity! The popular ones include Shango (the god of thunder and lighting), Orunmila (goddess of divination and fate), Eshu (messenger of supreme god), and Ogun (god of iron and war).
Actually, he's so awesome, let's talk about Ogun for a minute. If you ever find yourself in a sudden desperate need to drink blood, there is a good chance you've been possessed by Ogun. You see, it was Ogun's machete that first cut the paths that made earth habitable for men. He is the patron saint for smiths, soldiers, truckers, mass transit workers, and pretty much anybody working with metal. He is also considered the most just of the gods, and as such, presides over trade agreements, notaries, and contracts. He's so popular, you can actually use the phrase “I swear to Ogun” instead of “I swear to God”, presumably before protesting your innocence on something. If the matter you are swearing about doesn't get resolved on the spot, and you find yourself in court, being a loyal follower of Ogun that you are, when you take an oath to tell the truth before taking the stand you will not place your hand on a bible, but rather a chunk of iron. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you KEEPER OF IRON AND WAR!”