The legal history of Candomble in Bahia is more recent than most readers expect, and the dates are the argument.
A terreiro is not a church building. It is a compound: shrine houses for individual orixas, a barracao where public ceremonies are held, and trees, stones and springs that are themselves consecrated and cannot be moved. This matters legally, because a religion whose sacred sites are gardens and water rather than buildings is harder to protect under heritage law written for architecture.
The oldest documented house is Casa Branca do Engenho Velho (Ile Axe Iya Nasso Oka), conventionally dated to about 1830. Gantois and Ile Axe Opo Afonja descend from it through nineteenth-century disputes over succession, and the three together constitute the senior lineage of Bahian Candomble. Leadership in these houses has been held predominantly by women, the mae de santo, for most of their history, which concentrated real institutional authority in Black women in Brazil long before anywhere else offered it.
The persecution was continuous and administrative. Under the empire, African religion was prosecuted as witchcraft. After abolition in 1888, the republic used laws against curandeirismo, unlicensed healing, and against public nuisance and disturbance. Police raided terreiros, seized ritual objects, and catalogued them as criminal evidence; substantial collections of confiscated sacred material sit in Brazilian police and museum holdings to this day, and are only now being reinterpreted or returned by the institutions that inherited them.
Until 1976, a terreiro in Bahia needed authorisation from a police vice department to hold a ceremony, and paid for the permit. That requirement was lifted after a direct appeal to the state governor by leading priestesses. That is not distant history: people leading houses today were initiated under it.
Recognition came in 1984, when IPHAN, the federal heritage institute, listed Casa Branca, the first non-Catholic place of worship in Brazil to receive federal protection. The listing was itself contested and took years.
It has not ended. Reports of religious intolerance to Brazil's national complaints line have risen steeply over the past decade, and Afro-Brazilian houses account for a share of cases far out of proportion to their numbers. Terreiros have been vandalised and burned, sacred trees cut down, and in some urban areas houses have been driven out under threat by armed groups. Preaching that identifies orixas with demons is a significant driver. Practitioners increasingly describe what they face as religious racism rather than intolerance, on the ground that the target is African origin as much as belief, and that this is the same object the police permits were aimed at.