Some of the photographs can also be viewed at the Puente de Artistas Cubanos Web site
Armed with an easy Bohemian charm, a large dose of respect and his camera, Cuban photographer Humberto Mayol made his way into the strongholds of one of Cuba's most enigmatic people -- communities of santeria practitioners in the cities of Guanabacoa and Regla and in rural, central Las Villas province.

For four years, Mayol studied and photographed the day-to-day life of santeros, paleros and devotees of the Afro-Cuban religion, exploring the mystery of their beliefs and capturing split-second images of their rituals.

Last year, as Cuba reveled in the historic visit of Pope John Paul II, Mayol took to the streets in Havana, and while photographers from around the world vied for a shot of the pontiff's path through the island, Mayol photographed the crowds and their flourishing faith.

''I think of myself as a chronicler of my time and the people who surround me,'' says Mayol, 44.

Mayol's portraits of santeria and Catholicism, Cuba's two dominant faiths -- often at odds, but mostly intermingling -- make a powerful cultural statement. Equally stunning is that the images are about to be exhibited in Miami, and that Mayol, who has exhibited in 19 countries, lives on the island and is a member of the official Union of Cuban Writers and Artists (UNEAC).

To bring De los orishas al Papa, un solo pueblo (From the orisha gods to the pope, one people) to the Frances Wolfson Gallery of Miami-Dade Community College's downtown campus, where it opens Thursday, Mayol and Jose Tonito Rodriguez, the Cuban-American photographer who organized the exhibit, had to overcome the pull of politics on both sides of the Florida Straits.

Theirs is a story of how camaraderie and the passion for photography have extended the proverbial bridge across the troubled waters of Cuban politics.

AFRICAN-INFLUENCED: A santeria practitioner in Cuba is captured in the lens of Cuban photographer Humberto Mayol.

Mayol, who has exhibited in several U.S. cities, including at the International Photography Festival in Houston, and Rodriguez, 38, a Miami photographer who left Cuba when he was 17, met at a get-together in Miami while Mayol was visiting in 1995.

Mayol's younger brother, Carlos, also a photographer, has lived in Miami for five years. Their father, Humberto Mayol Sr., is a Havana photographer who has documented Cuban life since the 1940s. Now retired, Mayol Sr. lives in Havana.

Humberto Mayol and Rodriguez quickly found that they shared ''roots and identity.''

Bridging culture gap

''We hit it off right away. His photography is very powerful. You can feel his photographs,'' said Rodriguez, who has formed the organization Puente de Artistas Cubanos (Bridge of Cuban Artists) to facilitate cultural exchanges between artists on the island and in exile.

''Independent of where we might be living, and despite the reasons that brought us to those places, there are circumstances that can help bring us together,'' Mayol said. ''Time passes and it helps people see things with more clarity.''

As soon as they met, the two photographers began talking about ways of helping each other exhibit their work -- in Miami and in Havana.

''In my mind, the only obstacle to having him exhibit here was whether I, too, could show my photos in Cuba,'' Rodriguez said. ''Once I did that, I saw no reason why he couldn't do it here.''

Mayol, who also has photographed Cuban miners, swamp workers at the Cienaga Zapata and hunters in the Sierra Maestra mountains, exhibited pictures of everyday life in Cuba during a 1995 show at MDCC that featured the work of several photojournalists in the United States and abroad.

Miami on exhibit

The next year, Rodriguez went to Cuba and exhibited at the UNEAC gallery in Havana a collection of photographs called Halo, Miami (Hello, Miami).

Rodriguez's photos captured a unique view of Miami-Dade as seen through the state of its public phones, from elegant Coral Gables ''where you can practically eat off the phone booth'' to high crime areas where phones have been vandalized and scribbled with graffiti.

Then last year, the two men did a show, Domino, together at the Fototeca de Cuba in Old Havana, a prominent gallery that features national and international exhibits. Mayol's photos of life in Cuba and Rodriguez's photos of life in Miami were placed on tile-like pieces set up as if the two were playing a game of dominoes.

At one point in the order, the photographers reversed roles and Rodriguez displayed his pictures of Cuba and Mayol his pictures of Miami.

Both of Rodriguez's exhibits in Havana were well-attended by the public, Mayol said.

''It was very interesting for people to see Miami,'' Mayol said. ''There is a lack of information on both sides.''

A peek in santeria homes

Mayol's orisha-papal exhibit features stunning portraits of santero priests and priestesses. Most of the photographs were taken in people's homes, where devotees live surrounded by the symbols and tools of santeria -- jars filled with water to appease the spirits, drums to conjure them.

''I was able to develop trust and friendships over time,'' Mayol said. ''I came with a lot of respect and a desire to learn, to understand things that are part of our mixed African and Spanish culture and can be lost in time.''

One photo is a portrait of Emilio O'Farrill, the highest-ranking priest in Guanabacoa, a 98-year-old man with whom Mayol established a close relationship. In another photo, priestesses perform a dance ceremony to invoke spirits of the dead. A sequence of photos captures the slaughtering of a goat as a sacrificial offering.

''For me it was all a mystery,'' Mayol said. ''It was as if I were lifting a curtain.''

In his years with the santeros, Mayol attended ceremonies and rituals, including the fiesta Wemilere, dedicated to the orishas, a 15-day gathering of priests and priestesses who worship with exuberant songs and dance.

''It is incredible to watch how a person becomes transformed by the belief that a spirit has 'encarnado,' taken over them,'' Mayol said.

O'Farrill -- addressed with the titles of el tata deabola and mayor de los mayores (chief of chiefs) -- died some time after Mayol photographed him. But before he died, he told Mayol he wanted to provide him with his own ''resguardo,'' protection to guard him against evil.

''I couldn't refuse,'' Mayol said. ''It would have been an insult to reject his offering.''

O'Farrill performed ''a cleansing ceremony'' complete with herbs, chants and candlelight. During the ceremony, O'Farrill tied together with string an amulet for Mayol to carry. Mayol doesn't know what it's made of, but he carries it wherever he goes.

''There are things,'' Mayol said, ''that you just can't explain.''