Candomble, an occult religion brought to South America by West African slaves, feeds a growing appetite for ecstatic experiences of the divine. Banned by some laws until the 1970s, it survived behind a Roman Catholic facade, masquerading its deities as Jesus, Mary and the saints.

Candomble has an estimated eight million Brazilian followers, whose rituals can last through the evening and on toward daybreak.

In the hills of Sao Paulo on a Saturday night, the drums begin throbbing just after 10.

Inside a modest stucco home, women in white hoop skirts and men in African garb or street clothes begin a slow dance around a decorated pillar. This is no ordinary home, however, but a Candomble temple. And the pole is said to be the portal through which spirits and deities enter the room.

As the tempo picks up, the dancers call out, shake rattles and tap handbells to announce their presence to the spirit world.

Watching from the perimeter are perhaps 100 devotees, a mix of European- and Afro-Brazilians, including a dozen small children. About half of them hold up a hand, signaling to the spirits they do not wish to be possessed.

After 40 minutes of dancing, a heavy-set man of about 30 breaks from the flow. Eyes half-closed, he lurches around the room, his lips trembling and his head bobbing - a sign to the others that he is possessed.

Turbaned priestesses escort him through a beaded doorway as the dancing, the shouting, the drumming and the bell-ringing continue.

Minutes later he returns, now wearing a shiny silver scarf across his shoulders. He resumes his gyrations. Soon he is joined by a man in a woven headdress and breastplate, then by two more men in what appear to be dresses and Roman helmets.

Each has assumed the identity - and donned the costume - of a spirit or deity.

As the night wears on, dancer after dancer will signal possession. Some men will return as warrior spirits, others in dresses, even ladies' hats and veils. Women emerge through the beaded doorway in the headdresses and costumes of deities.

A woman has donned an enormous blue dress to show she is possessed by the spirit of the ocean. At 4 a.m., others are slumped trancelike in chairs, but she still circles the room giving out warm, sweaty hugs. From a big wicker basket decorated with shells, she hands out kewpie dolls to all who kiss her cheek.

The Catholic Church in Brazil regards Candomble with bemused tolerance. But most Protestant Pentecostal churches consider Candomble to be satanic, and the "demons" its preachers purport to cast out are often identified by name as Candomble spirits.

On another night in Sao Paulo, about 100 men and women are crowded around the stage inside the vast, brilliantly lit Universal Church of God's Kingdom for just such an exorcism.

"Who among you suffers from headaches?" a preacher in a tailored suit shouts into a microphone. "Raise your hands!"

He runs through a litany of woes - money trouble, job stress, marital discord - and exhorts everyone to pray for "deliverance."

They close their eyes, raise their palms heavenward, and begin to murmur, softly at first and then louder and louder until a din fills the auditorium. They are praying in tongues, the nonsensical syllables said to be a sign of the Holy Spirit's presence.

A few rock back and forth, or tremble, or roll their heads. One woman lets out an anguished groan and slumps to the floor. The preacher grips her forehead and prays fervidly for her.

He takes another woman by the hand and leads her to the center of the stage. She says she needs help: She is cheating on her husband.

The preacher makes a quick diagnosis. "You are possessed by Ogun!" he announces, naming a Candomble spirit.

At this she twitches, then crouches down as if to leap at him, and begins to hiss.

"In the name of Jesus I command you to depart this body!" he shouts.

She curses him in a low, guttural voice, and falls on the floor. She shakes, then stiffens, and at last goes limp, weeping.

Her "demon" has left her.