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| Maloka exterior |
We were told the resident shaman, don Eladio, was away from the centre attending his son's graduation. To take his place, another shaman, Hector, and his younger brother were to preside over the ceremony that evening. We began at 7pm with the
pasajeros settling in to their respective matresses propped up at equdistant locations around the perimeter of the
maloka. Hector and his little brother began by 'clearing the space of bad energy' which consisted of them singing
icaros and blowing tobacco smoke. These guys were tobacco obsessed and were constantly puffing away. They asked all the
pasajeros to smoke a
mapacho (natural, untreated tobacco - a bit like a cross between a cigar and cigarette), even the non-smokers, who happily complied. After reading the Lord's Prayer in Spanish(!?), the ceremony began.
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| Maloka interior |
I drank a cup of the oh-so-tasty ayahuasca the guest shaman had brought with them. As usual, I sat meditating, awaiting the onset of the medicine. After half an hour I began to feel very hot, more than anything I'd experienced before. With sweat pouring from my body I had to remove my shirt before lying down and purging into the handily placed bowl beside my bed. With such a short time between ingestion and expulsion I began to feel I'd emitted too early as there seemed to be no effects whatsoever. After a short time I plucked up the courage to go up to the shaman and ask for more. During some ceremonies the timing of such an act can be tricky as shamans can often be very busy healing, singing, dancing or clearing the space. However, Hector & Co were so sedentary I wasn't sure they were even still alive. Truth be told, shamans can be doing an awful lot whilst seemingly doing nothing but I didn't feel that was the case with this duo. The younger of the brothers kindly agreed to provide me with another cup. He asked me if I'd like, "Grande?" and placed his hand on a larger, different bottle. It turns out this was the tried and tested brew the centre normally uses but, thinking he was asking what
size drink I'd like I replied, "
Lo mismo," - 'the same'. With a murmer of surprise he poured a draft from the original bottle of ayahuasca which, it transpired, was completely ineffective for all the
pasajeros that night.
I spent the rest of the evening meditating and all the mental effects I experienced that night can be attributed to the altered consciousness meditation can create. Such as feeling the body sink into the earth through the effect of gravity or deep gratitude for friends and family. So, on the whole a very disappointing first ceremony for all, for which the centre's owners apologised profusely being only too keen to reassure us that subsequent ceremonies would be very different indeed.
It wasn't a complete let down for everyone, however. Hector & Co had drunk from the centre's stash of ayahuasca. They spent the night staggering in and out of the maloka, throwing up in the surrounding vegetation. I was told that westerners often have a higher tolerance for the medicine that native Peruvians. It was good to see someone having a strong experience.
We were met at our hotel in the morning by Jim Davis, part owner of the Hummingbird - an ayahuasca retreat centre located forty minutes north of Iquitos by motokar. Max, the resident driver, raced along the only road leaving the city. As we sped through the claustrophobic streets buildings gradually surrendered to the jungle. We passed the rural-urban fringe where, due to Peruvian laws concerning squatters' rights, large groups of new houses are being built literally overnight. Once in place, with sufficient inhabitants, these settlements are nearly impossible to remove. Urban sprawl is only too alive and well in the Amazon. We eventually left the tarmac and drove a couple of kilometres down a dirt road to the centre. We were accompanied on the way by a huge dog, an impressive specimen who kept pace alongside the motokar. This was Bindi, a beautiful dog and the first of a fine collection of animals living at the Hummingbird.
In addition to the human presence were four dogs; the aforementioned Bindi, the ever-humble Moona, Blankita the burglar alarm and cheeky little Frankie, a tiny dog with enough testosterone to more than handle the overwhelming presence of bitches. The cat, Joanie, was the long suffering feline presence, not only tormented by the dogs but also by the master tormentor himself, a capuchin monkey called Flloyd. Flloyd had arrived at the centre when a vet, who was raising him after his mother had been killed by hunters, decided a city apartment was no place for a monkey and asked if he could live at the Hummingbird. Instantly charming, his boisterous antics were a source of non-stop entertainment. Every day we would return to our room to find our belongings strewn everywhere. Toilet paper hanging from hooks, chewed-open packets of painkillers and disappeared semi-precious stones. During our first night we had lain down to sleep when I heard something jump on the mosquito net. Terrified it was the big, brown, deadly spider we'd heard about I nervously poked the small lump above us. The little trill we heard told us Flloyd had come to visit. When I tried to get him down he clung to my arm and refused to let go for over half an hour. Eventually he urinated on me before scampering off. Never have I met such a playful, naughty little animal. Brilliant.
We were referred to as 'clients' or, my preferred term, 'pasajeros'. As well as myself, the other 'passengers' included my better half and a Scandinavian couple - Asger from Denmark and Kristen from Norway. Although the two of us had drunk ayahuasca before it was their first time. However, they'd done their research and, as a result, had an outlook of eager anticipation combined with a little respectful nervousness. Spot on.
