Wednesday, January 02, 2013

Iquitos, Peru: Ayahuasca (Part 11)

How does one explain to la-la girls from social democratic utopian non-nations where everyone is innocent till they're corrupted by profits and capitalism and Zionism that there are some seriously bad people in the universe who don't need any excuses to do evil. (Not a question; and thus no question mark.) How does one begin to explain to these people the very concept of evil? Well, if one hopes to get laid, one doesn't bother. One might affect a hippie coolness, even going so far as to puke all over said girl while trying to impress her with ones daring and do by taking her out for an ayahuasca “ceremony.” I used to take girls out for a soda, but things have changed. Now it's a rock-bottom cheap room at a dirty hostel, a bottle of rompe caison, (the local jungle version of Viagra, translated as “Panty-Ripper,”) porno video on the ipod, and a night of four hairy legs thrashing under the worn out sheets. OK, I call that fun, but I can be a less than great guy. I can on occasion be a bad guy. I accept evil in the universe as there objectively. I accept evil as real in the eternal world. It's the nature of things, according to me-- except when I want to get laid. As the Marxist says, “Those are my principles, and if you don't like them, well, I have others.”* I could find myself being a shaman in Iquitos, for all I know. Some shamans are interested in and make money at violence. If one comes to look honestly at shamans, this is not at all surprising. They don't have to be nice people. In some cases, if not all, it makes good sense for them to be vicious bastards intent on murder. Yes: shamans are supposed to be worse than the evil spirits they do battle with. They might well be fans of Kurt Vonnegutt's line: “There is no reason why good cannot triumph as often as evil. The triumph of anything is a matter of organisation. If there are such things as angels, I hope they are organised along the lines of the mafia.” Kurt Vonnegutt, Sirens of Titan. (1959.) It's a bad world out there, and it's even badder in the spirit world. Only the toughest survive. When you're battling daemons for your life, do you really want a sissy doing the heavy lifting for you? Of course not. You want a really nasty prick doing your dirty word.



Upon meeting the shaman one usually encounters a man off the street, and seldom is he or she dressed like a Walmart Indian in a grass skirt, a man who takes you down to his place by the river, his beads and feathers bought at Salvation Army counters. Still, to me a shaman's load of stuff looks like the jungle version of dumpster diving. For example, every shaman has a shakapa. Every shaman sings icaros songs. With this and a bottle of ayahuasca and lots of toilet paper for the puking and shitting to follow, the shaman is more or less in business, wherever that might be, from a flop-house in the city to a luxury resort in the jungle and any place in between, depending on the skill one has at making money. It's not about the money of course, which mostly means its about the money. But the money comes for a reason, that reason being the healing one expects from the shaman who provides one with cool-- or not so cool-- visions of oneself as God.

About the money, as much an epistemological question as a moral one, Fitiou puts part of it thus:

The more secure a shaman feels about their position in the market, the larger amounts they charge, which in turn creates hostility and resentment in local society. Tourists depending on their background and their financial situation will either consider expensive shamans as frauds who exploit indigenous knowledge, or they will consider the price fair for what they are receiving. (Ibid. Fitiou.)

The question is about the authenticity of the shaman, but also about the authenticity of shamanism. what makes one a real, i.e. authentic shaman as opposed to a charlatan? Is it bad to be greedy? Is it bad to be a scumbag? Does one need to dress up like a cartoon shaman? Can one be a decent person and still do battle with killer spirits? Is any of this even worth considering in a Modernist world? When confronted with need, what is right? When one goes to the doctor for healing, what does one expect? A clean white lab coat and a shiny stainless steel stethoscope? Or what?

The shaman's paraphernilia of sticks and leaves and stuff to swallow is prep for the effects of ayahuasca drinking. For the drug tourist none of this is about native culture, but is about visions of oneself, which is why one would pay lots of cash for the experience of being sick and psychotic. How, though, does one know one has met and is “healed” by a genuine shaman and not a rip-off artist? Before we talk to the shaman, let's find out more about what a shaman does and why and who he is as a shaman. Thus, we'll look at shapakas; find out a bit more about icaros; see what the purging is about; and then look at the effects of ayahuasca on the mind, if not the brain. Even though I have never taken ayahuasca, my idle curiousity prompts me to find out the difference between a shaman and a man who has some longings that one might confuse with shamanistic essence. Who's a pro and who's a con? Even those who are pros, as it were, are still playing a game for drug tourists, whether they know this or not; and many have picked up on key words their customers want to hear, an embarrassment when one finds a shaman stumbling badly to say things about yoga, Hinduism, Buddhism, and New Age fucking flaky. It is the nature of things to trade and absorb and pass on to others; and so too do shamans pick up from their customers all kinda stuff and such. They might say they've know this all along and now use more familiar terms for old concepts; but one might wonder. A bit of honesty can shed a great deal of revelatory light. Finally we'll look at why one would need, as it were, a shaman in the first place, assuming one is there for something-- anything-- more than to indulge ones wanker search for ones own perfect self in a bottle. What kind of weltanschauung does one need to be a part of ayahuasca? What do real ayahuasca people think the world is about and what does the ayahuasca-using shaman do for them? Then we can move on from Fitiou's interesting and informative doctoral thesis and go find out about a shaman in person again, this time armed with more information, with a light to shine on the shaman and his craft, so we know the real from the shadow, the light from illusion. First, some background, and interestingly some vivid examples in the moment.



The schacapa



The schacapa is [an] important tool for shamans. It is a rattle that consists of a bundle of leaves from the Pariana spp. palm. It might appear that its sole purpose is to provide a monotonous sound during the ceremony.... It is used to direct energy where needed or to remove negative energy from the patient’s body.
(Ibid. Fitiou.)


A shakapa is a foot long stick with some leaves tied on it. One must indulge in some serious willing suspension of disbelief, to refer to the movies, if one is to see more in it than that. It takes all of a few minutes to make one, and once made, it's a stick with leaves on it. Having said that, it makes a noise that other things don't make. It's as trivial if one wishes it to be so as incense burning in a pot at a church.

In the ayahuasca setting, the shaman rattles his shakapa and sings icaros. This is meant to manipulate the scene and its effects on the shaman and others, people as well as spirits.



The Icaros.



While the shaman sings he or she shakes the schacapa producing a monotonous sound that accompanies the icaros, while when he or she does an individual healing on someone they tap their body with it. The sensation of tapping the schacapa on the crown of the head can be very soothing. When the ceremony is lead by multiple shamans and there are several schacapas used at the same time the effect can also be very impressive. 

The icaro carries the healing intention of shamans and there are icaros for a variety of other purposes. Icaros are also the way that the curandero communicates with the spirits of the plants mentioned in each icaro. This way, the song contains the powers of the healing or curative plants. At the beginning of the ceremony the shaman sings icaros in the individual servings of the brew using the name of the participants for their protection and to solicit a certain outcome. Then he or she invokes the mareación as well as the plant and animal spirits and puts their curative powers inside the patients’ bodies. I was told that during the ceremony, sometimes the patients feel stronger while other times they may initially feel weaker because the power of the spirits combats the spirit of the patient while at the same time strengthening it. Most shamans advised participants to concentrate on the icaros during the ceremony especially if they are having a hard time or are afraid. One shaman said that the icaros are 100 percent healing (100 porciento curativos). A very common phenomenon related to the icaros, is that of synesthesia, where participants say they can literally “see” the music. Every time there is a change in song the visions change. In fact, it is said that a curandero can move or manipulate a person’s visions or state of mind by using different icaros at different times or change the overall energy and feeling of the ceremony. ... What is important here, and causes these dramatic changes are not the words of the icaro, which tend to be repetitive and variations of the same themes, but the intonation in which they are sang. Some icaros might be whistled or whispered especially at the beginning of the ceremony when they want to attract the spirits, while they can become much more intense later in the ceremony. (Ibid. Fitiou p.36.)



The icaros are said to be given to shamans directly from the spirits during their apprenticeship, in ceremony, or when dieting and in the course of their lives they might accumulate more icaros. The way that icaros are learned is directly from the spirits; shamans hear the icaros from the plants and they are told to follow them. They also learn and receive the icaros of their teacher which they learn and follow during their apprenticeship. This is what an ethnographer had to say about the transmission of icaros from the spirits to the shaman: Under ayahuasca influence the shaman perceives from the spirit world incomprehensible, often chaotic, information in the form of luminous designs. He then “domesticates” this information by converting it into various aesthetic notions: geometric patterns, melodies/rhythm and fragrance which play a key psychological and spiritual role for both the patient and society. Only through this mediating step the awesome and incomprehensible become applicable corpues of shamanic cognition suitable for the mundane village. [Luna 1986:62] The fear that others will copy their icaros is very common among curanderos and some will not allow recording of the ceremonies for this reason. ... The more common strategy used to avoid copying of the icaros is using a mix of words from native languages, especially Quechua, or what they call spirit language that is difficult to decipher and copy by other shamans. I was told by a shaman that I should use as many obscure words as possible if I want to be a shaman because it will make my icaros more powerful and more difficult for someone to learn. One shaman used words from Spanish, Quechua, Shipibo, Campa and Urarina in her icaros. [I]t is not enough to learn an icaro and sing it. Each icaro has a particular power or energy and that can only be transmitted by the master shaman to the apprentice by will or by the spirits themselves when they give the icaro to the shaman. Therefore, even though someone can just copy someone’s icaros and sing them in ceremony, these icaros have no power and therefore are not able to heal, protect etc. (Ibid. Fitiou: p. 187.)

Icaros are the vehicle through which the shaman will infuse an object or the brew with a power, whether healing, cleansing or harmful energy and transmit this energy to the patient. … At the end of familiar words each shaman will add a short suffix that usually does not mean anything and sometimes was mentioned as “spirit language”. I was told that the meaning of a word is not as important as the feeling of it. The way the shaman feels at the moment is what determines the words. ...

“The Icaros come from inside the body of the shaman”, one shaman told me showing his belly. He added that he uses some of the Icaros of his teacher but mostly his own. He explained that he took the base (spinal cord as he put it) from his teacher and developed his own ritual. This is very common in shamanism; there is a degree of following tradition and a lot of room for each individual shaman’s creativity. 

[T]here were quite a few similarities between [icaros]. This might be because the vast majority of icaros are for special cases and they rarely get to be used or simply because the claims of knowing a hundred icaros are an exaggeration in the first place. There are icaros that are meant to do a variety of things such as heal, protect and defend against enemies, call the mareación, call the spirits, take the mareación away, remove negative energy, and even win the love of a woman-- this last category are called huarmi icaros

During the ceremony the curandero will blow smoke on the crown of the head, the back and the hands of the participant after they drink the ayahuasca. In some cases they will repeat it during the ceremony when they perform a personal healing on the person. This does not happen in ceremonies with a high number of participants even though a few curanderos feel strongly about this and will perform the individual healings regardless. The curandero during his training and diets acquires spiritual force or medicine as it was called by others, which normally resides in his or her body. During ceremonies he or she can then blow (soplar) this medicine into the patient and change their condition or heal them. Sucking, or chupada, is another element that is important in removing negative energies or disease from the body but it was not used as widely as soplada in the context of tourism. Even though it is a very important part of indigenous Amazonian shamanism, it was used by two of the shamans with whom I worked and I have only observed it three other times in ceremonies around Iquitos. The one time was when the curandero was trying to remove sorcery from a local woman, the second time when the curandero was healing a local woman of what was suspected sorcery and the third time when the curandero treated me and a local friend. On that occasion he sucked from my belly button for a few minutes but without making the dramatic sounds that are often described in ethnographies and I witnessed during the ceremony to counter sorcery. What is sucked out of the body is the physical manifestation of disease or the ill will of a sorcerer. It can take the form of a variety of objects such as twigs, worms, feathers, stones etc.
(Ibid. Fitiou: p. 185-192.)



My parents were those types who forever complained about my behaviour, saying, “Don't do this; don't do that.” No doubt this would have been of benefit to my little brother had they ever seen-- or believed what he said-- I did to him. Often, though, prescriptives are meant to make the person feel better about himself and his group, such as taboos against whatever the case is. Denying oneself something that one enjoys is a matter of self-discipline, and thus is a way of elevating oneself above the low masses: “Don't do this; if not, then those who do are repulsive because they do and we do not.” Often it takes the form of food taboos. The more restrictions one has in ones own life, the more righteous one might feel in the presence of those who indulge. Conversely, it makes some sense not to eat before going for surgery. It makes some sense not to eat some foods before going into a bout of puking and shitting from swallowing an emetic and laxative like ayahuasca. “Don't do that” makes empirical sense sometimes.



Puking and Shitting.



Purification and cleansing are also very instrumental for ayahuasca healing. There are certain dietary restrictions that are meant to keep the body pure before the ceremony. The diet requires refraining from spices, sugar, salt, oils, meat, especially pork, which is to be avoided for 30 days after the last ceremony, stimulants and sex. Pork is to be avoided because of its “dirty energy”, especially its fat. Diet is very important in other shamanic traditions as well. Siikala mentions that Siberian shamans fast, meditate and go into seclusion before ceremonies (1992:213). 

Amazonian shamans also fast during the apprenticeship and practice sexual abstinence. Following a specific diet is very important as in many Amazonian societies illness is considered to be the result of breaking food taboos, of which there are many (Hugh-Jones 1979). The diet includes abstinence from sex for a few days before the ritual and eight days afterwards. The idea behind this is that the plants remain in one’s system for days after the ceremony, so will continue to work and heal or teach the person, provided that they stay pure. ... On the day of the ceremony one is not supposed to eat anything after noon. … One of the prohibitions that is not very popular is the sexual abstinence rule. ... One shaman said that ... the spirit of ayahuasca is very jealous and does not want people to have sex when it resides in their body. In his opinion and from a Western point of view the rationale behind the prohibition is because sex is a very strong, very open, energetic exchange. The energies of the persons interfere with each other and it can “defocus” someone who is dieting and doing spiritual work. [I]f the diet is broken, the healing or spiritual work stops and sometimes even worse things can happen. (Ibid. Fitiou: pp. 192-94.)



Purging during the ceremony is also extremely important. … Vomiting is not the only way to purge; … yawning is also cleansing and that crying is the best form of cleansing because it is also cleansing at the emotional level. Sweating is also cleansing as are other bodily sensations. ... One participant described his purging experience thus: “During the vomiting, I felt like my skin had turned red and bat wings had appeared in my back. When I vomited, I felt like I was cleansing myself and throwing out all the shit I had inside: physical, emotional, psychological. I kind of saw that when I vomited, during the act of vomiting, my skin turned from red to pink and then white, I wanted white, so I wanted to vomit, I didn’t want to be a ‘demon’, I wanted to be an ‘angel’... I could feel the shit been sucked from my toe, coming up and accumulating and then thrown out to the bucket. I wanted to be white, not red”. (Ibid. Fitiou: pp.195-96.)


I wanted to be a fireman.


There are at least two kinds of ayahuasca users: the locals, and the Modernist drug tourists; the former being mostly those who have not made a full and successful transition to the Modern from the jungle, i.e cholos still stuck in the past; the latter being of various sorts, ranging from the merely curious, the tourist who happens upon ayahuasca by chance; the seriously flaky who live in a state of anomie and want to “find themselves,” a problem, one must assume, compounded with the terror of finding that there is nothing much to find in the final event but a lonely and bitter drama queen; to the hard core drug-using hippie who will take anything for the sake of whatever. Of the post-modernist refugee from the Modernity, the Freak Show promoter of all things for his own self, there is a constant lack of commitment to family, traditional religion, and employment: Who can raise a family, go to work, and be a member of a productive community if one is taking drugs in the Amazon jungle? Perhaps such people really do need “healing.” Me? I'm special.

People take ayahuasca for a reason. They take it for the effect. The locals take it as an alternative to Modernist medicine, though often in conjunction with the latter. Others take it as, in effect, recreation, if that includes “re-creation” of the person.



Ayahuasca effects:

Beyer (2009:23-4) lists three phases in the ayahuasca experience: the first phase is dominated by [seeing] geometric figures; the second by contact with the spirit world; and the third is quieter, with physical symptoms lessening and more pleasant visions. 


The effects of DMT, which provides the hallucinogenic effect in ayahuasca, as described by Strassman (2001) are: sense of timelessness, loss of control, contact with other “beings” or “entities”, feeling that another intelligence directs their minds, visions of unseen worlds, of DNA-like spirals, of jungle animals etc. Like other psychedelics, it can induce states similar to mystical experiences. In addition to the visionary experience, ayahuasca causes sensitivity to light as well as violent vomiting and diarrhea, which are considered to cleanse the body. Many people report the perception of parallel realities or universes during an ayahuasca experience. Common visions mentioned in interviews were: geometrical shapes, one’s own death, and contact with non-human persons. People also reported that visions change very quickly and often it is very difficult to understand what one is looking at and even more difficult to remember all of it afterwards. Change between light and darkness is often reported as well. One of the things that a shaman is able to do and everyone learns by experience is to control the visions–or to be more precise-- to catch up with them and make sense of them. Here is how Stafford and Bigwood summarize the ayahuasca experience:

Visions. Ayahuasqueros describe long sequences of dream-like imagery; geometrical patterns; manifestations of spirit helpers, demons and deities, tigers, birds and reptiles. They see dark-skinned men and women. They experience sensations of flying and of their own death; they see events at a great distance. Many users claim that these visions appear in a spiritually significant progression. [Stafford and Bigwood 1992:349]
….
According to ethnographers the most common themes in ayahuasca visions are: (1) the feeling of separation of the soul from the body, and the sensation of flight, (2) visions of jaguars, snakes and other predatory animals, (3) a sense of contact with supernatural agents (demons and divinities), (4) visions of distant persons, cities and landscapes (perceived as clairvoyance) and (5) detailed reenactments of previous events (Harner 1973b:172).
(Ibid. Fitiou: p. 16.)


In the interests of full disclosure about your humble writer here, I have to make it plain that I hate George Bush jr. only because he didn't invade enough countries and didn't give enough tax breaks to the rich. Worse still for some, the only trans-sexual who doesn't make me puke more that drinking a bucket of ayahuasca is Deirdre McCloskey. Therefore, when it comes to taking medicine, if I take any at all, it would be from a certified Modernist doctor who has some idea of what he's supposed to be doing. I'm not one to see a witchdoctor in the jungle. It's the kind of man I am. Unfortunately, not everyone is like I am. Some prefer “natural” medicine. 

This is central, if not so much of interest to those solely interested in ayahuasca, because it tells of the person in deep ways not so obvious to the casual inspector of his own soul. I am endlessly surprised and dismayed by the incuriousity of the average “seeker” of truth and light and whatever who has no interest in much beyond his narrow and generally uninformed ideas gathered up from friends and self-help books at the local drug story magazine and book rack. I find myself then asking the age old question: “WTF!”


If people choose to see a shaman for “healing,” why do they do so rather than suffer in silence or rather than seeking out standard medicine we have generally come to recognise as more effective than the use of agua de florida, though one must admit it's as good a cure for male pattern baldness as any other. So, at the risk of antagonising my readers with more history of stuff, let's look very briefly at medicine as some reject it in the post-modern world today, and then we might know more about why we do what we do. I would call that freedom. 

Just because the gods love me there are at my place at Iquitos, Peru currently two people in serious need of medical attention at this moment, one with a badly infected foot from an incident in the jungle, the other a man coming down with blood poisoning that looks like gangrene. One has turned to a local for treatment and is hobbling around with a smelly foot and runny bandages; the other is trying to get his mates around here to cough up some cash to pay for his stay at hospital. The odds of either of these people getting better are beyond my capacity to predict, though I suspect neither of them will have much luck. The gods provide me with these two as vivid examples of what one might do in a medical emergency situation. There is a third party involved here, and they too are evidence the gods love me: the third party, after panicking momentarily over a fellow citizen's predicament, have retired to the rooftop to seek herbal medical relief for their anxieties. The question of import is how one sees the nature of illness, disease, wounds, and sickness. What-- or who-- is responsible? And in deciding on that, what is to be done? Who is to do the doing? One injured, one sick, and both have opted for divergent treatments. About the pot smokers on the rooftop, one might say...  yeah, well, whatever, man.

Strange it is to me that what so many call alternative medicine is not the alternative at all but is  the same old and explicitly ancient medicine of Galen and Hippocrates that hardly budged an inch in millenia that was demonstrably worthless and usually iatrogenic as opposed to an ever-changing and radically innovative, allow me to say revolutionary empirical and scientific alternative to nothing much at all, i.e. medicine as an "art."

My grandparents all survived the Great Depression, which they could hardly get through an evening without mentioning in deep detail. They survived the Second World War, which was almost as constant a topic of conversation. but they also survived the Spanish Flu Pandemic of 1918-1919, which my grandmother told me she didn't want to speak about because it was too terrible to recall. Now I have some idea what she meant.  

Many shamans in Iquitos charge each person anywhere from 50 to 150 soles for an ayahuasca ceremoney, two euphemisms in one. Most of the curanderos I know in villages around Iquitos charge one chicken, or about 20 soles, give or take. But regardless of how much one pays for it, only the truly weirdly sick take ayahuasca because they like it's effects, they being bulemics and scatologists. Yes, they exist, and that's why words for them are so commonly used. But aside from them, the majority by far take "ayahuasca" for the chakruna. To suggest, to say aloud, that one takes ayahuasca for its healing powers is to say the same as one takes pills for the sake of chalk and capsules because of the gelatin or that one dates a woman because of her shoes covering her feet, if that's a good analogy. Ayahuasca is the coating that allows for the effects of the chakruna. Calling this a "ceremony" is too puerile to bother discussing. Most people in this bitterly poor country where a working class man in his prime breaking his health makes 20 soles a day, to make S150 per head from tourists per day by the dozen, let's be honest here, is a better alternative. when the local village shaman prices his services so dearly, then only the drug tourist can afford him, and thus the peasant is left with little alternative but Modernist medicine. How horrible is that? It depends on ones vision of reality, and that means that when one has an infected foot or when one is laid low by blood poisoning one has to decide quickly what the medical option is going to be, shamanism or modern chemistry. My grandparents didn't have the latter option, and they couldn't bring themselves to talk about the effects of country doctors accepting chickens for the art of medicine they practiced as millions died in their prime in the aftermath of industrial slaughter that was World War One. The pandemic without the benefits of flu vaccines was a horror even they, hard and sometimes brutal people, couldn't speak about. We spent thousands of years with Galen and little else. Today we have effective alternatives. Some Modernists reject it. The question is "Why?"


What or who causes illness? Some deliberately reactionary Christians, the ones "sophisticated" people like to tar all Christians as in an attempt at erecting straw men, do argue, as it were, that this or that is caused by God's wrath. So what? We know better, Christian normatives or leftard buffoons alike. And yet, one finds both gangs resorting to herbal remedies and tarot card readings-- and ayahuasca-- for medical reasons. They conveniently skip the embarrassing native superstitions and go for the gauzy "ancient" aspect instead, as if millenia of failure is a priori authentic and anything Modernist is a priori a source of  horror. But for the local it is, and almost entirely is all about, faith. It's not about plants, I think I see, it is about the spirits of plants, a matter of faith in spirits and the shaman's ability to use them wisely and beneficially. The plant material is secondary for the local, but not for the drug tourist who wants to get stoned. For him, without the drug-induced effects of ayahuasac, he would not be at Iquitos taking cabbage leaf soup for an infected foot. Why not? The locals do it. And that is because they know their enemies have caused them illness and injuries and only a very nasty shaman can kill the devils and perhaps curse the other shaman who did this to them. It doesn't want a sissy in charge. It wants a mean motherfucker. The rest of us settle for antibiotics.



Cause of illnesses: Why one would consult a curandero.



[P]ersonalistic and naturalistic. In personalistic systems disease results from purposeful intervention of an agent, such as evil spirits, other spirits when offended, curse or witchcraft by other humans. In this scheme, there is little room for accident or chance and illness is only one of a number of misfortunes brought about in this way. Amazonian shamanism would fall into this category, since illness is mostly diagnosed in these terms. In naturalistic systems, disease results from natural forces or conditions, such as the environment, an upset in body’s equilibrium, aging etc.. The familiar biomedical system is a naturalistic system. In the context of shamanic tourism the personalistic explanations of the shamans come together with the naturalistic ones of westerners and often there is a shift in the way westerners view illness. 

[In] Evans- Pritchard’s (1976) work on the Azande, which is one of the most important in the discussion of witchcraft and sorcery [he] used the Azande’s distinctions and showed that ideas of witchcraft for the Azande functioned as a means of explaining misfortunes that could not be explained otherwise. For him these ideas were a reasonable way for the Azande to explain things and also gave shape to their moral worlds. Witchcraft accusations were a means of expressing and discharging tensions between people. For Mary Douglas witchcraft is an alleged psychic force; “an anti-social psychic power with which persons in relatively unstructured areas of society are credited, the accusation being a means of exerting control where practical forms of control are difficult” (1966:102). Witches defined like this are marginal. Witchcraft can also be involuntary. Sorcery for Douglas is a form of harmful power which makes use of spells, words, actions and physical materials; it “can only be used consciously and deliberately” (1966:107). Evans-Pritchard also argued that witchcraft accusations indicate social conflicts. In Iquitos, the phenomenon of witchcraft and the frequent accusations are a result of the strained local economy and the antagonism between shamans competing for the few tourists. Ayahuasca tourism is limited and the income the tourists bring is highly desirable. In this context, sorcery becomes a battle for limited resources and a means of exerting power.( Ibid. Fitiou.)

So, harm is caused by agency; or shit happens. For the postmodernist, shit happens, but the way to make it less smelly is to refer to an "authentic" healing shaman rather than to a greedy and chemistry-based Modernist doctor. Some, even those with more money than I, Steve Jobs, for example, die because they wish to be cured "organically" rather than chemically. Jobs likely no more believed in spirits than I do, but he had faith in "authenticity," and it killed him.


One might shake ones head in disgust at the "faith' people have in the ugly religion of scientism that is so often held by the same people who say with a straight face that they also believe in the healing power of Juan-Carlos' soup cooking on my stove as a remedy for a person's infected foot at this time. The Modernists don't believe, as does Juan-Carlos, in the spirits; they say they believe in the curative powers of his soup because he is a native of the Amazon who therefore has power in himself because he knows what healers have known for thousands of years. Juan-Carlos knows how to cook soup. He doesn't know how to practice medicine. He laughs when we speak and says they want the soup. He went to a hospital recently and got stitches in his own foot. No soup for him because he's not a fool. Others? Well, I'm a gentleman, and I won't comment on those who "believe."

A very important element of an ayahuasca ceremony are the spirits, also called doctors, or doctorcitos. The curanderos have a special relationship with certain spirits with which they work closely; even participants encounter spirit doctors who manipulate their body with the purpose of healing them. The curandero might also employ spirits for future protection. Shamans ascend to other worlds to consult spirits and even god in order to heal a patient. One of the shamans I worked with used to say that she comes closer to god with ayahuasca. The spirits tell shamans what to do, for example if they need to direct energy to a person with the schacapa. They also tell shamans when enough energy has been directed to a person and manage the chaos of energy that might ensue during the ceremony. Each plant, human or object has multiple spirits, which are arranged hierarchically. When invoking a spirit, the shamans call the head spirit of each plant or madre de la planta. (Ibid. Fitiou: p. 196.)

The madres look at what is needed and send the appropriate spirit to each person. I was often told that one has to be receptive to receive help from the spirits. Sometimes when one asks for their help the immediate response is unpleasant because they bring in more energy than the body can handle but when they pull negative things out the person feels better. In a way, “it gets worse before it gets better.”



Some interviewees have described quite dramatic interactions with the spirits. One of them said that once the spirits performed open heart surgery on him. He believed that the visions are like anesthesia and are meant to distract someone while they are healing their body. This idea that the visions are really a distraction and not the actual purpose of the ayahuasca experience was shared by many people. (Ibid. Fitiou: pp. 196-97.)

But when all is said and done, ayahuasca is a tourist-driven business, the village curandero usually selling out, as it were, as soon as he gets a chair at a luxury resort and has a chance to screw tourist girls and make a lot of cash. Such is the nature of man, women-- and spirits, no doubt. To fit in as a shaman, one has to act the part as expected of them by tourists. The village idiot turned shaman has to learn to talk about chakras, for example, and might even have to dress up in a grass skirt like the Boras with whom he has nothing in common ever at all. Give the customers what they want, and they will pay. The tourists want "healing ceremonies" as they get high? Fine, and say "chakras" a lot as if you know what the fuck you mean.




Foreign concepts–from Asian traditions– are adopted by the shamans in order to accommodate tourist expectations and needs. Notably, a mestizo shaman with whom I worked for two months would often refer to the body’s chakras, or energy centers, a concept borrowed from eastern spirituality. People, including shamans, adapt constantly to new circumstances and as anthropologists soon realized, culture was always taking new forms and can never be viewed as static. While cultural exchange has always been part of shamanism and curanderos have been always been eager to adopt foreign powerful elements-- for example biomedical symbolism has been part of curanderismo for a long time (Greene 1998)-- the factor of tourism might speed this process up. As a result, the shamans who have figured out the expectations of the tourists about what is authentic attract the most people. Some aspects that tourists consider authentic are the dress of the curanderos, exclusion of Christian elements, as well as their location. For example they consider being in a “clinic” or retreat near Iquitos the authentic experience, because they are in the jungle just a few kilometers outside of the city, while locals drink ayahuasca in dark rooms in the city. The clothes that some of these shamans wear during ceremonies, are a mixture of attire from the surrounding ethnic groups, mainly Shipibo, who sell their crafts in the streets of Iquitos, or bought at the market. Most curanderos who choose this attire wear a long robe with Shipibo imagery and usually some sort of head dress made of feathers. I have seen tourists be impressed by these shamans. For example at the Amazonian Shamanism Conference in 2005 it was said that the sign up sheets for the shamans who wore indigenous dress filled up much more quickly than the ones for shamans that were older and more experienced but were dressed in Western clothes and did not make an impression. The “authentic” mestizo shamans that cater to Peruvians wear regular Western clothes and are Christian. For example an older shaman that works from his house in Iquitos and has no lodge in the jungle always has a picture of Jesus in front of him during ceremony. Some tourists might initially be put off by the fact that these shamans are Christian, because they do not identify with Christianity themselves, others just accept it as part of the culture. As a result, the shamans who react to the expectations of the tourists about what is authentic attract the most people. I have observed a certain shaman adjust her attitude according to the group she had on a particular night. She would remove the Christian images and symbols from the ceremonial space when she realized they were offensive to some visitors and put them back when she had groups of Peruvians coming to ceremony. She would also try to distance herself from institutionalized Christianity for the sake of the tourists and openly criticize the Christian church. Curanderos will also decorate ceremonial spaces with indigenous handicrafts bought at the market. To be fair, not all local curanderos partake in this performance of “authenticity”. Some will only do it for ceremony to create a more “sacred” mood, while others, as in the case of the conference, will dress up to appear more authentic or attractive to potential clients. However there is an increasing number of curanderos who are critical of this trend and will refuse to dress up and insist on wearing Western clothing at all times. Those are few but it is clear that they want to differentiate themselves from the rest and maintain some sort of integrity. I was surprised to see that in one of the most well known ayahuasca retreats near Iquitos the maestro and apprentices wore their regular clothes at all times and at no time did they try to appear more authentic. Even more surprisingly, guests [at one place once] did not seem to mind and I never heard anyone complain that they were not getting an authentic experience, which shows that tourists are not as superficial as they are thought to be. (Ibid. Fitiou: pp. 137-39.)

To end this part of the ayahuasca look-at we have seen the shapaka and the icaros of shamanism, the rattle and hum of the trade. We've looked at those who practice shamanism in resorts and those who live in remote villages, both doing the same sort of thing for altogether different reasons for altogether different clients. We've looked at why anyone in a world of pandemic flu outbreaks so devastating that hard people can't bear to recall the times would indulge in sentimental pseudo-medicine. We've seen how some will play the game that the customers demand. These are important things to know and consider in light of taking ayahuasca in the Amazon among people who take it seriously as part of the life of their living culture. I personally find drug tourists to be repulsive and disgusting in their preening and sentimentality. But they buy stuff from my friend Amelia and she pays the rent and feeds the kids, so in all, what's to complain about? But there is something more, and if it weren't more I would never have bothered looking at this tourist idiocy in the first place.


That something more is the nature of the universe as it is, something morons on dope miss altogether, and something that ayahuasca might indeed reveal to the interested person in better form than one can access through the mind unaided. It's probably clear by now at the end of eleven installments of ayahuasca that I truly hate drug tourists. I hate them not because they take jungle drugs but because they are mostly lazy, stupid, and phony. but the world is a big and complicated place full of mystery that I cannot begin to grasp the sense of, so perhaps such people perform some greater good that escapes me. I know too that there are some seriously evil people in this world who do seriously evil things; and it takes equally serious and equally evil people to fight them successfully. Armed then with something like knowledge of the ways of right and wrong, true and false about ayahuasca, the next step is to talk to two shamans, a gringo hippie arsehole and a native woman who is likely as bad in her own way as anyone else one can find in this world. If you want to fight devils, don't be nice about it. Get them and kill them. To a large degree, that's what ayahuasca is about. The battle between cosmic good and evil.


Orwell puts it well:


"Men sleep peacefully in their beds at night because rough men stand ready
to do violence on their behalf."


Now I think we know enough to know if shamans really do kick arse in an evil universe. Let's find out.


*The only Marxist  with principles is Groucho Marx.

Many thanks to Doctor Fitiou for the work I have so freely quoted without her prior permission. Great work, Doctor, and I hope we can meet if you return to Iquitos.

Dag Walker
Iquitos, Peru
Jan. 2013.


A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:
http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1
And here are some reviews and comments on said book:

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.htm





Tuesday, January 01, 2013

Iquitos, Peru: Ayahuasca (Part Ten)

I see and hear in my travels into the world of ayahuasca that most locals in the city don't take ayahuasca. My buddy Juan took it once, he said, and it tasted bad. He didn't get high, didn't see God, didn't think of himself as God. It made him sick and he didn't like it. Juan is about as low on the status ladder as one is going to get except perhaps for Juan Carlos, another buddy of mine. He said, about ayahuasca. I asked a number of locals of all classes and levels of education. I asked at Belen Market, and there I found it is thought of and used as a purgative, not a vision-quest tool. It's one of many herbal remedies not significantly different from rose water or other tonics meant to cure a range of problems, most psychosomatic. A physiotherapist said “Andeans and coastal people seldom if ever use ayahuasca” because it's for selva people rather than montana people or Limaneros. As well, he said, he was under the impression that one must be invited to use ayahuasca with locals in Iquitos, and that no one had ever asked him. If they had he would be nervous about saying yes because shamans have a bad reputation as thieves and rapists, which is certainly true of some in Iquitos, many tales of bad character surfacing with little prompting. Lima had some shamans from the jungle but they were apparently so bad that now all are shunned generally. Ayahuasca, then, is seen by most as a superstition that those striving for a live in the Modern world forgo.

What I see and hear is that Modernists come to Iquitos to take ayahuasca to “heal” themselves of traumatic experiences as a rule, and secondly to heal their bodies. The only people in the city who do that, other than Modernists with a lot of money to spare, are those few who come from the jungle, and they do it to facilitate medical treatments. They puke on purpose, not to see themselves as Gods at one with the universe. That is left to affluent Modernists and backpackers on a limited budget, i.e. those who are not members of a church, who are not members of a club or group, who have no children, who are alone- more or less-- in the universe itself and have no one and nothing in the way of responsibility toward anyone other than themselves, if that. Ayahuasca is a self-indulgence, from what I see, among those who are, to dip into the Dag-bag of difficult technical terms, “fucking losers.” I should be loving the stuff. I'm qualified.

Ayahuasca is Amazonian, and yet the word/s are Quechua, coming from the mountains, Incan in origin. This suggests to me that the Incas, being the superior power in the area are those whose register, i.e. whose dialect, sets the overall authoritative tone for all others, like Castillian Spanish, for example.

The term Ayahuasca is Quechua, the language of the Inca Empire, today spoken in Peru, Bolivia, Ecuador, Chile, and Argentina. Naranjo (1983) speculates that the term spread through pre-Colombian contact between Andean and Amazonian populations. The fact that the most widely used name for the plant brew happens to be Quechua might indicate knowledge of the plant by the Incas (Naranjo 1983). Evidence of the wide use of the term can be traced back to the 18th century (Naranjo 1983). According to the bulk of the literature ayahuasca means “vine of the dead” or “vine of the soul” and it refers to the freeing of the spirit from the body that it induces, as well as contact with the spirit world (Schultes and Hofman 1992) and dead ancestors (Naranjo 1983). In Quechua the first half of the word aya means dead person as well as spirit or soul (Whitten 1976), while the word huasca means vine (Naranjo 1983). Whitten (1976:61) discusses that in Jungle Quichua there is no correlation of the word with the dead and he prefers the English translation “soul vine”. However, some scholars argue that the actual Quechua meaning comes from the words jayac huasca, which means “bitter vine” (Oberem 1958, Frank Salomon, 2002, personal communication). … Ayahuasca has varied names among the indigenous peoples of Amazonia, including caapi, dapa, mihi, kahi, natema, pinde, yagé, nishí, nape, camorampi, mii, pitujiracu, and tucondi (Naranjo 1983, Schultes and Hofman 1992).
Evgenia Fotiou , “From Medicine Men to Day Trippers: Shamanic Tourism in Iquitos, Peru.” University of Wisconsin, Madison. 2010. [Doctoral thesis.]
http://www.neip.info/downloads/Fotiou_Ayahuasca_2010.pdf

Far be it from me to stick to the straight facts if I can have fun playing around with a story; but then there is the serious side of reality that demands some care and attention to truth. When looking into the nature of ayahuasca there's little reason to lie about it unless one cares to lie to oneself for reasons of ambivalence about drug using or reasons of personality disorder. Those who claim the need for trauma cure through ayahuasca use are those who have abandoned the scientific paradigm of medicine for the Romantic, at best, and for a fascist nostalgia at worst, if most likely unknowing. Fotiou writes:
“[T]he translation “vine of the soul” prevails, a fact that might have to do with a strong tendency to sensationalize and romanticize. (Fotiou, p. 9.)


If we search for the facts about ayahuasca, then we stand a better chance of grasping some fundamental truths about it later. “Bitter vine” seems at the intuitive level at least to be far superiour to “vine of death/spirit.” In searching for the plain and ordinary facts about ayahuasca we might then, having started well, do the same with shamans, looking at them and what they do as it objectively is rather than as a projection of the miserablist counter-Modernist reactionary.


In an earlier interview with a shaman I spoke with Gido, a plain and decent fellow who lived until recently with his family in the jungle where he was the village doctor. His work involved plants.

Mestizo shamanism involving ayahuasca as it is practiced in urban centers like Iquitos, is known as vegetalismo and its practitioners as vegetalistas, specialists in plant medicine (Luna 1986). Luna introduced the concept of the “plants as teachers”, explaining that plant spirits teach the vegetalistas directly how to diagnose and cure illnesses (Luna 1984). This is different from an herbalist who knows how to utilize a variety of plants but does not necessarily communicate with them. This approach of plants as living sentient beings and the communication of the curandero with their spirits, as well as other non-human persons, for a successful healing was central in my observations in the field. (Ibid. Fotiou.)

Earlier I have mentioned my friend Amelia, a Shipibo lady from Pucallpa, whose father is a curandero of high standing. She upset at least two young men when I introduced her and had her explain to them what is involved in taking ayahuasca: She said that one must live in a Shipibo village in the jungle for at least three months so one is accustomed to the place and its life, i.e. vegetation, and one must eat, drink, think, live with people for whom that life is life. Then, if there's some urgent requirement, one consults a man such as her father for a remedy, and he might or might not take ayahuasca to find a path to wellness of the sufferer of X. Needless to say, Amelia's discussion was not what the young men wanted to hear. Amelia told the truth about native use of ayahuasca, which doesn't address the needs or wants of most Modernists. The difference is significant and legitimate. One need not decide to abandon all of Modernity to “go native” for the sake of an authentic experience as an ayahuasca user. But one might address honestly ones actual desires and accept them for what they are rather than lie.


Going to a luxury resort to take drugs with locals and see oneself as God is as good a way to spend money as anything I've ever heard of. But it is what it is. To go to Iquitos to take drugs with a shaman is to take drugs, not with local shamans, but more than likely with someone who has come to Iquitos to get in on the tourist trade, there being “not many sights or activities in Pucallpa for tourists,” as my disappointed friend Jose used to say when searching for work daily in the city. Shipibo shamans and others from Pucallpa take the six day cargo boat ride to Iquitos to make a living.


The Shipibo communities are not geographically close to Iquitos and any Shipibo living there are actually migrants from the Ucayali River. They belong to the Pano linguistic group and their population is estimated to be up to 30,000 (Behrens 1994). They are considered to have among the most powerful ayahuasqueros. (Ibid. Fotiou.)

But they all look the same, don't they?


Fotiou points out other misconceptions and outright nonsense spouted by drug tourists. They use too often, as I do because I don't care, the term shaman to describe the curanderos locally.


Shaman ... is not the traditional word for this type of practitioner in the area. However, it is the word that almost everyone would use in Iquitos within the context of shamanic tourism, even though some older shamans would find it very funny when tourists called them “shamans”. The most appropriate term would be ayahuasquero, which denotes a healer who specializes in ayahuasca ceremonies.

Another word often used is curandero, which literally means a healer, but implies utilizing a wider range of healing techniques. In Iquitos the word curandero is used to denote someone who can heal using plants or other methods. It is not necessarily someone who leads ayahuasca ceremonies even though sometimes they do. In several discussions with locals they stressed the fact that a certain person who did ceremonies was not a curandero and that a curandero is someone who can heal a wide range of conditions, using a variety of plants. (Ibid. Fotiou.)

I often don't distinguish only because I don't really care. Ne would assume that those who do would pay some attention. Seldom done, in my experience of drug tourists.


There are different types of ayahuasqueros in the area, such as paleros, who specialize in working with tree barks as well as ayahuasca. Ayahuasqueros are considered the weakest practitioners by the other specialists. All other specialists require a much more rigorous training and thus are harder to find. (Ibid. Fotiou.)

Any idiot can give a tourist a cupful of ayahuasca and call it shamanism. Giving out a bucketful of ayahuasca to romanticizing Moderists in search of ecstacy and self-awareness is a cheap and easy way to make $75.00 per head. That term shaman is not related, by the way, to the English term shame.


The word shaman comes from the Tunguz word saman (Eliade 1964). The word entered the European vocabulary in the 18th century from travelers and 80 explorers in Siberia who were mostly Dutch or German native speakers (Laufer 1917, Flaherty 1992). Even though shamans are not the only religious figures in their societies according to Eliade the shaman alone is the “great master of ecstasy” (1964). In fact, because of Eliade’s work shamanism even today is closely associated with Altered States of Consciousness (ASCs) even though some have challenged the usefulness of terms like trance and ecstasy as analytical tools when it comes to discussing shamanism (Hamayon 1993, 1998). According to Casanowicz (1926) the Tunguz word means one who is ‘excited’, ‘moved’, or ‘raised’. Hoppál (1987) adds that another translation of the word shaman is “inner heat” and it comes from the Sanskrit word saman that means song. The word has been widely discussed and contested as being an inappropriate word for defining such a wide spectrum of traditional healing practitioners to the point that most anthropologists today prefer to speak of shamanisms (Atkinson 1992) and others argue that because the use of the term has changed so much over time it is impossible to arrive at an agreed upon operational definition (Jones 2006). Most definitions are either general and universal or context specific. In indigenous languages there is a specific word assigned to healers usually related to some important aspect of that culture’s healing complex. Atkinson has brought attention to the diverse approaches and theories on shamanism and warns of generalizing theories that might lead to “unwarranted reductionism and romantic exoticizing of a homogeneous non-Western “other”” (1992:309). (Ibid. Fotiou.)

Such it part of the ugliness of philobarbarism, the 'unwarranted reductionism and romantic exoticizing of a homogeneous non-Western “other” '.” Get the terms wrong, skip the immersion in the local culture because it's time consuming and one has a real life back home, and then lump Amelia with jorge as “brown people” as one of my stalkers has done in accusing me of “hating brown people” and one ends up as a full-blown idiot racist spouting cliches and evil stupidities that get people killed. However, if one is clear about ones interest in taking drugs for the sake of self-awareness or even self-indulgence, there is possibly some value in it for individuals. Lying can't benefit many other than those who would steal from them, rape them, or otherwise harm them. Such things happen frequently to the foolish. How is the false person to protect him or herself from a strange reality when one lies about ones ordinary reality?


Earlier we noted that Gido doesn't need ayahuasca to do his work. If he doesn't need,it, why would the consultee? Clearly it is not for the drug tourist to have any concerns other than for himself. That would have nothing to do with me, and thus is not a criticism of drug tourists.


In Amazonian shamanism the special power of the hallucinogenic plants is not attributed to alkaloids but to the spirit believed to inhabit every plant, something which is encountered in other cultures as well (Furst 1993; Whitten 1976). Plants are believed to be the teachers of shamans (Luna 1984, 1986), even though learning from the plants does not imply that the person will become a healer. For some, this process is more a philosophical quest, the desire to learn, to understand; learning how to heal is part of the knowledge acquired during initiation, not the primary goal. (Ibid. Fotiou: p. 159.)

Gido spoke of his “X-ray vision.”

[I]n the practice of ayahuasca healing, the ayahuasca is said to enable the healer to see the inner parts of his patient and thus establish a diagnosis. some of the shamans I interviewed reported that the brew literally enables them to see the inside of their patients’ bodies. One shaman after a ceremony described to me what he had seen in my body as wounds (heridas) on particular organs. (Ibid. Fotiou.)

Gido went further, though it wasn't clear to me at the time what he meant. Fotiou clarifies it.


Ayahuasca shamanism is perceived as ancient and representing a time when people lived in harmony with nature and each other. This romantic approach to shamanism has not been there from the beginning. Even though there is evidence of ayahuasca used in ancient times it is unlikely that it was used in the same way that it is used today even by indigenous people. Gow (1992) has argued that ayahuasca shamanism with a focus on healing, is a result of colonialism and a response to the brutal history that I describe in the introduction. I argue that it is not only possible that colonialism has played an important role in the development of ayahuasca shamanism as we know it, but that tourism continues to do so. This is particularly important when dealing with the more ambivalent aspects of shamanism such as sorcery and the possibility of tourism increasing sorcery attacks between curanderos. (Ibid. Fotiou, p. 304.)

With that we can look further to see how Gido did a serious pantomime that called to my mind a scene from Milton's Paradise Lost, better summed up below by Fitiou.


One of the biggest misconceptions about shamanism in the West is that shamanism revolves around spirituality and love. A Western shaman in his attempt to differentiate himself from New Age, says that scholars have erroneously argued that shamanism is about a magic journey “but neglected the dimensions of love and spirituality that are in its core” (Kottler and Carlson 2004:44). This viewpoint seems to ignore the political dimensions of shamanism as well as its role in conflict (witchcraft etc.). One reason that this belief is so pervasive might be the disbelief of westerners for the effectiveness of witchcraft and their automatic dismissal of it. On the other hand it could very well be a conscious effort on the part of the practitioners; if the people who have made a career out of shamanism in the West dwell on the negative side of shamanism then it would not be so attractive to their audience. They have an idea of what their audience craves and they reckon it is not battles with evil spirits and shamans. (Ibid. Fotiou.) [My emphasis.]

To sentimentalise Gido's battle of the spirits is to deny him his legitimate reality as a man and a member of a unique culture. Philobarbarism is exactly a denial of the reality of others, as is drug tourism that pretends to laud its anti-Modernist mode of production and to claim some superiourity for the hunter-gatherer lifestyle of those who lack, for example, the rudiments of Modernity such as sewerage. People, and often whole villages of people, die because of a lack of simple Modernist infrastructure that the post-Modernist claims is evil, i.e. the works of Modernity in the form of, again for example, sewerage systems. Or we can look at vaccinations. Or any number of other aspects of Modernists public health. Instead, the sentimentalising drug tourist can lump all “brown people” into one lump and claim that if only it were possible the post-modernist would live such life, but alas.... Missing from all this drivel is the violence of communal life in the jungle, not restricted to spirits, and not assumed by the locals as pathological. Drug tourists do not, in my experience, look at the real violence of ayahuasca culture. They don't know, they don't care, and they probably would dismiss it if they had to think about it. It's not part of the tourist package to see reality beyond the pay-off of self-awareness and a great summer vacation story to tell back home later.


Recent scholarly work on the subject of shamanism in Amazonia stresses that “Amazonian shamanism is not a loving shamanism” (Fausto 2004). The concept of energy is a key metaphor in Amazonian worldview and is related to the soul, power, desire and intention. Power resides in the human body and is affected by the ingestion or expulsion of substances. Just as in North American shamanism object intrusion is considered a common cause of illness. It is considered to be the consequence of malevolent intent and ascribed to sorcery and witchcraft. The healing shaman sucks the foreign object from the patient’s body and spits it out. In this worldview, good and evil are not fixed categories but are relational and highly contextual. (Fitiou: p. 209.) [My emphasis.]

There is only so much ones colleagues will tolerate from another, and that usually ends at expressing a belief in witchcraft. Thus, the drug tourist must dismiss an essential aspect of Amazonian reality, wiping out the whole of Pasaje Paquito, for example, at Belen Market, the very embodiment of selva life and the efforts of curanderos in the lives of the people. No one in the office is going to take seriously the drug tourist who returns to work speaking about witchcraft as legitimate. That would be embarassing, and one often goes on a drug tour to gain prestige among ones group rather than to be laughed at. So one must ignore the prevalent reality of Amazonian life when it messes with ones epistemological hair-do. Gido explained it all to me quite clearly in our earlier interview, and I had no idea what he meant. Now that I have some clue I find I like him even more.


I wrote elsewhere and perhaps mean-spiritedly about an alcoholic t.v. repairman who makes a few dollars on the side by reading fortunes at Pasaje Paquito. He's a decent fellow in all, and yet he too discussed the battle with evil spirits he engages in. His violence is limited to knocking off beer by the dozen, but it is there and fundamental to his life. So too with Gido, a friendly fellow, also a violence obsessed curandero. This is important in that such men face death, as I noted in the first part of my discussion on the curanderos missing at Yurimaguas, presumed dead by murder. For drug tourists ayahuasca is not a culture and it is not a life to be taken seriously: it is a game for them. For the rest, it's a matter of life and death.


Warfare between shamans is very common and can take many forms. While combating sorcery in order to heal patients during the ceremony, the shaman is vulnerable to attacks by other shamans. Shamans find different ways to attack their rivals. For example, if a client has drunk ayahuasca with a malevolent shaman and that person drinks with someone else afterwards, the malevolent shaman tries to interfere in the ceremony of the rival shaman through the person that was previously their patient. They might manifest through the body of the patient making noises that are distracting for the rest of the participants or direct negative energy to the rival shaman. They can also place dangers and threats for the rival shaman in the astral realm so that he or she will have to fight them off as soon as he or she enters it under ayahuasca inebriation. This means that for a shamanic fight to take place, both shamans do not need to be in ceremony at the same time because time in the astral realm is not linear; merely placing something there guarantees that it will be there whenever the rival shaman enters the spiritual dimension. I was told that these attacks are not as powerful as when both shamans are having ceremony at the same time, and they are easy to defeat. (Ibid. Fotiou: p. 222.)

To the average office worker at home, this account of reality is nonsense that he would be embarrassed to mention in his account of how he achieved spiritual specialness with a loving and altogether groovy shaman in the Amazon jungle at a beautiful retreat in the rain forest. Reality, which is what the drug tourist is so adamantly against, is a lot dirtier. Yes, one might say it's all true, but then coffee time ends and one must return to ones desk to complete the effort of looking at actuarial tables to determine how much it will cost the government, i.e. the taxpayer, to pay for medical insurance for Mr. Eyks who doesn't have a job. But no, one would be as embarrassed by this as is the average Peruvian living and working and raising a family in a state of cleanliness and modern medicine that allows his children to survive their first five years at an average of greater than 50 percent.


In warfare, shamans need to have weapons. One of my consultants has a protective spirit suit and boots that one of his teachers gave him. In fact one of the ceremony participants said that she felt the boots with her hands while he was standing over her. The weapon of choice that shamans use in Amazonia is the magic dart or virote. Much like the medicine substance, virotes are stored in the phlegm that resides in the shaman’s body and he can retrieve them as necessary. Shamans project virotes to make someone sick or to attack another shaman. They can be removed from the body of the victim by sucking. For the most part, this type of attack is used against other shamans but the darts can hit participants in the ceremony by accident. One of the shamans said that he never got the physical phlegm but it was given to him in a dream. The spirits gave him a cup with a white substance and he had to drink it. Then he felt it settling across his chest. He also said that his whistling was given to him in a vision. In order to keep its power, in his icaros he sometimes sings the word mariri; that is because if something is not used it loses its power. (Ibid. Fotiou, p. 223)

To deny such realities of others is to dismiss their authenticity as human beings; and to suggest that one actually believes in such superstition is to invite ridicule from ones more honest fellows. The sentimenalising philobarbarist thus remains ignorant at best and deliberately ignorant at worst.


Who is going to return to modenity to say to ones peers the wonderful shaman one took ayahuasca with prevented grievous harm from a jealous shaman rival spirit? Christians seldom if ever refer to Paradise Lost as equivalent to the local newspaper. How would one feel about saying something like this:


[H]e cannot attack a shaman unless he is attacked by him first. Even if he is healing a patient of witchcraft, if the shaman who caused the witchcraft does not fight he cannot attack him. He said that battles at this level look like some of the battle scenes in the Lord of the Rings movies. (Ibid. Fotiou.)

The point of drug tourism is not to return to ones familiar places to be laughed at but to be lauded. Thus, one must claim that ones shaman is otherworldly in a sensible fashion, somehow legitimate and eternal in the sense of practicing a ritual, a “ceremony” unchanged over 5,000 years, and one few at the office have heard of, let alone done themselves, thought they might have had colourful cocktails at a resort in the Caribbean. To talk of ones shaman in glowing terms is to bask in the reflected glory of. Reality? Sometimes not so romantic. There is the dirtiness of reality always intruding, such as:


[T]he existence of alcoholism among many shamans. This is a common phenomenon in Iquitos and many shamans are known for their bad temper and excessive drinking. This is usually known among locals but it is easy to conceal from tourists that are only in town for a few days. For example, locals would say about a shaman that she was considered to have been very powerful until she started drinking. The same shaman told the tourists that she never drank alcohol and never ate Chinese food because it was unhealthy. (Ibid. Fotiou.)

The things one never hears about. Thieves, rapists, terrorists, and general outright arseholes, some shamans are nothing but drunks on the make who find idiot tourists wanting piss away vast amounts of money to brag later about how grand they are in comparison to those mediocre fellows they must share office space with.



Some shamans are unlike the stereotypical cliched maunderings of post-menopausal ladies with rich but now dead husbands, or metrosexual kids who can't get laid going on about how cool it is to see themselves as one with God instead. Lots of babble. I try to skip them. But there are some shamans worth actually talking to. I won't be asking any locals about this guy, they not seeming to be into ayahuasca as much as Modernists, and they not being so much into American hillbilly shamans at that if they were.



[A] fraud like Ron Wheelock. This man claims to be a shaman, but in reality is nothing but a greedy charlatan. He uses a woodchipper to produce large quantities of ayahuasca, which apparently he sells to buyers abroad, thus raping the local culture and the spiritual essence of ayahuasca. Apart from that, this fool organizes cock fights -which are illegal in his own country for very good reasons!- and breeds pitbull terriers (god only knows for what purpose). In my humble opinion, people like Ron should be tarred, feathered and run into the Amazon River.
Gart van Gennip February 16, 2011

This is a long story. I'll come back to it as soon as I can.

A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:
http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1
And here are some reviews and comments on said book:
http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.html

Monday, December 31, 2012

Iquitos, Peru: Ayahuasca (Part Nine)

Ayahausca (Part Nine)


Interviews with Shamans (Part Three)

The biggest and seemingly most important part of drinking ayahuasca is who one does it with, meaning who is the shaman one gets stoned with, the person who makes and delivers the punch, the person who babysits the drinker, the person who guides the vibes. The wrong shaman, or an outright bad human being, and what one hopes for and probably expects to be an excellent adventure can turn out to be ones worst nightmare come true. It depends, then, on who you hang out with.

Earlier we talked with a local shaman, a Peruvian man living in the Amazon jungle in a tiny village an hour and a half from the world's largest city not connected by roads to the rest of the nation: Iquitos. He is the real deal, a native in a native tradition. But he is just one of many potentially “real deals” in the drug business of ayahuasca drinking. And he is a man and a Spanish speaker who lives and breathes a world most of us will never genuinely enter, as he will never fully grasp what it is to be a Modernist, i.e. one of those incredibly rich persons living in a state of anomie and near nihilistic despair over lack of meaning in the world and ones personal life. People who have it all turned out to find themselves total losers. Gido the Amazon shaman will never get that part. Modernists don't get much else these days. Man or woman, the Modernist is just like us. It means we have to look at ourselves as we are and see others like ourselves as probably better suited to help us deal with problems they, like we, actually can speak to from experience. Like him as much as I do, he's not “one of us” any more than we Modernists can fake being natives in the Amazon. We have to talk to people who speak our emotional and experiential language. Men, though, are men, and they are not, any more than we are Amazonians, women. So, we will talk to a female shaman and to a male to ask more about the Modernist taking ayahuasca in the hope of some better grasp of our situation, whatever it might be.

There are American hippie shamas in the ayahuasca business in Iquitos, one of whom is named Ron Wheeler, or maybe, according to some, Wheelock, or, my personal favourite, Ron Hubbard. Ron, whom I have not met, is reported to have large amounts of cash on hand due to the price of his services, drawing the interest of armed robbers who wish to spread the wealth aroun, feeling that at some point he, like others, has made enough money and should pay his fair share to those who need it more than he, they being exploited and oppressed by the system. So, Ron reportedly has pit bull dogs guarding his place, no doubt better able to bite than the dog that tried successfully enough to eat my right foot, still swollen after three weeks, and Ron also, at least from local rumour, raises fighting cocks, also, I think, to protect his investments, no armed robber daring to confront an angry chicken in the dark. There are other American shamans to talk to, and they are all interesting. I haven't settled on speaking to anyone else yet. It seems somewhat imporant to know what to ask first, and though I had some ideas this morning I spent the afternoon reading a doctoral thesis by an anthropologists to see if I can find things about ayahuasca that I don't know about, which is much. Talking to shamans should be a matter for an informed interviewer. This evening I know more, and once others know this information as well, then reading the interviews will yield insights from them and about my take on this as well so that the reader can see my bias and make a clearer judgment himself. Or not, as the case too often is, so many, like the recent anorexic kid who “has a band” and spent three straight days on the toilet and on his bed sick nearly to death, not from food poisoning as I had assumed, but from ayahuasca and lack of food. He had no idea what he was doing, other than that he was doing something cool, even if it nearly killed him. There are things one can know about ayahuasca, not only pertaining to ones general health, a seeming obsession with the crowd intent on “healing” whatever imaginary ills they might dream up as an excuse to “heal.” And when they walk blindly in a state of ignorance that would shame the average Christian faith-healer selling used cars outside the trailer park, one can only blink. It's not cool to be a deliberate moron, contrary to the crowd of drug-taking naifs who lap up the crap of peer group conformity. Some shamans are outright seriously bad people, and one won't know if one doesn't even understand that such is not only possible but too often likely. And some drug tourists are scum on the ground doing more harm to the locals with their self-absorption and gooey sentimentalities than the worst dictators of the land. The later one could fight, but the free-spending, drug-taking tourist is a menace one embraces. Some shamans are bad. Some tourists are as bad. But not even thinking of thinking about what one gets into before one gets into it is a prescription for catastrophe.



There are problems with ayahuasca. One is the sentimentalisation of Amazonian individuals by Modernists who dismiss the uniqueness of said individuals for the sake of self-indulgence as moralistic poseurs. The following is so well put I might have it tattooed on my arse just because:



[W]esterners who naively perceive the performance of shamans as authentic and the shaman himself who is transformed to a “clown in a New Age circus” (Joralemon 1990:109).
Evgenia Fotiou , “From Medicine Men to Day Trippers: Shamanic Tourism in Iquitos, Peru.” University of Wisconsin, Madison. 2010.
http://www.neip.info/downloads/Fotiou_Ayahuasca_2010.pdf



I might be overly fond of using the term philobarbarism, but it is too apt to refuse. It means a “love of barbarians” in contrast to loving ones own more advanced culture. It is an affectation, a falseness played by unintelligent intellectuals as a matter of distancing themselves from the banalities of the norms of their own milieux while creating the illusion among the gullible that the sneering critique of Modernity, in whatever form it might take contemporaneously, is somehow sophisticated, a matter of “slumming” in front of the middleclass by the middleclass, as if they were higher. The usual pretentious pose among “sophisticated” middleclass intellectuals is to be seen with a Black “friend.” Conversely, it is a middleclass Black affectation to be seen among successful Whites (from who he makes his living) while criticising them as racists. The case of ayahuasca tourism brings out the same kind of posing among the truly repulsive who, rather than cry rape and female victimhood, instead have sex with shamans, ayahuasca groupies who wreak havoc on families in small communities with no regard for the chaos they cause. Trophy shamans. To others these shamans suddenly showered with Modernist attentions are husbands and fathers and village doctors. Rock star shamans for the moment, they can leave town in disgrace to take up residence at a yuppie lodge at something financially greater than they could dream of in their own homes among their own community members, being “clowns of the New Age circus.” The price is high for all involved. One generally unnoticed price paid is the creation and sustenance of a parasitic clique of low level intellectuals who then criticise the indigenous alienation created by drug tourism. Modernity creates a class of intellectuals who criticise philobarbarists to find an edge in the competitive market of social reformers and community organisers, another form of philobarbarism, though less obvious.



I've taken issue previously with those Modernists who claim to be in need of “healing” from whatever traumas they might have suffered as children, as if they were still children. These same people are often wealthy beyond my imagination, and they visit men and sometimes women living in grass huts in the jungle to find something new to brag about when they return to Modernity, something exotic to say to their business associates and other “friends” about what they did during their summer vacations. Yes, Modernity, or in this case, post-modernity, harbours a sickness. If it were simply simpering insipidity among the spoiled one would be hard pressed to find reason to care. Unfortunately, the result, not limited to the damage among the locals, is the spread of a real disease, Reaction, the fundamental error, and fatal, of the German Revolution taking place across the Modernist world today. Following is a further example of this fatal attraction to the German Revolution.



The archaic mystique
For many, participating in shamanic ceremonies fulfills a need to connect to an archaic past, or a desire for continuity of consciousness from ancient times. The past is thought to hold what the modern lacks and that is located in cultural others– consumable by moderns in their search for self-fulfillment (Fabian 1983). (Ibid. Fotiou.)

Corruption of selva life is, for me, not particularly important here, the advance of the people into the Modern being, in my opinion, a greater leap and one worth the loss of heimat and gemeinschaft. The serious problem of Modernity is the lack of understanding of such a concept, the acceptance of the sentimentalised construct as if it were authentic; and thus there is a further alienation in the pursuit of the alienation unknown. To put this in English: some people are unthinkingly accepting of the idea of community as if it were valuable over individualism-- to a degree that many have come to destroy unthinkingly and in a state of uncritical conformity to the norms of postmodernism the very foundations of liberal Modernity in the pursuit of a better, a higher, a purer liberty, effectively an illusion most are too unaware of to grasp the futility of such a pursuit, utopian at best, a return to primitive fascism. In short, stupid intellectuals and some outright morons are ruining a freer world by indulging in a phantasy of self-absorption they seem to think is cooler than the boring stuff of ordinary living. Taking ayahuasca in the Amazon jungle with a shaman is far more interesting to them than to stay at home and raise families. A woman in her forties dressing like a 16 year old and having sex with a village shaman who got caught and is banished from his house and family and village because of it is OK for her. She can edit that story to make herself seem far more than the creepy slut she is. Her friends, assuming she has any, will then have to go further to find some experience to top her, so to speak. All the while, Modernity crumbles into ruin because of the pursuit of self-indulgence leading to further alienation, to a further disgust with oneself as a loser without a foundation the shaman and his former family had and cannot legitimately share with those who fly in and fly out in a matter of weeks. The rot spreads. Modernity becomes to be seen by the emergent, proto-Modernists as a disease to be avoided by their own Reaction, as one sees in the Sendero Luminoso terrorists of Peru, for example. Shamans of the jungle do become “Clowns of the New Age circus.” For what? the average person might ask.

One might laugh at some of the criticisms of the drug tourist by low level intellectuals who must make a living at anti-Modern criticism and also gain prestige as “rebel” intellectuals:

Some warn of the impact this “industry” might have on the environment. According to Grunwell (1998) “not only are the people of South America placing demands on the supply of ayahuasca, but also with the influx of tourists, sources could be in danger of complete exhaustion”. Finally, as Proctor (2001) notes this commercialization can have negative effects on health care in Amazonian communities as a lot of shamans are mostly interested in tourism than healing members of the community. She also warns that shamans adapt to the expectations of the tourists, a fact that greatly distorts indigenous shamanism. Ibid. (Fotiou . p.14.)

The last time I checked, ayahuasca and chakruna are plants. They grow when people bother to plant them. These plants grow almost all by themselves. To panic over the disappearance of such plants because too many tourists are demanding them is so stupid only a postmodernist academic could put his or her name to such idiocy without shame. No one will run out of ayahuasca even if they try. It grows wild in the jungle. And if shamans spend all their energies “healing” Modernist losers, that would leave the local population with no alternative but to see Modern medical professionals who actually do some good occasionally. But those pseudo concerns are simply further manifestations of the rot of post-modernism. Any kick at Modernism, no matter how repulsively stupid, finds an audience willing to pay in cash and status for the speaker. I'm in the wrong fucking business!

Dobkin del Rios, as so often, does get it right:

 “As many South Americans realize its money-making potential, they 'come to adopt a New Age vocabulary of shamanic healer/spiritual voyager'.” (Dobkin de Rios 1994:18). (Ibid. Fotiou.)

This is a fine thing, and one can only hope that, like so many pop star gurus of the sixties, they will go to California and buy Rolls Royce limos to sit in the barn while hippies swoon at the authenticity of the former jungle shaman now living in a Beverly Hillbillies mansion. Good. Go. Make a lot of money and be a Hollywood shaman. Pay my student loan. I sure won't be doing it with the money I make.

Most people in the Modern world have far too much stuff, too easy a life. That in itself is not a serious problem, and it's even a problem I might like to have, though I'm not so keen on working at it. Instead I live a bohemian life of genteel poverty. OK, poverty. What separates me from my successful colleagues in the literary business, aside from my use of terms like philobarbarism, is that I don't pose as one who hates people who have a lot of money. Nor do I hate stupid people. I do tend to hate stupid people with too much money who hate middle class people. Thus, I am not cool.

For decades, ayahuasca was the stuff of legend associated with various scientists and literary writers, from the pioneer field ethnobotanist Richard Evans Schultes to the poet Allen Ginsberg and writer William Burroughs. Today its use has expanded to a global level and has had an enormous impact on religious and neo-shamanic currents in the West. (Ibid. Fotiou.)


I promote the beauty of sewers, McDonald's, and plastic. I am destined to be poor forever. I don't think you are special. I think plastic is special because anyone with a few bucks can have a throne like the Sun King's at Versailles. It might be plastic, but it's a democratic thing. If I were to write about you being the centre of the universe, then perhaps I too could have a bunch of groupies and tonnes of cash floating around me. Unfortunately, I am particularly stupid in my own special way, and I think you, whoever you are, are just you. Your enlightenment is not important. I am a loser, indeed, destined to live as a backpacking loser.

Marcel Mauss (1938) was the first one who discussed cultural variations of the concept of the self throughout Western history asserting that earlier human communities had a more sociocentric conception of the person; in addition, he argued that the notion of the self as a unique individual possessing self-consciousness, the “cult of the self,” is of recent origin. (Ibid. Fotiou.)



Well, yes. But no. The problem is the Romantic vision of Self. People have an innate sense of self, a matter of infant individuation. The problem is in the alienation today that drives the ignorant and self-indulgent to think of himself as special and above all communion in spite of hortatory rotomontades of the special people to save the earth from the middle class.

Huh?

People sometimes think they are special because they say the “right thing” about the latest group think issue, knowing nothing much about the issue at all, in spite of sometimes long study, as worthless as specialising in astrology in the age of String Theory, and because they receive congratulations from their friends they think they are superior to the middle class, of whom they mostly are and hate to admit it, seeking something greater than mediocrity as a self-identifier. Lots of demands of others to be “moral” like the speaker, even though the speaker usually has little to no idea what he's on about. Thus, being an ignorant arsehole with a lot of noise, he finds a niche to live in as a lonely and stupid moralist no one really believes but most are too afraid to say they think he's a fool. And chasing emptiness is a full time occupation, requiring ones dedicated energies forever to fill the emptiness with more emptiness. Today it's ayahuasca, like yesterday it was transcendental meditation with the Beatles, like tomorrow it will be reading my fine books. There is a lack of humility that attempts to fill the vacuum of mediocrity. Almost everyone is mediocre. Those who can't accept that about themselves often turn to persona to mask it for others. It is a basic alienation. More alienation is simply more alienation. More words, more exotic drug-taking in other exotic places is more alienation. People have always felt their own individuality, but recently they have come to think it's not enough to simply be oneself: one must be special.



Alright. I confess that I think you are special. Now, please send me money. Ha.



Mediocre people comprise about 80 percent of the population, and few would chose to be in the remaining division of tens. But few seem to think of the consequence of being mediocrities who are somehow special. An easy, and therefore popular avenue to specialness for the unhappy mediocrity is to be morally superiour to other mediocrities, i.e. people no different from himself. For some, being morally fashionable is better than being well dressed. To be so moral that one can criticise all around him is to reach the heights of mediocrity without having to do much or be much other than to fly off to a remote city and take drugs for a long weekend, at least till it becomes too popular and the working class is doing it too. The the “artist” will have to find some new fashion to distinguish himself from other mediocrities. Artaud. Does anyone seriously read that stuff? He used to be fashionable.

Kehoe (2000) has argued that New Age and neoshamanism appropriation misrepresent or dilute indigenous practices and subtly reinforce racist ideas such as the Noble Savage image. Unfortunately, these stereotypes are still pervasive in popular culture. Early on artists and scholars wrote extensively about them. Artists used them as tools for self-exploration and inspiration. Romantic poets like Coleridge, Poe and Shelley investigated their dreams and trance states also using drugs with the intention to probe the far reaches of the mind (Pinchbeck 2004). Theirs was an act of resistance to modernity and the Industrial revolution. Mind altering substances became one way to explore cultural otherness by making direct contact with “primitive” knowledge. Antonin Artaud, by participating in peyote rituals in Mexico attempted to recover the sense of the sacred that European culture had lost (Artaud 1976). Artists like the Surrealists also explored dream states 100 (Pinchbeck 2004). (Ibid. Fotiou. p. 97.)


Alfred Jarry used to be a vanguard artist. So he should be, given that he was nuts. His acolyte Artaud was nuts. Faking it is nuts; but it's not that kind of nuts. It's a stupid nuts. Poe was genuinely nuts. Want to be like him? Or is it better to fake it? You probably aren't special. Leave it to those who are truly nuts. Stay home. Drink beer in front of the television. Leave nuts to professionals who can't help themselves. Send me money. You are not special. It doesn't matter what the shaman says. You are very likely mediocre. You are not going to be any more special by going to the jungle to take drugs.



How we see shamans has changed, of course. Today among the bored and pathetically pampered it is cool to be a lover of all things not Modern, which only the post-modernist can afford. A rather long excerpt from Fotiou 's doctoral thesis puts this in perspective:



Classical thought emphasized the idyllic state of simplicity and integrity while the Judeo-Christian thought focused thought focused more on bestial and devilish interpretations of the primitive. In both discourses the savage is perceived in opposition to the civilized West and both are equally one-dimensional and static. They view the “other” as frozen in time and are reinforcing stereotypes and prejudices. Within the discourse of the Good Indian we find the stereotype of the Indian as keeper of the earth, a very familiar image in the 20th c. Hamayon (1998) suggests three trends in the history of the approaches to shamanic behavior; devilization, medicalization and idealization. She places the first one historically in the 17th and 18th c. During that time, shamans were seen in opposition to Christianity and as “taken” by the evil spirits.

During the Enlightenment, primitivist ideas were used in order to educate with no intention to encourage people to appropriate savage ways of living (Wernitznig 2003). Their intention was to use them as a commentary on the civilized society’s malaise.

One approach presented them as “charlatans,” “imposters,” and 85 “magicians.” For example Diderot, the first writer to define “shaman” and the chief editor of the Encyclopedie, referred to shamans as Siberian “imposters” who perform “tricks that seem supernatural to an ignorant and superstitious people” (Narby and Huxley 2001:32).

Flaherty, however, noted that Europe in the 18th century was not entirely preoccupied with rationalism, humanism, and scientific determinism; manifestations of romanticism and the occult were present as well (1992:7).

The second trend was “medicalization” and is associated with the 19th c. and colonialism (Chaumeil 1999). It is the approach that focuses on the psychopathological aspect of shamanic behavior and its therapeutic aspect. This view was influenced by psychoanalysis. This approach has been abandoned and healing is no longer seen as the basis of shamanism. In addition it has been argued that sometimes healing appears to be a mask put on traditional customs in order to be tolerated by colonial and modernizing powers (Hamayon 1998).

According to psychoanalytical approaches shamanic behavior has been characterized as schizophrenia, something, which for many is oversimplifying his condition and role (Krippner 1992, 2000).

Hamayon (1998) calls the third trend in approaches to shamanism, “idealization” of shamanism. This trend can be traced historically to the 19th c. but has reached a peak in the 20th c. We can find traces of this approach in European romanticism, with its attraction to the spiritual and the mysterious, as well as in American transcendentalism and the works of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, both of which had a similar “organic approach to nature and spirituality” (Znamenski 2007:24). Echoing this romantic perpetuation of the nature– culture dichotomy and inspired by anti-modernist sentiments, shamanism is viewed as the most archaic religious form and is “praised as representative of a genuinely natural philosophy particularly useful in our modern technocratic world. Primitive is turned into primordial, wild into ecological, magic into mystic, makeshift into artistic” (Hamayon 2001:3). In fact this nostalgia about the past and hopeful idealism about the future seems to be a common theme of modernity. This approach brings to mind what Rosaldo called imperialist nostalgia (1989), the sort of nostalgia that people feel after conquering people. As he pointedly argued, this nostalgia is not innocent.

During the 1980s and later, we see an emphasis on the image of the spiritual noble savage, showing inner harmony (with oneself) and outer harmony (with the environment) (Wernitznig 2003). The stereotype of the wise, prophetic Indian became very popular during that time and is still with us today. The environmentalist movement found in indigenous knowledge the potential remedies for civilization’s problems. … Neoshamanisms claim a strong concern for ecology and everything that is considered to be “natural”.

One of the most recent chapters in this history is the phenomenon of neoshamanism and the appropriation of indigenous spirituality by loosely defined movements such as the New Age. Neoshamanism is defined as “a form of shamanism that has been created at the end of the 20th c. to re-establish a link for modern man to his spiritual roots, to re-introduce shamanic behavior into the lives of westerners in search of spirituality and, thereby, renew contact with nature” (Jakobsen 1999:xi).

Shamanic tourism is not a unique example of appropriation of indigenous knowledge by westerners. Another example that might relate to the case of ayahuasca is the case of Tibetan Buddhism as discussed by Lopez (1998). He discusses the different and sometimes even conflicting images of Tibetan Buddhism, often considered in opposition to Western culture. Some of these highly romanticized portrayals of Tibet still continue to hold sway. Similarly to some of the portrayals of ayahuasca, Tibet is imagined to embody the spiritual and the ancient and to hold wisdom lost to westerners. According to Lopez (1998:10) “Tibet is seen as the cure for an ever-ailing Western civilization, a tonic to restore its spirit”. The same can be argued for ayahuasca as well; not only the plants, but Amazonian peoples themselves are seen as spiritual and wise, and holding the answers to our problems.

(Brosius 1997), outside appropriation of indigenous knowledge can impose meanings on it that may be quite imaginary. Environmentalist discourse tends to present indigenous people as a homogenous group and their knowledge as universal in order to promote conservation. But the politics of this should not be ignored since it is westerners who define concepts such as conservation and who have acquired the role of speaking on behalf of the indigenous people. Several scholars have pointed out that even positive stereotypes perpetuate erroneous and detrimental assumptions about the “other”. (Ibid. Fotiou.)


Philobarbarism is a lie, no truer today than when it was applied to the early Taoists or Herodotus. It is also disgusting and often physically harmful to those abused by it. Unless you are truly nuts, stay home.
Gordon Wasson, a former banker, who visited Mexico in the 1950s and tried psilocybin mushrooms with Maria Sabina, later publishing his account in Life magazine (Wasson 1957), is responsible for the waves of Western seekers that flooded Oaxaca in the 1960s. (Ibid Fotiou.)
See here: http://www.imaginaria.org/wasson/life.htm



“In the 20th c. Aldus Huxley might be the first influential figure who discussed the potential benefits of hallucinogens openly.” (Ibid Fotiou.)



One hears frequently that the ayahuasca user feels that his ego has died under the influence of the drug. That makes no sense at all, the ego being part of a three part construct, according to Freud, a thinker mostly despised today by ayahuasca users, and if the ego dies, there might, though it's nonsense to think so, remain the id and the super ego. But the ego does not die, even according to the uninformed use of the term by ayahuasca users. Rather, they speak of themselves dissolving into a universality of oneness, what Freud's contemporary Roland Romaine describes as “the oceanic.” Huxley, too, discusses this, but he knows, as most others do not seem to know, that the ego doesn't die under the influence of ayahuasca: it becomes greater. In truth, the user becomes the focus of the oceanic, the centre of his own universe, the universe not being all and he an indefinite part, but the user is the ocean around which the universal floats, like an unindividuated infant who conceives of the world, his mother, as part of himself, as is everything else. The ayahuasca user doesn't become anything greater: the greater becomes the self-obsessed user, more focussed on his own self than previously. And the irony is that for most users I have spoken with, they have no curiousity about the drug they take nor the history or the chemistry or the lives of the shamans they idolise for a few days or a week as if they had backstage passes to a rock show and could meet the star of the latest pop tune splendours. But no curiousity about the drug or the culture or the people involved. The banality of the “ego” is stunning to behold, as is the conceit and the self-righteousness of the aggressively ignorant and the painfully lazy. They know that an influencial figure once said, maybe even wrote a book, that such and such is the good, and thus, following the trends wherever they might lead, even into the Amazon jungle, they do what others have done, knowing not why but only because. The reward for all of this is to finally feel a drug-induced euphoria of “loving themselves,” of being cured of traumas, of “healing.” But they are ever the ignorant bastards they began as, though able to cite a time in Iquitos, the name of a favourite shaman, the babble of an idiot drug user. The vanity of such people is staggering to encounter. Such people should, by rights, stay home and pursue their banalities in private; but their vanities will not allow it. Such things should be left to madmen only. If only!



A book that introduced ayahuasca to the Western consciousness at that time is the Yagé Letters. William Burroughs, a known heroin addict, hoped to find in ayahuasca what he did not find in other drugs. He characteristically wrote: “Yagé may be the final fix” (Lee 1953). Burroughs traveled to South America to try ayahuasca and seven years later Allen Ginsberg did the same; the result was the Yagé Letters, their correspondence from that period. However, Burroughs did not find what he was hoping for in ayahuasca or in Peru for that matter. His account is rather negative and unlikely to have attracted people to ayahuasca as much as other first hand accounts. In one instant he reported “...I had been conned by medicine men” (Burroughs and Ginsberg 1963:15). Ginsberg’s account is closer to the stereotypical first person account. Ayahuasca is mentioned in a number of other books written by Burroughs (Lee 1953).
Kristensen found that there were four main reasons that people became ayahuasca tourists: self-exploration and spiritual growth, curiosity, physical and emotional healing, and the desire for a vacation to an exotic location (1998:15). All these motives have been quoted as motives of tourism and pilgrimage as well. The common theme that can be discerned below is the attractiveness of anything that is perceived as the antithesis of Western civilization: pre-industrial, pre-modern, natural, exotic, spiritual, sacred, traditional and timeless. (Ibid. Fotiou.)



This is not attractive. It's a destructive philobarbarism that invades other people's legitimate culture for the sake of dilittantish vanity on the part of self-centred buffoons who are spoiled by affluence and an ego-driven nihilist and the constant despair of Gnostic mediocrity in search of authenticity that cannot come, regardless of the struggles or the credit card bills run up in the pursuit of.



What is to be gained?


In the case of ayahuasca rituals, participants are physically temporarily away from their culture and their social roles; metaphorically they intentionally step outside culture by ingesting a hallucinogen that challenges the very cultural categories that they take for granted. In this context they experience communitas and personal transformation. A viable theory of ritual for this context should account for rituals that capacitate personal transformation through temporary removal from social structure, but also by challenging cultural categories themselves through the ingestion of a powerful hallucinogen. (Ibid. Fotiou.)



Dislocation from ones familiar surroundings can be, often is, “mind-blowing” and sometimes frightening to the inexperienced. To seek out further a mind altering hallucinogen for the sake of making the break with ones norm ever starker is not to say that works, the person remaining essentially the same, and the projections altering the object as much as anything else. The drug tourist affects the local more than the shaman affects the drug user.



Earlier scholarly work has presented the indigenous peoples of the area as culturally intact, like Lewis and Lewis, who see traditional Shuar medicine as a static body of knowledge stating that “they use plants now as they have for perhaps thousands of years” (1994:61). Similar comments were made by most of my consultants, who were under the impression that the ceremonies that they participated in were identical to the ceremonies that indigenous peoples did “for thousands of years”. This point of view denies the obvious influence of the West on these cultures, as well as the cultures’ response to that influence. In the context of this discourse the figure of the shaman becomes mythologized and is presented as the preserver of ancient tradition. This perspective is not particularly interested in the reality of the present but more likely is looking for traces of the primordial in present shamanic practices. Shamanism is therefore essentialized and removed from its historical and cultural context. (Ibid. Fotiou)


One result of the sentimentalisation of ayahuasca drinking by suburban mediocrities from Modernity is that people like my friend Alemia can make a living of sorts dressing up in a “traditional Shipibo” costume while walking up and down Prospero street selling ayahuasca-themed embroidery to support herself and four young children. I dated the lady for months without ever knowing the squiggles on the blankets she sells tell a narrative of an ayahuasca vision. She never mentioned it, and I never had any interest in that part of her life. I would like very much to club to jelly many of the tourists who ooh and ahh at her and her work. They don't know her, don't care to, and sentimentalise her life and pity her for having left the “authentic” life of the jungle. They often times tell Amelia about their spirtiual awakening under the influence of ayahuasca, not knowing or caring to know that Amelia's father is an ancient and highly respected curandero from Pucalpa, ayahuasca shamans' version of Harvard.


Often people project the experiences they have in ceremonies to the shaman. If they have good experiences, then they consider the shaman to be very powerful and a great healer. I found that very few shamans will actually point out that it is not them that does the healing but the plants, the spirits and the patients themselves. Most will enjoy the respect they receive and probably exaggerate their abilities. (Ibid Fotiou. P.213)



Thus, it is seldom about the actual shaman, almost never about the city of Iquitos, nor about the nation of Peru that inspires the tourist to take ayahuasca. It is generally about the tourist exciting himself. Truth, even basic facts, are unloved in this crowd. For the average drug tourist, it's about the average drug tourist alone.



For some, it is a political act, rejecting organized religion and seeking out a more democratic way. They feel that traditionally religious authorities of every form claimed to monopolize the access to the divine agency and priests became the mediators between the people and the divine. They became necessary for the function of society because they regulate important activities. These new alternative spirituality movements find these mediators unnecessary and look for ways for every individual to tap into the divine. (Ibid,. Fotiou.)


It is indeed political, and that, in the last analysis, is why this look at ayahuasca use among Modernists is important. We will see more about the sentimentalising of “primitives” later, but next we'll look closely at the realities of shamans, not so much the phoniness of the picture presented by the typical drug tourist. Real shamans, real lives, real people.

A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:


http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1


And here are some reviews and comments on said book:


http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.html

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Iquitos, Peru: Christmas Girl with Machete

I never say no to a girl with a machete.


And I'm always happy to see Santa. 


I might be away for a few days, but when I return I will continue this chronicle of Iquitos, Peru.

Till then, my best,

Dag Walker

Deep in the Amazon jungle.


A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:
http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1
And here are some reviews and comments on said book:
http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.html

Friday, December 21, 2012

Iquitos, Peru: Christmas Fire in Belen


Just days before Christmas in the poorest section of the Amazonian city of Iquitos, Peru, a gas cannister exploded and set the district of Belen (Spanish: Bethlehem) on fire. Many of those who had little in life now have nothing. Approximately 150 houses burned to the ground. A thousand people are homeless. A dozen or so are in hospital. Immigrants from the jungle to the city are set back a decade now as they will have to start again to build their inventories of simple provisions and goods from nothing. Many will return to the jungle from which they came to escape that life of poverty, there being nothing left for them in the city. Belen burned badly on 20 Dec. 2012.



To read the rest of this story, please turn to the following link;
http://www.amazon.com/Iquitos-Peru-D-W-Walker/dp/098776151X





A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:

http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1

And here are some reviews and comments on said book:

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.html

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Iquitos, Peru: Curse of the Naipe Card Readers (Part Two)



The Maestro is the man at hand, and so it is that I hiked over to Belen Market to Pasaje Pauquito to get my cards read. I'm not at all impressed with conformity hippie bullshit in the Groniad, and I couldn't care less about bashing Christianity just because it's hip to be Gnostic. I'm not a believer in pomo orthodoxy. But Naipe cards, well, that's a whole nother story!


To read the rest of this story, please turn to the following link;
http://www.amazon.com/Iquitos-Peru-D-W-Walker/dp/098776151X




A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:


http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1


And here are some reviews and comments on said book:


http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.html

Monday, December 17, 2012

Iquitos, Peru: El Shoppe de Cure-all Winstonisms


[T]he best medicine for me-- the best part of my day-- is to stop and chat up folks I know in the market; and Winston is fun to chat up, for sure.



Winston is in the cure-all medicines business at Pasaje Paquito in Belen Market....

To read the rest of this story, please turn to the following link;
http://www.amazon.com/Iquitos-Peru-D-W-Walker/dp/098776151X


A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:

http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1

And here are some reviews and comments on said book:

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.html

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Dag Walker, American Writer, Goes to Prison, Iquitos, Peru

"Welcome to the penal colony at Devil's Island, whose prisoners you are, and from which there is no escape."
Papillon, (1973)

That's what I heard when we approached the gates to Iquitos' regional jungle prison.


The penitentiary of Iquitos, Establecimiento Penal para Sentenciados e Inculpados de Maynas (Epsim)- Penitentiary establishment for Sentenced and Accused of Maynas, has been categorized by various organizations as unsafe; roofs about to collapse, stairs missing for guards to get up onto the watch towers and exposed electrical circuits are among the main problems. Currently, the jail holds 644 people, 55 of those being women....
Iquitos penitentiary posses danger to inhabitants.” 17 Feb. 2006
http://archive.peruthisweek.com/news-1259-iquitos-penitentiary-posses-danger-to-inhabitants/


I didn't do it, man. It wasn't my fault. But I went to prison in Iquitos, Peru anyway. Some people will be surprised not that I went but that they let me out.In fact, they kept me out.


INPE. Max. Sec.
To read the rest of this story, please turn to the following link;
http://www.amazon.com/Iquitos-Peru-D-W-Walker/dp/098776151X


A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:

http://www.amazon.com/Occasional-Walker-D-W/dp/0987761501/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF


8&qid=1331063095&sr=1-1

And here are some reviews and comments on said book:

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2012/04/dagness-at-noon.html