Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Iquitos, Peru: Ayahuasca (Part Seven)

Ayahuasca (Part Seven)

Interviews with Shamans Part One

Interview with Gido, Part One


I've been on vacation so long now that anything resembling an appointment means I'm sleepless all the night before; and last night as I lay awake in bed was no exception because I didn't sleep at all. That's how nervous I was about my up-coming doctor's appointment. Not a blink. I was too nervous; so I went with Paula, she being five years older than I, and thus at my age she's old enough to be my mother. This is not to say, which I mistakenly did once before, that she is a little old lady. I erazed that from the public record, for all the good it does me, Paula continuing to bring it up, often in Spanish, sometimes in French, and when she's particularly pissed off at me, in her broken English. So, I got her to take me to the doctor, on the chicken bus across town to the most run-down dock in the city, the place only peke-peke boats dock at, canoes with outboard motors on poles and a man at the throttle swinging the boat around against the current by main strength when he drags the motor at the end of the pole through the water as passengers sit on wooden benches along the length of the canoe, their feet in the water that sloshes inside when a fiberglass and windows “fast boat” comes by and swamps us, or when it rains and the water comes through the thatched roof. Or when someone spills a bucket full of wet stuff. We could see the boats all jammed together between the petrol station on the water and the barge that sells supplies for the river trade, the peke-peke boats so tight together that one must leave for an incoming to unload, unless one walks across a lot of boats to the mud that is the shoreline. I've done this before and thus, nervous as I was, I felt I should have some breakfast to make my day as normal on the surface as I could. It was a bit overcast as the chicken bus pulled into the roundabout in the centre of the dockyard and we jumped down to the pavement, missing the sink hole and the heap of vegetable stuff and meat, and we picked our way across the slick pavement to the row of stalls streetside where I decided to grab something tasty but light, something healthy but yummy to calm my nerves and my growling stomach at 8:00 a.m. before my big day at the doctor's office.

Fried maggots and roasted nuts on a stick

The first stall I came to had balls of banana leaves filled with mystery, so I got two and looked for something more substantial in case whatever inside was totally gross. Luckily I found a bucket of live qui and a skewer of those giant maggots already fried on the brazier. Uh. But no. I turned to the next stall because of the smell of charcoal roasted alligator arms and fried bananas with dinosaur fish soup. There is this girl I like a whole lot, and I like her so much that I'm trying to lose weight and get into some kind of decent shape to impress her. I looked longingly at the alligator claws and that lovely yellow flesh just calling out my name, and then I said no again. Paula, like the motherly type she is, had bought two packets of instant coffee, and I had a half bottle of diet soda from the night before, so I decided to leave breakfast for the time being and feast when we arrived at the village an hour and a half later for my doctor appointment. There's nothing at all wrong with me, in spite of Paula's constant claims that I don't take care of myself, but I came close to losing an arm when I casually draped it around a post on the peke-peke boat and a wave came and rippled all the boats one after another up and down and against each other even closer, my arm whipping back around just in time to slam my knuckles into the sideboard. But not enough to warrant a trip to any doctor at all. I was faking the unwell and in need of healing stuff. It's really OK, I know the doctor and he knows I'm a fine guy who has no need of healing and that I wanted to talk about plants-- ayahuasca in particular. Even so, an appointment with a doctor in the jungle who lives in a wooden shack with plastic wrappers all around, who doesn't have a secretary or a phone, who doesn't wear a white lab coat, who doesn't look any more like a doctor than I do, I was still nervous, even though I know him an like him and wish we could hang out together if his wife would let us, maybe getting in a round of golf and some cigar smoking after the links, a bit of time for guys to talk about stuff. I ended up hungry looking at the banana leaves. Greasy. I resisted. It must be love. Love-sick don't need no cure. 

Bananas and gator heads for breakfast

I'd been to the village with Paula before, once to go to school and then play hooky when the kids got bored and wandered off to play, the adults, as it were, going in search of peace and quiet in the dense jungle, finding there a resort of sorts where I poured myself a cup of complimentary coffee that, as a non-guest, I felt I should pay for, causing endless trouble because no one at the resort had any idea how much to charge, my temper getting ragged, and finally all of us leaving in a huff, Paula promising to return a week later to pay whatever the $0.50 tab might be. Thus it was that my first time in the village had led us all around the jungle and to a rise by the abandoned church that I wanted to buy and turn into a jungle fortress to hide out from my enemies who probably couldn't ever find me if they tried, and then into some plain wooden building where somehow all of our stuff was piled in a corner, the building somehow being the very place we had gone to in the morning when we dropped off our things before going to the school. It was some kind of miracle, I thought, though Paula told me I have a bad memory. It was at the collection of wooden houses in the thick of the trees and the plants all around that I chatted first, or probably the second time, with the owner of the place, a short and happy little guy of 42 who has a 20-something wife and two kids, five and one and a half. That guy is Gido, Paula's landlord in the village. I like him instantly, his easy smile and calm demeanor, his happiness and openness and obvious lack of menace. I was that day too dead tired from lack of sleep the night before. I was forgetting things badly, but I liked my host and remembered that impression, if not the actual man, embarrassing when we met at a party a week or so later and I asked who he is. He is the village doctor, Gido, and cool guy to hang out with. I even had photos of him showing me his garden. He was the doctor I decided to consult about the psychic pains of Modern Man, me being so fine I'm fine.

From a peke-peke boat on the Amazon

I am a sentimental guy, I admit, finding myself wiping away the tears as the credits roll past, “Mirv Newland. Mirv Newland produced by Mr. and Mrs. Newland” and so on, thinking of the sheer horror of the final moments of the movie as Bambie is crushed mercilessly by Godzilla's giant foot. I can't help myself. I am too emotional sometimes. It's my psychic pain coming out, Bambie meets Godzilla catching me unawares each terrible time. I fight it, and when we crossed the foot bridge in the jungle over the garbage choked ravine on the way back to Gido's place in the thick of it all I stopped and, in a surge of manliness to restore my harmonies with the universe and balance my chakras, I took a piss over the edge, a mere mist sticking to my bare feet. From there on I walked proudly through the thickets and to the doctor's office, my nervousness dispelled like a bad charm, my mind clear and at ease. Paula called and we entered the doctor's office, me feeling better already, the calm of the place embracing me and the sight of Gido repairing something of the ceiling made of overlapping meter long woven palm frond lengths climbed lightly down slight edges of windows and doors in the room to the floor and came to greet us, making all my fears of shiny metal cutting instruments and solemn pronouncements of miserable doom after years of unbearable pain from an incurable psychic pain gone from my mind. Gido shook my hand, and now, after some previous warnings, didn't try to kiss me. I like him more all the time. We went into his office and sat down and Paula explained why we were there, me to talk to Gido about ayahuasca. 

Gators and taters

My interest is in public health, when I care about health at all. Public health, according to me, is the best one can do, cleaning up the living environment, in a sense, pulling the ripcord and letting people float where they may, the wind and gravity of life doing the rest till they land. The hard thump of a life without sewers and soap is pointlessly cruel and stupid, though it took all of our time till a hundred years ago to figure that out, our miraculous life now so different that we come to see it as the only life anyone has ever lived, our benefits being so obvious we can't, most of us, comprehend how new and strange it really is. So long as half the children born don't die before they reach the age of five, then I think medicine has done its job well, and health is for the living thereafter. Individuals, of course, are right to pursue their own interests in living well and without pain, and so it is that we have doctors who make things wrong right as they can. I don't expect much. A hundred years ago they worked for chickens and were overpaid for it. Today, well, they do somewhat better, to what point I do not know. Or, I do know when I go to the doctor and demand a cure for my pains, whatever they might be. But for the lives of others I stand in amazed disbelief that they cannot accept that life is hard and we all must die. I go to the doctor often because I live like an idiot and get injured and sick often. But if there were no doctors I would live or die as well. Maybe I'd go to see a man like Gido and ask for relief. Maybe Gido is the first man I would consult to find out about my psychic pains. That would be personal, not an “interest” at all. But Gido, as a jungle doctor who deals in jungle medicine in a remote village on the Amazon, is in the public health business in that he is the one who heals the ills of the villagers generally, though one at a time. Gido doesn't do so much with tourists. He'll never get rich as a doctor. 

Doctor's office

Gido is 42, married to a young woman, has two young kids, and lives in an unfinished wood-plank house with mosquito mesh on some of the windows below a grass roof that the government is going to replace for him and seemingly every other voter in the Amazon. Gido's place, for what it is, a house in the jungle, isn't that nice. Because his house is in the jungle all the wood is from the jungle, rough planks that don't join well, walls open, floors with gaps, and an enormous open space in the middle of the floor where somehow no one has gotten around to nailing down more planks to keep the kids in or the chickens out. Maybe that is the plan. In a fit of delicacy, I didn't inquire. Gido likes to wear his hair in an Elvis do, and his pants need a wash, and in all, Gido is not your average medical man in Manhattan. He is, however, a man of seriousness that I find attractive in ways missing from the medical professionals of Modernity. Gido is a medical man and doctor in ways one might otherwise describe as a medicine man and a witch doctor. If I were unwell I might consult those more to my own tradition, as if it were traditional at all to bombard a man with spaceage stuff I know nothing about; but I might, and I hope I could, consult a man like Gido to inquire about death instead. That, for the seriously ill man, is the best healing one can hope for, a peaceful surrender to the inevitable end of a life, though I would live happily in my miseries for a thousand years. That's not going to happen, and I would consider talking to someone like Gido about it if I have such a chance at the end.

Doctor Gido

Gido is a busy man, though one might not think so to see him sitting with me and Paula for four hours talking about plants while we sip lemonade and he smokes mapacho cigrarettes rolled as thick as contraband Cuban cigars, acrid smoke and black tobacco that Gido uses not to satisfy a nicotine fit but to dispel bad spirits for the house and the village. Second-hand smoke, in this world of shamans, is a good thing. He lays his burning cigarette on the edge of a plain plank table and puts back his head and thinks about some particularly tough question I stayed up all night thinking of, and he smiles and grins and tells us about the universe of living things all round that we don't see because we don't see. Gido is busy because his life is filled all the time with beings demanding of him. He spends his time talking to plants and their spirits. He is a very busy man. He talks to me for hours in the middle of the day.

Next in this series, what a local shaman has to say about plants and spirits and ayahuasca.

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 10, 2012

Sewers and toilets in Iquitos, Peru (Part Three)

The sewer system of Iquitos, Peru is old, built originally around 1890, during the Rubber Boom, and it needs a serious upgrade; or, in fact, a total redo. Much if not all of the city is now undergoing that process, and it brings with it some inconvenience, and in some cases, more, sometimes serious injury and death due to construction that impedes traffic and ends up killing people when roads aren't closed or even properly marked as under repair. Some people in Iquitos are justifiably outraged. But progress marches on, and the new sewer system will come about regardless.

To read the rest of this story, please turn to the following link;
















Until recently sewage was an assumed aspect of life that one endured along with disease and debilitation and war and death. Few gave it it the slightest thought, relieving themselves at will regardless of place or occasion. There have been sporadic attempts to remove sewage from living quarters, but they were rare and discontinued shortly. People endured the filth.

3200 BCE Scotland: In the Orkney Islands excavations show early drainage systems. At Maes Howe the “first lavatory-like plumbing systems were fitted into recesses in the walls of homes -- with drained outlets. Certain liquid wastes drained to area(s) either under or outside of buildings/homes.”
http://www.sewerhistory.org/chronos/bib.htm



India is perhaps the first site of toilets and sewers, (c.f. D.W. Walker, A Genealogy of Left Dhimmi Fascism, Vol IV. Oikos II: World and Man. [In progress])

Ancient cities used covered channels and pipes to remove wastes from buildings, probably as far back as 8000 B.C. There is evidence of indoor plumbing pipes in Scotland from that time, although the sewage was tunneled straight out to a nearby creek [source: Bloomington]. Cesspits were found under homes in Iraq dating from as long ago as 4000 B.C. These systems fell into disrepair during the Middle Ages. Throughout this era, wastes and refuse were simply thrown out into the street. By the 18th century, many large cities had systems for removing rainwater, but sewage was usually disposed of in cesspools. http://curiosity.discovery.com/question/what-history-sewage-treatment-systems


Because man is at least a social if not a herd animal, the concept of personal privacy is a late development, man generally having lived in immediate proximity to other men, and also with domestic animals, the sewage piling up unnoticed till the rise of cities during the Industrial Age and the population explosion brought about by rational agricutlure, at which time people began dying en masse due to what was at the time thought of as the curse of miasma, i.e. bad air, the cause of disease as if was understood before the general if reluctant acceptance of germ theory. Previously, sewage systems were spotty at best.



4000 - 2500 BCE Eshnunna/Babylonia - Mesopotamian Empire (Iraq)
  • Had stormwater drain systems in the streets; drains were constructed of sun-baked bricks or cut stone. Some homes were connected. [The need for proper disposal of human wastes was not fully understood -- but there was a recognition of some of the benefits (less odor, etc.) of taking these wastes away from homes.]
  • In Babylon, in some of the larger homes, people squatted over an opening in the floor of a small interior room. The wastes fell through the opening into a perforated cesspool located under the house. Those cesspools were often made of baked perforated clay rings -- ranging in size from 18" to 36" in diameter -- stacked atop each other. Smaller homes often had smaller cesspools (18" diameter); larger homes ... more people ... had larger diameter cesspools. The annular space (1') outside of the cesspools' walls were often filled with pieces of broken pottery to better the percolation rates.
  • Origin of the earliest known pipe: Babylonia was documented by many as one of the first places to mold clay into pipe (via potter's wheel). Tees and angle joints were produced and then baked to make drainage pipe ... all as early as 4000 BCE.
http://www.sewerhistory.org/chronos/bib.htm



Rome was probably the first Western city to house a permanent population of one million people, c. 1 B.C. They created an aqueduct system to provide water to the city, and the overflow cleaned the streets by chance. Public latrines made an appearance, and the Cloaca Maxima was constructed.



800 BCE - 300 CE Rome
  • Complex drain systems evolved (initially, and primarily, for storm water and for draining marshes).
  • Public latrines were used by many people, but for the most part, human wastes were thrown into the street.
  • First sewer constructed between 800 and 735 BCE.
  • Rome had extensive street washing programs (water supplied by aqueducts, the first being built in 312 BCE). Only a few homes had water piped directly from the aqueducts. The vast majority of the people came to fountains to gather their water. Even though not many homes were directly plumbed into the sewers, when the wastes were thrown into the street, the street washing resulted in most of the human wastes ending up in the sewers anyway!
  • Direct connection of homes to the sewers was not mandated until nearly 100 CE. (Cost was a factor; also mandating such a connection was then considered an invasion of privacy.)
  • Sewage resulting from the public baths and the included latrines was discharged into sewers. It is worth noting that the Romans recognized the value of their water (which had been transported to the city via aqueducts, often over a distance of 20-30 miles); as such, any wastewater from the public bath facilities was often re-used, frequently as the flushing water that flowed continuously through the public latrine facilities. From the latrines, it flowed to a point of discharge into the sewer system.
  • The Romans were proud of their "rooms of easement" (i.e., latrines). Public baths included such rooms -- adjacent to gardens. There Roman officials would sometimes continue discussions with visiting dignitaries while sitting on the latrines. Elongated rectangular platforms with several adjacent seats were utilized (some with privacy partitions, but most without). These latrine rooms were often co-ed, as were the baths. As noted earlier, water from the public baths, or brush water from the aqueduct system, flowed continuously in troughs beneath the latrine seats; the sewage (along with waste bath water) was delivered to the sewers beneath the city, and eventually to the Tiber River.
  • In Rome, water was distributed with lead pipes. To make pipe, sheets of lead were cut in ten-foot-wide strips and bent around a wood mandrel and joined by solder.
  • The 11' x 12' Cloaca Maxima ("Main Drain" -- finished in 510 BCE, and made of hewn stone, no cement) drained to the Tiber River. Its original purpose was to drain a marsh ... upon which a large portion of Rome was eventually built. The sewer has remained in service for over 2400 years.
  • Sewer infrastructure throughout the city was essentially completed by 100 CE; some direct connections of individual homes began to appear. Terra-cotta pipe was utilized. If a pipe had to withstand pressure, it was often fully embedded (i.e., sealed) in concrete -- a practice the Romans started.
  • Sewer odors were a problem, since there were very few vents from the sewers. Any connections to public baths, or to the few houses that were connected, served as vents in the early years -- making life interesting (odor-wise) in those facilities.
  • The initial purpose of the early sewers was to accommodate storm water runoff (and in at least one case, to drain a marsh); later, sanitary sewage began to be slowly added to the flow.
  • Dejecti: Effusive Act: Damages to be paid by the throwers of wastes into the street -- if the person hit was injured (no damages paid for clothing), and only if the incident happened in daytime hours.
  • Roman courtesy also extended to visitors, and to people with emergencies:
  • Huge vases were provided for use at the edges of towns at entrance roads and at exit roads (i.e., early port-a-potties.)
  • Vendors worked the streets of Rome and other cities providing access to pottery jars (and "modesty capes") -- for a price.
The result was fewer wastes on the streets of Roman cities; still, the majority of human wastes (of the masses) ended up in the streets.


The Roman Empire fell in early CE along with the concepts of baths, basic sanitation, aqueducts, engineered water or sewage systems, etc.
http://www.sewerhistory.org/chronos/bib.htm



With the fall of the Roman Empire Europe was cast into what French historian Jules Michele called “a thousand years without a bath,” also known as The Dark Ages. Between the inability of the northern invaders to admnister the previous empire and the Muslim destruction of civilization and blockade of most of Europe from trade on the Mediterranean, Europe slid into autocracy, the manorial system of production in which locals starved to death within site of their unhelpful neighbours in a much romanticised commune system. The population of Europe plummeted, and any concern about hygiene in a time of frequent famine was secondary at best. With the beginnings of the Industrial Revolution and the growth of Western European economies again reaching the level of the Roman Imperial age, the population of Europe rose as well, and with it the rapid development of cities, necessitating, though delayed, resisted, and dismissed as useless, the installation of sewage systems. But cities were a literal death trap, and workers were needed to keep up industrial production in them. To an extent, london's lowest classes were the sanitation system in the first half of the 19th century, scavenging and sorting debris and filth and keeping it from the guts of at least some city residents.


All of these occupations were considered to be of low social class.
  • Toshers, also sometimes called grubbers, scavenged through the sewers looking for anything of value. They helped to ease the flow in the sewer systems by removing small items. Often whole families worked as toshers. This gave them some immunity to sewage-related diseases that killed many.
  • Mudlarks scavenged in the mud of the Thames and other rivers. They were generally young children who retrieved small items and sold them for very small amounts.
  • Nightsoil men removed human, animal, and household waste from London to farms outside the city for use as manure. However, as London expanded, there were fewer farms and they were further from the city. A farmer would have to pay an average of 2s 6d (12½p) for the manure. The trade ceased almost completely in 1870 when guano (deposits of bird droppings) from South America became available more cheaply. This caused an increase of households dumping waste into the street where it made its way to the Thames through the sewers and rivers.
  • Flushermen were employed by the Court of Sewers. These men would literally "flush" away waste and anything that might block the flow of water in the new sewer system.

C.f. Henry Mayhew, London Labour and the London Poor, Four Vols. 1851 - 1861. [Three volumes 1851; Vol Four co-written with Bracebridge Hemyng, John Binny and Andrew Halliday, 1861].
But the scavenging poor were not enough. People we dying in large numbers.
Unlike today when every minor ache and pain seems to have a remedy available at the local pharmacy, previously one endured or died without painkillers. Dr. John Snow was the first to use ether during operations, treating patients without inflicting so much pain they died from that alone. He did even more.



When cholera spread through early 19th century London, most residents thought the deadly disease was spread by some sort of mysterious airborne organism. Severe outbreaks killed tens of thousands of people four times between 1831 and 1854 in several industrial English towns and the worst London outbreak in 1853 killed more than 10,000 people alone. Anesthesiologist John Snow was able to map the Soho outbreak and the relation between cholera deaths and pumps located near sewage in the Thames River [source: Summers]. He was able to convince local citizens, authorities and fellow physicians that the disease was not an airborne one, but related to the sewage-tainted water.


Snow was able to convince people living near the water source of cholera at Soho to stop drinking the population that was killing so many, and he did so by padlocking the pump. Reason prevailed later. When it did it had some great help from parliamentarians so sick from the stench of the Thames river outside the House of Parliament that they could not endure it longer, and they began the long and expensive project of cleaning up London by installing a sewerage system, the leader of that project being Joseph Bazelgette. Bazelgette was called in to deal with The Big Stink. Miasma, or bad air, was assumed to be the cause of cholera, and to eliminate the bad air the idea was to remove what caused it, i.e. sewage. The germs involved were not counted for. Still the sewerage system was built.



Imagine the smell that three million Londoners could make if their toilets poured into overflowing cesspools or drains in the street, or if they emptied chamberpots out of their windows. It’s unthinkable now, but that was reality in 1855.

By the middle of the nineteenth century, the Victorians knew this wasn’t healthy, but not why. When Queen Victoria came to the throne, only half of London’s infants lived to their fifth birthday. Diseases such as cholera were rife in the capital.

The first recorded case of cholera in England was in Newcastle in 1831, and there were major outbreaks in 1849 and 1854. But there was no cure and no treatment.

Since Roman times, it had been thought that diseases like malaria – and, by extension, cholera – were spread in the air by ‘miasmas’ or terrible smells. This was why the Romans had built sewers – to get rid of the smells, not the sewage.
http://www.history.co.uk/explore-history/history-of-london/how-londoners-stopped-drinking-sewage.html



The Big Stink was so big, so stinking, that one hundred years later the expression was common in the United States, my grandfather often scoffing at some minor kerfuffle with the line, “What's the big stink?” Mention of cholera, on the other hand, made his face turn pale from painful memories.



The 1854 discovery by Filippo Pacini of Vibrio cholerae, the bacterium that caused the disease, was ignored until it was rediscovered thirty years later by Robert Koch. In 1854 London physician Dr John Snow discovered that the disease was transmitted by drinking water contaminated by sewage after an epidemic centred in Soho, but this idea was not widely accepted. Consolidating several separate local bodies concerned with sewers, the Metropolitan Commission of Sewers was established in 1848; it surveyed London's antiquated sewerage system and began ridding the capital of its cesspits—an objective later accelerated by the "Great Stink".

The experts of the London medical establishment of the time were committed to a useless idea they mostly refused to let go of: miasma, or disease caused by “bad air.” Yesteryear's experts were no stupider than ours today. Two men, however, John Snow and a local minister, Reverend Henry Whitehead, fought the establishment and eventually won, closing the Soho pump that was spreading cholera in the city.

Having attended many patients during the 1849 outbreak without contracting cholera himself, he [Dr John Snow] realised that it could not be transmitted through the air. Then, the pattern of an outbreak in 1854 in Soho allowed him to track the source to a popular water pump in Broad Street (now Broadwick Street). Particularly telling was the fact that none of the 70 workers in the local brewery died, as they only drank beer.

Although Snow was [not immediately] unaware of it, a sewer was leaking into the Broad Street well. Sadly, such cross contamination between the sewage system and water supplies was typical.


Snow did figure out the problem of contaminated water from the well, and thus saved countless lives and created the first demand for a proper sewerage system in London.

Only when the problem was literally forced up the noses of MPs at their new Houses of Parliament during the ‘Great Stink’ in the summer of 1858 did something get done about it. Parliament gave £3 million to the Metropolitan Board of Works to sort out the problem. The task was taken on by chief engineer Joseph Bazalgette, who designed and constructed five major brick-lined sewers measuring 132 km (82 miles); three north of the river and two to the south. These connected with existing sewers and pumping stations were built at strategic locations to keep the sewage flowing.


In the Middle Ages, cities in Western Europe were mostly centres for military and religious quarters, a few guilds allowed inside the city gates for supply, the rest of the population relegated to the outside and to semi-self-sufficient farming manors. City populations rarely exceeded a few thousand people, and sewage, regardless of how we would see it today, was not a considerable problem for those residents. But with the rise on industrial production and the need for floating populations of workers at hand, cities grew to previously unimaginable sizes, bringing with them their physical needs as well as their labour. Sewage and overcrowding brought disease on a massive scale.

In earlier times Londoners got their water from wells or the river. There were few people and the sewage, though a problem, was not devastating,

Until the late 16th century, London citizens were reliant for their water supplies on water from shallow wells, the River Thames, its tributaries, or one of around a dozen natural springs, including the spring at Tyburn which was connected by lead pipe to a large cistern or tank (then known as a conduit): the Great Conduit in Cheapside. ...
Wealthy Londoners living near to a conduit pipe could obtain permission for a connection to their homes, but this did not prevent unauthorised tapping of conduits. Otherwise - particularly for households which could not take a gravity-feed, water from the conduits was provided to individual households by water carriers, or "cobs". ...
In 1582 Dutchman Peter Morice leased the northernmost arch of London Bridge and, inside the arch, constructed a waterwheel that pumped water from the Thames to various places in London. Further waterwheels were added in 1584 and 1701, and remained in use until 1822.


Recycling might be some good idea in some cases, but it turns bad when one recycles sewage into household use. Many residents of the Belen area of Iquitos, Peru face a problem similar to that of London in the 19th century. Disposing properly of household waste is expensive and impractical for those living on floating houses or houses built on stilts on the riverbank. Sewage goes, and sewage comes back again.



[I]n 1815 house waste was permitted to be carried to the Thames via the sewers, so for seven years human waste was dumped into the Thames and then potentially pumped back to the same households for drinking, cooking and bathing. Prior to the Great Stink there were over 200,000 cesspits in London. Emptying one cesspit cost a shilling - a cost the average London citizen then could ill afford. As a result, most cesspits added to the airborne stench.


In the Belen area many building lack basic plumbing, and thus during the six month low water season, the sewage is not swept away by the Amazon river. Belen in effect becomes one large cesspit. At least there are very few toilets to add to the mess.



Part of the [London] problem was due to the introduction of flush toilets, replacing the chamber-pots that most Londoners had used. These dramatically increased the volume of water and waste that was now poured into existing cesspits. These often overflowed into street drains designed originally to cope with rainwater, but now also used to carry outfalls from factories, slaughterhouses and other activities, contaminating the city before emptying into the River Thames.


The summer of 1858 was unusually hot. The Thames and many of its urban tributaries were overflowing with sewage; the warm weather encouraged bacteria to thrive and the resulting smell was so overwhelming that it affected the work of the House of Commons (countermeasures included draping curtains soaked in chloride of lime, while members considered relocating upstream to Hampton Court) and the law courts (plans were made to evacuate to Oxford and St Albans). Heavy rain finally ended the heat and humidity of summer and the immediate crisis ended. However, a House of Commons select committee was appointed to report on the Stink and recommend how to end the problem.


Consolidating several separate local bodies concerned with sewers, the Metropolitan Commission of Sewers was established in 1848; it surveyed London's antiquated sewerage system and began ridding the capital of its cesspits—an objective later accelerated by the "Great Stink".
….
[I]in 1855 the Metropolitan Board of Works which, after rejecting many schemes for "merciful abatement of the epidemic that ravaged the Metropolis", accepted a scheme to implement sewers proposed in 1859 by its chief engineer, Joseph Bazalgette. The intention of this very expensive scheme was to resolve the epidemic of cholera by eliminating the stench which was believed to cause it. Over the next six years the main elements of the London sewerage system were created. As an unintended consequence the water supply ceased to be contaminated; this resolved the cholera epidemic.


Iquitos has a sewerage system, now antiquated and in the process of up-grading. The original and the current projects are thanks to men like John Snow and Joseph Bazalgette. 
 

John Snow (15 March 1813 – 16 June 1858)

Snow was a sceptic of the then-dominant miasma theory that stated that diseases such as cholera or the Black Death were caused by pollution or a noxious form of "bad air". The germ theory of disease had not yet been developed, so Snow did not understand the mechanism by which the disease was transmitted. His observation of the evidence led him to discount the theory of foul air. He first publicized his theory in an essay On the Mode of Communication of Cholera in 1849. ... In 1855 he published a second edition of his article, documenting his more elaborate investigation of the effect of the water supply in the Soho, London epidemic of 1854.
By talking to local residents (with the help of Reverend Henry Whitehead), he identified the source of the outbreak as the public water pump on Broad Street (now Broadwick Street). Although Snow's chemical and microscope examination of a water sample from the Broad Street pump did not conclusively prove its danger, his studies of the pattern of the disease were convincing enough to persuade the local council to disable the well pump by removing its handle. This action has been commonly credited as ending the outbreak, but Snow observed that the epidemic may have already been in rapid decline:

Snow later used a dot map to illustrate the cluster of cholera cases around the pump. He also used statistics to illustrate the connection between the quality of the water source and cholera cases. He showed that the Southwark and Vauxhall Waterworks Company was taking water from sewage-polluted sections of the Thames and delivering the water to homes, leading to an increased incidence of cholera. Snow's study was a major event in the history of public health and geography. It is regarded as the founding event of the science of epidemiology.

Later, researchers discovered that this public well had been dug only three feet from an old cesspit, which had begun to leak fecal bacteria. The nappies of a baby, who had contracted cholera from another source, had been washed into this cesspit. Its opening was originally under a nearby house, which had been rebuilt farther away after a fire. The city had widened the street and the cesspit was lost. It was common at the time to have a cesspit under most homes. Most families tried to have their raw sewage collected and dumped in the Thames to prevent their cesspit from filling faster than the sewage could decompose into the soil.

After the cholera epidemic had subsided, government officials replaced the Broad Street Pump Handle. They had responded only to the urgent threat posed to the population, and afterward they rejected Snow's theory. To accept his proposal would have meant indirectly accepting the oral-fecal method transmission of disease, which was too unpleasant for most of the public to contemplate.

Entrenched interests often impede progress and cause countless unnecessary deaths and immense suffering before the forces of reaction are swept away by a few brave men with the right idea. One such man is Joseph Bazalgette.

Sir Joseph William Bazalgette, CB (b. 1819 – d. 1891) was chief engineer of London's Metropolitan Board of Works. His major achievement was the creation (in response to the "Great Stink" of 1858) of a sewer network for central London which was instrumental in relieving the city from cholera epidemics, while beginning the cleansing of the River Thames.

[When] London's short-lived Metropolitan Commission of Sewers ordered that all cesspits should be closed and that house drains should connect to sewers and empty into the Thames, [the result was] a cholera epidemic (1848–49) that killed 14,137 Londoners.

Bazalgette was appointed assistant surveyor to the Commission in 1849, taking over as Engineer in 1852. [A]nother cholera epidemic struck in 1853, killing 10,738. Medical opinion at the time held that cholera was caused by foul air: a so-called miasma. Physician John Snow had earlier advanced a different explanation, which is now known to be correct: cholera was spread by contaminated water. His view was not generally accepted.

Championed by fellow engineer Isambard Kingdom Brunel, Bazalgette was appointed chief engineer of the Commission's successor, the Metropolitan Board of Works, in 1856.... In 1858, the year of the Great Stink, Parliament passed an enabling act, in spite of the colossal expense of the project, and Bazalgette's proposals to revolutionise London's sewerage system began to be implemented. The expectation was that enclosed sewers would eliminate the stink ('miasma'), and that this would then reduce the incidence of cholera.

At the time, the Thames was little more than an open sewer.... Bazalgette's solution ... was to construct 82 miles (132 km) of underground brick main sewers to intercept sewage outflows, and 1,100 miles (1,800 km) of street sewers to intercept the raw sewage.... The outflows were diverted downstream where they were dumped, untreated, into the Thames. ...
The scheme involved major pumping stations at Deptford (1864) and at Crossness (1865) on the Erith marshes, both on the south side of the Thames, and at Abbey Mills (in the River Lea valley, 1868) and on the Chelsea Embankment (close to Grosvenor Bridge; 1875), north of the river.
The system was opened by Edward, Prince of Wales in 1865, although the whole project was not actually completed for another ten years.

Bazalgette's foresight may be seen in the diameter of the sewers. When planning the network he took the densest population, gave every person the most generous allowance of sewage production and came up with a diameter of pipe needed. He then said 'Well, we're only going to do this once and there's always the unforeseen' and doubled the diameter to be used. His foresight allowed for the unforeseen increase in population density with the introduction of the tower block; with the original, smaller pipe diameter the sewer would have overflowed in the 1960s, rather than coping until the present day as it has.

The unintended consequence of the new sewer system was to eliminate cholera not only in places that no longer stank, but wherever water supplies ceased to be contaminated by sewage. The basic premise of this expensive project, that miasma spread cholera infection, was wrong; however, instead of this causing the project to fail, the new sewers succeeded in virtually eliminating the disease by removing the contamination.

Bazalgette's capacity for hard work was remarkable; every connection to the sewerage system by the various Vestry Councils had to be checked and Bazalgette did this himself and the records contain thousands of linen tracings with handwritten comments in Indian ink on them "Approved JWB" "I do not like 6" used here and 9" should be used. JWB" and so on. It is perhaps not surprising that his health suffered as a result.



Below are some fun facts about sewers. Who knew!?



"Sewer - A pipe or conduit, generally closed, but normally not flowing full, for carrying sewage and other wastes."

"Sanitary Sewer - A sewer which carries sewage and excludes storm, surfaces and ground water."

"Flush Tank - A chamber in which water, or sewage, is accumulated and discharged at intervals for flushing a sewer."

"Lamp-hole - A small vertical pipe or shaft leading from the surface of the ground to a sewer, for admitting a light for purposes of inspection."

"Manhole - A shaft, or chamber, from the surface of the ground to a sewer, large enough to enable a person to have access for the purpose of inspections or cleaning."

"Manhole Head - The cast iron fixture surmounting a manhole. It is made up of two parts: A 'Frame' which rests on the masonry of the shaft, and a removable 'Cover.' Frames are either 'Fixed' or 'Adjusted' in height. Covers are 'Tight,' 'Ventilated,' or 'Anti rattling.' "

Manholes covers: covers started off as slabs of stone, maybe pieces of wood -- which they remained from 3500 BC through the 1750s-1850s CE. For the last 200+ years, iron works in the United States have made cast-iron manhole covers, some weighing as much as 300 lbs. each, some rectangular, some square, but for the most part, round. The oldest available foundry catalog for manhole covers dates back to 1860.
The phrase "manhole" -- even though some people today want to change it for gender-sensitivity reasons -- was first used to describe the access holes between the decks of old, all-male, sailing ships. The word "manhole" (initially) had nothing to do with sewers.

It wasn't until later that the term was used to describe the structure through which access to sewers (initially, to new "separate" sewers) for maintenance could be achieved. Perhaps the name was adopted because it was, in essence, a hole into which a person (man) would go to do maintenance, or it was adopted from one level (street level) to another level (the sewer beneath the street). We'll probably never know for sure.
In fact, some believe the word "sewer" is derived from the term "seaward" in Old English. Early sewers in the London area were open ditches which led to the Thames River, and from there on down to the sea ("seaward").
As you can see, not a whole lot has changed in the years between the 1870s and now relative to the philosophy of manhole design, definitions, etc.; mainly materials and installation techniques have changed. The early designers had an amazingly good sense of what was needed.
Sewer pipe: In the very early years of sewers in the United States, hollowed-out logs were utilized to convey sewage from a single dwelling to the nearest stream or, sometimes, as a part of a larger conveyance "system" for a small town. Some larger "combined" systems utilized brick, sometimes cut stone, slate, or even wood (mostly, for the inverts); many combinations of materials were utilized depending on the types of materials available locally. The size/shapes of the sewers varied in almost direct proportion to the number of designers involved.

Sometime in the 1820s in Europe, the concept of building oval-shaped sewers evolved [See John Roe, named after fish eggs, conceivably the inspiration for his egg-saped sewer pipe,] (as opposed to the previous flat-bottom, rectangular cross-sectional sewers), supposedly to help diminish the possibility of the sedimentation of solids/sand via the provision of higher (scour) velocities at low flows.

As the industry improved, and it was realized that fewer joints (especially if they weren't always well sealed) were better, the industry responded with 3' laying lengths of pipe.

Cast-iron pipe began to become available in the mid-1700s for municipal water service. The first large-scale use of cast-iron pipe for distribution of water occurred in 1664 at Versaille, France. A 15-mile cast-iron main was installed from Marley-on-Seina to the palace at Versailles; the system is still in service today. The bell-and-spigot joint was developed by Sir Thomas Simpson in 1785 (London) for cast-iron pipe and has been in use ever since. The early versions used "butt" joints sealed with metal bands.


And the sewerage fun will continue as soon as Senor Marvin Rios of Iquitos gets off his arse and decides to continue our interview about the state of the sewer up-grade project in the city. He has much to offer, though he has recently been somewhat constipated when it comes to letting it all out for the interested public.

When Sr. Rios stops pissing on my shoes we'll have more on this story from Iquitos, Peru.

For those whose appetite for all things sewer and toilet is only whetted, please turn to the following links for more, far more, about this fascinating if weird topic.


http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2007/11/straight-flush-plumbing.html

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2007/11/plumb-lucky-w-hodding-carter-flushed.html

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2007/11/beauty-of-sewers.html

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2007/11/grateness-of-sewers.html

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2011/12/i-cant-pass-up-good-sewer.html

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2007/12/long-live-toilets.html

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2007/11/flush-with-pride-bindeshwar-pathak.html

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2006/12/paean-to-household-cleaning-products.html

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2005/06/crappers-bida-tres-moderne.html

http://nodhimmitude.blogspot.com/2010/10/all-hail-comrade-chlorine.html


A gentle reminder that my book 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

Iquitos, Peru: Ayahuasca (Part Six)

Interviews with Shamans 
Iquitos contained so much human driftwood that there was ever some new freak to be met, with a strange tale to tell and a still stranger outlook on life.
Fritz Up de Graff, Head Hunters of the Amazon (1926)
Every week about 1,000 Americans fly into Iquitos, Peru. That doesn't include the Norwegian Americans and Romanian Americans and all the other people who aren't local so they must be some other kind of Americans. About 150,000 tourists per year. About a third of them are here exclusively to take ayahuasca. Those drug tourists all need a shaman to conduct the so-called ceremony of getting violently ill and hallucinating. Without a shaman, the trip could be one way. It costs a great deal of money to have the experience of drinking ayahuasca, so the added expense of a shaman is just a little more of the same, part to the business. Like anything else, one gets what one pays for. One hopes for an alta mesayoc, a knowledgeable Andean shaman and hopes not to get a bajo mesayoc, a shaman who doesn't know his business well. Involved with the “ceremony' is sometimes an ayahuasquero, the brewer, as it were, or Ayahuasca, a second in command. My sort of girlfriend's father is a bomanuna, a Shipibo shaman, and long time expert well respected in the field. Maybe he's one of the best. The others would be bancos, mestizo shamans of the highest order. But there is no regulatory body in the business, and one learns mostly from word of mouth. The centre piece of the ayahuasca drinking is the shaman, and it is he who decides how much and what kind of ayahuasca to prepare, sometimes amarillo, or yellow stuff, sometimes azul or blue, which is green, and sometimes green, or it can be black, which is old, thus expensive, old growth vine, rare now because of the volume of vines gone through with so many tourists gobbling it up. My favorite, looking back to LSD in the sixties, would have to be lucero, shineshine ayahuasca; but I am also keen on the idea of truneo, thunder ayahuasca. It's up to the shaman, the ones I know having private stands at their dwellings.


Most people taking ayahausca probably don't know the first thing about shamans, and they probably don't know much more about why they would want to go to one. Below we'll look into both and try to come up with something better than “Whatever, dude.” One would think those seeking enlightenment would be at least curious about some basic facts about the nature of how they intend to get it.


The term "shamanism" was first applied to the ancient religion of the Turks and Mongols, as well as those of the neighboring Tungusic and Samoyedic-speaking peoples. The word "shaman" originates from the Evenk language (Tungusic) of North Asia and was introduced to the west after the Russian forces conquered shaman Khanate of Kazan in 1552.

The word "shaman" is based upon the Evenk language word "šamán". The Tungusic term was subsequently adopted by Russians interacting with the indigenous peoples in Siberia. ... The word was brought to Western Europe in 1692 by Dutch traveler Nicolaes Witsen who reported his stay and journeys among the Tungusic- and Samoyedic-speaking indigenous peoples of Siberia in his book Noord en Oost Tataryen. Adam Brand, a merchant from Lübeck introduced the word to English speakers in 1698.

[S]hamans are intermediaries or messengers between the human world and the spirit worlds. Shamans are said to treat ailments/illness by mending the soul. Alleviating traumas affecting the soul/spirit restores the physical body of the individual to balance and wholeness. The shaman also enters supernatural realms or dimensions to obtain solutions to problems afflicting the community. Shamans may visit other worlds/dimensions to bring guidance to misguided souls and to ameliorate illnesses of the human soul caused by foreign elements. The shaman operates primarily within the spiritual world, which in turn affects the human world. The restoration of balance results in the elimination of the ailment.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shamanism


One can, of course, consult a shaman, give him a significant amount of money, get enlightened, and catch the next plane out without knowing anything about anything else at all. But they won't know anything about shamans. Visions, maybe; but understanding, not so much. The dilettante needs know nothing more than himself, and even that only slightly so long as he can brag about the uplift of his “ceremonies” in the Amazon rainforest with an authentic person. The vision thing, you know.


Unlike foreigners, the shaman does not drink ayahuasca and hope to see the visions. The shaman sings to the plants his sacred songs called icaros. The plants hear the icaros and can tell how much love and desire to heal others the shaman has. It is the “doctores” that decide to come and work with the shaman. The power of the shaman is not in the shaman. It comes from the spirit of the plants or the “doctores.” It is the power of the “doctores” that make it possible.


http://dawnontheamazon.com/blog/2010/05/12/ayahuasca-from-the-shamans-apprentice/


There are probably many serious people who don't know about shamanism and who don't care about the reasons one would take this jungle drug. I have never met one, but there are probably zillions of 'em out there. Mostly not, though, and one might do well to wonder just who they are and why they take ayahuasca at all. A bit more about shamans, and then we can look at some of those people who use them.


The shaman or curandero shakes the shacapa, made from a corriza plant whose leaves are dried and gathered into bunches used as rattles making a drumming sound during the ceremony while the shaman sings icaros in advance of drinking ayahuasca. Then begins the mareado, dizziness caused by drinking the ayahuasca. Leading to burracheira, the consciousness change brought about by ayahuasca drinking.




The shaman accompanies himself with a shacapa as he sings icaros, magical songs meant to please the spirits he will encounter in his session to heal the ill, whether they have the usual parasites or are cursed by some evil spirit brought about by a bruha, or evil shaman often hired by a nasty neighbour or relative to cast a spell. The shaman sometimes literally blows smoke up ones arse, smoke from the sticky black tobacco from the Amazon, mapacho, as he takes on the role of tabaquero during the ayahuasca “ceremony,” as bashful drug-using yuppies are so intent on calling it. From thereon, it's a mighty hour or two of puking and shitting and hallucinating. To a large extent, the city of Iquitos lives from this attempt by the alienated, if not simply bored, Modernist tourist looking for a better life of the mind. The locals seldom touch the stuff, thinking of it as jungle behaviour they hold in disfavour. Hippies love it. And they pay big bucks for it, too. Shortly we can turn directly to shamans, the professionals of the ayahuasca trade. But first, let's look at why anyone would pay much money to fly from home to spend time in a swelteringly hot jungle to vomit and hallucinate and be with physically sick people who are if not deeply traumatised at least emotionally crippled and in need of treatment for serious mental health problems. What makes this more attractive than the same time and money spent at a luxury time-share condo in the Caribbean? I think it's the bragging rights.
For most, there is little to no moral gain in a sunny vacation filled with eating too much, drinking colourful cocktails, laying naked on the beach reading romance novels, and having sex. Regardless of the money involved, it's a working-class time. It's for boring and uneducated people who watch too much television. It's for beer drinkers. Drinking ayahuasca? That's sophisticated. But why would one go to the jungle to take drugs illegal at home? If one is sophisticated, one knows that illegal drug-use is for the lowest of the low in our societies; but to take therapeutic medicines of the natural and organic type, that is the height of sophistication. Assuming, of course, that one is in need of medication in a life of “whole food” and daily exercise at the yoga centre. The generally fit, very healthy, superemely affluent person who wants to take drugs in the jungle has to be somehow sick enough to justify this drug-using, and since most things go so well otherwise for such as can manage a luxury retreat at an Amazonian lodge, the sickness one needs healing must be invisible, must be a sickness of the supersensitive soul who cannot bear life among the beer-drinking louts of the Middle America. Poor things, they need healing. They need ayahuasca therapy. And better than all other things, one can go to the Amazon jungle, the “lungs of the earth” where one can live with ancient jungle tribal people unimpacted by civilization and its corruption. One can live with authentic people who are in a state of harmony and balance with nature. One can have visions of the Mystik, and one can live quite nicely in a luxury resort secure in the knowledge one is protected by armed men who will shoot robbers on sight.
People so traumatised by super-affluent life in the Modernist suburbs hardly need the further trauma of being robbed at gunpoint by drunken and vicious victims of Western imperialism. One goes to the healing centres of the Amazon jungle not to witness brutality and sickness but to be moral and to find oneself and heal and to become more spiritually aware. Losing an arm to a man with a machete is not on the agenda. Edgy, but safe. Then one goes home and shows off the photos oneself posing with naked natives in the selva and talks babble about visions and healing and spews confessions to anyone willing to listen. It's moral therapy. Stocicism? Too male. Christianity or Judaism? Too working-class and boring. Zen Buddhist retreat in California? Too last year. It's ayahuasca healing therapy today. It's the latest thing in new.


The therapeutic mode of relations has become so "natural" to us as American consumers that Hallmark recently announced it is producing a new line of over 500 different cards containing messages about recovery from various addictions or traumas and epithets about feelings themselves. "In this dysfunctional world, it's nice to know I have someone I feel functional with. Thanks for understanding," one reads. "Anger is a powerful thing. It can start out so small, yet...it can take on a life of its own," another card says.


Annalee Newitz. http://bad.eserver.org/issues/1992/03/newitz.html


But enough about me, let's talk about my inner pain.


Because the public exposure of inner pain can count on the affirmation and support of today's culture, more and more people identify themselves through their addiction, syndrome or physical illness. As Miller remarks, "In a world where unadulterated heroism is harder and harder to define, let alone accomplish, the syndrome memoir turns simple survival into a triumph." Illness as a fashion statement is emblematic of this new cultural outlook that attaches so much significance to emotional survival.
On the face of it, the tendency to inflate the problem of emotional vulnerability and to minimise the ability of the person to cope with distressful episodes runs counter to the therapeutic ideal of the self-determining individual. In reality, though, the rhetoric of therapeutic self-determination never granted individuals the right to determine their lives: self-discovery through a professional intermediary is justified by the assumption that individuals are helpless to confront problems on their own.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2003/oct/09/health.mentalhealth

I come from a family of “red legs,” referring to those who had no shoes to walk through the snow, my mother as a girl walking barefoot till she was 12. among other and perhaps more serious ills, my mother died of cancer without complaint while she worked to support her family until her colleagues could not stand the sight of her emaciation. Would she have been a kinder, gentler lunatic had she drunk ayahuasca and healed her inner daemons? Didn't work for my psychopathic father who was married to her. He just got rich as he got sneakier. Somehow, then, I am less than sympathetic to the inner pains of the affluent ayahuasca-drinking drama queens of Modernity. That's me, though in this large world, there is also at least another.

According to psychiatrist Dr. Sally Satel, co-author of One Nation Under Therapy: How the Helping Culture is Eroding Self-Reliance, “Therapism is a philosophy, a way of life, that views humans as centers of fragility. It believes that vast segments of the population under duress are in need of experts –such as self-esteem educators, traumatologists, crisis counselors – to take them through the vicissitudes of everyday life.”


http://www.familysecuritymatters.org/publications/detail/exclusive-how-the-therapeutic-culture-robs-america-of-its-gumption-may-2005#ixzz2EZjq177q


This infantalisation of the masses is wonderful for those who make a living at the public expense as social workers and in other “helping professions.” That people are infantalised and debased as free people is of little import, so it seems. For those with sufficient money at hand and a need to show off their cool, if Oprah Winfrey is off the air, there is the cool alternative of flying to a remote little city in the Amazon jungle to stay at a state of the art lodge, luxury living, where one can imbibe ayahuasca with a “healer” who will guide one through the process of... healing.


That great American philosopher Bob Dylan wrote that “some of us are prisoners and some of us are guards.” Dylan goes on to state that sometimes he thinks the whole world is one big prison yard.* As we know from the Stanley Milgram experiments at Yale (1968) if one is a “guard” then one is uncontrollably violent toward ones victims, unthinkingly brutal and even sadistic. So, if one is not a victim, one must be a guard, at least in some deep metaphorical sense that is real enough to warrant action in public to distance oneself from 'guardness' and to merge as seamlessly as possible with the convict population, a rather difficult trick to pull off if one is super affluent. Hence, the invisible suffering of the soul in need of healing.


*Bob Dylan, “Ballad of George Jackson.” (1971)



Beginning mainly in the 1970s, "12-step" group recovery programs like Alcoholics Anonymous and other therapeutic groups for people suffering everything from alien abductions to spousal abuse have proliferated and diversified.

It's a little earlier than that, in fact. We can see that with the end of the War of 1812, New England merchants, no longer living in enforced idleness returned with a greater passion to making money and doing business of all sorts, leaving their wives and daughters at home to continue embroidering. These women of the upper class were as intelligent as their husbands and fathers but were banned by law from the professions, from engaging in “manly” activities, i.e. from working for a living. However, being intelligent and bored they found themselves in a position to attend ladies' universities rather than to simply sit at home; and thus, having studied and then finding themselves still sitting at home they took their skills and energies to a hidden marketplace, that of northern negro ghettos and to churches advocating abolition of Negro slavery. Thanks in large part to affluent, bored Christian housewives in New England, Negro slavery was indeed abolished in 1865. And then the ladies went back home to wonder what happened that Negroes were emancipated and yet the ladies themselves were stuck in the parlour knitting. It took a generation and the great movement of educating young ladies to mobilise these often childless women to action. When they moved, they moved into a profession they made for themselves: Social Work. Babysitting adults. The profession of Social Work was born, and it continues apace today, no longer a hobby of rich ladies in Boston but a profession open to almost all.
It's now a truism that the higher the level of education and the greater the income women have the fewer children that will have-- often to the point of no children at all. Most Modernist men, making money and engaged in competitive endeavors, couldn't care less so long as the sex remains on tap. And so, rich, bored, and energetic woman turned to those “children” they could tend to without having the burden of children themselves. i.e. they turned to recently emancipated Negoes living in near-by poverty-stricken urban centres. The rich lady could go downtown, lecture the poor about their filthy habits, call it a profession, do good deeds, and return home in the evening feeling satisfied with life.


We are still twelve steps away from Alcoholics Anonymous. To cut this short, Modernity intervened in the lives of the working class. Capitalism began to take place on a wider scale in an otherwise rural nation in America, and people began to have cash to spend and goods to buy, things such as automobiles and telephones. Men-- and women-- were suddenly, for the first time in history, free to come and go as they pleased, regardless of distance. They were no longer stuck at home, on the farm, in the village. There was, at long last, more to life than simple misery and death at its end. The average woman could, should she choose or need to, find work in a factory, freed from domestic labour, cash in hand, free to be. More or less.


With mobility and cash, with cars, trains, planes, and bank accounts, thence the horror of collectivist everywhere in the Modern world, the rise of the nuclear family, mother and father and the children able to live apart from the extended family, sometimes a continent apart. But, what about the quality of life?! What about “community”? What about the alienation?


The rich in the Modern world looked on the freedom of the lower classes with horror, seeing a proliferation of poor people breeding in a Malthusian frenzy, adding ever more imbeciles to the already large population of people they don't like. What the world needs is not more poor people but more smart and wealthy people. Unfortunately, as we know, the richer and more educated one becomes, the few children one will likely have. To address this problem, Frances Galton, cousin of Charles Darwin, created the Modernist science of the old Spartan habit of selection of the fittest, helping nature along in creating a better class of people: Eugenics, or “good life.” We know where that lead in Germany, and we see it leading many today to something similar, to devastation of whole populations of the “unwanted.” Not more babies, but better babies. And them are us. We are special. If we are traumatised by this cruel life, we deserve the healing available to us in the Amazon jungle. We have everything else, why not healing at a luxury resort in Iquitos, Peru where we can drink ayahuasca and puke on each others shoes while we have visions of our perfection? We are the best, and we can be better, even healed. But social workers? No, that would be for poor people. The wealth require something more up-scale, further out of reach than the average beer-drinking suburbanite can grasp, and something moral as well.


You're just nobody if you aren't a victim somehow-- unless you are one of the prison-guards of life. i.e. a capitalist, a sadist and a brute and a philistine. If you are a wealthy or even well-off European, then you are of course a racist, but redemption is available if you are traumatised by life. You can then go from being a prison-guard to being a prisoner free in his or her own mind now healed, or at least “in recovery,” the scars never really healing, always there to show to skeptics who might wonder about the victim claim.


We are special, and thus we do not go to boring churches and sit with boring people listening to Christian superstition. We are post-Modern and we believe in science and Gaia. Church? NO WAY.

People have a general tendency to form groups, though I am an exception to that, due, no doubt to the fact that I am a fascist. I am also stupid, demonstrably so in that I wrote a book, What is Fascism? in which I obviously misunderstand the entire the subject. But most people are not fascists, and they mostly belong to groups of some sort, often in the past being a church group, now about the last group any self-respecting intellectual would admit to. Yes, I am also a pseudo-intellectual, again having written a book about intellectuals in which I learned nothing of my subject. I do know however that during the early 20th century there was a movement among Protestants in America to join the larger group of European intellectuals who had moved on from the stuffy and unscientific Christianity of previous times to a new and improved Christianity, in advance, of course, of abandoning Christianity in favor of scientfic ecology, the religion founded by German biologist Ernst Haekel in the 1860s. I know that Walter Rauschenbusch (B. 1861 – D. 1918) successfully imported some aspects of the German Revolution into American Protestantism, his creation, now not so well-known, The Social Gospel, a blend of socialism and Christianity, inevitably, less gospel, more social, till now, and for some time, all socialist, no gospel. And still, people form groups. But in an age of free movement, the group is dispersed, alienated, and binds itself not as a collection of like-minded people socialising in sacred places, but as a group of like-minded people-- socialising in sacred places! The psychic pain victims of Iquitos, Peru!

Smart women with nothing to do but babysit the poor who hate them find themselves childless with increasingly effeminate men who don't care. Everybody wants to be scientific, which Christianity ain't so much, and with all that money floating around, why not go to exotic land and get real, authentic, group healing in the jungle doing something almost no one else has even heard of? Drink ayahuasca in the Amazon. It's so much cooler than a 12 step programme with drunks. And who cares about their boring and stupid confessions anyway? The special person's pain is so much worse. It's psychic. People should know about it.



Many therapists or leaders of group therapy programs report that people come to them seeking help because they are having feelings and memories that they cannot explain or identify. Most of these people are socially functional, productive workers who nevertheless feel that something is not right. Although they are leading the kinds of lives they have been taught should [give] them satisfaction, they are still for the most part unhappy, lonely or anxious. Perhaps they are unable to feel anything at all, or at least anything that they can recognize as a genuine emotion. Therapeutic culture attempts to help people like this by encouraging them to enter into situations (like the therapeutic group or individual session) where they feel safe enough to reveal to others the contents of their consciousness. Therapy teaches its participants how to experience transference, or a psychological bond, with someone or a group they can trust. Often, especially for people who have been abused as children, the therapeutic relationship is the first relationship in their lives in which they are able to trust anyone at all with their private thoughts and feelings.

Yes, until recently people used to live their lives in quiet desperation, but now one can do so much more. Now one can fly to the Amazon and tell ones fellows about ones psychic pains in a luxury resort.

Part of what the process of transference enables is self-recognition and self-consciousness. When the therapist or the therapy group asks a person who believes she may have been an incest victim what she is feeling about her family, or what she fee ls about her childhood in general, suddenly her emotions and memories are no longer private or secret. By articulating to other people what is going on inside her own mind, she learns that feelings and memories which once seemed indescribable or unspeakable are in fact concrete and real. Getting a sympathetic and non-abusive response from other people allows her to realize that she is not alone....

People mostly do not like to be alone, but neither do they like being around a bunch of drunks. For the “spiritual” person who doesn't believe in the boring stuff of Christianity, and who still longs for a communion of souls that a church or A.A provides, there is church without church, religion without God, and enlightenment that God only wishes he had. But, stuck in a capitalist world, what does one do? One can become a Communist.


As numerous leftist critics have argued, part of the purpose of a dominant ideology (i.e.: what Gramsci calls "hegemony"), or that set of beliefs sanctioned by a given culture's ruling classes, is to convince a mass of people that they must behave in a particular manner. Usually, they are encouraged to behave in a way which will ensure that the ruling classes remain in power. ... In the ideology of capitalism, buying and selling commodities should make everyone happy and everyone equally prosperous. However, it is clear that not everyone is satisfied with the way capitalist culture arranges material reality. Some people are very wealthy, but many people are very poor. But as the Marxist tradition teaches us, it is not the poor, but capitalism and capitalists which create poverty and unemployment. ...

I hope that you are beginning to see a pattern of contradictions emerging here. While both the people in therapy and the impoverished are undeniably experiencing some form of anguish, those in therapy are told that it isn't their fault, while those in poverty are told that it is. ... However, it is only when therapeutic recovery culture is wedded to a Marxist account of economics that our responses and suggestions to both groups of people cease to contradict one another. Therefore I would argue that what therapeutic culture asks of its participants is not entirely unlike what Marxist or socialist theory asks of its adherents. ... Most importantly, one is asked to place blame where blame is due.

Class-consciousness, in Marxist theory, is a combination of (therapeutic) emotional awareness and communal action. ... Class-consciousness is a feeling of community, or a kind of group transference, but it is also a moral injunction to pick one particular community with which to experience that feeling of trust and intimacy: the community of the oppressed.

Annalee Newitz. http://bad.eserver.org/issues/1992/03/newitz.html

Yes, one could become a Communist, group therapy as gulag therapy. Confess your political thought crimes and feel so much better when you're shot for it. Or confess your sins in a dingy room full of drunks and wish you were anywhere else and with people who had some sophistication. Or one can drink ayahuasca in the Amazon where people have a lot of money and can afford to hallucinate at a luxury lodge with people of their own sort. Don't spend time with losers like Bill W. who get drunk, piss themselves, and puke on their shirts and hallucinate about pink elephants when you can spend quality time with winners who puke on their shirts and shit themselves and hallucinate in style about anacondas for the sake of personal enlightenment in the Amazon.


Bill W.? The local priest? The Political Kommissar? No! Ask the shaman from California. You're special!


Shamans. Up next.



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