Welcome to the Jungle

FEBRUARY 5th, 2017

Three days in Cusco and we were already off to the rainforest. I'd never left the U.S. before, but suddenly I was heading into a remote part of the Peruvian Amazon. I took a taxi to Jessica's apartment around 5 a.m. and we hopped into a small car without seat belts. She spoke quickly to the driver, her Spanish perfect. Jessica speaks seven languages. She is German by descent, but has lived in Peru close to 25 years. Much of that time was spent as an Amazonian tour guide, now she guides people through inner-space. She knows both terrains like the back of her hand.

                                   

As the car wove its way out of Cusco the scenery grew more spectacular. The towns became smaller and more scattered. The people poorer. Our driver would straddle both lanes, honking around corners then jerking back to the right when he spotted oncoming traffic. The bumpy road was haphazardly carved into the Andes mountains, and little separated us from a sheer drop to our doom. Llamas and alpacas grazed, and here and there lakes of melted snow dotted the grassy slopes.

                             

"Welcome to the Amazon Basin"  Jessica said to me with a smile. I had been dreaming about this for years. It still felt like I was dreaming. As we descended, the terrain changed and the mountains became more lush. Hundred foot waterfalls surrounded us. We stopped to get lunch and I noticed how rapidly the temperature had risen. We continued on for hours, until the driver dropped us off in a sweltering little town. We were unmistakably in the jungle. Everyone was wearing tank tops, t-shirts and shorts. I was dressed like David Attenborough on safari. I felt out of place.

                                                 

We hopped into another car with an old man and a woman who smelled like overripe passion fruit. He drove us to a river, which we crossed in a small motorboat. Then, another long drive to a depressing gold mining town, and from there ANOTHER car to yet another river, this one much bigger. I was introduced to Antonio, Jessica's previous apprentice. Unlike me, an awkward young(ish) white woman, Antonio was a middle aged Harakmbut man. Aside from the modern clothing, he was the very picture of an Amazonian shaman.

We waited in a little outpost for hours for the rest of the group to arrive. It was an historical night I was told. This would be a gathering of the leaders from the Harakmbut community. There were important issues to be discussed. I felt lucky to be there, even as I strained to understand the conversation while swatting mosquitoes and biting flies off in the sticky heat.

Finally everyone was there, and we loaded our stuff into a tiny motorboat. As we reached the center of the river, a downpour started. We grabbed some tarps and covered the luggage. The rainforest was truly living up to it's name. Every inch of me was soaked, and all I could hope for was a dry backpack. The group spoke, then looked at me and laughed heartily. I glanced at Jessica to translate. "They said that this is the introduction to your 'spiritual journey'". I laughed too, looking up at the sky. The forest seemed dry as we drove through it, and I could tell it needed the rain. So bring it on, I thought.

                                     

Besides, I was determined to go with the flow regardless of what happened. I knew that Jessica was testing me. We'd only met 3 days earlier after all, and I could tell that she was throwing me into the proverbial "deep end" to see if I would sink or swim. I had to prove to her that I wasn't just some starry-eyed gringa looking to get high in the Amazon. I meant business.

We arrived at a river bank. I grabbed my bags and was about to get off the boat when Jessica said to me "You should take off your shoes, the mud's deep here." I removed my boots and rolled up my pants, then hopped out. Within seconds I was up to my knees in slimy shit-colored mud. I started trudging uphill, but lost my footing and fell on my ass. More laughter, and a sudden regret on my part for the white shirt/khaki pants ensemble. Go with the flow. Laugh it off. Keep trudging.

It was getting dark. Barefoot, we worked our way up to Antonio's house, about half a mile over small streams and slippery makeshift bridges. When I got to the top I was immediately greeted with a tight hug by Antonio's 5 year old daughter Becky. She grinned up at me. It was the first smile I'd seen on a child all day. "You're really cute" I said, wanting to hug her back. I held my mud caked hands up "But I'm covered in mud, and I really don't want you to get dirty." She looked up at me puzzled.

I was introduced to everyone. Antonio's sons, one a teenager the other a toddler, his wife, her sister, an old woman, the old woman's daughter. Without electricity, or running water, I washed off with a bucket and help from my flashlight. As Jessica and I gathered leaves for a "plant bath", she informed me there would be an ayahuasca ceremony that very night. Best of all, the group had agreed to let me participate. I was thrilled. My last ceremony back in the states occurred days before Trump's election. It had been a dark journey, but I was undeterred and excited to see what "Grandmother" would show me. I knew she'd been calling me to the Amazon for at least a year, and finally I was there. Deep in the heart of nature, about to sit in a sacred ceremony with the leaders of a prominent indigenous community.

I bathed in the leaf water, and we prepared the maloka. We took our places in the hut and several of the men spoke solemnly. Prayers maybe? Intentions? I couldn't tell. We drank the disgusting tasting brew, and they cut the lights. In the pitch black I sat up waiting for the effects to kick in. But 15+ hours of bumpy, muddy travel had left me exhausted and I started falling asleep, tipping over several times. Finally there SHE was, as strong as ever, jolting me awake. I saw Incan kings and enormous Peruvian gods. I could feel the mind of the Amazon all around me. It was incredibly vivid and radiated an ancient and powerful energy.

                                   

It felt so fated, being there. I was flooded with gratitude for the forces that had led me to that spot, the good and the bad. Jessica started singing. It was the most beautiful icaro I'd ever heard. The medicine responded joyfully, almost dancing to the sound of her voice. Later on Antonio sang, and I started crying. His was a sorrowful and yet hopeful melody from a proud Amazonian people. How can we save the rainforest? How can we save ourselves? Those questions echoed around in my brain.

The next morning Jessica woke me up and informed me that there was chicken soup for breakfast. Odd, but I was starving and wolfed it down with glee. The night's group was gathered at the kitchen table, and asked me about my experience. "I felt like I was communicating with the soul of the forest." I said to Jessica, and she translated it for me. They nodded knowingly. One of the men asked me if I knew any indigenous people in North America. They'd been following Standing Rock closely, and were inspired by the movement. They were trying to organize, and the meeting the night prior had been about the path to sovereignty. The idea was to consult with Grandmother to see if she supported them. She did.

                                    

Two days later Jessica asked me if I wanted to go on a little quest into the jungle. She grabbed a machete and I followed her into the forest. She pointed out various plants, a feather from a young macaw, butterflies, bullet ants. She could identify all of them. We went deeper. The air was cooler from the dense canopy and the floor was covered in wet snake-colored leaves. She showed me a rubber tree and we discussed the horrors of the rubber boom. Finally we reached the end of what I assume must have been a trail. She hadn't found what she was looking for, so we turned around.

The plan was to go to the house of the old woman I had met two nights before. Her husband had died prematurely, and it was suspected sorcery was involved. They wanted Jessica to clear the bad juju out, but first we needed the leaves from a very specific tree. I was skeptical but eager to go on an adventure. As we reached the shoreline Jessica handed me the most amazing passion flower I'd ever seen. I took some pictures then asked her what to do with it.

"Why don't you give it to one of the little girls?"

We were being trailed by Becky and her two cousins both about four years old and possibly twins. When they reached us I handed the flower to Becky. She said something in Spanish, and I looked to Jessica.                            

                                      

"She said, 'One day when she is walking ahead of you, she will pick a beautiful flower and meet you with it."

The river had receded and the boat was stuck in the mud. The children were placed in the boat, Becky, her baby brother, and the twins. They played with dirt covered dolls completely oblivious to the adults who heaved the boat inch-by-inch into the water. We went back to the little outpost where I first met Antonio. His wife's sister and the two twin girls departed, and he purchased some gas for the boat. We then stopped on another shoreline where Jessica and Antonio at last found the fabled tree.

As we continued up river I began to develop one of the worst sunburns of my life. We finally reached the banks of another settlement, where we had to trudge through more mud then climb up a slippery 20 foot cliff, using a rope. I thought back to the old woman we were going to see. How the hell did she get up there?!

                                        

We reached a small village at the top. The whole thing circled a soccer field. Fish dried in the sun on large strips of tin. We made it to the old woman's house and washed our feet off. We were introduced to the extended family. They served us lunch and talked for a bit. Jessica and Antonio went inside the "cursed" house, and were there for at least an hour. I sat outside awkwardly, getting odd looks from passing villagers. 

When they finally finished, Jessica was given a woven bag and some of the sun dried fish. I never saw what happened inside of the house. Although, my imagination ran wild picturing it. We made our way back down the steep cliff and onto the boat. I went to bed early exhausted with a brutal sunburn on my feet, hands and knees.

On our final day there, I helped Jessica pick up trash around the property. We harvested fruit, and the little girls brought me so many limes my pockets were overflowing with them. Becky had a pack of balloons and we entertained each other by blowing them up and conversing with rudimentary Spanish. It started pouring, harder than I'd ever seen. When it cleared up I went to check on my rain jacket which I had hung up to dry days before. A bunch of cockroaches crawled out of it, and a spider peeked out from a web it had woven inside. So is the Amazon. Every inch has someone living in it.

Jessica told me there would be another ceremony that night. As I was resting in the maloka, the old woman came in and lay down. I could tell she was battling the mosquitoes like I was. I offered her some of my insect repellent, and she thanked me for it. Despite being 99% deet it barely helps, but even a little relief is welcome. Becky came into the room and I showed her my journal, and the picture of my grandparents inside. She grabbed a pen and looked like she was going to scribble on it, so I took out my sketchbook and directed her to that. We exchanged drawings. This one she drew then dubbed "Senorita Cerveza",  behold...

The final ceremony was interesting, mostly characterized by my struggle with traveler's diarrhea. I was hesitant to leave the maloka, and walk through the jungle to the bathroom at night. Necessity forced me to (several times). To my surprise I could actually see better in the dark than I could normally, and didn't really need my flashlight. I had intense visions of plastic trash covering the Earth in mass amounts. I saw myself holding a baby, which I inherently knew was my future daughter. Distant future. As the medicine wore off I realized my bed was soaked from the storm earlier. It was upsetting and uncomfortable but eventually I managed to fall asleep on the wet mat.

The next morning we had chicken soup. Over breakfast Antonio said he was going to miss me, to which I replied "yo también". It was the most I had said to the adults in Spanish, and his wife let out a "woah!" at finally hearing me speak. We packed our stuff and prepared to leave. The entire trip had left me with a surge of compassion for the people living there. The Amazon kicked my ass, and I needed some time to recover. We were heading back to Cusco but would return to the jungle just a few days later for one of Jessica's official retreats. All I could think about was a hot shower and a dry bed.

.                                                      "Keep the river on your right."