Anja and myself were invited to attend a full moon ceremony in a remote Penare village in Venezuela. We were extremely privileged to be invited as there were only five other white people present.
For the past ten years, two remarkable men have been quietly collaborating on projects to preserve the traditional pre-Colombian spiritual and religious practices of the Aboriginal Peoples of the Americas. One is an initiated medicine man and ceremonialist who has been learning shamanic divination and healing from traditional elders of tribes throughout Central and South America for over 25 years, while the other is a philanthropist who has devoted his life to the spiritual welfare of others.
Their method is to catalyse ceremonial gatherings among native people by bringing together Shamans, traditional healers, and Native Ceremonialists from different tribes. These last from one to five days and involve the use of visionary plants, purification rituals, songs, dances and prayers to heal individuals and communities, and to empower the people to face and resist the forces of personal and cultural destruction in their lives.
Missionaries are responsible for much of the damage. They teach that traditional beliefs are wrong, then demonstrate the superiority of antibiotics over the plant medicines used by shamans. This opens the way to persuading people to reject their shamanistic culture. Missionaries then go on to teach that traditional spiritual practices are evil, and frequently go on to attack other aspects of traditional culture as being contrary to the ten commandments.
This is how many missionaries worldwide have spread their message, and some have even done so with sincerity and compassion. The result has been to make people reject their own culture even when they have nothing else. Once their pride and self confidence has been demolished, tribal people are far more easily exploited by governments, loggers and oil companies. This is not a thing of the past: we learned that the impending millennium has provided a goal for some missions to convert with increased zeal.
In this particular village, the local missionaries are 'New Tribes Mission' (http://www.ntm.org) whose stated aim is "To bring the Gospel to every tribe". In doing so they had eradicated much of the Penare culture including their traditional songs, dances and shamanic rituals, although the villagers still wore loin cloths with breasts covered only by strings of white beads. Meanwhile other missionaries had persuaded villagers in a nearby village to dress 'decently' (in jeans and T shirts), but had tolerated their songs and dances. These two groups were brought together along with several shamans from more isolated villages. The event was wildly successful and we witnessed spontaneous sessions where people from one village taught songs and dances, while the others tried on loincloths. The three nights festival may have undone several decades of missionary activity.
The shamans did not use ayahuasca in this region, but another two-part psychoactive called yopo. The first part, containing inhibitors, is the root of the same vine that ayahuasca is made from, which is chewed beforehand. The psychoactive component consists of the seeds of a common tree containing DMT, which are dried, ground to a powder and snorted. The components are equivalent to those used in ayahuasca, but instead of a gradual build up the effect is sudden and intense.
We were told that yopo was generally difficult for white people to handle as it involved coming face to face with one's deepest fears. This could be a negative experience unless the participants were strong, determined and supported by a sensitive shaman who understood their culture. Fortunately, there was a particularly good shaman present and he was willing to give us a session that afternoon. Meanwhile we should fast and chew the root which was bitter, but not as unpleasant as ayahuasca.
When we returned, the shaman had changed his mind, so we had a siesta in our hammock until we were beckoned to join our hosts in a feast. The men and women sat in separate groups on the ground about a hundred yards apart, so we separated, squatted down in the appropriate group and ate with our hands: fish, rice, some kind of yam and a sweet drink made from bananas which was baled into plastic cups with a gourd.
Then, stuffed full of food, we walked over to where the celebrations were being held. Immediately we were told that another shaman would give us a yopo session straight away. I objected that we had just eaten and had stopped chewing the root a while ago, but no excuses would save us. We just had to chew some more and get on with it.
Neither the shaman nor his companion spoke any language we knew, so we just followed them from house to house to find a place for the ritual, gathering curious villagers as we went. At last we arrived at the very house we had been lent, and all of thirty people crammed in after us. It was the worst setting imaginable. Here we were about to face our deepest fears with a substitute shaman, full stomachs and jostled by onlookers!
We had no common language, so we settled down and waited for cues. The shaman opened a box, sprinkled some greenish brown powder on a piece of wood and ground it with a pestle. Then, without further ritual, he demonstrated that we should snort the powder up both nostrils simultaneously using a forked tube.
It felt like splinters of glass hitting the back of my mouth, but I dutifully followed the mimed instructions to massage it into my nostrils and snort some more. Then I sat with my back leaning against a pole, took some deep breaths and waited...
I saw the shaman and his friend having a conversation on their own, but also noticed that everyone's bodies were offset at about waist level. I was not aware of being under the influence of any drug; it was simply that their top halves were all shifted a bit to one side. That's odd, I thought, and closed my eyes. That was a shock. What I saw was the same whether my eyes were open or closed! Next I heard a male voice speaking to me in English. He was speaking clearly and softly right into my left ear and seemed absolutely real. What's more, he was giving me an important personal message, although later I was unable to recall any of it.
I was no longer able to be the observer, and had no way of telling what was 'real'. My 'normal' state of reference had been undermined and this made me feel panicky... I had been prepared to 'face my deepest fears', but not this! However, any fear quickly dissolved into sheer amazement. This probably lasted for some time, although I cannot remember the content, as I eventually regained enough consciousness to find my mouth hanging wide open and completely dried up inside.
I then recalled that I had vomited straight out in front of me without any problem, and felt physically OK. This was quite an achievement as I had spent several previous ayahuasca sessions struggling against nausea. Maybe yopo was the answer for me.
With my consciousness back in control, I decided to explore where I was going, and to steer the course into introspection. Geometric patterns, visions and consciousness of a presence came and went, which my internal dialogue described to me like a bored sports commentator, but there was no story line that I could follow. I shook myself and tried again, but the experience was all too fast and fragmented for me to get a handle on.
Then Anja made some funny sounds, sort of joky singing: "La, la, la-la, la". That made me feel much better: I had been trying to take this thing seriously, but laughing along with it was much easier.
Later we described our experiences with one of the two facilitators. He was said that my experience was merely at on a threshold level, and did not provide me with enough experience to write about the effects of yopo.
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