The last ayahuasca ritual we attended in Brazil was the Barquinha, a split off the Santo Daime and the smallest of the three established Brazilian churches who use 'huasca', as its called in Brazil. As with the others, the religion incorporates beliefs from Spiritism, Christianity and the native jungle tribes.
The name implies 'boat', and their main church is on a river boat in Amazonia,
although the service we attended was in a chapel occupying the lower floor
of a city home.
Our hosts welcomed us, settled us into comfortable seats and asked what
else we might need. "Something to vomit in" we replied, truthfully
if not politely. They assured us that people practically never felt nauseous
in the warm and supportive atmosphere of their church; still, I checked
out how to get to the loo 'just in case'.
The service was fairly similar to the Santo Daime with Christian ikons,
prayers and hymns, but the atmosphere was more light hearted, even playful,
without us having to stand up and sit down on cue. Indeed, their uniforms
were like toys straight from a dressing up kit: white sailor outfits with
blue trimmings, gold tasselled epaulettes and badges picturing boats; while
their sailor hats were embroidered with hearts for the women and stars for
the men. They seemed to be making gentle fun out of their military uniform,
just like the Gilbert and Sullivan opera The Pirates of Penzance. It was
all very sweet and had a child like innocence.
Decoration was also taken to extremes. One end of the room was divided off
by a stage-type curtain embroidered with a crucifix and bordered with flowers,
and in the 'sanctuary' behind was the altar, an electric organ, and seating
for the elders. On the altar stood over twenty brightly painted statues
and gory crucifixes, while every square inch of the wall behind was adorned
with gilt framed pictures. It was probably no more ornate than a Greek Orthodox
church, but the lack of antiquity left it looking decidedly kitch.
After silent meditation in our seats, we queued up to receive the sacrament.
This was served through a window next to the altar and, like the Santo Daime,
was consumed immediately. It tasted as bad too, and I had similar a problem
swallowing it. We then went outdoors where we were issued with candles and
formed a procession back into the chapel led by bearers carrying a heavy
statue of a veiled black Madonna. Back in our seats we sang, and with each
hymn a sailor-girl pulled a rope to open the curtain a little wider.
I felt little or no effect except mild nausea. It was containable, but I
decided that my problem lay in my ability to contain, so I went to the loo
to 'let it all out'. Once there I felt a twinge of diarrhoea and found myself
'reaching' and shitting each time I 'heaved' as though I was vomiting, and
afterwards I felt no more nausea. I had let it all out, but at the other
end! Nevertheless, I refused a second glass of the brew 'just in case'.
I found myself staring at the statues and saw Jesus' compassionate smile
change to a worldly grin. The curtains were gradually drawn closed again
in step with more hymns, but that was not the end.
After the congregation had relaxed, drums were brought out for the next
part of the service which consisted of drumming and dancing outdoors, supposedly
an incorporation of the African religion Candomble where people dance into
a trance.
Barquinha sounded a nice word to me. A bit like 'Colombina and Harlequino':
jolly, playful. I was in the mood to see what this one was like; ready to
experience whatever.
When we arrived we were led down a stone stair case to the entrance of the
house. Phillipe's wife welcomed us and I was struck by the clarity of her
bright blue eyes, something I began to recognise as a feature of all the
Madrinias of the different Brazilian ayahuasca churches. I felt like I had
entered a party. Outside were decorations of multicoloured plastic ribbons.
There was a lot of hussle and bussle. We were seated in what looked like
the hallway of the house, staircase on one side with children running up
and down. The costumes people were wearing were no less festive: blue ribbons,
yellow trestles on white cotton; hats with hearts and star decorations,
the whole uniform somewhat military, but too playful to be taken too serious.
In front of us hang a curtain. I was intrigued by what was behind it. Some
sort of altar? A secret - sacred space like a tabernacle? I wasn't disappointed
when the curtain lifted and revealed an amazing display of what to my mind
were totally kitchy statues of Maria and Jesus; crucifixes, the blood nearly
dripping off; Christmas lights and multicoloured decorations. I did not
know whether to take this seriously or not, but everyone seemed so into
the whole atmosphere that I just accepted it. They were singing happily
to the sound of the synthesizer, which reminded me of a church organ, but
the sound never quite made it. It was all Mary jingles and merry songs...
Time for the drink. This one tasted terrible again and I gulped it down
as best as I could. With respect for the sacrament, but at the same time
I could not feel too serious about it. Then we went outside, lined up and
were given a candle. I loved that bit. In procession with candles alight,
we went back in, following a black Madonna. It all reminded me very much
of the rituals in the Catholic church, when I was a child: Mary's Lightmass,
the statues, the multiple Christs on the crosses with a variety of melodramatic
expressions on their faces. It was a mixture of celebrations, seriousness,
good and bad morals, cheap art, good intentions and bad taste.
We sat down and I felt somewhat excited by the spectacle and the memories
it evoked. However nothing, absolutely nothing, happened. I observed that
I was very tolerant of the whole setting, which would have triggered me
into disgust a few years ago. I felt quite OK. in this whole thing, but
it was not affecting me; the ayahuasca wasn't, nor the ceremony, although
I did feel nice and light afterwards, like after a nice meditation or even
a little catnap in the gentle sunshine of an early summer's afternoon. Clean
and serene, but nothing else. And that is how it stayed, no nausea, no bowel
explosions, just a nice clear feeling of calmness. I had been accepting.
This was a celebration service dedicated to Maria and whilst I did not feel
closer to Maria, it had been a pleasant evening, leaving me light-hearted
and content.
©Nicholas Saunders and Anja Dashwood 1996
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