Teachings with Taita Part II

We returned from Taita’s to the town of Mocoa to investigate about leaving, and make plans.  We arrived to news of a nationwide ‘paro’ (strike) in Colombia.  To strike, farmers in unions take to the streets and create blockades, prohibiting the passage of goods and people by dismantling semi-trucks sideways across the lanes, making holes in roads, essentially physically blocking the passage of trucks, buses, and cars.  The campesinos (small-scale farmers) had united with other workers of particular industries, including mining, cattle, and indigenous communities, to protest the passage of the free-trade agreement with the United States (officially called the TLC- ironic isn’t it?). 

Colombian front yard on the road to Mocoa.

This agreement, which eliminated or reduced tariffs on imports to Colombia, allowed the US and Canada to flood the market with industrially manufactured produce, which is sold at a lower price than the small-scale, often organic produce grown here in Colombia.  The increased supply, combined with the reduced prices of foreign goods, drove down drastically the price that farmers could earn for their crops.  While this is good from the perspective of the buyer, this one-sided economic perspective ignores the majority of the population, which is involved in small-scale farming.  These farmers, who are paying more each year for their inputs while receiving lower prices for their produce, are being put out of business and/or operating at a loss.  As a result, Colombia, a country which has historically been an exporter of many agricultural products (including coffee, bananas, cocoa, etc.) is now importing many goods which it has historically produced itself.  This has forced some small-scale farmers to adopt monoculture, synthetic farming techniques, while others have abandoned farming altogether in an attempt to enter struggling job markets in near-by towns and cities. Campesinos have little recourse as these steps are initiated by multinational corporations to put them out of business and take their land.

Like Mama says, she knows nothing about that way of life, and farming has been her and her family’s way of life forever.

A banana farmer walking his goods to market.

As there are many social groups involved, it is very difficult to get a clear view of the actors and their motivations.  The government often claims that Guerillas are responsible, although this could be an attempt to discredit the protestors.  In general (as these strikes have been occurring several times per year), the Government attempts to reconcile with various groups, usually through short-term trade assurances and futures. 

For more information on the paro click here:

http://www.commondreams.org/headline/2013/08/25

 Such agreements are helpful to farmers in the short-term and helpful to the Government because they reduce the number of protestors and thus diminish the strength of the ‘paro’.  However, these agreements ensure that no lasting or structural change will result – and thus a pattern of strike and short-term acquiescence has developed. The position of the farmers is a difficult one, because while they are lobbying to power on local levels (Governors, Mayors, etc), politicians at the national level (even IF they wanted to change the TLC) have their hands tied, as the multinational corporations with whom the agreement has been signed hold most of the bargaining power.  This strike was so lengthy (more than a month) and so large-scale (more than 400,000 people) that even President Obama had to take notice.  Of course, nothing but the usual hemming and hawing about how he would ‘try to change it’, but that ‘Congress wouldn’t agree on anything’… Sound familiar?

Paz picking chagro leaves.

Meanwhile in Mocoa, we were lucky to be safely in the country-side, where we could help grow and eat locally grown food at the house.  Luckily for the family, their main agricultural product – Yagé – is not being imported from North America (in fact, quite the opposite, many North Americans are catching onto Yagé and the chemical DMT, known is some circles as the ‘Spirit Molecule’. In the town, we bought some supplies, but noticed that the prices were increasing as the supply roots continued to be cut off by the strike.  We found ourselves perched in an ethical dilemma: ideologically we support the workers, that they may earn their rights and have their industries protected from foreign multinationals.  Still, we found ourselves eyeing the calendar with the knowledge that in 3 weeks’ time, we had to get out of Colombia and back to the US for my brothers’ wedding (seems trite in comparison, but such are the lives we lead).

Luckily for us, Taita was eager to teach us more during our time.  He asked me to help him cook the medicine, a process which takes (I now know) 8 full days.  We began by harvesting many leaves of a vine called chagro (these leaves bring the visions when drinking Yagé – chemically speaking they contain DMT).  During this harvesting process, which involved all of the volunteers and the family, we encountered a venomous snake called ‘Gata’ that is quite dangerous and at least 2 meters in length.  After a machete to the head, Taita held his prize.

Taita and the snake (note the head on the ground).

The man is a miracle worker.  Moments later, a friend was stung by a wasp when she got too close to a nest.  We found the nest hanging eye level, buzzing with angry wasps.  He approached the nest after a few moments, once the wasps had settled. He held out his hand, and put it so close to the wasps that they pulsated on the nest, vibrating in warning.  He was nearly touching them, but they did not leave the nest.  Then, he asked for a cigarette. “Just give them a kiss,” he said. He lit the cigarette, took one puff, and blew it into the nest.  The wasps swarmed from the nest directly towards him, circling in a black cloud around his head.  He stood calmly, forming the eye of the storm, and blew another puff of smoke into the fray.  Then, with the wasps nearly cleared from the nest into the torrent around him, he calmly, delicately, broke the branch to which the nest was connected with his left hand.  Then he turned the nest by twisting the branch, and with a last puff of smoke from the cigarette in his right hand, blew the remaining wasps from the hole of the nest.  This whole time the wasps were swarming and buzzing ferociously around Taita’s head, yet his demeanor showed only the peaceful and jovial youthfulness we had come to know from him.  He walked the nest to a nearby fence, followed all the way by the swarm, and gently set the branch in a new resting place there.  Then, he walked calmly back to start harvesting more leaves.  He laughed, and said “You see, do not be afraid.  All these wasps, they haven’t stung me once.  If you have enough love, then everything will love you.”

The empty nest.

Wow!  What a lesson.  He encouraged me to try the same trick, but there was no room for ego in that maneuver – “I don’t have enough love yet” I told him, and he knew it was true.

Tending the huge fire.

After harvesting enough leaves to fill a 50-gallon bucket, we began cooking.  This involved lighting a massive fire, using full tree trunks, to boil water with the leaves, thus extracting the nutrients from the chagro.  Yet, bringing 50 gallons of water to a boil is not easy; it is sweaty, constant work.  While Taita and his faithful companion Gaspar brought wood from the forest, I began axing and macheteing them into shape, and continued adding them to the fire.

Cleaning the vines and branches, scraping bark with Paz and Gaspar.

Many times I failed to keep the fire the right temperature, and sometimes I even drowned it of air and let it go out completely.  I thought, after all these years, that I knew about fire.  But Taita, calmly, patiently, always with love, calmed me and explained my errors, showing the proper way to manage the inferno.  He told me quite frankly: “it’s okay, you don’t know the countryside”, another truth I would have to accept from this beautiful man, although after two years in Zambia and nearly a year in Colombia living in the bush, this was a hard truth to accept. Still, such was the wisdom of Taita that I heard him,  I was humbled, learned, and we continued the process.

Preparing the medicine.

After three days of cooking these leaves, stirring with a huge wooden stick, we had chagro water (a liquid of thick green consistency that smelled a bit like spinach).  Then, we added Yagé (verdehuasca, to be exact) leaves.  We also harvested the roots and branches of the Yagé vine.  Next, we had to scrape the outer bark to remove the dirt and the hard cover.  Once this was completed (another half-day’s work, given the amount of Yagé), we pounded the vine, separating the soft inner-flesh from the bark.  We then boiled with the leaves the mashed pieces of bark.  This process was repeated three times (that is, we boiled down the water until it had reached the desired consistency, and then filled the 50-gallon pot again with water and repeated the process.)

Now we had lots of chagro-Yagé water, made only from leaves and the bark.  Next, we added a small pot of water and boiled it with the Yagé root itself (small in comparison – probably about 20 gallons in size).  This process was the most important, and it was during this time that I found the spirit ‘singing’ to me – that is, a catchy tune and detailed lyrics suddenly came to me, in Spanish (I doubt that I could sit down and write a lyric in Spanish, let alone create a whole song without trying or thinking). After this water was boiled down, a thick and black brew with an acrid smell, we mixed it with the chagro-water.  Now we had a strong, dark concoction that needed to be further boiled until it had concentrated.  This took another day, but a very painstaking one.  With just liquid, the pot would over-boil very easily, and much of our hard work would be lost to the fire.

To the left is the chagro water with the bark of the ayahuasca, and on the right the ayahuasca mixture.

Taita, of course, was with me throughout, teaching me his time-honored method that he had learned from his Taita (father), who had learned from his Taita, and so on and so forth.  Claire helped when she could, and cooked wonderful food and interacted in her beautiful way, but for most of the process we were apart.  I was told not to bath, as cold water could be dangerous to my blood, it being so hot from the work near the fire.  So for 6 days I worked in such a way and maybe it was better for Claire’s sake that we kept our distance.

Taita and his father, a shaman and elder of the Kamëntsá tribe.

When the medicine was finished, the liquid had evaporated and become much thicker – about the consistency of oil. Taita invited us to drink that night.  We participated in a ceremony with a beautiful family of neighbors.  Their small 4-year-old daughter was sick, and had been for some time, and they had tried all the modern remedies available to them, to no avail.  When they came, Taita prayed for the child, he gave her some cleansing water and blessed her.  Then he encouraged her family to stay to drink the medicine, and be cleansed, that they may help heal the child.  Taita is well known in the town of Mocoa.  Many families and individuals came to seek Taita's healings and teaching while we stayed with him for 5 weeks.  Some would bring nothing more than the photo of a sick family member, others would walk great distances.  All sought out the knowledge and ability of this shaman to cleanse them and heal them and their loved ones.

Artist's interpretation of the healing process.

 The family had come for this reason, and we drank with the father, the four year old daughter’s older brother (12) and sister (16), and even a small spoonful for the sick child herself, as their mother watched on.  The medicine was strong – I had never before felt such a strong connection with the spirit, as if she was leading me, and I had no choice but to follow.  After all, I had helped to create this brew, and I felt somehow more connected because of it. I found myself humming the same tune that I had learned by the fire, and the spirit responded, intensifying its effect. 

Plant medicine.

During this time, Taita was hard at work.  The daughter vomited, and then went to sleep. Brother and sister the same.  This time was for the father of the sick girl.  Taita sat the man – who was now clearly deeply in touch with the Yagé – in a chair, and began praying to the Father, Son, Mother, and the Holy Spirit (the medicine) to heal.  Then he began calling to the Yagé spirit.  After about an hour of intense chanting and working with the father seated on a stool, praying and singing over him, he asked the man to remove all clothing but his underwear – it was now about 4 in the morning, and it was quite cold.  Then, Taita took a branch from a local nettle called ortiga (I don’t know how to describe the bite of ortiga, though I have encountered it many times while clearing bush.  It has small, pointy thorns which prick the skin, and leave a sensation which is somewhere between pain and itching, but in a most unpleasant way) and began rubbing it all over the mans body (a process we had seen before in Taita’s ceremony, performed on his son, and by his son on himself to strengthen the nervous system and invigorate the body)  He circled the man, rubbing the nettle more and more intensely as he himself became entranced, using all his energy to free the bad spirits from the father and the family, that the child may be cured.  The man, who must have been in more pain than I care to imagine, hardly even flinched.  He sat stoically, eyes forward, welcoming his cleansing to cure his body, and in doing so, his family and his daughter.

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The sound file above is of Taita singing 'father, mother, help and teach us' in his native tongue, Kamëntsá

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Gaspar and Patricio the morning after the ceremony.

Finally, the work with the ortiga ended.  Then, Taita, Gaspar (who, though older than Taita has worked with him for over 30 years), and an Argentinean friend named Patricio began smoking a cigar each, puffing and exhaling as rapidly as possible, billowing smoke onto the man while walking in a circle around him.  Tobacco is a very sacred plant, and is known as the protector spirit, and this ritual was completed to protect the family, now that the evil spirits had been chased away.  The three of them finished their cigars in less than 5 minutes of intense puffing, spitting, and whistling away the energies.  It was quite a sight, and it took real dedication from all involved.  It was a beautiful moment for Claire and me – to witness the cleansing, to feel and be part of a traditional healing ceremony, and to open our minds to the idea that if someone is sick, the entire family must accept responsibility to help and improve the situation by cleaning their energies.  Thus, they cure the illness but not by treating the symptoms, as we are used to in our culture, but rather by seeking to change the root causes of the problems.  All energies are part of one whole, interconnected, and each has the power to heal another by healing one’s self.

By the time this cleansing had ended, the sun was rising.  Claire and I had watched the whole thing in awe, and now awaited another beautiful day together, finding energy in the newborn sun.  Taita woke the rest of the family, and told them that their daughter would now be cured.  He offered some small remedies to give the child the following night, and told them that they should live free and happy, resting assured that things would begin to improve. 

When we asked about the child a week later, we learned that she had overcome her sickness, and that she was beginning to recover altogether from the nervousness and night traumas from which she had previously suffered.

For our part, we were still looking to the north, searching for an opportunity to pass the blockade.  Yet still more experiences lay in our path.