Wednesday, September 14, 2011

La Visita al Shaman

Last night I went with Nancy, the woman with whom I´m staying, to a shaman.  I didn´t know what to expect, but since she is someone whom I trust and am very comfortable with, I approached this as an opportunity to learn more about the culture and broaden my horizons.  The only things she told me were that no one ever died from doing this and that it would be like going to a sauna.  She suggested I wear a dress as I would be sitting cross-legged & it should be comfortable as I would sweat a lot.  Since I do not have anything like that with me, she loaned me a light sort of flimsy sun dress. 

We drove to an area outside of Quito that is by far the most exclusive neighborhood I´ve seen to date.  We climbed stairs to a magnificent home and went to a lovely, well-manicured yard where there was a fire burning in a pit.  Nearby was a structure that could be described as igloo-shaped and sort of like a sweat lodge, but I did not know that at the time.  The first thing that happened after introductions, which includes the usual kissing on one cheek of everyone you meet, was that the 25 or so people there stood in a circle around the fire and a man, whom I believe is the shaman, walked around, putting tabacco in our nostrils.  Then we crawled on hands and knees around the mounded hut-like structure (it was too short for anyone to stand up in) until all of us were sitting cross-legged, very close to each other inside.  Next, a man, who was outside the hut, delivered on a rake, hot coals from the fire to the entrance of the hut.  From there they were picked up by what looked like antlers, by another man who was inside and placed into a pit that was inside the hut.  When the pit was full, the opening of the hut was sealed closed.  It was pitch black.  I could see nothing at all, but could hear the sound of water being put on the coals & the steam from the water hitting the coals.  I could also feel the hot, humid air, and the sweat dripping off my body.  It started to get very warm and humid.  Eventully people started chanting.  I understood little as it was spoken very softly and some was in Que´chua and some in Spanish.  There also were some instruments being played, like drums and I believe some that were indigenous.  I lost track of time and without being able to see or know what to expect, I started to concentrate on breathing, feeling that that would help me stay grounded.  There is no doubt in my mind that anyone who is remotely claustrophobic or fearful of the dark, would have found this to be intolerable.  After a period of time the entry-way to the lodge was opened, which allowed for a little light and a little air, but within a few minutes, more hot coals were again delivered by rake and then antler; the opening was sealed off and the whole process began again.  My concentration on my breathing became my entire focus.  When the entry-way was opened again, but no one was making a move to leave, I whispered to Nancy, asking her how much longer this was going to continue, as I didn´t know if I could maintain my composure.  She said, "dos más veces" (2 more times).  I decided that was 2 more times too many for me and asked if I could leave.  She informed me that I would have to get permission from the shaman.  I rather meekly asked him in Spanish if I could exit.  He asked me if I wanted to leave for a little while or I wanted to leave & not return.  I said the latter & eventually my wish was granted.  I crawled out and felt relieved that I knew when enough was enough for me.  It was a long wait for the ceremony to end, but being outside was better than inside.  It is my understanding that this ceremony has to do with thanking Mother Earth for her goodness and leaving everything else behind.  I didn´t know until we got into the car that we were there for about 2 and 1/2 hours.  I don´t know if my innards or my skin or anything was cleansed or not or if I appreciate Mother Earth any more than I did previously, but when I was asked if I want to share this experience again next Tuesday, I graciously declined. 

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