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Through the Looking Glass of Yagé
Is the indigenous medicine for you? An honest and brutal telling of what it’s like
“Each day the fisherman sets out at dawn,” says Carlos Chindoy Chindoy, a shaman, or taita as he is actually titled, as we chat a few hours before the medicine ceremony begins. He is dressed in a long white robe with a necklace made of bear and jaguar teeth.
“He goes to the sea to harvest. The sea gives him life and provides for his family. For the fish it means death, but everything is a cycle,” he continues.
“One day the fisherman too will harvest death. He carries that fear in his heart, and it poisons him. The fear that he carries of that unavoidable day grows as he ages. He fears the next stage of the cycle,” he pauses, deeply inhaling smoke from one of the cigars he brings everywhere he goes, a semi-green mixture of raw tobacco from the amazon and various herbs.
“The irony, is that without that fear he would live longer. He would treat his family better. He would be more respected in his village. And when the time for that reaping comes, he would be grateful,” he pauses again.
“That’s what we try to give people. A way to not fear the next stage in the cycle — that means many things to many people. But we purge the fear and we treat the wounds…
