Bad times with the shaman man

The scene - Huancabamba. Ten thirty at night. Myself and ten Peruvians sit in a small room with a dirt floor lit by a single light bulb. I have paid $100 for an all night visit with a healer recommended by the owner of my hostel, a man well known around town who many of my compatriots have come to visit from other parts of Peru. He has a good reputation and I even spot him in a video about the region. I have no particular ailment, but figure the visit is good for some general soul cleansing as well as an interesting blog entry. In the corner of the room is the ¨mesa¨, which isn´t really a table at all, but a few rugs laid out with a bunch of ceremonial trinkets: shells, rocks, swords, and curiously enough - a skeleton popping out of a little orange halloween pumpkin. The roof consists of wooden beams and dozens of cardboard boxes.

The action - The ceremony lasts until five in the morning and mostly consists of the the maestro and his assistants imbibing flower water and spitting it all over us. Sometimes it is spit into our hands and we are then instructed to rub it on ourselves, while at other times it is sprayed directly on our chests and faces. In between rounds the maestro does a bunch of chanting and asks God to help us out with whatever we came there for. We also snort tobacco juice through our nose via a sea shell, and later on some flower water. At one point we drink San Pedro cactus, which is supposed to be hallucinogenic, but I don´t notice any effects. At the end of the ceremony we cleanse our hands with sugar and baby powder, clap our hands and then throw flower petals into the air.

The problem - Some of you may wonder why this entry seems particularly matter of fact and unemotional. That is because of something that happened towards the end of the ceremony which completely turned me off to the whole thing. At one point in the night certain people were singled out for some individual cleansing. In my case this involved being cleansed (aka rubbed) with a rock while in my skivvies. Now to be clear, I have no problem participating in traditional ceremonies and stepping outside my comfort zone. (WARNING - This next part may be upsetting to some people.) But I became a bit suspicious that I was being taken advantage of when the guy started by pointing out that the particular rock he was using was phallic. Suspicion turned to alarm when he started rubbing it vigorously against my crotch while asking me to think of the best sexual experience I´d ever had. Oh my god, I thought, is this really happening to me? He asked me to tell him when it felt good, and so to get him to stop I said that yeah it was great, and then that was that - he called on somebody else and we went back to the group ceremonies. I spent the next hour and a half freaking out inside my head.

Afterwards - The maestro noticed that I was withdrawn and sulky, and from then on spent extra time talking with me to try to make things bettter. I flat out told him that what he had done had made me extremely uncomfortable. I was sure that he hadn´t done anything like that with anyone else so why had he done so with me? He skirted the issue and started talking about how a healer was like a father figure and how I´d better watch out because there were plenty of men out there who wanted to take advantage of me. I think he realized I knew that he had crossed the line, but played it off like everything was totally normal. He also predicted a white car in my future and a husband by age 27. Don´t worry, he said, everything is going to go well for you after this ceremony.

I left feeling disgusted and disappointed. I refused to attend the final part of the ceremony, which would have involved heading into the mountains to bathe in the lakes that the region is famous for. I talked with the owner of my hostel about what had happened and she admitted that while bodily cleansing with rocks is normal, the other part was a bit weird (especially since I hadn´t gone there to deal with men problems). But as is typical, she ultimately refused to place blame or admit wrong doing on the part of this respected man.

As for me, I got the hell out of that town and spent the last week (including New Year´s) in a popular hostel in Mancora that housed about a hundred other backpackers. It was on the beach and had a pool and constant sunshine. I feel much recovered, but felt that this was a significant experience that I should share. I was going to write two seperate posts, one on this experience and one on the positive things that have happened since then. Unfortunately I´ve just had to retype this whole entry after it was accidently deleted, so I think this will be it for now. I will report more on the good times in a few days, which mostly include getting a tan, meeting some great girlfriends and eating a lot. I´m currently in Vilcabamba, Ecuador with my friend Becca from Sweden, and will be relaxing here before heading to Guayaquil and the Galapagos.