The Ayahuasca Experience: Agri’s Story
I close my eyes. The creatures are dancing in rows, synchronized, one row going left, the other one right, left, right, left, just like in a video game. They’re golden, blue, tongues out, arms like an Egyptian. Wow, I’m feeling it. Maybe I should go lie down. I get up, I hit the floor. Image, image, I’m peeing, flash, flash, more images, peeing feels so good, my grandfather, my uncle, what’s that, music??? Oh the music sounds so nice, the smoke blowing in my face, the drums, the seashells, peeing feels so nice, so liberating. Oh my God I’m peeing my pants, WAKE UP, you’re peeing your pants.
Consciousness returns slowly, I realize I am in Colombia, at the Taita’s house, people around me, I’m wet as a frog. I open my eyes, I see Griselda, Felipe, the Taita hovering over me, playing the beautiful instruments, a pool of urine on the floor. I’m so embarrassed. Everyone is staring at me, I manage to say a few words: I think I peed my pants. It’s ok says Griselda, as if she were my mother and I, a 5 year old child. Her understanding gives me comfort. I must clean up, no says the Taita, just relax, it’s perfectly normal it happens sometimes. Maybe perfectly normal in the Jungle, but a good 20 seconds of urine in the middle of the living room, pretty shameful by my standards. It stinks. Nobody seems to notice. Perhaps everyone is dealing with their own visions.
I get up, go to the bathroom, toss my underwear in the garbage, pants fully wet. I get lots of toilet paper, go back to dry the pool but the Taita stops me once more. Don’t worry about it, my wife will clean it tomorrow. It’s 2 am, a long way from tomorrow. I don’t know how to feel about it. I can either resist or accept what happened, move on, and enjoy the rest of the night. I chose the latter. It’s done.
We’ve been here only a few hours. Rested for while, gotten to know each other, listened to a speech by the Taita on his recent experience in Japan. Humor, concerns, observations about a land so far away from the suburbs of Bogota, a different planet. And then, one by one, we’re summoned to take the strange tasting potion. Suma Pinta! I remember the Taita wishing us good visions and lots of puking and shitting. That’s different. Suma Pinta!
We sit by the fire. Some are silent, dealing with the own creatures in their head. Some are puking, plenty of buckets around. Some are pooing, lots of that tonight. I chat with David, turns out he teaches law in University, Indigenous Rights law. Huh. He’s working on legislation with the government. Interesting.
Round two comes around. The Taita calls for the Madrepatria. Who? Ah, Griselda, the motherland, she’s from Spain, an original Spaniard. She goes for round two. Then Korea, my wife, Felipe, and most of us, one by one.
I’ve lost the visions since the incident. I hope this time around the elixir will allow the visions to resume. We go back to the fire. The Taita playing the indigenous flute and the seashell organ, Felipe the drum, it sounds so beautiful. I can’t sit up straight. I lie down, my bottom half off the mat so I don’t wet it.
It’s light outside. The Taita’s wife is up. The pool of urine cleaned. She’s made chicken soup. Tastes like heaven. I have no change of pants, I squat over the fire, still wet.
I’d heard so much about Ayahuasca. That you connect to the divine, the spirit, Pachamama (Mother Earth). I went in without any expectations, to allow myself to go wherever I needed to. Not sure what I got out of this. Maybe you just go within, and that before you can connect to a deeper level, you need to face your own darkest corners. Maybe wetting myself was what I needed to clear my issues of shame, a big one for me. The images of my male role models, my grandpa, my uncle, what do they mean? Where is my father? MIA again? Perhaps everything would’ve been more clear had I stayed on that beautiful journey I was in, had I not realized I was wetting myself. Or is it as the Taita says, that the potion plants a seed, a seed that may flourish that night or in due time, running it’s course…
We say our goodbyes, take a few remembrance photos, not that we’d forget. We’ve had a great night. A long, draining night. Off to the peace and quiet of the farm. La Juanita, here we come!
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