by Tahir Shah
The Chilean psychologist Claudio Naranjo conducted exhaustive trials with ayahuasca. The speed of the flight in his studies seems important. A third of the patients reported the sensation of flight and soaring. One man said he had the sensation of growing wings,-and instead of fear, he sensed the freedom which goes with flight. He was no longer “imprisoned to the ground”.
The English botanist Richard Spruce was, like Villavicencio, one of the first scholars to study and identify Banisteriopsis caapi. His important two volume work, Notes of a Botanist on the Amazon and the Andes (edited by Alfred Russel Wallace and not published until 1908), includes Spruce’s initial report on ayahuasca, written for Geographical Magazine in 1853. He explained how a cold infusion was made, saying, “the taste is bitter and disagreeable”. He also remarked that just two minutes or less after taking the brew the “effects begin to be apparent. The Indian turns deadly pale, trembles in every limb, and horror is in his aspect”. This speed seems implausible. Perhaps Spruce had been witnessing ayahuasca mixed with datura or another strong admixture, which may have brought on such fast effects.
Spruce goes on to explain how he guzzled down half a dose of caapi, when the chief eagerly sent over a large calabash of caxiri (mandioca beer, similar to masato) of which he took a copious draught: “as I knew the mode of its preparation, it was gulped down with secret loathing.” Then immediately after this “a cigar two feet long and as thick as a wrist” was given to him, a confirmed non-smoker. Spruce never completed the ayahuasca ceremony though, because he had only taken half a dose. He says that, in May 1857, he reached the “great forest of Canelos, at the foot of the volcano Coptopaxi, where he saw caapi again.
Spruce admitted that “I regret being unable to tell what is the peculiar narcotic principle that produces such extraordinary effects. Opium and hemp are its most obvious analogues, but caapi would seem to operate on the nervous system far more rapidly and violently than either.”
Ayahuasca is true to the ancient systems of shamanic healing, in that one preparation can treat virtually every ailment. In many cases, the ayahuasquero will take the ayahuasca himself, when searching in the other world for a solution to the patient’s problem. Illness is not seen merely as the result of a medical disease, but it is the result of a curse or some supernatural affliction.
Dobkin de Rios (1972) shows surprise that traditional societies use ayahuasca or other hallucinogens for a wide range of situations (eg for healing, religious practices, black and white magic, pleasure and initiation). In my view, there are no boundaries between magic, illness and other parts of community life: all these areas are one and the same in a primitive society.
Some anthropologists have noted the limiting of ayahuasca rites to the male members of society. One report states: “ego [ie ayahuasca] is the only mind enhancing concoction that has been absolutely taboo on occasion for women. When a trumpet signaled the start of the puberty rites for the Yurupari, female members of the tribe fled into the jungle to avoid a death penalty for their seeing the ceremony or even the drink. In other regions it was thought that if a woman set eyes on prepared caapi, it would be rendered “ineffective”. My own experiences are quite the opposite of this. Women know all about the preparation and partake freely. The prohibition may have surrounded male puberty rites rather than the brew.
The use of ayahuasca in cities and urban areas across Latin America is increasing rapidly. A number of religious sects have incorporated the hallucinogen into their systems of belief. Many of these were established initially in Brazil. The most recognized is currently the Santo Daime faith; others are the Barquinia and Hoasca religions. As with Santo Daime, other ayahuasca faiths have developed a myth which explains how they came to understand the hallucinogenic brew.
In using ayahuasca, the shaman will tend to say that the vine’s spirit draws their attention to its medicinal and healing uses. I have been told that the trees whispered, telling the curandero how to prepare the drink. Ayahuasqueros believe that it’s not the plant which actually heals, but the spirit of the plant. Through his songs, known as ícaros, the shaman invokes the spirit of the vine, requesting that it heal or provide a solution.
Although Banisteriopsis caapi is a plant of the New World, it has been likened to Syrian rue (Peganum haimala), which grows throughout western Asia. Known for millennia for its powers, its seeds also contain harmaline. There is evidence that DMT-rich plant admixtures were added to the Syrian rue brews, in antiquity, to bring on the hallucinogenic effects.
Rudgley (1998) notes that Syrian rue’s seeds, which produce a rich red dye, may have been used to dye carpets in Persia. He wonders whether the geometric designs of the carpets might have been inspired by the hallucinogenic content of Syrian rue (harmine and harmaline). He also points to the legends of “flying carpets”, questioning whether the link can be taken further. Textile designs have undoubtedly been inspired in various cultures by hallucinogens. The ecstatic representations of shamans and Birdmen in the Paracas and Nazcan textiles are one example of this. Andrew Sherratt (1995) has also queried whether the patterns of central Asian carpets and the idea of flying carpets might have derived from hallucinatory visions.
There is nothing new about hallucinogenic preparations. Ayahuasca is one of many which has been employed for millennia. Devereux (1997) talks of the discovery of a cave in northern Iraq, in 1975, containing a Neanderthal skeleton. Along with the 60,000 year old remains were “clusters of pollen from 8 kinds of flowering plants”. At first they were thought to be funeral offerings, but later it was realized that they – e.g. ephedra – were known nerve stimulants and had been used in herbal curing in the region millennia before. Both Hofmann and Schultes have discussed the role of hallucinogens in the ancient Old World, from a cultural point of view. Despite this, the number of known Old World hallucinogens is limited when compared to those in the New World.
Schultes (1992) says that there are about 150 species of plant hallucinogens. 130 of them are located in the New World, especially in its tropical region. Some experts contend that they have played a key role in the development of New World religious beliefs.
Like the Incas, the Aztecs made use of numerous hallucinogenic plants. Not all provided visions. For example, the shrub Sinicuichi (Heimia salicifolia) gives intense auditory hallucinations. Sounds are distorted or seem far away. The plant has also been credited with supernatural powers. The Sinicuichi bird appeared on the Aztec statue depicting Xochipilli, the Prince of flowers.
The Aztecs were also known to use a certain “round pellet” to achieve states of ecstasy. They called it Ololiuhqui, and attributed to it divine status. It was addressed with songs and the seeds were put on altars, and made into drinks. Hallucinations and delirium followed. The Spanish tried to prohibit the use of the plant, and largely succeeded in doing so. Schultes identified the seeds as Morning Glory (the species Rivea cozymbosa). They have been found to contain a form of LSD.
Psychedelic mushrooms were also used by the Aztecs. Encyclopaedia Britannica records that the Spanish priest-historian Bernardino de Sahagun wrote of his disapproval of the cultic use of mushrooms in Mexico in the 16th century. There were reports of widespread use of hallucinogenic mushrooms during the coronation of the Aztec Emperor Montezuma in 1502.
Psychoactive snuff was thought to be the first native American hallucinogen discovered by the Spanish. Snuff has been found in 1200 year old mummy bundles in the New World. Virola snuff is made from the inner bark of various species of the virola tree, in the western Amazon. Its snuff contains trypamines, and is similar to nutmeg. The bark is stripped off the tree trunk in the early morning. (The resin exuded from the inner surface of the bark can be used as an arrow poison.) The exudate is a resin which darkens when exposed to the air, becoming reddish-brown. The bark is cut into slivers and is boiled for an hour or more, creating a paste. Some tribes ingest the virola orally, but most take it as snuff.
The fly agaric mushroom (Amanita muscaria), with its brig
ht red cap, is another strong hallucinogen. It has been used by the nomads of Siberia for millennia, and leads to potent hallucinogens, as well as increasing strength and endurance. It may be the basis of the mysterious beverage Soma, drunk in antiquity in south Asia. Others think it may be the secret of the Hoama elixir of the Zoroastrians. Fly agaric is thought by some scientists to be the answer to the petroglyphs on the north-east coast of Siberia, found in the 1960s. They show humans and “human-mushroom” figures with mushrooms growing out of their heads. Lapps in Scandinavia’s Arctic Circle have traditionally used hallucinogenic mushrooms as well.
One remarkable quality is that the active ingredient in fly agaric passes through the bladder into the urine. Plotkin (1993) says that in 4000 bc the Aryans in southern Iran developed a ritualist fraternity based on the hallucinogen. They believed, as some Siberian peoples still do, that it would transport their souls into another realm. Two thousand years on, when the Aryans’ descendants invaded northern India, they took the mushrooms with them. Once again the mushroom cult came to prominence and burgeoned in India. Various ancient Hindu texts, such as the Rigveda, give mention to the hallucinogenic properties of fly agaric.
For as long as they have been known, the West’s establishment has persecuted the use of mind altering flora. Witches in Europe were using various solanaceous plant-hallucinogens like datura in the 16th and 17th centuries. Just as the Spanish Conquistadors persecuted the Incas and native peoples for their plant hallucinogen uses, the European Christians (Spaniards included) persecuted the medieval witches in Europe and in North America, because these people had visions which (a) couldn’t be explained and (b) were at odds with Christian dogma.
We tend to overlook the extraordinary knowledge and experience that ancient society relied on. Much of this must have been deduced through experiences with hallucinogenic flora. Their encounters, which are so distinctly out of the ordinary, are absorbed into their lore and myth, often with the catalyst – the psychotropic substance – being lost in the process. Hallucinatory substances may well have contributed to the epic and fantastic tales extant in religious and cultural texts.
Ethnobotanists have suggested that the reason jungle plants have had to develop such an astonishing array of defences from fauna, is that they exist in highly threatening environments. Predators come in all forms: fungi, mammals, insects and viral diseases. Thousands of years of evolution has provided plants with extraordinary characteristics, none more so than the hallucinatory flora.
With the destruction of the rain-forests and the even speedier obliteration of tribal plant knowledge (a result of rampant westernization, missionary activity and so forth), the race to learn ancient medications is being lost. A few companies, such as Shaman Pharmaceuticals, are actively attempting to learn from indigenous peoples about the plants in their societies, and their medicinal uses. One of the problems they face is that, since the early 1980s, there has been a decrease in fieldwork and an increase in plant medicines synthesized in the lab”, as scientists learn to control genes etc. Shaman Pharmaceuticals sends teams of trained ethnobotanists into the jungle to work with and learn from indigenous shamans. They compensate indigenous groups who teach them about medicinal plants. The problem is time: plant cures take years, even decades, to get to the market.
One ethnobotanist, Mark Plotkin (1993), has developed a small-scale solution, called the ‘shaman’s Apprentice Program”. His notes, which are based on tribal knowledge, are translated back into the tribal language and are studied by a young member of the tribe. Once written down, they are less likely to be lost, despite the fact that the plants themselves are liable to be made extinct if things continue as they are.
Appendix 2
THE SHUAR
Dozens of tribal societies worldwide have historically taken trophy heads. But the curious practice of shrinking heads has set the Shuar apart from other tribes. No other known peoples have treated their trophy heads in this way, with the possible exception of the ancient Nazcan, and other coastal civilizations of the Atacama. As discussed in the text, the reasoning for making tsantsas was clear. It was a means of controlling the musiak, the avenging soul. The tsantsa itself had no intrinsic value and was discarded once made and honored, that is, until western souvenir hunters came looking for them.
The ability to shrink human heads has brought the Shuar widespread attention. While being captivated by the tsantsa-making technique, the outside world has often classified the Shuar as a barbaric people. From the earliest interaction with the tribe, Western observers dubbed them Jivaro, their own word for ‘savage”.
There is no doubt that, until the post-war era, the tribe lived by an ancient tradition of warfare and tsantsa raids. But despite their eagerness to take heads, the Shuar were historically a people with a strong sense of ethics and a well-developed social framework. The ancient ways of the tribal society have almost entirely come to an end in the last handful of years. Small-scale petroleum projects in the deep jungle are one reason for this. But the overbearing responsibility must be assumed by a variety of missionary groups who have sought to cast the Shuar into the modern world, and to save their souls.
Landing in remote jungle enclaves, in flying-boats, the missionaries have wrought change on an unknown scale. Their intentions may be worthy, but they have led to the stripping away of a distinct tribal identity. Like a house of playing cards, a traditional Shuar community was extraordinarily fragile. Small changes affected the entire unit, causing it to collapse.
As mentioned earlier, the missionaries seem to have steered clear of prohibiting or condemning the use of ayahuasca. This point gives hope in the face of absolute uncertainty. With the continued use of ayahuasca, the shamanic tradition – although diminished in strength – can remain in place. The continuing existence of shamans ensures that, for the time being at least, the ancient knowledge of medicinal plants is able to survive.
Further weakening of the community occurred in the early years of the 20th century. The Shuar peoples have been devastated by the white man’s introduction of Old World diseases, like whooping cough, measles, tuberculosis, venereal diseases such as gonorrhoea, and so forth. Malaria, generally classified as an Old World affliction, has decimated Shuar numbers since the 16th century. In addition, the common cold has culled the Shuar’s numbers. The only positive factor in terms of population, is that the cessation of tsantsa raids has led to a reduction of death through warfare.
It is fortunate that a range of scholarly ethnographic studies were made of the tribe before the curse of change ravaged the Shuar lands. By far the best and most accurate published study is Michael Harner’s (1972). Many of the other works fell victim to the pitfalls of poor ethnographic research. However fascinating one finds the tsantsa tradition to be, it is a shame this one facet of Shuar life has been grasped by western observers virtually to the exclusion of all else.
Thankfully, the Shuar’s use of ayahuasca allows them to continue with their central belief: that the world is an illusion, and that only by taking the hallucinogen can they enter the real world. One wonders how this fundamental philosophy would change if Banisteriopsis caapi was prohibited by missionary groups in the region.
Until the 19th century, when explorers came searching for the head shrinking people, the tribe had been largely left alone since the initial Spanish incursions into the region. The Spanish, of course, had no interest in tsantsas or the Shuar. They were concerned only with finding gold. The tribe’s partial enslavement and subsequent rebellion, mentioned in the text, occurred in 1599. The size of the Spanish casualties may have been (in my opinion) grossly exaggerated. But, without doubt, the Shuar insurrection dissuaded the Spanish from exploring the area further. Harner (1972) notes that perhaps no other tribal people on the Latin continent has had so much written about them, with so little still known of them.
In traditional Shuar society every man, woman and child, was on constant guard, watching for raiding parties. The tsantsa raids were
their raison d’etre. They proved a warrior’s bravery and the community’s superiority. Feuding kept the tribe strong and alert. Like animals in the wild, those who were incapable of keeping up, were picked off.
A visitor was always in fear of being butchered. For this reason, guests would never enter another’s maloca, without being expressly invited to do so. And, even then, they would never travel to an acquaintance’s abode unarmed. A bowl of masato might be pushed aside, until the hostess – the woman who had prepared it – had taken a sip.
During the night the house would be barricaded against attack. Anyone wishing to defecate or urinate would do so within the house, and remove their waste in the morning. After reading the standard works on traditional Shuar society, I was surprised to see for myself the openness of the houses. There are no barricades now, nor are there watch-towers. People leave their malocas at night and wander freely through the village.
These days, when a man dies, he is buried in a cemetery area at the edge of the village. Traditionally the Shuar would bury dead members of the family (especially the head male) under the dirt floor of the house. In some cases, the maloca was then abandoned out of respect. The dead man was buried in a shallow grave, not more than about two and a half feet from the surface. If married, his widow would cut her hair short as a sign of mourning.
In cases where the house was to be abandoned because of its owner’s death, the body may have actually been interred in the house at ground level (the Kafirs of Nuristan had a similar tradition of above ground burials). The body would be inhumed in a kanu (from which we derive our word “canoe”), a balsa wood coffin made from a hollowed-out log, erected on a scaffolding. Some of the tsantsas he had made during his lifetime may have been buried with the warrior. These would be placed in the small of his back. Also buried with him would be clothing, weapons and other artefacts and his monkey skin traveling bag. The tradition is almost identical to the Nazcan and Paracas funeral techniques, discussed in the text.