THE MIND OF THE SHAMAN

THE ACTIVITIES OF THE SHAMAN

The trance is essential if a shaman is to reach an "altered state of consciousness," and is usually brought on during a night-time session. In the course of this session, the shaman moves into a "non-ordinary" reality, and puts his powers to work; these powers are generally represented as the thorn of the chonta palm (Bactris sp) or as darts, called tsentsak in Shuar. With the aid of chants, the shaman gradually goes into a trance, and in this state mystical substances are used to initiate actions both offensive and defensive in nature. During this process the person he is healing must be fanned, usually with a fan made of leaves, as its movement creates the watery and cold characteristics of mystical substances. Later, the shaman will attempt to provide movement and fluidity to these forces, bringing them "to fall in love" with him, "seducing" them. To achieve this effect, the Shuar and Achuar use a musical instrument called a tumankor tsayantur.

Next, the darts must be "intoxicated," transferring to them the effect of the hallucinogenic substance and "lining them up" so that the shaman can use them as a shield to protect himself. When the evil has been identified, it will be "blown," "cut," "opened," and "scattered" to force it to leave after cutting the thread that unites it with an enemy shaman. "Unstick" and "erase" are other metaphors used, in the Cañelo-Kitchwa and Shuar cultures, to describe the disposal of these intruders during the session with the shaman; the words suggest a battle among spirits which comes to an epic climax that is accentuated by the use of these terms. The spirits are thought of as things, and the words as weapons.

The shaman has in his repertoire the power to conceive new realities: the tsentsak makin (machine), the awiun (airplane) are, among other objects, the new inhabitants of the shamanic world, the only "objects" made by man in a world inhabited by the forces of animal, mythical, and semi-human spirits, as well as natural elements.

The shaman, the meeting point among all possible worlds, is today as relevant as he was in the past. The entire set of concepts and rituals surrounding his office constitutes the only remaining redoubt where, in spite of the rapid and profound changes being experienced in these cultures, the mythical concepts of the Amazon peoples can be experienced and developed. The shaman is, in addition, a source of recreation and reproduction of the ethnicity of these groups. This explains why, in spite of widespread cultural changes, shamanism has not been abandoned in the slightest, why it has become perhaps the only remaining area where the inhabitants of the Amazon are still able to feel and think like members of an indigenous group.

I, TOO, WANTED TO BE A SHAMAN... "I, too, wanted to be a shaman like my papa. I always pestered papa: "Give me a cleaning, blow on me." Thus comments Rebeca Gualinga as she "weaves" a clay figure. This small woman carries within her the force of the most powerful shamanic lineages of the forest of Pastaza. She was born 62 years ago in Sarayacu, a community located on the banks of the Bobonaza River.

"I wanted to take ayahuasca. Then, one night while papa was healing, I took it for an entire week I followed the sasi, the fast taking only plantain dissolved in water and catfish without salt. Then papa got sick and said to wait until he got well, but he died, and so I'm not a shaman. I don't know why I was like that, my entire childhood fasting. Another uncle also blew on me. And I took the bark of trees to be hard: caballo caspi for courage; sinchi caspi for strength and also iliaiña caspi with huahua sapa. We pulled all four roots and washed them and cooked them, and as the shamans blew on us we took an ipac - a bowl- and then went to bathe in cold water. I took tobacco juice like it was a sweet and with that I became strong, and if anyone offended me, I won fighting..."

Her strong laugh is like stones falling to the ground. Under her hands a clay moon, with eyes, nose, and mouth, is forming. Suddenly she gets thoughtful:

"My father's grandfather was Pandu Gualinga. He was andoa, a powerful shaman who turned into a tiger. Roque Cuji, my mother's father was a shaman. All were powerful. My great grandfather could turn himself into a tiger. Each month, with the new moon, his fang grew and he stopped it with a leaf of huanduj rubbed against a candle. He rubbed it over his teeth and the growing stopped. He made himself into a tiger five times. The shaman was allpasupai - a god of the earth. Before there were many shamans, there were young ones learning, but now the whites have won, the priests. That time is over. It was the time of wars between shamans. When they drank we stayed far away because they got out their arrows, their shamanic darts. There was no way to get close, there was a lot of power there. That's why they killed my father because he cured so many sick people, he got sick and died. He was a good man, so humble. He didn't like the whites, he didn't want me to marry a white man."

Her gaze is sad. She begins to sing in a low voice: "Though your blood disgusts me, I, the jaguar-woman, will drink it..." She shakes her head and laughs a strong, sharp laugh. She gets up, putting the moon to one side. The conversation is over. Everything returns to its place: the supai go on resting in the mountain where the shamans of old have hidden them until better times come.

Rebeca Gualinga, interview by Giovanna Tassi, 1993