Excerpt from Chapter 12: High Aim in the Upper Amazon

The dance of the Jiboia

When you’re with the people it’s made very clear that an icaro is not something you listen to. An icaro is something you look at. You look at it. It is to be seen, even though it is made out of sound, as a composition, as a work of art, it is offered more in the vein of a painting than a song or a poem. What is happening is that in this group state of mind, the intentionality of the singer is beheld as a three dimensional modality of light and of colour. Well, this is like an ontological transformation of language itself. — Terrence McKenna.

When I returned to the village they were already preparing to begin the process of cooking some Nixi Pãe and I was asked to help with harvesting and preparing the plants. João worked closely with them, as they had asked him to teach them some techniques from Santo Daime because they really liked the Daime tea. Firstly we had to walk around the village and ask different Huni Kuin if we could use plants that they were the custodians of, these being the leaves of the chacruna bushes and the vine itself. Once we had permission I spent some time with others collecting leaves. The next day Kixtin invited me to go with him to harvest the vine. After drinking some Nixi Pãe we walked with some young Huni Kuin to the edge of the village where there was a vine climbing high up into a tree which had three main trunks winding their way to the top. Kixtin climbed to the top and cut two of the three sections down to the root and left the third one intact so that the vine could keep growing and be used again.

A couple of days later, as the cooking ritual was nearing completion, Kixtin took me and those young men to a little grove where some small plants were growing in a half circle with a bench made out of a large log. He invited me to sit on the log and he applied some sananga, which is a liquid infused with the root of a small shrub, with one drop put in each eye. It was a very painful experience but after the initial ordeal it gave profound mental and sensory clarity. He gave me a strong blow of rapé and asked me to sit while he took a leaf of one of the Mári Taíxski plant which I was familiar with. This was the same plant for singers and he told me to put the leaf on my tongue but to leave its stem sticking out of my mouth. He then spoke quietly to the plants, an action I assumed was some kind of prayer of respect and asking of permission. I started to feel the force of the Nixi Pãe and the other plants very strongly as he took another leaf from the singers plant.

Kixtin walked over, stood in front of me and began to sing a song I hadn’t heard before. As he sang he then began to rapidly tap with the leaf he was holding onto the stem of the leaf that was on my tongue. As he did so I could sense the vibrations of the song and the light tapping sensation, and I entered into the miração. This was a very different kind of experience which took my mind a while to relax into. The young Huni Kuin stood around watching. They hadn’t explained to me what this was about but I felt it was something significant. After a while I could feel the spiritual enchantment of the plant coming to life and the subtle vibrations became a very powerful wave of spiritual force and took over my attention. While I sat there meditating on this process it seemed that Kixtin had been singing for a long time. His song was very psychedelic and subdued my mind. I began to track the vibrations as they descended throughout my tongue and slowly moved down my throat, vibrating into my vocal chords and further down until I could feel it reach my heart centre. Once this vibrational pathway was fully blessed by the sound and tapping vibrations, he stopped the song and left me sitting there in a meditation for some time.

When we returned to the village there were people waiting and excited for our return. I realised there were some expectations of our arrival in the village and I was offered some gifts and feathers. They told me that we were going to have a ceremony that night. At sunset I made my way to the ceremonial space after I had taken some time to adorn myself with all the gifts that had been given to me on that day and during the time in the village. The Huni Kuin usually also adorn themselves with colourful clothing, arts and sacred objects. When I arrived they were all standing around looking at me and seemed very happy that I had come adorned with all the gifts. Before the ceremony, Ixã told me that my music was appreciated by the people because of the colours that I brought into the miração and also that my songs made the jiboia dance energetically and with much force. Ixã began the ceremony in the usual way, with prayers and traditional songs, then he made an announcement that I had received the blessings of the singer and he asked me to sing for the jiboia.

As I began to sing, one of the men began the dance of the jiboia and led a line of mostly women and some of the younger men who snaked around doing a little bouncing dance as they wove random patterns around the space, always circling back around the fire. I became aware that, as I put more vigour into the music, the line of Huni Kuin dancing the jiboia would gather momentum and energy. A couple of times the leader of the dance led the snake to the opposite end of the ceremonial space and then moved directly toward me in a straight line, turning only as he arrived right in front of me. As this happened 20 or more Huni Kuin danced up to me and they all gave me a blessing on their way past. I could feel the energy and blessings of the jiboia and the forest very strongly. This force moved through me as I sang — and I felt one with it all. What was most striking was that my voice had a new vibration and a new colour and quality. It felt more stable — something that has stayed with me until this day and that I have studied and developed over time. Everything that had happened to this point was now making sense: from my childhood when I used to sing all the time, then to Carioca training me as a singer, to the daily ritual with the leaf, to being given the name Ibã, the singer who calls the miração, and receiving the blessing and force of the sacred jiboia.

Some years later, I met with Ibã Isaias Sales, a famous Elder of the Huni Kuin who is a master of language, arts and music. I told him about my experience and he mentioned that he was the one who taught Ixã and Kixtin these diets and he shared with me: ‘There is a plant. You used a sacred plant to remove heaviness, to become lighter. You will never forget how you dreamed. This is the miração, the gift that you received. You are welcome to the forest. The name of the pant is Mari Taiski. It is to call the voice closer — the voice, the wisdom — to stay nearer to us. It will not run away anymore. It keeps enchanting you, and you keep enchanting it… it embraces you, and you stay together with it. You will not forget anymore. Always learning.'

On deeper reflection I am glad that I spent these months in the forest with the Huni Kuin people without distractions and away from groups of Ayahuasca tourists. The deep work that I did in this time, including recieving my Huni Kuin name Ibã - the singer who calls the miração (visions), I could not have done unless I was able to go deep, alone with the guidance of skilled Elders and pajés (shamans). Being there in the village, just living life with them, the Huni Kuin were able to tune into me and my Spirit, to guide me to the training, initiations and teachings that I needed, that was unique to me, and which has been so valuable in the work that I have done since then.