Exotic experiencia

There are two things that don't leap instantly to the top of most travellers' itineraries in Ecuador.

The first is staring down the unlucky end of a pistola while its inebriated owner lectures you about the dangers of hanging around ATMs at night. But that's another story.

The second is witnessing a shaman deep in the Amazon jungle “sucking the demons'' out of his patients — after you've just sampled the hallucinogenic “jungle-juice'', Ayahuasca. National Geographic material? Maybe. Travel mag lead story? Perhaps not.

My base for exploration was Macas, in the Amazon's fringes of far Eastern Ecuador. Upon arrival, I'm swept into the friendly arms of Bolivar, one of Macas's only Jungle Tour agents. A cross between Evo Morales and Pikachu, Bolivar straddles indigenous wisdom and baby-faced cuteness. He has contacts with native tribes of the deep jungle, lending his tours an authentic edge.

I question him about visiting a shaman and a cheeky glint sneaks into his eye. “Para algo mas, talvez?'' For something more?

His mischievous tone suggests the Ayahuasca vine; a traditional medicine and natural hallucinogen. I was thinking cultural education but ... well, that could be interesting.

Flight into nature

A 30-minute flight takes us to a deserted jungle airstrip.

From there, we trek two hours through a muddy patch of forest that ends at a clearing near a picturesque lake.

Our following two days are spent playing with local kids and exploring the surrounding primary rainforest, which contains an array of natural remedies: a veritable living pharmacy.

After our second night, I'm a little deflated. While our guides are working hard, this isn't the authentic experience I had hoped for. We're smack bang in remotest Ecuador yet the Global Village is ever-present.

And it's not just the ubiquitous Dragonball Z T-shirts. The local children are schooled in the mission and they only haltingly speak Quechua, preferring Spanish among themselves.

The villagers eke out a living through farming. But future generations could well be swallowed up by nearby towns.

The next day is spent slushing in muddy marshes and being paddled by our 16-year-old canoe-boy, Alvino.

We eventually arrive at our night's lodge: a wooden hut in a small farming village by the river. It's 4pm and a lunch fit for King Kong awaits us: Rice, beans, the staple yucca (a starchy potato-like vegetable) and chicha, a corn drink.

After thirstily swigging a cupful, I enquire about its origin. Several village women giggle, covering their mouths.

A secret ingredient

Bolivar turns to me. “It's fermented with the saliva of the eldest woman of the village.'' Smiling, I wave to a frail, silver-haired woman in the corner, trying my best not to choke.

Over lunch, Alvino tells us he hasn't attended school for the last two years due to a mysterious illness. He saw doctors, physicians and travelled to city hospitals, but to no avail.

Then, he says, he visited the shaman. Overnight, the illness disappeared.

With this glowing testimonial, we're ferried across the river again.

On the opposite high bank sits a large ritual hut. An old man saunters past and, without introduction, I know it's the shaman. We follow him inside.

The shaman peels off his shirt and plops on to a stool in the half-light of the doorway. We sit side-by-side as Bolivar launches into a customary chat with the witch doctor in the
native tongue.

Gist of conversation

Like a fine orchestral melody of instruments calling and responding, the sound of Quechua is fascinating.

After 12 minutes of harmonious rattling, Bolivar turns to us: “The shaman says ‘Hi'.'' In the fading light, Alvino gives us a Dummies Guide to Ayahuasca. He has guzzled many a mug, recommending it for health, religious purposes — even studying for exams. Bolivar says it has helped him see the spirits of the jungle.

Alvino merrily adds that it is normal for the body to reject the stuff at first — retching and violent diarrhoea are guaranteed. As if the chicha hadn't provided enough inspiration.

Suddenly, the shaman presses a shot-sized cup into my hands. Side-effects in mind, I down the lot with a wince. Elham, my wife, takes one, “low tide'', and we await the experiencia.

Intoxicating ambience

Others begin to appear: a man and three village women. As they sit, the shaman starts to sway and chant hauntingly.

The orange flicker of candles throws shadows of the man's bent frame around the room.

The atmosphere is intoxicating.

Around 70, with craggy Indian features and thin skin drawn over his bony body, the shaman is all I had hoped for.

But given our experience thus far, I had expected he would be a thirtysomething with a “Bulls'' baseball cap.

The villager points to his calf muscle. The shaman lays him on his stomach, calf exposed.

The old man places his mouth over the exposed leg and blows a hard raspberry, before sucking back, cheeks flapping.

He repeats, shrieks like a wounded bird, then shuffles back to his stool and proceeds to summon up a series of almighty phlegm globules, chanting moodily in between each.

After repetitions of the suck-and-spit procedure, the man's pain has gone.

Bolivar leans over and whispers that this shaman is the region's most revered; apparently, he has never left a patient uncured. But bogus shamans also exist. Indeed, much of our doctor's business is to correct the mistakes made by other “witchquacks''.

Parting gift

Next is a village woman suffering from wrist pain. Like a trip to the corner hairdresser's, she chats with her friend as the shaman performs his magic on her outstretched hand, thus breaking the bewitching atmosphere.

Before our departure, the shaman performs a protective incantation for us. He shakes a large, leafy branch over our bodies.

I look up to see the incongruous face of a deity staring down from a tiny golden frame on the witch doctor's wall.

The juxtaposition is mind-blowing: you simply couldn't imagine a more pagan scene than this.

Our trip is devoid of any animistic hallucinations. Never mind. Reality was stupefying enough.

Bolivar explains we had been given a rather light dose of the Ayahuasca due to our heavy late lunch.

Its side-effects in mind, I can't help thinking the shaman may also have been protecting his front veggie patch.

— Tim Brothers is a UAE-based freelance writer

Go there . . . Ecuador . . . From the UAE

One of the nearest airports to Languedoc-Roussillon is Toulouse.

Air France flies daily via Paris. Fare from Dh 3,910Air France flies daily via Paris. Fare from Dh 3,910Air France flies daily via Paris. Fare from Dh 3,910

Etihad and Air France fly daily via Paris. Fare from Dh7,510Etihad and Air France fly daily via Paris. Fare from Dh7,510

— Information courtesy: The Holiday Lounge by Dnata.
Tel: 04 4298576

Getting there

Emirates flies from Dubai to São Paulo, Brazil. At present, prices begin at Dh8,440. From Brazil, you can take a multitude of South American carriers to Guayaquil, Ecuador and then Macas.

Alternatively, you can take a bus from the charming southern city of Cuenca.

The road, hugging the edge of the mountains, can be a hair-raising one … and takes anything from 8 to 12 hours as a result.

Another popular Amazon tour in Ecuador is from the northeastern town of Iquitos.

While many travellers opt for this route because of its relative convenience, the experience is markedly different.

Iquitos is situated in a region devastated by oil exploration. Obviously tours steer towards the remaining patches of rainforest and the emphasis is on jungle adventure rather than culture.

Tribes have long abandoned the area for urban development.
Macas is a small outpost with limited accommodation and restaurants.

It's a perfect base for jungle exploration, but offers little of interest to travellers.

Hotel Splendit is a solid little lodging, with clean, comfortable rooms and colour TV.

Rates are always negotiable and average at about $10 (Dh37) for a single and $15 (Dh55) for a double room.

Here are some items you'll need to take with you on a jungle tour:

Insect repellent, loose light-coloured clothing, sleeping bag, snacks, mosquito net, sunscreen and insect spray. One can never be too cautious.

The low-lying jungle areas of the Amazon are highly prone to malarial infection and due precaution is necessary.
The recommended prophylactic is Doxycycline, widely available and taken once daily, for a period of one week before entering a malaria-affected area and four weeks after leaving.

A common side-effect is sensitivity to the sun, so slap on plenty of 30+ sunscreen. I also advise investing in your own mosquito net, impregnated with Permethrin.