“You want mushrooms?” Asked our new friend.
“No.” I said. “I don’t want.”
“Why?” He asked. “Why not?”
I thought the question was slightly ridiculous but I couldn’t express it in Spanish. I told him instead that I was tired... that maybe later, perhaps tomorrow I want mushrooms. Our friend kept on walking with us... struggling to build rapport. We reached a turn off and he insisted that we follow... that we came to see. So we went.
He led us into a little house, through a darkened room to a doorway hung with a curtain. He pulled it aside and beckoned us in. The room was lit and occupied by five people... a child in bed, a woman by an altar and three others with extremely dilated pupils. The atmosphere was peculiar but our friend was pleased to have drawn us in there... he was grinning broadly and nodding at the spectacle. A ‘ceremonia’ had been conducted earlier and it was all in the process of winding down. Of the three participants, one was Mexican and two were American. We talked for a while in English about the mushrooms and the ritual... they all seemed welll pleased with their experiences... rated the curanadera highly... spoke of ‘family atmospheres’ and ‘protective energies’. We didn’t hang around too long though... being acutely aware of their condition and feeling a little spun out ourselves. Our friend showed us to the door and introduced himself as ‘Nacho’. I shook his hand and said perhaps we’d see him tomorrow.
Back at the cabana, the light had decided to work again. We unscrewed the bulb, got into bed fully dressed and crashed. When the cold didn’t wake me, strange dreams would. Then at some time early, still dark, the towns public announcement system boomed into life... Music! Talking! Surreal recorded cries of a rooster! It went on a while then stopped. Slowly, slowly I drifted off again.
First thing I saw when I woke in the day light... a shadow behind the curtain... someone outside, trying to look in.They went away and I got up... good and groggy... a ton of shit on my chest... cold nosed, achey. I pulled back the curtain and it all swept in... some immense and dramatic view. During the night the clouds had lifted... exposed the great and rolling mountains... the giant green folds... the descending valley. It made up a bit for all the discomforts.
We packed our things to go and met the proprieter downstairs.
“Another night?” he asked. “One night more?”
“No,” we told him. “Too cold.”
“I have covers!” he cried. “I bring you more covers!”
I told him ‘no’, firmly, and he raised the mushrooms again... pulled us into a room... brought us coffee and talked at us. We showed a general disinterest and vagueness... drank our coffees quickly... it didn’t deter him at all. After pacing out suddenly, he returned with a little jar of mushrooms in honey.
“To go!” He said. “Mushrooms to go!”
Then the little old lady, the ‘boss’, she came in... pulled him aside... to the back of the room. The pair of them returned with four large leaves... heavily laden with fresh grey mushrooms... they set them out on the floor before us.
“For one person!” he said.
We kept trying to tell him... perhaps... later... maybe. He just kept on;
“Dinero! Dinero! You give me dinero!”
So we bought some mushrooms without the ceremony... the fresh ones... he packed them into an empty jar and doused them with honey. Before we left we had to sign the guest book.
“You return!” He said. “In three, four days... you return and we’ll all have coffee...”
“Yes,” I said. “When we return...”
We checked into a hotel near the centre... ‘1st of May’ it was called... some teetering and monstrous block... the black and white checkered floors were folded... the whole thing looked ready to topple. Then we went in search of a certain healer... Ines Rodriguez... her name had been supplied to me by Ben Feinberg... An anthropolgy Professor I’d mailed on the net. Her house was somewhere behind the Casa de la Cultura... we weren’t sure exactly... we asked around by the steps. We found the place and entered via the back door... called out till she answered.
Ines was making props for the coming festivities... the day of the Virgin of Guadalupe, Mexico’s patron saint. She was making little boxes and sacks pinned with icons. We sat down and talked a bit... she showed us her photo in Ben’s latest book. Of all the healers we’d met, Ines had the kindest temperament... there was no pushing for ‘dinero’... no harsh attitude... and so we arranged a ‘ceremonia’ for later that night.
Now a certain diet is required of ritual participants... absination from sex, smoking and alcohol for a period of four days prior and four days after the ceremony. We were clean on that count. In addition, participants are required to fast during the hours of daylight on the actual day of the ritual. Thus deprived of food... a certain degree of oxygen (by virtue of altitude)... we made the ambitious decision to take a good, long hike in the hills. ‘Cerro de Adoracion’ was our destination... a dramatic overlook a few kilometres out of town. The going was hard... something breathless and dizzy. We had to pause frequently... to fill up the lungs or take in the view... great green peaks with low white cloud.... circling vultures over the open spaces. We were approached yet again with an offer of mushrooms... we declined, but allowed him to guide us to our destination... up steep pathways... past the hospital... through an archway dressed with vines. We trudged on with wheezes and sweats... arrived at a simple altar that marked our goal. We took a break to enjoy the spectacular view. Then we hiked all the way back and crashed with our tiredness.
The ceremony was arranged for 9.00pm and at the allotted hour we crept out and over there. Her husband let us in via the back.
“Welcome to my house,” he said.
Ines greeted us then ushered us into the temple... formerly a child’s room... the rear of the space was now occupied by the altar... dressed with white flowers, candles, framed photos, a bottle of sweet wine and paper wrapped bundles. The wall behind was entirely plastered with gaudy icons... shiney depictions of the saviour and saints. Ines set us up in chair facing the altar... then commenced our ritual cleansing... brushing us down in turn with lumps of copal incense... speaking the Holy names... invoking the Spirit. She gave me the incense and I made the sign of the cross... dropped it into a chalice of burning coals. Then she proceeded to bless us with an unlit candle... moving between the stations of the cross... she set them on the altar and lit them up. Finally she brushed us down with flowers and these too were put in place.