Chapter 10: SHAMAN
“Mama”
That is Alois calling for me. I am asleep in the front seat as Matthew drives us to Canta. This is where we will meet father Baldomero’s friend, Danilo Quispe. Angelica is fast asleep. But of course, Alois is wide awake. It amazes me that these two could be twins, yet be so different from one another. Maybe that is where recessive genes come in.
“What’s up Alois?” I asked, a little more casually than I usually would due to my eyes wanting to stay shut.
“Is everything okay?” Alois asked with the upmost innocence.
My heart sinks as I feel low. Exceptionally low. All this time I have been worrying about myself and my past. And here I am, breaking the rules of engagement when it comes to being a parent. Your kids are supposed to be the number ones in your life. Granted the balance is hard, but I should be doing so much better. It has become sadly obvious with Alois’s question.
“Yes. Of course everything is okay. Why do you ask?”
“Umm, well. I guess you have been different.”
It amazes me everyday how observant these children are. Whenever I believe that they are off, blissfully unaware of what is going on, out of nowhere comes the hard questions. Questions that I have lowkey been looking to avoid. It was a good thing in a lot of ways. It helps me to get a better understanding on how I am. Or more like, who I am becoming.
“Different?” I asked succinctly. “In what ways am I different?”
“You seem sadder to me.” Alois answered, trailing off at the end.
Everything has been moving so fast that I have not had time to recognize what my feelings are. Sad seems to be too strong of a word to be use to describe my current emotional state. Melancholy seems more appropriate to me. While things were a bit intense; I do not feel like I have any real reason to be deep into sadness. But children don’t lie about these things.
“Things have been a little hectic for me lately. And it’s only beginning. I’m sorry Alois. I haven’t been paying attention to you and Angelica. You two don’t deserve this. If you want, you can stay with your aunt Helena.”
“No!” Alois shouted, starling poor Matthew and waking up his sister.
“What happened?” Angelica asked, giving me more than I wanted to handle
at this hour.
“It’s okay sweetie.” I said, doing my best to reassure her. “Go back to sleep.”
Angelica looks at me with the kind of suspicious eyes that only a child can give you before she went back to sleep. My efforts do not seem to matter, my children could sense that change is in the air and they wanted answers. Who could blame them? I am all that they have. In a way, they have no choice but to inquire about my happenings for the sake of their own livelihoods.
“I don’t want to stay with aunt Helena.” Alois responded as soon as he was sure that Angelica was asleep.
“I know, but honey, we’re going to go to the Amazon…”
“I’ve always wanted to go!”
“I know, but the problem is that…well…I don’t know what is going to happen. And that…scares me. And if I am scared then I cannot do my job. And my job is to make sure that you and Angelica are safe.”
“Don’t worry mom. I will keep you safe.”
Having to turn my head away to not allow Alois to see me I softly cry into the palm of my hands. What a beautiful gesture from a little boy. A little boy who does not deserve to be in such a compromising position as this. The terrible deal about this was that I am putting them through it right after explaining to Alois that it is my job to make sure that he and Angelica are safe, I am beginning to realize that I am more or less putting them in harm’s way. Albeit blindly, which is even worse.
“Mommy, don’t cry.” Alois said as Matthew handed me an handkerchief.
“It’s okay.” I said, doing a poor job of wiping away the tears from my eyes and cheeks. “Sometimes, it’s good to cry.”
“It’s good to cry?”
“Absolutely. In life, so many things are going to happen. Good, bad, and ugly. Sometimes, it is way too much to keep inside. So, you have to cry to let it all out. Once you do that, you will usually feel better.”
“I thought that grownups aren’t supposed to cry?”
“The people who said that were people with tears who had dried out. I feel bad for those people.”
“Did Dad ever cry?”
“Yeah, he did.”
“When?”
“When he left us. He knew that he made the biggest mistake of his life and that he was going to regret forever. I feel bad for him too.”
“Do you think that he feels bad for us?”
The sensitivity that Alois has always takes me aback. Notwithstanding Angelica’s adventures with her introduction in womanhood, Alois tends to be more emotionally expressive than her. Not having his father around has caused him to lean more into his feeling side than most of the boys around him. It is only recently that he was pushing to be a “big boy”. Personally, I love his crybabyesque persona.
“You know what? He doesn’t need to feel bad for us. And I bet he knows that too. And you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because he knows that you are the man of the house. So, you’re a lot better of a job than he could ever do.”
“Is that really true?”
“It might be the truest thing that I know.”
“We’re here.” Matthew said.
We stop right in front a quaint home. It’s an interesting look. Spanish tile roof, blue paint with black windows. I would have not chosen that design. But then again, I do not have to live there. His front yard is also unique. There is this tree that’s bark resembles that of the tree of life. Growing from the tree were these red prickly looking flowers.
Getting out of the car, I pick up Angelica, passed out at this point and walk forward with Alois and Matthew to the front door. I am nervous about meeting this Danilo fellow. I have never enjoyed doing these out of my comfort zone. That included meeting strangers who knew how to get through the amazon. I am afraid that something weirder is going to happen and I don’t know how much weird that I can take in.
Before we even reach the door, it swings open. A man dressed in a brown shirt made from a rough material, kakis, flip flops, and a wooden pipe that is emitting a distinguished smell appears. He is a strange, yet good looking man with blue eyes and a serious look. He is in good shape comes off as someone who is extremely in himself. Sure enough, this is Danilo Quispe, in the flesh.
“Father Baldomero’s people?” Danilo inquired.
“Nice to meet you sir.” Matthew greeted Danilo with his normal charm.
“Name’s Matthew. We already know who you are.”
“Father Baldomero has been talking me up huh?”
“I’ll leave it at I know that we are in good hands.”
“Is that the Fiorella?” Danilo asked, looking directly at me.
“Hi.” I said, sounding like a little schoolgirl.
“Please, all of you, come in.”
Sitting in Danilo’s living room, I look around and am amazed by the amount of space. I always have known that to be a guy thing to not fill their homes with different things. But Danilo’s home is taking that stereotype two steps forward. He has a fish tank that had sharks and a different array of fish swarming around in the ecosystem that he had built. Outside of that, not much if anything. The
walls are white and blank minus a painting of Machu Picchu. He has a coffee table in the middle of the room with a coffee book of different landscapes. Three couches, no television.
“Hope the trip was not too bad.” Danilo said, bringing in a tray of tea. Once he set it down I grabbed myself a glass and was shocked. Vanilla Chai tea. I taste nutmeg, agave and a hint of coco. For Alois and Angelica, he has two cups of warm chocolate milk. He is already making my job a whole lot easier.
“It was long for sure.” Matthew acknowledged. “But, glad to be here.”
“Father filled me in quite a bit. However, I do still have some questions. Fiorella, how much do you know about your family history?”
“I know that they originated from Spain. That’s about it.”
“Did you and your mom ever have an “sensitive” talks about anything outside of your physical development?”
“No, not really. Mother was not one to really talk about anything serious like that with me. Even explaining sex was a challenge for her.”
“I see.” Danilo said, moving into a brooding like pose.
“What do you think about that demon that resides within her?” Matthew asked.
“You mean Amy?” Danilo asked, nonchalantly as anyone could speak about Demons. “The Demon Amy is a Fallen Angel and 58th of the 72 Spirits of Solomon. Prior to her fall, Amy was a member of the angelic order of powers. She supposedly is a leader, some might even say a president in Hell, where she governs 36 Legions of Demons. She possesses perfect knowledge of the liberal
sciences and astrology. She gives good Familiars. When in the physical, she presents herself first as a huge flaming fire and then as a human. She androgynous in nature and only appears as a particular sex to fit the beliefs ofwhoever her host is.”
“Hmmm.” Matthew responded with, taking a sip of his tea before continuing. “Why do you think that she has been residing within Fiorella?”
“Without proper knowledge of her history and how it connects to Demons, Amy was passed on from her mother.”
I begin to feel frozen as I watch the two of them discuss what is wrong with me as though I am a car or a knocked-out patient in surgery. What is most concerning to me was the idea of mother purposely inflicting all of this on me. Maybe there was a good reason for it. But for now, it’s causing so much unwanted chaos.
“Fiorella.” Danilo directed to me. “What is it that you do for a living?”
“I am a personal trainer.”
“How did you become one?”
“I have been practicing kung fu since I was eight. I first got certified to teach self-defense classes at the gym. Then, one day the general manager of the gym came up to me and told me that the noise that our class made was scaring off potential male members from joining the gym. We had to tone it that. So that mean that we had to tone our fighting down. It just wasn’t as engaging afterwards. I then decided to get certified and became a personal trainer.”
Danilo begins to look at me. Not in a perverted way. But in the way that a doctor would look at his patient. He is an interesting fellow. Not quite an eccentric type. Yet not someone who fits in with the rest. I mean, I don’t think that you can fit in with the rest and do what he does anyway.
“Sounds about right.” Danilo said. “You are toned, yet have a good amount of muscle. Your body is overall balanced. Perfect host for someone like Amy.”
“Why though?” I asked, running out of patient.
“Because you are an optimal channel for her to flow in and through. She must like your genetic makeup as if she were with your mother there was a good source for her to be able to project herself onto the world. In a way, you are her catalyst for whatever she chooses to let loose out within our society.”
While I am still managing to listen to him, I feel myself being lost to a feeling of that felt like I was not in my body. What is being told to me sounds like some contrived story. I still don’t understand what is so special about mother and I that a demon had to choose us to impose her will. The more that I think about it, the more it does not make any sense to me. Why was I “gifted”?
“Okay then. Does that mean that we have to go into the Amazon?”
“Ha.” Danilo said with a smirk, the first crack in his detached armor that he hinted at. “What did father tell you?”
“He told me that the Yanomani tribe are the only group in Peru who were, well, “equipped” to handle this. He seemed to be pointing to go straight to the experts.”
Danilo sits there for what feels like an hour. It was probably on 45 seconds. Still, the way that he stares down towards the ground in deep contemplation forces time to slow down way too significantly. When he turns his head, his eyes have this feeling of a realization that had spontaneously been reached and it might not be exactly what I am looking for.
“I have been working with the Yanomani tribe for a long time now. I first went there in 1992, right after the gold rush genocide. I was there working with the locals on healing the emotional wounds that had been incurred through their unnecessary suffering. It was a terrible time at the beginning. In 1993, a group of miners entered the village of Haximú and murdered 16 Yanomami including a
baby. Once news spread a national and international outcry poured out. A Brazilian court found five miners guilty of genocide. Two are serving jail sentences whilst the others managed to escape. This is one of the few cases in history anywhere in the world where a court has convicted people of genocide. Sadly, the gold mining invasion of Yanomami land remains a problem. The situation in Venezuela is profoundly serious, and Yanomami have been poisoned and exposed to violent attacks for several years. The authorities have done little to resolve these problems. Indians in Brazil still do not have proper ownership rights over their land – the government refuses to recognize tribal land ownership, despite having signed the international law, ILO Convention 169 guaranteeing it. Moreover, many figures within the Brazilian government would like to see the Yanomami area reduced in size and open up to mining, ranching and colonization. However, to make things even worse, the Brazilian army has built barracks in the Yanomami heartlands, which has yet again increased tensions. Soldiers have prostituted Yanomami women, some of whom have been infected with sexually transmitted diseases. Since then, I have been in and out of the Amazon and working with the Yanomani tribe on rebuilding. We have been able to build 400 Yanos, round homes for their families to live in. Their communities actually practice being communal as there are few cheifs, and everything is decided to be a genuine popular vote. Each specific tribe operates completely on its own. Like most Amazonian tribes, tasks are divided between the sexes. Men hunt for game like peccary, tapir, deer, and monkey, and often use curare (a plant extract) to poison their prey. The hunters do not eat the meat that they kill. They instead bring it for their friends and family. Then when another hunter brings in a kill, he indulges. The women tend the gardens. Usually they will grow around 60 crops which account for about 80% of their food. They also collect nuts, shellfish and insect larvae. Wild honey is highly prized and the Yanomami harvest 15 different kinds. I aided them in
differentiating which fish are poisonous and which ones are okay to eat. We built up their botanical knowledge and began to use about 500 plants for food, medicine, house building and other artefacts. At this point, they are a well-oiled machine.”
I first look at my kids, who are locked into Danilo. Hanging onto his every word. It’s like the best history lesson ever for them. Looking at Matthew, as he would be the only person outside of course Danilo to understand what was going on, heaviness is reigning over me. Here I am, self-absorbed. Only focusing on how this could affect me. With the big picture being slammed into our faces, I ca
see that my part in it was one that is going to have an effect on the entire world. And while that feels weird to say. It also in a weird way, feels…like the truth.
“So then, you are a Shaman?” Matthew asked, taking a sip of his green tea.
“It depends what you mean by Shaman.”
“Someone who forgoes the physical for the mystic.”
“That may be an aspiration of me.” Danilo began as he took a sip of his own green tea. “But the reality is that I am more metaphysical if anything. Naturally, I lean towards a rational point of view. Whenever I dive into anything esoteric, I cannot help but to question it. Even if I believe it to be true. My preference is to be somewhere in the middle.”
“I get it.” Matthew said, caressing his chin. “Have you ever done Yakoana?”
“When in Roman, do as the Romans do.”
“What is that?” I asked, interrupting their intellectual head-butting contest.
“It is an extremely strong psychedelic.” Danilo began to inform me. “It comes in the form of snuff most of the time. It allows you to communicate with different spirits and entities. It is a great tool for achieving spiritual enlightenment.”
“Oh, okay. I get it.”
“We should be leaving within the hour.” Danilo informed us. We’ll be able to meet with a tribe that I’ve worked with by daybreak.”
“So soon?” Matthew asked.
“What? You want some rest? I’ll drive if you need me to. I am only figuring thatthis young lady and her two young children would like to get going with all this. Am I right?”
Matthew looks at us and then turns to Danilo before smiling. The two of them are already developing a bit of a peculiar dynamic. Both have strong egos. Though, Danilo’s is different. His is not the typical “male dominance” ego. It’s more about him be so sure of himself to the point that he feels and sees no need to appease you. His words are meant to communicate facts and only facts. He
is savage.
“Okay.” Matthew answered, revealing a smirk on his face. “You can drive.”
Danilo is in the driver’s seat with Matthew already knocked out in the front passenger’s seat. I’m with Alois and Angelica; both are on cloud nine at this point. Without a word, Danilo starts the car, pulls out and drove away. He is not one for small talk. Once he understood what the situation was, he is ready to get things going. I really respect that.
Driving down the dark road, Danilo is making head way towards the Amazon. His eyes, so focused on the road as he turns left to get onto a country road that is also dark. His experience level is out of this world. He is what mother would call a “bush man”. Someone who is at home in the elements.
“Mr.Quispe.” I said. “You mentioned Venezuela and Brazil. Where exactly are we going?”
“We’re going to stay in Brazil. There is a tribe about two hours out that has been around for years. No need for that kind of road trip. Though, I adore Brazilian food. I sure could use a place with
Brazilian Coca Cola. Delicious.”
“I like Inca Kola myself.”
“You teach Kung Fu, correct?”
“Yes, that is correct?”
“Why did you not learn something like Brazilian Jujitsu? Something closer to home?”
“You just said it.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is too close to home. I have always felt the ego around Brazilian Jujitsu. Everyone feels as though it is swifter and more accurate than Kung Fu. But I have always disagreed with that assertion. Kung Fu is grounded in thousands of years of rich Chinese and Japanese history. There is a reason that it has such amazing staying power outside of Jackie Chan movies. It is the ultimate form of fighting in an artistic form. Not this M.M.A style fighting that we get bombarded with.”
Without realizing it I have went off on a tangent. I only noticed this when I stopped and heard crickets as Danilo continues to drive. He is probably going through his head how crazy this lady is and how sorry he already is for getting roped into this.
“You are very passionate.” Danilo commented. “That’s good. Always nice to have a fire in one’s belly. That will see you and your children through anything that’s thrown your way.”
“That sounds nice. I don’t know if that descriptions fits what I’ve been able to do. But, thank you.”
“You’re here now aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“So that means that you are doing something right.”
“What would that something be?”
“You have agency. Whatever the case may be, you are taking action. You are not sitting idle, watching life pass you by and take you by the horn at the same time. You are doing what you can do about it. Even if the consequences are not desirable.”
Danilo is one who likes to drop the hammer. Everything that he says carries some weight to it. Never an “easy going” or “light” moment with him. Not yet anyway. The more I think about him, the more of a mysterious figure he becomes to me. For someone who is not very trusting, look at me, sitting in the backseat as a man who I met within the hour driving us to the Amazon. My kids,
in tow. You can make the argument that Danilo is a very trustworthy person. Or I am not as diligent of a mother as I should be. More than likely, it was a bit of both.
“I see.” Is all I can say.
“I know, sounds like a crock of shit, especially right now. “Who the hell is this guy?” It was like he could read my mind. “I will say though, I have been around the block a few times. I have seen a great many people who had poor character. And I have seen only a handful of those who had good character. You are a part of that handful. A very, very small handful.”
Danilo turns his heead as he tells me that. It is the nicest compliment that anyone has ever given me in my whole life. If his goal is to gas me up, it is working like a charm. And I did not mind being charmed. Even then, I sense this honesty that was in every word that Mr. Quispe allows to flow through his mouth. Everything rings as precious.
“I don’t understand. What is it about me that makes you so sure that this is true? I mean, there has never been anyone else who has ever said that to me. There has never been anyone else who has seen that kind of potential in me. Why me? Why now?”
“Therein lies the problem. You are listening to people who are ignorant.”
“Huh?”
“They are ignorant. Plain and simple. If they were not, then they would not be making you doubt yourself so much. I’m sure that some of these people mean well, but their own psychological hang ups get in the way and well, hurting people hurt people. I am sure that you have heard of that saying before.”
“Yeah, I have.”
“So, do not pay any of that any mind anymore. It is all bullshit. From this day forward, none of all nonsense applies to you. You are now living the rest of your life the way you were meant to live it. Which is the way that you want to live it.”
“The way that I want to live it?”
“Yup. So, you better embrace it.”
The sad thing is, I don’t know if I’ve ever embraced my life.
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