Gotta get back in time…
Here’s a bit more from the tattered journals.
Tales of a Shaman’s Apprentice
Part 2: Flying Death
Na boesi, ingi sabe ala sani.
He was led between several thatched-roof huts to a large open clearing. There was a small group of Kofan women sitting in a corner, whispering among themselves and slicing long sections of bamboo. Two others were seated next to a steaming pot, stirring the contents and adding cassava and spices. The Kofan men who walked with him gestured to the shadows of a large shelter across the clearing. There were two figures inside. One was the Kofan shaman, an old man who was adorned in an elaborate outfit of animal skins and the feathers of birds such as quetzals, macaws, cotingas, and toucans. He was in a crouched position, holding a strange vine and pointing to the leaves as he spoke with a quiet smile on his face. Sitting across from him, placing another specimen of the same plant onto an unfolded sheaf of newspaper, was a middle-aged white man with wire-frame glasses and a pith helmet sitting next to him. He carefully folded the paper over the specimen and placed layers of cardboard and blotting paper on either side. He added this specimen to a plant press and cinched the belts down tight.
The curandero was the first to look up and see him. He smiled and nodded his head as the stranger bowed. Then the stranger turned to the other man, who looked up with a slight frown.
“Dr. Schultes, I presume?”
“Yes, that’s right. Can I help you?”
“I was sent to ascertain your whereabouts and condition. I am pleased to find you in good health.”
“I am surprised that anyone at Harvard would even know where to start looking. I’m sorry you came all this way, but you’ll just have to tell them that I still have work to do here.”
“I was not sent by Harvard, Doctor. I was sent by the Novum Collegium.”
Richard Evans Schultes looked at the stranger with new interest. It would have been hard enough for Harvard to track him down after he had vanished during his sabbatical, but the Invisible College could not have known about it for that long. Still, the reputation of the unusual institution had spread quickly among a certain crowd, and Schultes was aware of its existence.
“How long ago were you sent to find me?”
“I received word from the College of your disappearance four days ago.”
“Four days?!! How in the hell did you find me in four days?”
“Let us say I was in the neighborhood, Dr. Schultes. It was a simple matter of asking the right people the right questions.”
“That’s very impressive, young man. But the fact remains that I have more work to do here. If you don’t mind my asking, what was it that the College wanted of me?”
“I was merely charged with finding you and making certain of your well-being, Doctor. Those of the Novum Collegium concern themselves with a number of exceptional individuals outside of the organization, and your name holds a prominent position on that list. I volunteered for the search due to my own personal interest in your work. Your efforts in the field of ethnobotany and the discovery of unique plant properties in particular have long fascinated me. If you would let me, I would like to volunteer some time in assisting you among the Kofan and perhaps elsewhere. You will find me an apt pupil.”
“And the College? What of your responsibilities to them?”
“My mission ended with finding you. I will send word to them soon enough. But my time is temporarily my own.”
_______________________________________________
The shaman held up a section of liana and presented it to Dr. Schultes. He hissed and put a finger to his lips. Dr. Schultes made a quick note in his fieldbook and turned to his new student.
“Flying death. Do you know this plant?”
“Chondodendron tomentosum. I know it only by reputation. This is the source?”
“Indeed. They will be making a fresh batch in a few minutes. Normally they would not do so in the presence of a stranger but they have grown to trust me and they will make an exception in your case.”
“It is much appreciated. Is this the only source?”
“No. It is probably the most commonly used in this region, but other members of the moonseed family are used throughout the western Amazon. In the eastern regions, solanaceous vines of the genus Strychnos are used, such as toxifera and guianensis. It led to great confusion when explorers tried to identify the plant responsible for the poison. The simple truth is that different tribes used what was available to them in different regions of the forest. Their knowledge should never be underestimated.”
“Sin duda.”
Two Kofan men brought spears into the shelter and stuck them into the ground on either side of a black pot. A large Heliconia leaf was curled into a funnel and suspended between the spears with plant fibers. The curandero approached with the woody vine and a long, curved knife. He chanted softly and sliced long sections of the bark off into the leaf funnel, where they became lodged against the softer material. A Kofan woman with richly detailed patterns of achiote dye on her face approached with a gourd of water and poured it slowly into the funnel. The water ran through the sieve of Chondodendron bark and slowly filled the black pot with a murky liquid. At last the funnel was disassembled and the bark taken away. A fire was lit under the pot and the liquid was slowly stirred. A pouch of grey powder was poureed into the pot and several leaves from different plants were crushed and added.
“Admixtures,” Schultes quietly remarked to his new student. “Different groups use unique combinations of ingredients to strengthen the concoction, but Chondodendron remains the constant and central ingredient. The Kofan prefer the leaves of Piper and various ferns as admixtures. The powder is the crushed fangs of the large viper that lives here. I don’t know the name…”
“Lachesis muta. The bushmaster.”
“You know your animals. Excellent. I’ve never had time for them, myself.” Dr. Schultes gave a short laugh. “At any rate, there is some question as to whether the admixtures have a synergistic effect or are merely ceremonial. Having witnessed variable efficiency among different groups, I am inclined to trust that the Indians are more knowledgeable about these matters than I.”
“So it is possible that the effects can be manipulated with a knowledge of toxicity and biochemical synergy. Adding toxins from a dendrobatid dart frog could produce a range from swift lethality to paralysis, perhaps?”
“It’s entirely possible. If the shamans know of other powerful sources of toxins or understand how different compounds interact, the potential for synergistic effects is great. But these are secrets guarded with great tenacity by the masters of the art. You must approach such a subject with caution, because it is easy for a shaman to take offense if he suspects you are trying to steal the traditional secrets or do not respect the customs. Even the most remote tribes have been exposed to enough Western civilization to distrust strangers. If you hope to continue this type of work, you must practice humility and pay your respects. If your passion for knowledge can be communicated, they will welcome you. Remember this.”
“I will not forget it. Thank you.”
The pot was boiling by this point, and a thick viscous layer had built up on the surface of the liquid. The curandero brought a ladle to the pot and dipped it past the surface layer. He brought it out and inspected it carefully. Then he brought it to his lips and sipped it. Dr. Schultes smiled.
“One of the neat tricks of the trade. The poison is only effective when introduced into the bloodstream, so the material can be drunk without ill effects. I’ve tried it once, and I can tell you it is quite bitter. But harmless.”
“It seems that if it was ingested, there would be some contact between the poison and the bloodstream, however minimal.”
“Yes, that’s probably true. But it is obviously nonlethal, since these shamans do it on a regular basis.”
“Intriguing. If the shamans have discovered a manner in which to introduce minute amounts of it into their bloodstream, isn’t it possible that this could eventually produce immunity.”
“Fantastic! I had not even considered that, but it makes perfect sense. I have heard tales of curanderos who have survived poisoning, but I always attributed it to the artificial respiration phenomenon.”
“Artificial respiration?”
“Yes. It may be possible to resurrect a victim of poisoning through artificial respiration. It all depends on the toxicity of the solution, naturally. Sometimes there is no hope. Unless, as you say, someone can achieve complete immunity. That would be very interesting.”
“Yes. Muy interesante.”
“In several days, I will be traveling south to visit the Shuar in Ecuador. Their use of yage, or ayahuasca, and their practice of head-shrinking has not been well-documented. If you like, you are welcome to accompany me. You have proven a bright student.”
“I appreciate the offer, Doctor. I must depart soon to fulfill certain duties, but I would like to meet you there. In two weeks, perhaps we may meet again.”
“I look forward to it. You might also meet one of my students there. His name is Wade Davis. At any rate, we will be staying with the northernmost clan, on the banks of the Rio Curaray.”
“Excelente.”
He watched the Kofan men come forward and dip blowgun darts and long feathered arrows into the viscous layer. They would let the sticky resin-like substance dry overnight, and then it would be ready.
A smile spread across his face.
_______________________________________________
“How did your vacation go? Any adventures?” Peter Lahan was all smiles and questions when they met in a small town in the lower Choco, where he had been gearing up for his final trip into the forest.
“Oh, it was pretty cool. I spent most of the time in Cuzco. Went to Machu Picchu once. It was fun to stay in a nice hotel for a while.”
“Christ, Spike.” Somewhere along the line, the nickname had stuck. “You’re telling me you hung out in a damn tourist trap the whole time? You had the chance to do some cool shit, and you wasted it. That’s pretty sad.”
“I just wanted a break, Pete. This fieldwork is adventure enough for me. Besides, both the girls and the showers were hot. What more could I want?”
“Alright, alright. I’m glad you had the chance to relax.” Peter Lahan turned and gestured at the gear piled behind him. “Well, I’ve got one more trip if you want to come along. I’ll wrap up the fieldwork in three weeks and then I have to head back to start writing all this shit up for my dissertation. You’re almost done with your undergrad, right? How much work do you have left?”
“Not too much. A few revisions on my thesis, and it will be set. I’ll graduate in May.”
“Sure. No problem. Just as long as your committee doesn’t rip you apart.” Pete laughed loudly. “I’ve heard some horror stories about thesis defense exams at some schools. I don’t know about yours, but some places really put you through the ringer.”
“We do things a little differently. The structure there is… unusual. But I’m sure my Bacc exam will be a walk in the park.”
“If you say so. Hey, there’s a pickup coming in an hour. It’s a five-hour ride south, and then we hike through tomorrow. There’s some gear for you, and if you want to risk it, there’s a lockbox for your valuables here at the hotel.”
“I will carry what I have. I can stay for 10 days, and then I head out to the south to fly back. I won’t be returning here.”
“You know, you don’t need to come along if you don’t want. I don’t know if we’ll find any more of your plants, and it sounds like you’re pretty much done with everything. You helped out enough while we were in Panama, and you’ll get the credit.”
“Actually, I would very much like to help out with your project here.”
“Really? I didn’t know you would be interested in amphibian genetics and color morphology. You always seemed more interested in ecological questions.”
“What can I say? I’m fascinated by the coloration of the frogs you study here. They make great photo subjects. What are they called again? Derbatids?”
“Dendrobatids. Their bright coloration is aposematic. They’re like little warning flags. Their skin is toxic, and they advertise it so that predators will stay away. They’re called poison dart frogs because the toxins of certain species are used by indigenous tribes to anoint their hunting weapons.”
“I had no idea.” The look of surprise was convincing enough. “Are they dangerous to us?”
“Not usually. I wouldn’t eat them, but they’re not deadly to the touch. Except for one. If we come across it, I can’t let you handle it. I have special gloves specifically for it.”
“Wow. Which species is that?”
“Phyllobates terribilis. Their dermal toxins are so strong that a blowgun dart can be made deadly merely by scraping it along the animal’s back. It’s incredibly concentrated.”
“Can you spell the name for me? I’m pretty bad with Latin names.” Pete laughed again and obliged.
“You’re always curious, aren’t you Spike?” He glanced back to his gear and missed the hard, penetrating stare.
“Always.”
This could get interesting.
Tales of a Shaman’s Apprentice
Part 2: Flying Death
Na boesi, ingi sabe ala sani.
He was led between several thatched-roof huts to a large open clearing. There was a small group of Kofan women sitting in a corner, whispering among themselves and slicing long sections of bamboo. Two others were seated next to a steaming pot, stirring the contents and adding cassava and spices. The Kofan men who walked with him gestured to the shadows of a large shelter across the clearing. There were two figures inside. One was the Kofan shaman, an old man who was adorned in an elaborate outfit of animal skins and the feathers of birds such as quetzals, macaws, cotingas, and toucans. He was in a crouched position, holding a strange vine and pointing to the leaves as he spoke with a quiet smile on his face. Sitting across from him, placing another specimen of the same plant onto an unfolded sheaf of newspaper, was a middle-aged white man with wire-frame glasses and a pith helmet sitting next to him. He carefully folded the paper over the specimen and placed layers of cardboard and blotting paper on either side. He added this specimen to a plant press and cinched the belts down tight.
The curandero was the first to look up and see him. He smiled and nodded his head as the stranger bowed. Then the stranger turned to the other man, who looked up with a slight frown.
“Dr. Schultes, I presume?”
“Yes, that’s right. Can I help you?”
“I was sent to ascertain your whereabouts and condition. I am pleased to find you in good health.”
“I am surprised that anyone at Harvard would even know where to start looking. I’m sorry you came all this way, but you’ll just have to tell them that I still have work to do here.”
“I was not sent by Harvard, Doctor. I was sent by the Novum Collegium.”
Richard Evans Schultes looked at the stranger with new interest. It would have been hard enough for Harvard to track him down after he had vanished during his sabbatical, but the Invisible College could not have known about it for that long. Still, the reputation of the unusual institution had spread quickly among a certain crowd, and Schultes was aware of its existence.
“How long ago were you sent to find me?”
“I received word from the College of your disappearance four days ago.”
“Four days?!! How in the hell did you find me in four days?”
“Let us say I was in the neighborhood, Dr. Schultes. It was a simple matter of asking the right people the right questions.”
“That’s very impressive, young man. But the fact remains that I have more work to do here. If you don’t mind my asking, what was it that the College wanted of me?”
“I was merely charged with finding you and making certain of your well-being, Doctor. Those of the Novum Collegium concern themselves with a number of exceptional individuals outside of the organization, and your name holds a prominent position on that list. I volunteered for the search due to my own personal interest in your work. Your efforts in the field of ethnobotany and the discovery of unique plant properties in particular have long fascinated me. If you would let me, I would like to volunteer some time in assisting you among the Kofan and perhaps elsewhere. You will find me an apt pupil.”
“And the College? What of your responsibilities to them?”
“My mission ended with finding you. I will send word to them soon enough. But my time is temporarily my own.”
_______________________________________________
The shaman held up a section of liana and presented it to Dr. Schultes. He hissed and put a finger to his lips. Dr. Schultes made a quick note in his fieldbook and turned to his new student.
“Flying death. Do you know this plant?”
“Chondodendron tomentosum. I know it only by reputation. This is the source?”
“Indeed. They will be making a fresh batch in a few minutes. Normally they would not do so in the presence of a stranger but they have grown to trust me and they will make an exception in your case.”
“It is much appreciated. Is this the only source?”
“No. It is probably the most commonly used in this region, but other members of the moonseed family are used throughout the western Amazon. In the eastern regions, solanaceous vines of the genus Strychnos are used, such as toxifera and guianensis. It led to great confusion when explorers tried to identify the plant responsible for the poison. The simple truth is that different tribes used what was available to them in different regions of the forest. Their knowledge should never be underestimated.”
“Sin duda.”
Two Kofan men brought spears into the shelter and stuck them into the ground on either side of a black pot. A large Heliconia leaf was curled into a funnel and suspended between the spears with plant fibers. The curandero approached with the woody vine and a long, curved knife. He chanted softly and sliced long sections of the bark off into the leaf funnel, where they became lodged against the softer material. A Kofan woman with richly detailed patterns of achiote dye on her face approached with a gourd of water and poured it slowly into the funnel. The water ran through the sieve of Chondodendron bark and slowly filled the black pot with a murky liquid. At last the funnel was disassembled and the bark taken away. A fire was lit under the pot and the liquid was slowly stirred. A pouch of grey powder was poureed into the pot and several leaves from different plants were crushed and added.
“Admixtures,” Schultes quietly remarked to his new student. “Different groups use unique combinations of ingredients to strengthen the concoction, but Chondodendron remains the constant and central ingredient. The Kofan prefer the leaves of Piper and various ferns as admixtures. The powder is the crushed fangs of the large viper that lives here. I don’t know the name…”
“Lachesis muta. The bushmaster.”
“You know your animals. Excellent. I’ve never had time for them, myself.” Dr. Schultes gave a short laugh. “At any rate, there is some question as to whether the admixtures have a synergistic effect or are merely ceremonial. Having witnessed variable efficiency among different groups, I am inclined to trust that the Indians are more knowledgeable about these matters than I.”
“So it is possible that the effects can be manipulated with a knowledge of toxicity and biochemical synergy. Adding toxins from a dendrobatid dart frog could produce a range from swift lethality to paralysis, perhaps?”
“It’s entirely possible. If the shamans know of other powerful sources of toxins or understand how different compounds interact, the potential for synergistic effects is great. But these are secrets guarded with great tenacity by the masters of the art. You must approach such a subject with caution, because it is easy for a shaman to take offense if he suspects you are trying to steal the traditional secrets or do not respect the customs. Even the most remote tribes have been exposed to enough Western civilization to distrust strangers. If you hope to continue this type of work, you must practice humility and pay your respects. If your passion for knowledge can be communicated, they will welcome you. Remember this.”
“I will not forget it. Thank you.”
The pot was boiling by this point, and a thick viscous layer had built up on the surface of the liquid. The curandero brought a ladle to the pot and dipped it past the surface layer. He brought it out and inspected it carefully. Then he brought it to his lips and sipped it. Dr. Schultes smiled.
“One of the neat tricks of the trade. The poison is only effective when introduced into the bloodstream, so the material can be drunk without ill effects. I’ve tried it once, and I can tell you it is quite bitter. But harmless.”
“It seems that if it was ingested, there would be some contact between the poison and the bloodstream, however minimal.”
“Yes, that’s probably true. But it is obviously nonlethal, since these shamans do it on a regular basis.”
“Intriguing. If the shamans have discovered a manner in which to introduce minute amounts of it into their bloodstream, isn’t it possible that this could eventually produce immunity.”
“Fantastic! I had not even considered that, but it makes perfect sense. I have heard tales of curanderos who have survived poisoning, but I always attributed it to the artificial respiration phenomenon.”
“Artificial respiration?”
“Yes. It may be possible to resurrect a victim of poisoning through artificial respiration. It all depends on the toxicity of the solution, naturally. Sometimes there is no hope. Unless, as you say, someone can achieve complete immunity. That would be very interesting.”
“Yes. Muy interesante.”
“In several days, I will be traveling south to visit the Shuar in Ecuador. Their use of yage, or ayahuasca, and their practice of head-shrinking has not been well-documented. If you like, you are welcome to accompany me. You have proven a bright student.”
“I appreciate the offer, Doctor. I must depart soon to fulfill certain duties, but I would like to meet you there. In two weeks, perhaps we may meet again.”
“I look forward to it. You might also meet one of my students there. His name is Wade Davis. At any rate, we will be staying with the northernmost clan, on the banks of the Rio Curaray.”
“Excelente.”
He watched the Kofan men come forward and dip blowgun darts and long feathered arrows into the viscous layer. They would let the sticky resin-like substance dry overnight, and then it would be ready.
A smile spread across his face.
_______________________________________________
“How did your vacation go? Any adventures?” Peter Lahan was all smiles and questions when they met in a small town in the lower Choco, where he had been gearing up for his final trip into the forest.
“Oh, it was pretty cool. I spent most of the time in Cuzco. Went to Machu Picchu once. It was fun to stay in a nice hotel for a while.”
“Christ, Spike.” Somewhere along the line, the nickname had stuck. “You’re telling me you hung out in a damn tourist trap the whole time? You had the chance to do some cool shit, and you wasted it. That’s pretty sad.”
“I just wanted a break, Pete. This fieldwork is adventure enough for me. Besides, both the girls and the showers were hot. What more could I want?”
“Alright, alright. I’m glad you had the chance to relax.” Peter Lahan turned and gestured at the gear piled behind him. “Well, I’ve got one more trip if you want to come along. I’ll wrap up the fieldwork in three weeks and then I have to head back to start writing all this shit up for my dissertation. You’re almost done with your undergrad, right? How much work do you have left?”
“Not too much. A few revisions on my thesis, and it will be set. I’ll graduate in May.”
“Sure. No problem. Just as long as your committee doesn’t rip you apart.” Pete laughed loudly. “I’ve heard some horror stories about thesis defense exams at some schools. I don’t know about yours, but some places really put you through the ringer.”
“We do things a little differently. The structure there is… unusual. But I’m sure my Bacc exam will be a walk in the park.”
“If you say so. Hey, there’s a pickup coming in an hour. It’s a five-hour ride south, and then we hike through tomorrow. There’s some gear for you, and if you want to risk it, there’s a lockbox for your valuables here at the hotel.”
“I will carry what I have. I can stay for 10 days, and then I head out to the south to fly back. I won’t be returning here.”
“You know, you don’t need to come along if you don’t want. I don’t know if we’ll find any more of your plants, and it sounds like you’re pretty much done with everything. You helped out enough while we were in Panama, and you’ll get the credit.”
“Actually, I would very much like to help out with your project here.”
“Really? I didn’t know you would be interested in amphibian genetics and color morphology. You always seemed more interested in ecological questions.”
“What can I say? I’m fascinated by the coloration of the frogs you study here. They make great photo subjects. What are they called again? Derbatids?”
“Dendrobatids. Their bright coloration is aposematic. They’re like little warning flags. Their skin is toxic, and they advertise it so that predators will stay away. They’re called poison dart frogs because the toxins of certain species are used by indigenous tribes to anoint their hunting weapons.”
“I had no idea.” The look of surprise was convincing enough. “Are they dangerous to us?”
“Not usually. I wouldn’t eat them, but they’re not deadly to the touch. Except for one. If we come across it, I can’t let you handle it. I have special gloves specifically for it.”
“Wow. Which species is that?”
“Phyllobates terribilis. Their dermal toxins are so strong that a blowgun dart can be made deadly merely by scraping it along the animal’s back. It’s incredibly concentrated.”
“Can you spell the name for me? I’m pretty bad with Latin names.” Pete laughed again and obliged.
“You’re always curious, aren’t you Spike?” He glanced back to his gear and missed the hard, penetrating stare.
“Always.”
This could get interesting.