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CHAPTER ONE

Dreams hold huge sway in the waking lives of the community. Dreaming of an anaconda means you will meet a very beautiful girl, and if that girl gives you a kiss, you will probably be stung by a wasp. If the girl has light hair and is fair, with almost reddish skin — a colorada, as they say here — you might even hunt a deer, for the deer is colorado too.

One must always try to dream at night to remain safe during the day and to know which way to go. Before going to sleep, Guillermo places an idea in his heart. His dream then reveals everything. Intention matters: before closing his eyes he asks for clarity, so he can remember the dream and receive an answer to whatever question he carries with him to his slumber. Going to bed early also helps.

His ancestors taught him to rise before dawn to interpret his own dreams and those of his family, accompanied by a steaming mug of guayusa tea, before heading out for the day. Once, before going fishing, he dreamt of seeing a strange creature and a fishing net. Since nets signify trouble, Guillermo understood that the canoe’s engine would break down that day. But there were other interpretations of the dream, too: perhaps something would happen at the dock of his destination — the town of Coca — or he might be left stranded mid-river, though such a thing was unlikely for someone with his experience guiding travellers to the lodge.

For him, dreams are compasses.

That day, however, the sun fell gently and the canoe moved with steady purpose. The speed was perfect: fast enough to feel the wind on my face, slow enough to savour the journey. The air was perfectly balanced — neither cold nor hot. The smell of damp wood mingled with the faint smoke of the engine, and the sound of the water slapping against the hull was hypnotic.

Somewhere along that stretch I realised the river was not only carrying me towards a physical destination. It was opening the door to a deeper territory: a world of memories, spirits, and stories that inhabit the forest. And as the wind struck my face, I sensed this was no ordinary crossing. It was the jungle itself, offering me its welcome.

He was still too young to brew chicha, but he could make chucula from ripe plantain and water — a skill he had learnt from his father.

One day, as he was walking through the forest, she fell in love with him: the girl. At first he heard noises, as though someone were walking in wet boots near his house. Slowly, the girl began to climb the stairs. The sound of dripping water, the floorboards groaning under an invisible weight. Step by step, she entered. Like a curious shadow, she explored every corner of the house until she reached Mandi’s room, where he barely had time to hear the hinges creak before falling into a deep, deep sleep. For the anaconda sends you to sleep, so she may meet you in your dreams.

When he awoke, Mandi found a long strand of black hair on his bed. At first he felt fear, then fascination. He – Mandi – told his father, and his mother, who grew concerned and called the elder brother so he could take the hair and show it totheir father.

This angered the anaconda, and that very night she appeared in the elder brother’s dreams, demanding that the hair be returned to its owner if he wished to avoid misfortune.

The hair was returned. But the anaconda was already in lovewith Mandi.

Mandi, however, became engaged to a “natural” girl — as they call human women in the community — and they hada daughter.

The anaconda, jealous, took the child.
The yachos — healers and shamans — were summoned. In rituals that lasted hours, they drank yahé, the sacred brew that opens one’s vision to other realms. They managed to locate the girl, but they couldn’t bring her back.

They say she now lives at the head of Garzacocha Lagoon, in the city of the anacondas. And that after three years, she has already become one of them.

Guillermo tells me that when an anaconda takes you into the water, it is a slow process: first it coils around you to drag you down; then you run out of air; and little by little, you begin to breathe underwater. By that point you have received your powers and may enter that secret city of the swamps, replete with houses, cars, and lampposts.

There, you may choose to live among the anacondas who have turned into people.

They call this Ingaro Supai: the act of becoming a spirit.

Just as some turn into jaguars or anacondas, there are others who long to become demons and live forever. To do so, they take earth from a dark corner of the forest and place it on a newborn’s navel. Two days later, the child dies, and a small creature leaves the body and begins its transformation.

They wait for its skin to harden, and in a fierce gust of wind and rain, the new being is ready to fly.

Those who aspire to the jaguar spirit face two destinies: the jaguar itself, or what they call the “cotton cat”. When such a person dies, something like a sheet of paper lifts away and falls upon the head of the body, and if one looks closely, one will see a pale-furred cat begin to walk away while the body stilllies motionless.

“We still don’t quite know how this reincarnation business works,” Guillermo told me with a smile.