5. Jungle Ceilidh

Around seven I started pestering Josh to get ready for the party at Astrid's.  "What's the rush, lets grab a beer at Cori's Chicken".   "No there's going to be food there", "I want greasy chicken, pollo a la brasa, not all that vegan shit" mock-laughed Josh.  I said "John is on BBQ duty, there's going to be some meat".  "I want to break bread with people, so to speak, and bond with the group, rather than be the vultures that swoop in later for the booze and the leftover women".  A couple physical finger pokes in the gut later, Josh was showering up, as I checked my pockets, phone, room key,

After the usual bumpy mototaxi ride out to Laguna Negra, a rural neighbourhood on the outskirts of Iquitos on the edge of a beautiful jungle lagoon.  The cooler temperature and wind in our faces from the velocity of our revving moto-scooter taxi was a pleasant respite from the heat of the day, and we soon arrived at Astrid's place.  As we got to the door of her house, mellow glitchy melodic electronic music could be heard not too loudly as well as the light buzz of friendly conversation, coming from inside.  John greeted us with a hand slap and half hug as we came inside.  We cracked our beers, and conversed about the past days events.  Josh headed outside into the backyard, and I brought up the topic of Rory's imminent departure upriver.  John's tone sobered some. "I'm a little worried about her you know".  "Tehuaca Huamachi, who goes by Tete, is who she's going to study under.  He's a near legendary shaman but some say he's not such a decent guy.  He's smooth talking, and highly intelligent.  He was taught by missionaries who were the first foreigners to arrive to his village in the LOWER HUALLAGA in the late 60's, and he speaks perfect English.  Those missionaries were later massacred by natives in the same area.  Some say they did not want to give up some of their darker practices." "What have you heard I asked", already feeling concerned for someone who I hardly knew.  "Well that he pays special attention to the attractive young foreign girls who go to ceremony with him.  Some suspect worse when they are not their normal conscious self. Nothing's been proven however.  To his friends and supporters in the shamanic community who look up to him, he's a legend, and they counter these tales saying that those who say these things are just haters and envious.  I think he's a little dodgy myself.  "Rory's going along with a french girl too, and will stay with his female relatives in the village, so she's adamant she'll be fine."  Just then, Rory appeared with a bright smile placed her hand on my arm exclaiming,  "I'm so glad you made it, talk to you in a bit" and then fluttered off high on the buzz of the social gathering and ocasion".  

I headed out the back sliding doorway and saw a few clustering of people; 5 or so around a small bonfire, where the jungle grass yard sloped down towards the river, a few including Josh around concrete cylinder charcoal grill, and a local looking guy chatting up a "gringa", the Peruvian slang for any westerner, about midway down the yard.  I hi and smiled passing the couple and headed to the grill where  Josh was swinging his arms wide in his typical fashion when relaying a story.  This time it was the topic of his Russian-English language exchange to Moscow in the nineties in the initial euphoric times when the Soviet Union opened up to private enterprise, foreign investment, and gave previously unknown freedoms to its population.   It was one of his many stories I'd heard before, this one from the legendary Red October bar, when a newly rich former communist or former KGB official who'd wrestled off some former state asset, announced free drinks on him until close.  Semi naked bartenders pouring vodka down patron's throats from atop bar stools, as torches blasted into the air to pounding electronic dance music.  Josh said he left with an attractive Russian babe on his arm, until he puked in a snowbank, and his entourage let out a guffaw.  The next hour or so,  I made the social rounds around the yard, thoroughly enjoying the chicken, sausage, roast veggies, beer and wine.  In the back of my mind in hopeful anticipation of getting to know Rory better before she departed.  She was the guest of honour, and a lovely one at that, so was constantly being engaged in conversation, but a smile or two from her had spiked my endorphins and let me know that she had'nt forgot me.  Or perhaps that was my wishful thinking and she was just being polite when she caught me looking. 

Feeling like a social breather, I headed down to the river by myself finding the large twisty roots of a tropical tree to take in a contemplative moment.  The pronounced symphony of insect calls eclipsed the sound of music and chatter from the gathering.  I guessed cicadas or crickets, but realized it could be emanating any unknown variety of critter in a jungle such as this.  I was high largely just from being in this raw, alive, place, and from being among these kindred spirits; grateful for the adventure I was living.  It was then that Aurora unexpectedly slipped up beside me.  "Coincidence finding you here", she warmly proclaimed with a smile that shun through the shadowy night. "Yeah, well, I just wanted to grab a quiet moment, and take everything into perspective".  "Really important for your wellness, ensuring your on your genuine path" she commented.  "If only I could be sure" I chuckled, making light of the uncertainty I really felt inside.  "You should stay until the path becomes clearer.  The forest will tell you, if you're open and listen".  "I am staying actually, Josh and I begin the build next week".  "Amaaaazing!  Maybe you can hire me when I graduate from my apprenticeship under Tete", she winked.  My heart dropped, but seeing her genuine enthusiasm and unsure of my place or the facts to tell her otherwise, I simply wished her the very best but to be safe and come back if anything didn't seem right.  She said I will, and gave me a hug.  As her plush chest pushed into me, I felt both a deep sense of affection and arousal for her at the same time.  A tad flustered by this unexpected emotional and physical response, I was momentarily at a loss of words.  Seemingly oblivious to it, she asked about my life and what brought me here.  I told her about being a voracious reader as a boy about books of history, adventure, nature, adventure, and far off places.  How cultures and civilizations fascinated me, and how once after leaving Peru after a three year gig at the American Chamber "Amcham", I'd shipped all my belongings back up to Colorado, keeping only a back-pack and river-boated all the way down the Amazon river to the Atlantic, sleeping just in a hammock.  How the random assortment of books I'd read on those long days on the boat had formed my belief systems in God nature and the universe as one source.  That where science and psychology stopped, spirit began. How premonitions or foretelling dreams I, or close and trusted people to me had, led me to give credence to prophets and prophecy.  Rory smiled and took it all in, acknowledging she shared some of these core views on the mysteries of life and existence.  Where she may have differed she was accepting and open.  I asked about her and "How did you come to be in this place?".  She responded about growing up in the Ukraine to a part-Jewish mother and Catholic father who lost his job as a nuclear engineer in the years of turmoil after the fall of the Soviet Union, who took his own life after a brain tumour diagnosis.  That her fondest memories were the days when she was a child and would pick blueberries in the forest around their dacha, or chase butterflies in the garden while her mother would pick beats to prepare borscht for the family dinner, when her father would get home from work from the plant.  Within a year of her father's passing as the economy got worse, and her mother's school teacher salary could not make ends meet the family, they considered migrating.  Finally the unwanted attentions of a local organized crime syndicate towards her while she was only fifteen was the last straw.  Her words drew off, and  she looked away slightly. And then silence.  Her voice wavering some "So my mother moved us to Israel, which was taking anyone who could prove one Jewish grandparent.  It was hard to fit in there not being raised Jewish and lacking Hebrew.  But I learned, and did my mandatory two year military service, making a few friends along the way.  After the army I came backpacking to Peru, and found my calling in this place" her voice now largely recovered.  She grabbed my hand and gave me a tug "come on, lets go back up before we became the subject of any gossip!" this time being her turn to give me a wink. 

As we headed back up the lawn, the party had converged around the bonfire.  The crescendoing trance music was amped to full speaker capacity. The revellers were passionately stomping, hopping, and hooting in tribalistic dance.  We joined in, each of us syphoning off to greet different companions.  Quickly the collective energy had grabbed us and we were soon fully a part of the dance.  It was not until dawn that Josh and I motored back to the Reina Victoria in town, tired but glowing from a night to be remembered.