An excerpt from Konstantin Roninio’s book «Meetings with Remarkable People».
…Since participants in our shamanic expeditions often included people working in film and television, there were numerous discussions about creating a quality documentary on Ayahuasca ceremonies. There are already quite a few documentaries on this subject, but I haven’t seen one that’s truly high quality. The issue isn’t just about the professionalism of the creators; even famous directors have tackled this topic. The problem is often that instead of real shamans, they feature well-promoted charlatans or sorcerers. The so-called experts and consultants are either psychedelics enthusiasts or people only superficially familiar with the tradition, who don’t even know any authentic shamans. But sometimes things go differently, like they did for us in 2004, when filmmakers who joined our expedition didn’t dare to experience firsthand what they were filming. In such cases, it’s impossible to convey the essence of what’s happening, even if the director is very talented.
Andrey was a well-known professional journalist and reporter working at the time for central Russian television. He came across excerpts of my book online, which I had posted shortly after returning from my first expedition to Peru. Something caught his attention, and he thought, why not make a show or a short film on such an exotic topic? At that time, the channel he worked for was well-funded and open to bold projects. By then, Andrey had already produced several brilliant reports and even won a TEFI award, which during that period in Russian television was given to truly deserving individuals. We met in Moscow at Ostankino and discussed the format of Andrey and his team’s participation in the expedition. Back then, I saw it as an opportunity to introduce the unique shamanic tradition to a broad Russian-speaking audience that, at the time, knew nothing about Ayahuasca. I didn’t focus much on the presentation style, trusting the professionals.
At the time, I wasn’t very experienced in organizing expeditions or working with people. This was only my second expedition to Peru. But we were greatly supported by Maki. At the beginning, when we met in Lima, Maki quickly charmed Andrey during their personal interaction. He shared many fascinating stories. Andrey had a personal interest in the subject we discussed. He had the idea not only to film but to experience the ceremonies himself. Of course, this was the right approach. It could have opened up much more for him, not just in terms of completing the task he flew in for, but also in his work, creativity, and life in general. However, his team, with whom he arrived, likely discouraged him from participating in the ceremonies. They remained isolated, not integrating into the group. It seemed they viewed us as eccentrics. This seems strange now, given how many creative people—directors, cinematographers, screenwriters, actors—are eager for such experiences. But back then, to Andrey’s young team, it seemed like a dangerous madness.
It was especially tough for them when we traveled to a remote Shipibo village. There were plenty of interesting adventures, starting with how we traveled there from the city of Pucallpa. Initially, Maki suggested we take a large barge that, loaded with passengers and cargo, was headed to Brazil. Its route along the vast Ucayali River passed near the village we were aiming for. We got tickets and boarded the barge. The lower deck was packed. People were lying in hammocks tightly tied to each other. Nearby, chickens, pigs, and other animals roamed below. It was, of course, stifling. We decided to see what was above and climbed the stairs. The upper deck was completely empty. There were some trucks and many thick mattresses lying around. Naturally, we decided to stay there. We spread out the mattresses comfortably and prepared for sleep. Night was approaching, and above us was an incredibly beautiful starry sky. At that moment, armed men with automatic rifles approached us and advised us to go downstairs. They said that it wasn’t safe at night, that the barge could be attacked by pirates.
Without hesitating for a second, we told them we weren’t worried! Surprisingly, they left us alone and went back down. So we slept on the roof.
When we woke up in the morning, we realized we hadn’t gone anywhere. The ship had returned to the port of Pucallpa. We assumed the barge had broken down or run aground. Much later, I learned that the barge had been seized because it was carrying tons of cocaine hidden in the trucks where we had slept! The armed men were guarding that cargo. It’s a good thing they were polite enough to let us sleep comfortably. It’s worth noting that Peru is one of the three major illegal producers and exporters of cocaine. In some years, Peru surpassed Colombia in terms of the volume of produced and sold cocaine. But unlike Colombia and Mexico, cocaine wars are almost non-existent in Peru. Everything is much quieter. Those involved in this business may live in affluent neighborhoods of Lima, appearing as upstanding citizens. They don’t have large gangs of armed fighters. The security of their business is most likely ensured by corrupt factions within various law enforcement agencies. In my 18 years living in Peru, I’ve found Peruvians to be a peaceful people. Even in illegal businesses, they avoid violence when possible. Most of these activities are well hidden from the public eye, unlike in Mexico, where it frequently spills into the public sphere with large-scale shootouts resembling military operations.
We eventually reached the Shipibo village by renting a powerful motorboat. It’s an expensive option but saves time, cutting travel time in half. We rented a small single-deck boat that was fast but not very comfortable. We had to sit for hours on wooden benches. Occasionally, we stopped along the riverbank to stretch and use the bathroom. When you first experience such places, any discomfort is generously offset by incredibly vivid impressions. Among the amazing sights regularly seen on the river are jumping river dolphins. The Amazon is home to three species of river dolphins, one of which is pink. Watching them play always brings joy. The landscapes along the vast river surrounded by impenetrable jungle are breathtaking. The sunrises and sunsets are stunning. And the Amazon’s night sky can hypnotize with its billions of stars!
Upon arrival at the Shipibo village, we were met with an unexpected reception. Virtually the entire village had gathered. As soon as we docked, they began hitting our boat with large paddles. It turned out this was an ancient greeting custom! Once we disembarked, we were immediately pulled into a circle by brightly dressed strangers. Meanwhile, all our belongings were taken somewhere. I can only imagine how worried Andrey’s crew must have been, carrying valuable equipment. But the cameraman never let go of his camera, managing to capture the unfolding events like a true professional. Not only were we drawn into some kind of dance to music and songs, but we were also given large mugs of masato, an alcoholic drink. Unfortunately for the guys, I had already told them how this mildly alcoholic beverage is made!
The women of the tribe chew cooked yucca roots and spit them into a large trough. Water is then added and the mixture is left to ferment. The saliva kickstarts the fermentation process. This is the only alcoholic drink that Amazonian tribes have learned to produce over thousands of years in the jungle. Maki somewhat reassured the group by explaining that nowadays the drink is usually boiled before consumption. Its strength is similar to that of light beer. But since the tribespeople drink it in large mugs at celebrations, some get quite drunk. It’s worth noting that genetically, they’re not well adapted to alcohol. Strong alcohol like vodka or whiskey is genuinely dangerous for them. For us, however, a few mugs of masato lifted our spirits.
We eagerly joined the Shipibo in their dancing.
It’s important to note that this festive reception was organized by our friend and shaman, Francisco. He wasn’t just a very gifted shaman but also an excellent organizer and a person of great kindness. There was a special beauty and charm about him. He always smiled sincerely when talking to people. What he organized was more than just a typical village celebration. He convinced his fellow villagers to hold the celebration in the ancient, fading tradition, wearing their national attire, which not everyone in the village still wore. It’s mostly the women who wear it. Just a few decades before us, missionaries had convinced the local women to stop going topless and to wear brightly colored synthetic blouses along with their traditionally embroidered Ayahuasca skirts. Wearing such blouses in the heat is, of course, not healthy. Francisco was one of those who encouraged his people not to be ashamed of their roots but to take pride in them and preserve their customs, including their songs, dances, music, and celebrations. Many of the Shipibo followed him because they saw him as a leader. Back then, tourists didn’t venture into such villages. Only a handful of adventurers like Maki, who was studying medicinal plants and local forms of folk medicine, would visit. For Francisco, it wasn’t easy to convince his people that welcoming such a large group of strangers would be safe and beneficial for the village and the tribe as a whole. But he succeeded. We were warmly welcomed, and Francisco hosted us in his large home, where we stayed, ate, and participated in Ayahuasca ceremonies.
The ceremonies were powerful and profound. Besides the host, they were also conducted by his uncles, one of whom was a shaman of the highest caliber. At the time, we didn’t even realize how fortunate we were to be experiencing Ayahuasca ceremonies with such a stellar lineup of seasoned shamans. The filmmakers couldn’t film the ceremonies themselves. First of all, it was dark. Secondly, there wasn’t much to capture visually during a ceremony. The main events happen within the participants’ inner worlds. The recorded sound, of course, was unique ethnographic material, but it didn’t convey much to an outside observer. And Andrey still didn’t join us. Moreover, people in the group started getting a bit annoyed with the camera. The processes were deeply personal and challenging for many. Partly, this tension arose because the film crew continued to keep their distance. Although we interacted during the day, Andrey did conduct some great interviews, small parts of which made it into the TV show. There was an interesting interview with Maki. There was a fantastic interview with my friend from St. Petersburg, Viktor. Back then, he was a musician and designer. Today, he’s a co-owner of a café in St. Petersburg. These were deep, candid conversations following intense ceremonies. The group included people holding high management positions in large companies, who, for reasons of their own, were hesitant to appear on camera. Some expedition participants initially didn’t want to be interviewed but later felt the urge to share their impressions and thoughts with a wider audience. The discussions were lively. Altogether, 19 hours of footage were recorded during that trip, from which Andrey was tasked with editing down to about 40 minutes or even less.
The problem was that when we were in the upper Amazon jungle during the first part of the expedition, visiting another experienced shaman, Andrey, possibly finding him not colorful enough, decided to spice things up. He randomly found a couple of charlatans through some locals. One conducted pseudo-shamanic rituals with the San Pedro cactus. The other practiced some sort of household magic. Andrey filmed them. He also interviewed a local priest who was also a fan of cacti and a nurse from a hospital. Later, during editing, he considered all of this valuable material.
As a result, Andrey took a detached approach in presenting the expedition, making it unclear what his personal stance was and producing a very mixed and strange narrative. He combined high-caliber shamans with obvious charlatans and emphasized various exotica. The message seemed to be: people here use substances that would get them arrested elsewhere by the Drug Enforcement Agency. Andrey noted some interesting aspects of the syncretic culture of urban Amazon residents, which includes contradictory customs. But overall, the film lacked a coherent message. It ended up being a film about the strange things that happen in this world and the odd places Russian tourists end up.
Those who participated in the expedition were mostly disappointed with the program. Andrey himself wasn’t thrilled with the final product and complained to me about its low ratings after it aired. Even though it was shown during prime time on TV. I didn’t have any grievances against Andrey. I knew that without experiencing Ayahuasca, he couldn’t grasp what people traveled so far for. At the same time, I knew Andrey understood his audience and his show’s format better than I did. Perhaps he couldn’t present the topic any other way. Andrey is a brilliant journalist with a principled civic stance and is now the creator of several excellent documentaries that I enjoy watching. I’d even say he’s currently one of the best documentary filmmakers in Russia. Years later, some of his friends and colleagues came to participate in shamanic ceremonies with us, and they were surprised to learn from me that Andrey had also once been here but didn’t join the ceremonies…
