From my notes written roughly three hours before my first Shipibo Ayahuasca ceremony:
“...
Before sunset, most of the adults shower out in the open next to their houses wearing little clothing, using buckets and basins, while the children go to wash themselves in the muddy river Ucayali, a river so turbid that it is impossible to see any deeper than 5cm.
Yesterday evening I went to the river to take photos at sunset. The long, narrow wooden jetty that leads to the pier, 2 metres above the water, is rickety, old, and falling apart; it seems like it could collapse at any moment, but has a charm to it regardless.
Among the various "peque-peque" parked around the area were a dozen small children, a few older ones and a couple of adults, one foreign; all of whom were playing in the water more than washing with it. The foreigner appeared to be particularly sociable and held the attention of all of the others. He seemed to get along wonderfully with the local people, always charming and smiling; he exuded good vibrations and serenity. I didn't get into the water, which was too turbid for my tastes; I stayed sitting on the jetty taking photos, watching those simple people enjoy themselves and drinking in the unusual atmosphere.
With the setting of the sun, the mosquitoes started to get even more annoying. I was about to leave when suddenly all of the people began to exit the water and head towards the thin jetty, passing by me one by one. It was a strange episode. All children stayed gathered around the foreigner. The foreigner himself, while passing by me, looked me in the eyes, gave a small smile, touched my shoulder with his arm and said 'mañana noche confia en ellos' ... I was taken aback; even now I don't understand why he said those words to me and what he meant by them.
...
I did quite a bit today, and M. advised me to rest. A few trips around the village, a few conversations about this and that with the local indigenous people.
When I returned to my hut this evening, the hunger started to make its presence known. I don't understand the point of the ritual's fasting requirement.
I am a little hesitant about tonight.
M. told me that he will come to get me at around 8pm for the ayahuasca ritual.
…”
Notes written the day after the night of my first Shipibo Ayahuasca ceremony:
“…
Last night M. was late collecting me; almost everyone had already gone to sleep. We set off north in the darkness and walked for about 35 minutes with the dim light of his torch, passing through a few small villages whose names I don't remember, and a few houses scattered here and there. There is no artificial light in those villages... at that hour, the only presence is the few houses whose forms can be seen from the path, and the dogs who bark as we pass by. Penetrating the darkness ever deeper, I started to feel nervous. A thousand thoughts popped into my head, and all ended with one sentence: - I'm insane to follow a semi-stranger into an Amazonian forest in the middle of the night -. The nocturnal sounds of nature, which at first created a pleasant, welcoming concert in the background, became more intense, taking on menacing tones, as we proceeded and the path became narrower. We stopped in front of a simple, small hut; M. told me to wait - he had to go and call his father. Waiting there, I thought back to the foreigner's words: - mañana noche confia en ellos - (Author's note: trust in them tomorrow night), and to his peaceful smile... inexplicably, the memory of those words had rearranged my thoughts in a positive way... the curiosity was immense and I didn't want to turn back; therefore, the only solution was to trust those shamans, relax, and allow myself to embark upon the adventure.
…”
The stranger that I met along the river was Pragnil, and I can now say with certainty that those few words, 'trust in them tomorrow night', was the first time he guided me.
If Pragnil had never spoken those words, would I have been capable of having that extraordinary, life-changing experience? I have asked myself this many times since then.
In any case, that brief period in the Amazonian jungle was probably the most important of my life: I met Pragnil for the first time and participated in my first Ayahuasca ritual; two events which changed my existence forever.
My positive impression of Pragnil was cemented with successive meetings; a person of captivating tranquillity and inner peace, so much so that the people around him can clearly perceive his positive vibrations. With his ever-present serene smile, Pragnil emanates serenity. His words are few, but profound, always exactly hitting the point. He always has a word for those in need of comfort. Constantly available to help the next person. An amazing listener, paying attention to the details of what people tell him. Pragnil possesses all of the characteristics of someone who could be called a sage.
A striking trait of Pragnil's is his vast, almost omniscient, level of culture. Pragnil possesses deep knowledge of every topic on which I have heard him speak, and always dispenses this knowledge with extreme modesty.
If enlightened people exist, Pragnil is most certainly one of them; if not, then I have never met one.
Aside from his ample cultural knowledge, Pragnil is capable of acts which fall under the realm of the paranormal. Many times I have been witness to Pragnil's ability to tell the future and, when it is necessary, to bestow effective and succinct advice, capable of engineering conditions to the benefit of those for whom the message is intended; as was the case with me before my first shamanic ritual, and on later occasions.
And not only this. I personally witnessed Pragnil healing an illness in a manner which could also be described as miraculous: during a shamanic ritual which I participated in with Pragnil, some indigenous people from a nearby village carried over a woman who was writhing in pain, sweating, moaning, and crying in a language unknown to me. Pragnil crouched beside the woman laid out on the wooden floor of the ceremonial stand, roughly a couple of metres from where we were sitting, and put his hands on her stomach. In a few seconds, the woman calmed down and fell asleep, and so Pragnil returned to sit with us. After roughly half an hour, the woman awoke, silently arose from the ceremonial stand, and joined the people who had accompanied her, who had continued to sit and wait quietly a short distance away. Though I was stunned, Pragnil and my master shaman J. were unperturbed.
From my diary over these days:
“…
I awoke in the ceremonial centre to the first light of dawn at the same moment as J. . He usually gets up at 5am, probably the ritual lasted much longer than expected; I lost my sense of time passing and I still feel very dazed. Pragnil was not there when I awoke, and I did not know when Pragnil had left, but he returned after a short time.
While we cleaned the ceremonial centre, I asked Pragnil something I was curious about: what had been wrong with the woman, whether it was J. who had taught him how to heal, and whether he considered himself a shaman. The only reply I receive was - you have to study for your whole life to become a shaman-.
…”