Several years ago when I traveled to the jungles to do my first plant medicine diet, I intended to be in silence and isolation. Instead, I found myself as the only gringo in a sleepy indigenous community that was not used to having foreign visitors. At first, the children would stand from a distance and shyly stare at me with curiosity. But once I took out the markers, paper, and pens, my shaman’s maloka floor became the unexpected place for daily impromptu art sessions.
For the entire three week diet, during which time I slept on a hammock inside of my 100-year-old shaman’s termite infested and teetering maloka, I was constantly visited by village children. It’s been through seemingly insignificant experiences of sharing through art, that I’ve found some of the greatest insights of living in Peru.
But instead of delving into any details at this time, it would be best to leave the story telling to some of the children, through their art.
A few of local children who joined me in the afternoons for our art afternoons:
Juan’s daugher in-law Adriana and her daughters, Enith (on her left) and Jamelia (on her right), along with relatives Freddy and Ani while they sit with me in the maloka and draw pictures.