EL LIMPIA

Joe is very discouraged after he finds out the exorbitant price it costs for homestays and volunteer positions - when-

I’m taking all this in, kinda feeling sorry for myself, resigned to accepting that probably nothing is going to come out of this trip - when I wander upon this sign advertising:
‘Limpias, de pueblo centro, $5 - $10’.
A limpia is a kind of ‘cleaning’, where a shaman (a medicine man) removes the ‘bad energy’ from your aura through various prayers and techniques. I’ve never done one of these sessions - but I’m open to it. I mean, really, what have I got to lose? So, I amble over to the puebla centro (the town square), not taking it all too seriously, when I am surprised to see several lines of local indigenous people!
What?!
Maybe this is the real deal!
They’re waiting outside various tents that have apparently been set up for this shaman’s convention. Now, I’m a little more intrigued. I’ve been having stomach problems with bouts of diarrhea pretty much since I arrived in Ecuador… maybe they can help me with this, y’know? I mean, it can’t hurt.
I pay my fee, wait in line, and when it’s my turn I hesitantly tiptoe into the tent - having no idea what to expect. My first sight is this indigenous guy dressed immaculately in white, on a cell phone.
Uh oh.
Immediately, my cynicism takes over as he motions for me to step forward. I suspiciously walk over.
The action, however, starts right then.
BANG - BANG!
He has this other guy in there with him who's apparently a translator, because he speaks to me in English. Tells me to strip down to my underwear.
The shaman (who’s off his phone now) zeroes in on me, looks me up and down a couple of times in a studious, kinda mysterious manner. Then he immediately seems to go into some kind of trance, a state of deep concentration. He’s speaking in Quechua, or some such dialect, which the other guy translates for me in English...the shaman goes on for a while, the whole time the translator following his words.
“He says you have been through much turbulence in your life”.
Well that’s true.
“He says that however, much has been resolved, and that moving forward, the future will start to appear much less bleak - and even exciting”.
It goes on like this for about ten minutes - then things get really interesting!
The shaman begins reciting these incantations - or prayers - or whatever they are, in a sing-song type of countenance. He follows that by waving a branch of leaves over my head, then minutes afterward, blows smoke from what looks like a spliff of incense!
Now, he starts actually pelting me all about my head and body with the branch, in accordance with some sort of internal rhythm.The pelting isn’t hard, or anything, I guess it just takes me by surprise. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I’m just trying to go with it, and stay still. It’s not over, however!
For the grand finale, he sips from a bottle of whiskey, or alcohol, proceeding to spray it all over my face several times, closing the session with another stanza of prayers. Apparently it's over now.
He gifts me this bottle of red liquid, which the translator instructs me to chug down right before bed. That should take care of the stomach problems, he says.
Holy shit, what a crazy experience man!
I don’t know what to think about the whole thing, but, hey, at least it’s an experience. Better than feeling empty or depressed, right?
Later that night, I realize he wasn’t kidding about that red liquid cleaning me out! I mean, I’m on the toilet bowl literally all night. No sleep. I do sleep into the afternoon, however, and when I finally wake up - my stomach feels great!
No rumbling. Nothing.
An amazing side note to all this is that a couple of days later, my big toe - the one I had broken way back in my second week in Ecuador, and which had been immobile this whole time - suddenly comes back to life!
Swear to God, I can move it again! I had given up hope that I would be able to use it anymore, chalking it up as a casualty of war, but here it is - wiggling!
Hallelujah!
So turns out this really hasn’t been a wasted trip after all