In Spanish, Don Carlos calls on Pachamama, our Mother Earth, the Water, necessary for life; the Air we breathe; and the Fire – the Spirit within all of us, to bless this place. I’m sure some of us believe that the falling rain is a sign of blessing from that element!
Throughout the ceremony, Steve and our tour guide, Santiago, translate for us, and a local man simultaneously translates into Quechua for the family. Each of us is given tobacco, which we hold next our heart and head, so that it can absorb some of our spirit power. The tobacco is then gathered into one large roll with a corn-husk wrapper, so that the collective spiritual power of the group can be shared by all. It is passed around the circle and each of us draws in the smoke and its collective energy into our body.
With this smoke, which is a symbol of the spirit within us, with the burning of seeds and leaves of special plants and herbs, we each participate in this ritual of sharing and combining our spirits, calling on the power we all are a part of in this world, and of nature, and beyond. We are encouraged to offer to the central fire both tobacco and special seeds, symbols of life and growth, and to bathe ourselves in the sweet-smelling smoke, which cleanses and heals. We offer our thanks for this sharing and blending. An aura of power and spirit is almost visible, so strongly do we feel it.
Finally, Don Carlos calls on those who may require specific healing to allow him to perform a healing. Several people participate in this, each one individually stepping forward. Using smoke and ritual chants, he generously works with each of them.
By now, we realize we are quite wet and cold. The rain has fallen, gently but continuously, and dusk is beginning to creep upon us. As we break from the circle and look up, we see the mass of Imbabura’s flank with its fields and farmhouses rise behind us where the clouds have lifted. The views are breathtaking. Across the valley, Cotacachi is partly visible, with a cap of white cloud. In the distance, the hills at the foot of Mojanda rise out of the mists.
Don Carlos tells us that he has felt our energy and spirits strongly, and he thanks us for our part in blessing this land that will give hope and new life to the Old Ones of his village. We each thank the family for their generosity and hospitality, and even though we, and they, do not understand the words, the meanings are clear. The oldest daughter, a lovely, friendly girl of about sixteen, assures us that they will always keep us in their hearts. She thanks us for coming to share this ceremony and afternoon with them. They will not forget us, and we will not forget them.
We troop into the bus, wet and shivering, and yet uplifted and exalted by all we have experienced. Leonardo guides our bus down the muddy roads, between the cornfields, through the village, and down the cobblestone street. Across the valley, lights are springing to life, as dusk, and then darkness, envelops this place, this lovely valley in Imbabura province of Ecuador.
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