Amazon with Bruce Parry (2008) s01e02 Episode Script
Part 2
I'm travelling deep into the heart of the Peruvian Amazon to visit the Achuar people.
These hunter-gatherers live in one of the most untouched parts of the forest, and one of the richest natural environments left on Earth.
You feel something tickle against your leg.
It's like, you can't see a thing, it's so murky.
Once proud warriors, they are now fighting a new enemy, the oil companies.
Every single living thing in this particular area here will have died.
Their tribal lands sit on top of vast oil reserves.
And they don't trust outsiders.
They actually have decided that they don't want me in the house.
As my Amazon journey continues, I seek a vision to guide me on my way.
It's just sitting there like an evil menace in my stomach.
And, as I finally reach Brazil, things get very strange.
Can you believe it? I love this.
I'm travelling through the Amazon rainforest, following the river from the source to the sea, looking at the lives of the people who live here.
As I push further north, the mountain jungles of the Andes give way to endless forest.
This is the largest unbroken tract of tropical forest on Earth.
And from the air, it takes your breath away! But this is no empty wilderness.
This vast forest is home to some of Peru's most remote tribal groups.
The Achuar live in the north of Peru, near the border with Ecuador, along the rivers Pastaza and Huitoyacu.
Back in the '60s, seismic testing found huge deposits of crude oil here.
The oil companies have been working on the Pastaza for years, but the communities on the River Huitoyacu have so far refused them access.
And that's where I'm going first.
We land in a small settlement on the River Marañon called San Lorenzo.
Jorge, que tal? This is Jorge Fachin.
He's an Achuar leader, and has agreed to introduce me to the elders of his village, three days'travel up a remote tributary of the Amazon.
It feels like a bitter irony that oil should be found here of all places.
This part of the Amazon is one of the most bio-diverse places on Earth.
The river and forest weave a complex eco-system that supports the planet's most dazzling array of life.
Been all day on this boat, getting increasingly smaller as we go upstream.
This is the Huitoyacu.
It's just so glorious, and this time of the evening, with the sun going down, it's got an ethereal quality.
I'm so lucky to be allowed to come in here.
There are no roads, no towns, no real infrastructure, other than what the tribal people have traditionally had.
As we move into Achuar territory, we pass local people, but no-one smiles or waves.
Although the villagers know we are coming, Jorge warns me not to expect too much of a welcome.
Although the Achuar have had contact with the outside world for over forty years, they are a superstitious people.
Their world is full of witchcraft and forest spirits to be feared and appeased.
They believe the pelacaras are evil spirits that stalk the forest.
And, as we move slowly upstream, I begin to get the sense we are going somewhere strange and special.
This is the village of Wijint, which is the largest of all the Achuar communities.
Population of about 500 people, I think, spread out over quite some area.
And Jorge here, who's the old president, is gonna introduce me to some of the elders.
But we are nearly a day late and the Apus, or elders, are all out hunting.
The village is all but deserted.
The next morning, we are summoned by the elders.
I've been told we've all got to go in in single file, there's eight of us.
Then we've got to go up and stand in front of the area where the Apus, the elders, are going to come and greet us in their special way.
(THEY CHANT) The hall is packed and their message is clear.
Although they were expecting us, they are nervous.
They don't even trust Jorge, and he grew up here and was one of their leaders.
I have already heard that you have concerns about your natural resources being taken and many, many things, and I also fully understand everything that you have asked and said to me.
(REPLIES IN HIS NATIVE TONGUE) The meeting takes all day, but the elders finally, reluctantly, agree that we can stay.
Saris, the most outspoken against us, is chosen to be my host.
I'm very excited Fantastic.
(TRIBAL MUSIC) I'd heard before I came that the Achuar were a very organised group of people, they like their meetings and they like things to be deliberated.
They like to have the (LOUD BANG) It's all right, that's quite exciting.
But this is extraordinary.
It's better than any village fete I've been to back home.
It's really well orchestrated.
The Achuar lived here in relative isolation until the middle of the 20th century.
They escaped the devastation of the rubber boom that wiped out so many Amazonian tribes.
When missionaries arrived in the '60s, they found the Achuar living in a state of perpetual internal warfare, often sparked by the belief that shamans had cast evil spells.
The Achuar no longer live with the fear of constant war, but outsiders are still treated with suspicion.
Despite his initial hostility, Saris is warming to me.
His daughters, however, are not so sure.
Saris's sons-in-law live here too, but they are away hunting.
If I'm to stay here, I'll need to help out, so he shows me to his garden.
The Achuar are renowned for their use of forest medicine.
One of the most powerful plants in their medicine cabinet is ayahuasca.
The Achuar use ayahuasca to search for their vision, or path, through life.
They believe it can induce dreams in which the spirits speak to you.
Saris agrees to arrange an ayahuasca ceremony for me, in return for helping out.
OK.
Mañana? Mañana.
Fantastico Perfecto.
No problemo.
.
.
I've got my work cut out tomorrow, then! But the morning brings bad news.
Saris has had a change of heart.
Or rather, it seems, his daughters have had a quiet word.
And it seems that their reticence and their shyness hasn't disappeared and they actually have decided that they don't want me in the house.
So it's not looking good really, cos I don't want to be an imposition, even though he was really happy yesterday, they've had time to think and maybe it's not right.
I understand and I the reason for me coming here is to try and learn about your culture, and the last thing that I want is to be an imposition on anyone.
In order to understand something of the Achuar way of life, I want to stay with a family.
As most people are suspicious of myself and the crew,Jorge introduces me to his brother-in-law, Mantu.
He lives with his wife Carmela and their children in the forest outside the village.
Mantu is a skilled hunter.
He has just returned from the forest with food.
Traditionally, the Achuar house was the centre of the family's world.
Before the missionaries encouraged them to form villages, the Achuar would live in single houses spread throughout the forest.
These spectacular structures, up to eight metres high, would be home to the extended family and had alliances with nearby houses for trading and marriage.
The house is surrounded by gardens, called chakras, and a network of paths radiates outwards into areas for hunting and fishing.
Before dawn the next morning, I join the family in their morning ritual, drinking a bitter herbal tea called wayus.
It's both purgative and tonic.
After drinking litres of wayus, we all head outside.
(HE RETCHES) Aah Morning, everyone.
The Achuar do this every morning of their lives.
This ritual purging is followed by a period of quiet reflection, where the family can discuss the day ahead.
Mantu tells me the forest spirits are much on his mind.
To the Achuar, the forest is alive with spirits.
Mana is the mother of the animals.
Where she lives, the forest is full of game.
Arutem is the mother of the visions.
She is wise and appears in dreams to tell the future.
Shaam is dangerous.
Where she lives, the forest is quiet.
But now, there's a new spirit haunting the forest, the pelacara, or the skin peeler.
It's thought that the legend of the pelacara has a basis in horrific reality.
Early settlers here hunted tribal people and rendered their fat for oil lamps.
I'm beginning to understand why people are so scared of us.
Trying to lead the Achuar from the darkness into the light is a small mission of Colombian nuns.
(THEY SPEAK IN SPANISH) Fantastic.
They manage the school and, unlike many missionaries, still encourage traditional beliefs.
So, what changes have you seen over the years? You must have seen a lot.
The nuns have their work cut out.
The Achuar legal system is more Old Testament than New.
Certain crimes are punishable by death.
I've agreed to help Saris chop some firewood.
I want to help as much as I can, but he's a hard task-master.
Making a bit of a pig's ear of it, cos so many obstacles in the way for my swing, I can't do it properly.
But I've got to get it right, cos if it goes the wrong way, it could take out half of his garden and all the plants and trees therein.
Oh, fuck! It's hard work in the heat.
And this morning's wayus is still giving me gyp.
It's Fuck! Ooh, a bit woozy there.
They said when I was drinking this morning and vomiting, that if I didn't get it all out, there was a chance I could get nauseous in the day, especially on my first time.
And I just think I had a wave of that.
Ugh, about to be sick.
(HE RETCHES) I feel faint, but I still want to carry the logs back to Saris's hut.
I was feeling great this morning after the wayus, wayus vomiting up, I thought it was quite a good sort of purgative, made me feel quitefresh and healthy, but I'm feeling really nauseous now.
And he's still not finished with me.
I'm not here for long, and I'm finding Wijint a difficult place to make friends.
The people seem nervous and reserved.
So when Mantu offers to take me fishing, I jump at the chance.
Mantu's kept up a pretty good pace all morning.
We've been going for some time, and I can keep up with him on the straight, but as soon as we come to any obstacles or logs, I'm so much slower.
Whoa! See what I mean? Fishing with the Achuar is a family affair.
Three families have come together to maximise their catch.
I've just arrived, and I think that we're going to be making the poison, and some people are already here before me.
And the guys who are just ahead as well loving the flip-out screen on the camera.
They're using the leaves of the huaca plant to asphyxiate the fish.
First, it must be mashed.
Huaca stuns the fish by deoxygenating the water.
It doesn't kill them, and so the river will recover quickly afterwards.
Really? Like that? OK.
As the poison is released into the stream, fish begin to surface, gasping for breath.
The families move slowly downstream, gathering their catch.
Jorge, there's one over there, I think.
The river is healthy, clean, and full of huge fish.
I'm so far back, I'm just getting the tiddlers.
But up the front, some of the boys are getting some real whoppers.
I can actually see one rising and coming down like a porpoise, surfacing and breaching, and then it disappears, and you can feel something tickle against your leg, and it's like you can't see a thing, it's so murky.
Check the teeth on that.
I was told, watch out for that one, cos if he bites you, he doesn't let go.
Catch up with the family, I don't want to be last in this river.
It's been a good day, and I feel at last like I'm beginning to make some friends.
Just look at the catch, unbelievable.
There's one here, check that.
These and these.
Amazing.
My paltry amount is just here but I did get the bonus of getting the, er the stingray.
But all in all, pretty good.
As hunter-gatherers, the Achuar rely almost completely on the forest and its river for their food.
They need a vast area to sustain this way of life.
But the oil companies are getting closer.
This man has just returned from a patrol to the edge of the territory where the oil companies are carrying out seismic testing.
Some of the Achuar villages nearby have agreed to oil exploration on their land.
They want development, jobs, money, electricity, education.
It's interesting, because although the Achuar are very unified as a group of people en masse, also there do seem to be some some differences of opinion within the various communities.
And one community, for example, which borders this community, has accepted some of the petroleum companies on to their turf.
Now, there's massive dispute within their own community.
Some want it and some don't, but it seems that that fracture has allowed some of the seismic testing to come on board, which is making this community really twitchy and scared about how much closer it's going to come, and the contamination might come onto what is their ancestral lands.
Why is it that you are so adamant that you do not want these companies to come onto your land, when they seem to be offering you so much and they have so many promises for good things? Why is it that you do not want them to come here? It's hard to believe that a small community like this can keep big business at bay, but they have done so for decades.
Everything is connected here.
All the rivers flow into one, so if a tributary upstream is polluted, everyone will feel the effects.
The Achuars'only hope is to stand together.
And in such a remote part of the world, that is almost impossible.
Still weird, still don't feel like I've really broken into the community or the family yet.
But I'm hoping that, just by chipping away and being here and always being helpful and smiling, that they'll realise that I'm not all that bad and lighten up a bit.
That's my hope.
As we drink wayus, Mantu and Carmela tell me what to expect from the ayahuasca.
Today's the big day.
Right.
Time for my morning vomit.
(RETCHING) After this now, I'm just going to have a bowl of masata and that's going to be the only food substance I have all day until I drink the ayahuasca this evening.
Saris is not well, so two of the elders have been given the responsibility of organising the ceremony.
The ayahuasca is crushed, then boiled.
The drumming not only brings in the spirits and entices the visions, but it's also an announcement to everyone in the surrounding area that we have an ayahuasca ceremony going on today.
And as a result, lots of faces peering in all around.
It's a real community spirit, it's lovely.
This is Mashenkish, an elder from a nearby village.
He will preside over the ceremony today.
He wears a traditional toucan feather headdress.
As evening approaches, I'm sent to the river to wash.
I think the hardest thing of all is gonna be just drinking litres of really nasty, toxic, bitterjuice.
That's gonna be the hard bit.
But it's still a lovely ritual, I'm really looking forward to it.
There's a lot of build-up, and of course, central to the Achuar way of looking at life is this vision.
You might not get it powerfully, you might not get it first time, but you must have it, and that is something that's important to them.
It's how they see, how they look forward in their lives, and it's also how they fight their battles, as part of a community.
As night falls, the ceremony begins.
About 20 people will take the ayahuasca.
As we had the honour of preparing the vine, the two elders and I will drink later.
It's important that when you drink the ayahuasca, it's held by the hand of a respected elder, cos he has the power which he may be able to give to you.
The participants down litres of the foul-tasting brew.
Then the vomiting starts.
You must vomit until all the ayahuasca has come up, then drink litres of water.
This must also be expelled until there is nothing left.
If you don't, you may receive a bad vision.
I've vomited every day this week, but this is something else.
(HE RETCHES) I've never seen anything like it.
And it's me next.
We've also got our own special bowl which was taken out earlier with all the really strong stuff, so we've got twice the amount, fewer people, stronger potion.
It's not looking good.
(LOUD RETCHING) Well done.
Soon it's my turn.
Immediately, I feel as if I've been poisoned.
But it's only just beginning.
I'm feeling like, already, I don't know why, but just shaking all over, just I have to drink about four litres.
But the taste is so disgusting that it triggers my gag reflex.
It's just sitting there like a lead weight of what feels like evil menace in my stomach.
We've got more.
I'm going to let it sit for as long as I can to do its work.
But I know I've got to get it all out later, but I'm gonna try and keep it in because I really want to have a vision.
At this rate, I will.
(HE RETCHES, LIQUID SPLASHES) The bowl is empty.
Thank God.
Mantu brings me water.
Then that, too, has to come up.
OK, in here? That one single act is the most wonderful thing that's happened to me since I've been here, and it's so lovely.
Mantu, who's so stoical and rarely smiles, and has just been a wonderful host, but always just a little bit separate, has just looked after me, at this moment, when I really needed him, so nicely.
And just washing my feet, imagine! That's really made my complete stay.
I'm so happy.
At last, we settle down to sleep and wait for the visions to come.
Mantu watches over me.
Before dawn, the drum starts again, and it's time to reveal what dreams have come.
Jorge thinks he has seen something.
But, for me, nothing.
There was a moment when I thought everything was changing, when this wind came through and we could hear distant thunder, and there was this bat flying around, and I had this moment of paranoia that I thought it was a vampire bat and was going to bite me and give me rabies.
So that kept me up for a while, and I thought maybe something was starting, but in reality, it just didn't happen, so I'm really a bit disappointed.
Just come to say thank you, really.
Thank you and goodbye.
It's time to leave Wijint and continue on my journey.
Mashenkish tells me it's common not to have a vision the first time, but that I must try again.
Muchas gracias.
Although I didn't find my vision, I did find friendship and fear.
The Achuar are fighting for their way of life as the modern world encroaches.
Their lives and culture stand at a crucial point of change.
I want to see what they are fighting against and what can happen when the oil companies come.
So much of the Peruvian Amazon has been split up into oil blocks or lots for exploration and extraction, and the area that I'm in now was one of the first to have actually had oil found in it.
The Rio Corrientes lies just east of the village of Wijint, but it's a world away.
The oil companies began their extraction of crude here before the indigenous people were awarded title to their land.
The law has now changed, but it comes too late for many of the communities on this river.
I was just wondering what it must be like in those days to have been an indigenous community, not having any idea that your world was about to change.
People suddenly arriving without any prior notice, cutting long lines in the jungle, exploding every hundred metres to discover what's under the soil, then lots and lots of labour forces coming in and roads being built, you having to move away, lines being cut through villages, and the local people never having anyone to talk to, or to complain to, about these problems.
This is Andoas - an oil town, deep in the jungle.
I came here hoping to film the effects of oil extraction in the rainforest.
I'm not sure I need to look much further than this.
It's a relief to head out into the jungle, but the effects of the oil industry are everywhere.
So much machinery and plant, like this.
We're just coming across another one, in the middle of nowhere.
We've arranged to meet an Achuar man called Guevara.
He works as an environmental monitor, checking for the signs of pollution.
He tells me there's been a spill just a few weeks ago.
We were on the river for over an hour, and we've been trekking for 20 minutes, and in this, what should be the village's traditional hunting grounds, there's only one thing that's dominating my experience at the moment, and that's the extraordinary sound (DISTANT HUMMING) this massive generator that's some distance ahead of us.
(LOUD HUMMING) We emerge into a clearing.
Even if you could hear me, I don't really need to say anything, do I? This is a pumping station, moving oil from a nearby well.
An hour's walk away, we find the oil well and the site of the spill.
Yeah, here you go.
Already only a few feet away from the slick.
This is two weeks ago, let's not forget.
It's been cleaned up well.
But it's the first time I've ever actually come this close to this sort of crude oil, bitumen, tarry stuff, and I think I'm going to have oily fingers for the rest of the day.
It's really It's really not great stuff.
As we move down into the stream, we can see the effects of the spill.
The oil company has cleaned most of it up, but it's still devastating.
This spill happened 17 days ago, and all of this crude here has made its way down through this tributary into the main river, which is the source that all the villagers drink from, and every single living thing in this particular area here - there is no doubt at all - will have died.
It's just mass destruction.
It's all I can see around me.
A stream runs into the Corrientes, which, in turn, runs through Guevara's village.
His people no longer drink the water or eat the fish.
The oil companies insist that regular tests are carried out by government agencies and there's no risk to human health or the ecosystem.
Those who live here aren't convinced.
That night, we stay in Guevara's village.
40 years ago, this was a traditional Achuar community.
The difference between here and Wijint is tangible.
Electricity, TVs, money.
But what has been lost? We leave Andoas the next day, heading south down the Rio Pastaza.
I feel really very sad, actually leaving Andoas and the River Corrientes, but the point, really, is that there's billions and billions of dollars being made in the oil industry here, and sadly, so very little of it seems to be going to the people who own the land on which the oil's being extracted, and the people who are having their lives, both health-wise and socially, just completely turned inside out.
We head south again, down the Marañon, towards the main flow of the river.
This is an important point on my journey.
Even though I've been journeying for three whole months, amazingly, this place here is the first location that the river is actually formally known as the Amazon.
It's going to change its name again, and I'm going to go through many different transformations of this river, but for now, just being here feels amazing.
I'm travelling east on the Amazon for the first time, heading for the jungle port of Iquitos, the Peruvian Amazon's biggest city.
It was built on the wealth of the rubber boom, and has a certain faded opulence.
Now, Iquitos is becoming a centre for anotherjungle product - this time, my old friend ayahuasca.
I'm loving Iquitos.
It's got a real energy and buzz about it.
It's so busy and colourful.
It smells dirty and it's really fun.
It's so strange being in quite a busy city suddenly, having been in small towns and in the jungle and on the river for so long.
I promised the elders of Wijint I'd find my vision, and I think this is the place to do it.
There are a number of different ways of doing ayahuasca that the indigenous peoples do in the Amazon.
One is just the vine itself, like I did.
But many of the tribal communities mix it with other plants that bring on a much deeper, more powerful, strong and spiritual and visionary experience, and it's that I'm going to try and do, and I've found a place that does it nearby here, in Iquitos, and I'm heading off there tomorrow to give it a go.
Percy Garcia Lozano is one of the youngest shamans in Iquitos.
His grandfather was a boatman on the Amazon and taught him the secrets of the tribes he met on his travels.
Walking through the forest with Percy is an education.
Where I see just trees and plants, he sees remedies for all manner of ailments.
Wakrapona? Pene pequeno, si! (BRUCE LAUGHS) Gracias.
Well, I think we'll move on after that one! Percy will preside over the ayahuasca ceremony.
Unlike the Achuar, he adds other leaves to the mix.
Chacrona and datura, both powerful hallucinogens.
Where the Achuar visions are subtle dreams, the experience here will be much stronger.
There are other people staying at the retreat.
Peruvians and travellers from all over the world, all seeking something from the ayahuasca.
It has been used to treat addiction as well as to induce visions.
Often I'm wary of this sort of thing outside an authentic tribal setting, but I find Percy convincing and the other participants reassuring.
I heard about ayahuasca ten years ago and I decided to look for it because I was having a bad time in my life.
And it was great, amazing.
I stopped smoking.
OK.
I first heard about this only a few months ago, and I'm just curious why so many researchers and travellers alike are coming to this part of the world and coming back with experiences that are just really interesting.
Sure.
How was it for you, the first time you did it? - Absolutely amazing.
- What did it do? It's so hard to explain.
You'll find out tonight, but it was just an unbelievable experience.
The best dream you've ever had, but it's real.
(THUNDER RUMBLES) A storm rumbles over the camp as evening approaches.
I have a sense of foreboding about the night to come.
What will my vision be? I'm feeling quite apprehensive, actually.
I think this is going to be quite a powerful experience for me.
From everything I've read and from the people I've spoken to, this is not something anyone should take lightly.
I don't know what's going to happen, is the honest truth, I've no idea.
I think that the ultimate result of it will be positive, but I wouldn't be surprised if I go through some quite traumatic moments during this process tonight.
One by one, we step forward to drink a bitter, viscous shot of the concentrated ayahuasca.
Totally different to my last experience of doing ayahuasca, which was very fluid.
Lots and lots of people were doing it in one area.
This is a totally different sort of ceremony, and all that remains is to see what the evening holds in store for me.
No going back.
(RATTLING) In the darkness, Percy sings and whistles to call in the spirits and their visions.
Before long, the effects begin to kick in.
Some are familiar.
And others more difficult for me to dismiss.
(PERCY WHISTLES) As the ayahuasca floods my system, a battle rages inside my head.
The medicine is working in ways which, at first, are hard to bear.
I just couldn't stop my ego talking all the time, analysing and questioning the experience as it happened.
And so, for hours I had this battle between my conscious mind and the plant.
My arrogant self was challenging the vision.
At one stage, I talked to a snake, but the recurring image was of the ugliness of my own ego.
The ayahuasca was not going to reveal anything else until I dealt with this first.
It was a powerful lesson and a humbling experience.
Somewhat chastened, I leave Iquitos and head down river once more.
But from now on, I will be guided by my vision, to try to be humble as I listen to the stories of the people I meet on my Amazon journey.
Finally, I am entering Brazil.
My first stop will be the town of Benjamin Constant, and my timing couldn't be better.
As one might expect from a frontier town, Benjamin Constant's got quite a funny reputation, and I've no idea what's in store for me this next week.
But I do know it's carnival time.
Carnival has its origins in ancient Rome, where slaves and masters would exchange clothes for a day of drunken revelry.
It was later modified by the Catholic Church into a ceremony before Ash Wednesday.
But it soon evolved into a massive celebration of indulgence.
It's one last blow-out of alcohol, sex, food and dancing before the abstinence of Lent.
I can't wait! Can you believe it? I love this.
Carnival is celebrated all over Brazil, but in Benjamin Constant, it's a little different.
Cross-dressing is the order of the day.
I join a group of local businessmen for a bizarre game of football.
(WHISTLING) I've been sent off! How can you get sent off at a match like this?! Everyone was just enjoying it and so not caring and there was no ego.
It was just fun, fun, fun, and it was the best game I've ever played, without a doubt, I promise you that.
It's the last night of carnival, and thousands of people pack into the town's Sambadrome.
The word ''carnival''originates from the Latin ''carne vale', or ''farewell to the flesh''.
For six days, every town in Brazil is partying.
It's a national holiday of epic proportions.
Can I introduce a couple of people to you? Assistant producer, director, sound manand fixer.
There is nobody that's not getting involved today.
Hi, guys! (LAUGHS) I've been travelling for three months now and I'm ready to let my hair down.
I've been entered into the carnival queen competition, and I reckon I'm in with a good chance.
Everybody who does the fashion walk parade has to have a persona.
It's a rule.
You've got to be someone that people know.
So I settled with the Queen of England.
Somehow, I didn't win.
First prize went to a gaudy strumpet in a spangly skirt.
There's no accounting for taste.
But it's been the most wonderful introduction to Brazil.
After six days of parties, I'm back on the river again, heading east into the forest.
Next time, I travel into one of the most remote parts of the Amazon to see some old friends - the Matis.
Nice to see you, really nice to see you.
But I find them at a point of crisis, as an epidemic threatens the tribe.
And I live and work with some of the people often held responsible for destroying the forest.
If you want to know more, visit our website - bbc.
co.
uk/amazon
These hunter-gatherers live in one of the most untouched parts of the forest, and one of the richest natural environments left on Earth.
You feel something tickle against your leg.
It's like, you can't see a thing, it's so murky.
Once proud warriors, they are now fighting a new enemy, the oil companies.
Every single living thing in this particular area here will have died.
Their tribal lands sit on top of vast oil reserves.
And they don't trust outsiders.
They actually have decided that they don't want me in the house.
As my Amazon journey continues, I seek a vision to guide me on my way.
It's just sitting there like an evil menace in my stomach.
And, as I finally reach Brazil, things get very strange.
Can you believe it? I love this.
I'm travelling through the Amazon rainforest, following the river from the source to the sea, looking at the lives of the people who live here.
As I push further north, the mountain jungles of the Andes give way to endless forest.
This is the largest unbroken tract of tropical forest on Earth.
And from the air, it takes your breath away! But this is no empty wilderness.
This vast forest is home to some of Peru's most remote tribal groups.
The Achuar live in the north of Peru, near the border with Ecuador, along the rivers Pastaza and Huitoyacu.
Back in the '60s, seismic testing found huge deposits of crude oil here.
The oil companies have been working on the Pastaza for years, but the communities on the River Huitoyacu have so far refused them access.
And that's where I'm going first.
We land in a small settlement on the River Marañon called San Lorenzo.
Jorge, que tal? This is Jorge Fachin.
He's an Achuar leader, and has agreed to introduce me to the elders of his village, three days'travel up a remote tributary of the Amazon.
It feels like a bitter irony that oil should be found here of all places.
This part of the Amazon is one of the most bio-diverse places on Earth.
The river and forest weave a complex eco-system that supports the planet's most dazzling array of life.
Been all day on this boat, getting increasingly smaller as we go upstream.
This is the Huitoyacu.
It's just so glorious, and this time of the evening, with the sun going down, it's got an ethereal quality.
I'm so lucky to be allowed to come in here.
There are no roads, no towns, no real infrastructure, other than what the tribal people have traditionally had.
As we move into Achuar territory, we pass local people, but no-one smiles or waves.
Although the villagers know we are coming, Jorge warns me not to expect too much of a welcome.
Although the Achuar have had contact with the outside world for over forty years, they are a superstitious people.
Their world is full of witchcraft and forest spirits to be feared and appeased.
They believe the pelacaras are evil spirits that stalk the forest.
And, as we move slowly upstream, I begin to get the sense we are going somewhere strange and special.
This is the village of Wijint, which is the largest of all the Achuar communities.
Population of about 500 people, I think, spread out over quite some area.
And Jorge here, who's the old president, is gonna introduce me to some of the elders.
But we are nearly a day late and the Apus, or elders, are all out hunting.
The village is all but deserted.
The next morning, we are summoned by the elders.
I've been told we've all got to go in in single file, there's eight of us.
Then we've got to go up and stand in front of the area where the Apus, the elders, are going to come and greet us in their special way.
(THEY CHANT) The hall is packed and their message is clear.
Although they were expecting us, they are nervous.
They don't even trust Jorge, and he grew up here and was one of their leaders.
I have already heard that you have concerns about your natural resources being taken and many, many things, and I also fully understand everything that you have asked and said to me.
(REPLIES IN HIS NATIVE TONGUE) The meeting takes all day, but the elders finally, reluctantly, agree that we can stay.
Saris, the most outspoken against us, is chosen to be my host.
I'm very excited Fantastic.
(TRIBAL MUSIC) I'd heard before I came that the Achuar were a very organised group of people, they like their meetings and they like things to be deliberated.
They like to have the (LOUD BANG) It's all right, that's quite exciting.
But this is extraordinary.
It's better than any village fete I've been to back home.
It's really well orchestrated.
The Achuar lived here in relative isolation until the middle of the 20th century.
They escaped the devastation of the rubber boom that wiped out so many Amazonian tribes.
When missionaries arrived in the '60s, they found the Achuar living in a state of perpetual internal warfare, often sparked by the belief that shamans had cast evil spells.
The Achuar no longer live with the fear of constant war, but outsiders are still treated with suspicion.
Despite his initial hostility, Saris is warming to me.
His daughters, however, are not so sure.
Saris's sons-in-law live here too, but they are away hunting.
If I'm to stay here, I'll need to help out, so he shows me to his garden.
The Achuar are renowned for their use of forest medicine.
One of the most powerful plants in their medicine cabinet is ayahuasca.
The Achuar use ayahuasca to search for their vision, or path, through life.
They believe it can induce dreams in which the spirits speak to you.
Saris agrees to arrange an ayahuasca ceremony for me, in return for helping out.
OK.
Mañana? Mañana.
Fantastico Perfecto.
No problemo.
.
.
I've got my work cut out tomorrow, then! But the morning brings bad news.
Saris has had a change of heart.
Or rather, it seems, his daughters have had a quiet word.
And it seems that their reticence and their shyness hasn't disappeared and they actually have decided that they don't want me in the house.
So it's not looking good really, cos I don't want to be an imposition, even though he was really happy yesterday, they've had time to think and maybe it's not right.
I understand and I the reason for me coming here is to try and learn about your culture, and the last thing that I want is to be an imposition on anyone.
In order to understand something of the Achuar way of life, I want to stay with a family.
As most people are suspicious of myself and the crew,Jorge introduces me to his brother-in-law, Mantu.
He lives with his wife Carmela and their children in the forest outside the village.
Mantu is a skilled hunter.
He has just returned from the forest with food.
Traditionally, the Achuar house was the centre of the family's world.
Before the missionaries encouraged them to form villages, the Achuar would live in single houses spread throughout the forest.
These spectacular structures, up to eight metres high, would be home to the extended family and had alliances with nearby houses for trading and marriage.
The house is surrounded by gardens, called chakras, and a network of paths radiates outwards into areas for hunting and fishing.
Before dawn the next morning, I join the family in their morning ritual, drinking a bitter herbal tea called wayus.
It's both purgative and tonic.
After drinking litres of wayus, we all head outside.
(HE RETCHES) Aah Morning, everyone.
The Achuar do this every morning of their lives.
This ritual purging is followed by a period of quiet reflection, where the family can discuss the day ahead.
Mantu tells me the forest spirits are much on his mind.
To the Achuar, the forest is alive with spirits.
Mana is the mother of the animals.
Where she lives, the forest is full of game.
Arutem is the mother of the visions.
She is wise and appears in dreams to tell the future.
Shaam is dangerous.
Where she lives, the forest is quiet.
But now, there's a new spirit haunting the forest, the pelacara, or the skin peeler.
It's thought that the legend of the pelacara has a basis in horrific reality.
Early settlers here hunted tribal people and rendered their fat for oil lamps.
I'm beginning to understand why people are so scared of us.
Trying to lead the Achuar from the darkness into the light is a small mission of Colombian nuns.
(THEY SPEAK IN SPANISH) Fantastic.
They manage the school and, unlike many missionaries, still encourage traditional beliefs.
So, what changes have you seen over the years? You must have seen a lot.
The nuns have their work cut out.
The Achuar legal system is more Old Testament than New.
Certain crimes are punishable by death.
I've agreed to help Saris chop some firewood.
I want to help as much as I can, but he's a hard task-master.
Making a bit of a pig's ear of it, cos so many obstacles in the way for my swing, I can't do it properly.
But I've got to get it right, cos if it goes the wrong way, it could take out half of his garden and all the plants and trees therein.
Oh, fuck! It's hard work in the heat.
And this morning's wayus is still giving me gyp.
It's Fuck! Ooh, a bit woozy there.
They said when I was drinking this morning and vomiting, that if I didn't get it all out, there was a chance I could get nauseous in the day, especially on my first time.
And I just think I had a wave of that.
Ugh, about to be sick.
(HE RETCHES) I feel faint, but I still want to carry the logs back to Saris's hut.
I was feeling great this morning after the wayus, wayus vomiting up, I thought it was quite a good sort of purgative, made me feel quitefresh and healthy, but I'm feeling really nauseous now.
And he's still not finished with me.
I'm not here for long, and I'm finding Wijint a difficult place to make friends.
The people seem nervous and reserved.
So when Mantu offers to take me fishing, I jump at the chance.
Mantu's kept up a pretty good pace all morning.
We've been going for some time, and I can keep up with him on the straight, but as soon as we come to any obstacles or logs, I'm so much slower.
Whoa! See what I mean? Fishing with the Achuar is a family affair.
Three families have come together to maximise their catch.
I've just arrived, and I think that we're going to be making the poison, and some people are already here before me.
And the guys who are just ahead as well loving the flip-out screen on the camera.
They're using the leaves of the huaca plant to asphyxiate the fish.
First, it must be mashed.
Huaca stuns the fish by deoxygenating the water.
It doesn't kill them, and so the river will recover quickly afterwards.
Really? Like that? OK.
As the poison is released into the stream, fish begin to surface, gasping for breath.
The families move slowly downstream, gathering their catch.
Jorge, there's one over there, I think.
The river is healthy, clean, and full of huge fish.
I'm so far back, I'm just getting the tiddlers.
But up the front, some of the boys are getting some real whoppers.
I can actually see one rising and coming down like a porpoise, surfacing and breaching, and then it disappears, and you can feel something tickle against your leg, and it's like you can't see a thing, it's so murky.
Check the teeth on that.
I was told, watch out for that one, cos if he bites you, he doesn't let go.
Catch up with the family, I don't want to be last in this river.
It's been a good day, and I feel at last like I'm beginning to make some friends.
Just look at the catch, unbelievable.
There's one here, check that.
These and these.
Amazing.
My paltry amount is just here but I did get the bonus of getting the, er the stingray.
But all in all, pretty good.
As hunter-gatherers, the Achuar rely almost completely on the forest and its river for their food.
They need a vast area to sustain this way of life.
But the oil companies are getting closer.
This man has just returned from a patrol to the edge of the territory where the oil companies are carrying out seismic testing.
Some of the Achuar villages nearby have agreed to oil exploration on their land.
They want development, jobs, money, electricity, education.
It's interesting, because although the Achuar are very unified as a group of people en masse, also there do seem to be some some differences of opinion within the various communities.
And one community, for example, which borders this community, has accepted some of the petroleum companies on to their turf.
Now, there's massive dispute within their own community.
Some want it and some don't, but it seems that that fracture has allowed some of the seismic testing to come on board, which is making this community really twitchy and scared about how much closer it's going to come, and the contamination might come onto what is their ancestral lands.
Why is it that you are so adamant that you do not want these companies to come onto your land, when they seem to be offering you so much and they have so many promises for good things? Why is it that you do not want them to come here? It's hard to believe that a small community like this can keep big business at bay, but they have done so for decades.
Everything is connected here.
All the rivers flow into one, so if a tributary upstream is polluted, everyone will feel the effects.
The Achuars'only hope is to stand together.
And in such a remote part of the world, that is almost impossible.
Still weird, still don't feel like I've really broken into the community or the family yet.
But I'm hoping that, just by chipping away and being here and always being helpful and smiling, that they'll realise that I'm not all that bad and lighten up a bit.
That's my hope.
As we drink wayus, Mantu and Carmela tell me what to expect from the ayahuasca.
Today's the big day.
Right.
Time for my morning vomit.
(RETCHING) After this now, I'm just going to have a bowl of masata and that's going to be the only food substance I have all day until I drink the ayahuasca this evening.
Saris is not well, so two of the elders have been given the responsibility of organising the ceremony.
The ayahuasca is crushed, then boiled.
The drumming not only brings in the spirits and entices the visions, but it's also an announcement to everyone in the surrounding area that we have an ayahuasca ceremony going on today.
And as a result, lots of faces peering in all around.
It's a real community spirit, it's lovely.
This is Mashenkish, an elder from a nearby village.
He will preside over the ceremony today.
He wears a traditional toucan feather headdress.
As evening approaches, I'm sent to the river to wash.
I think the hardest thing of all is gonna be just drinking litres of really nasty, toxic, bitterjuice.
That's gonna be the hard bit.
But it's still a lovely ritual, I'm really looking forward to it.
There's a lot of build-up, and of course, central to the Achuar way of looking at life is this vision.
You might not get it powerfully, you might not get it first time, but you must have it, and that is something that's important to them.
It's how they see, how they look forward in their lives, and it's also how they fight their battles, as part of a community.
As night falls, the ceremony begins.
About 20 people will take the ayahuasca.
As we had the honour of preparing the vine, the two elders and I will drink later.
It's important that when you drink the ayahuasca, it's held by the hand of a respected elder, cos he has the power which he may be able to give to you.
The participants down litres of the foul-tasting brew.
Then the vomiting starts.
You must vomit until all the ayahuasca has come up, then drink litres of water.
This must also be expelled until there is nothing left.
If you don't, you may receive a bad vision.
I've vomited every day this week, but this is something else.
(HE RETCHES) I've never seen anything like it.
And it's me next.
We've also got our own special bowl which was taken out earlier with all the really strong stuff, so we've got twice the amount, fewer people, stronger potion.
It's not looking good.
(LOUD RETCHING) Well done.
Soon it's my turn.
Immediately, I feel as if I've been poisoned.
But it's only just beginning.
I'm feeling like, already, I don't know why, but just shaking all over, just I have to drink about four litres.
But the taste is so disgusting that it triggers my gag reflex.
It's just sitting there like a lead weight of what feels like evil menace in my stomach.
We've got more.
I'm going to let it sit for as long as I can to do its work.
But I know I've got to get it all out later, but I'm gonna try and keep it in because I really want to have a vision.
At this rate, I will.
(HE RETCHES, LIQUID SPLASHES) The bowl is empty.
Thank God.
Mantu brings me water.
Then that, too, has to come up.
OK, in here? That one single act is the most wonderful thing that's happened to me since I've been here, and it's so lovely.
Mantu, who's so stoical and rarely smiles, and has just been a wonderful host, but always just a little bit separate, has just looked after me, at this moment, when I really needed him, so nicely.
And just washing my feet, imagine! That's really made my complete stay.
I'm so happy.
At last, we settle down to sleep and wait for the visions to come.
Mantu watches over me.
Before dawn, the drum starts again, and it's time to reveal what dreams have come.
Jorge thinks he has seen something.
But, for me, nothing.
There was a moment when I thought everything was changing, when this wind came through and we could hear distant thunder, and there was this bat flying around, and I had this moment of paranoia that I thought it was a vampire bat and was going to bite me and give me rabies.
So that kept me up for a while, and I thought maybe something was starting, but in reality, it just didn't happen, so I'm really a bit disappointed.
Just come to say thank you, really.
Thank you and goodbye.
It's time to leave Wijint and continue on my journey.
Mashenkish tells me it's common not to have a vision the first time, but that I must try again.
Muchas gracias.
Although I didn't find my vision, I did find friendship and fear.
The Achuar are fighting for their way of life as the modern world encroaches.
Their lives and culture stand at a crucial point of change.
I want to see what they are fighting against and what can happen when the oil companies come.
So much of the Peruvian Amazon has been split up into oil blocks or lots for exploration and extraction, and the area that I'm in now was one of the first to have actually had oil found in it.
The Rio Corrientes lies just east of the village of Wijint, but it's a world away.
The oil companies began their extraction of crude here before the indigenous people were awarded title to their land.
The law has now changed, but it comes too late for many of the communities on this river.
I was just wondering what it must be like in those days to have been an indigenous community, not having any idea that your world was about to change.
People suddenly arriving without any prior notice, cutting long lines in the jungle, exploding every hundred metres to discover what's under the soil, then lots and lots of labour forces coming in and roads being built, you having to move away, lines being cut through villages, and the local people never having anyone to talk to, or to complain to, about these problems.
This is Andoas - an oil town, deep in the jungle.
I came here hoping to film the effects of oil extraction in the rainforest.
I'm not sure I need to look much further than this.
It's a relief to head out into the jungle, but the effects of the oil industry are everywhere.
So much machinery and plant, like this.
We're just coming across another one, in the middle of nowhere.
We've arranged to meet an Achuar man called Guevara.
He works as an environmental monitor, checking for the signs of pollution.
He tells me there's been a spill just a few weeks ago.
We were on the river for over an hour, and we've been trekking for 20 minutes, and in this, what should be the village's traditional hunting grounds, there's only one thing that's dominating my experience at the moment, and that's the extraordinary sound (DISTANT HUMMING) this massive generator that's some distance ahead of us.
(LOUD HUMMING) We emerge into a clearing.
Even if you could hear me, I don't really need to say anything, do I? This is a pumping station, moving oil from a nearby well.
An hour's walk away, we find the oil well and the site of the spill.
Yeah, here you go.
Already only a few feet away from the slick.
This is two weeks ago, let's not forget.
It's been cleaned up well.
But it's the first time I've ever actually come this close to this sort of crude oil, bitumen, tarry stuff, and I think I'm going to have oily fingers for the rest of the day.
It's really It's really not great stuff.
As we move down into the stream, we can see the effects of the spill.
The oil company has cleaned most of it up, but it's still devastating.
This spill happened 17 days ago, and all of this crude here has made its way down through this tributary into the main river, which is the source that all the villagers drink from, and every single living thing in this particular area here - there is no doubt at all - will have died.
It's just mass destruction.
It's all I can see around me.
A stream runs into the Corrientes, which, in turn, runs through Guevara's village.
His people no longer drink the water or eat the fish.
The oil companies insist that regular tests are carried out by government agencies and there's no risk to human health or the ecosystem.
Those who live here aren't convinced.
That night, we stay in Guevara's village.
40 years ago, this was a traditional Achuar community.
The difference between here and Wijint is tangible.
Electricity, TVs, money.
But what has been lost? We leave Andoas the next day, heading south down the Rio Pastaza.
I feel really very sad, actually leaving Andoas and the River Corrientes, but the point, really, is that there's billions and billions of dollars being made in the oil industry here, and sadly, so very little of it seems to be going to the people who own the land on which the oil's being extracted, and the people who are having their lives, both health-wise and socially, just completely turned inside out.
We head south again, down the Marañon, towards the main flow of the river.
This is an important point on my journey.
Even though I've been journeying for three whole months, amazingly, this place here is the first location that the river is actually formally known as the Amazon.
It's going to change its name again, and I'm going to go through many different transformations of this river, but for now, just being here feels amazing.
I'm travelling east on the Amazon for the first time, heading for the jungle port of Iquitos, the Peruvian Amazon's biggest city.
It was built on the wealth of the rubber boom, and has a certain faded opulence.
Now, Iquitos is becoming a centre for anotherjungle product - this time, my old friend ayahuasca.
I'm loving Iquitos.
It's got a real energy and buzz about it.
It's so busy and colourful.
It smells dirty and it's really fun.
It's so strange being in quite a busy city suddenly, having been in small towns and in the jungle and on the river for so long.
I promised the elders of Wijint I'd find my vision, and I think this is the place to do it.
There are a number of different ways of doing ayahuasca that the indigenous peoples do in the Amazon.
One is just the vine itself, like I did.
But many of the tribal communities mix it with other plants that bring on a much deeper, more powerful, strong and spiritual and visionary experience, and it's that I'm going to try and do, and I've found a place that does it nearby here, in Iquitos, and I'm heading off there tomorrow to give it a go.
Percy Garcia Lozano is one of the youngest shamans in Iquitos.
His grandfather was a boatman on the Amazon and taught him the secrets of the tribes he met on his travels.
Walking through the forest with Percy is an education.
Where I see just trees and plants, he sees remedies for all manner of ailments.
Wakrapona? Pene pequeno, si! (BRUCE LAUGHS) Gracias.
Well, I think we'll move on after that one! Percy will preside over the ayahuasca ceremony.
Unlike the Achuar, he adds other leaves to the mix.
Chacrona and datura, both powerful hallucinogens.
Where the Achuar visions are subtle dreams, the experience here will be much stronger.
There are other people staying at the retreat.
Peruvians and travellers from all over the world, all seeking something from the ayahuasca.
It has been used to treat addiction as well as to induce visions.
Often I'm wary of this sort of thing outside an authentic tribal setting, but I find Percy convincing and the other participants reassuring.
I heard about ayahuasca ten years ago and I decided to look for it because I was having a bad time in my life.
And it was great, amazing.
I stopped smoking.
OK.
I first heard about this only a few months ago, and I'm just curious why so many researchers and travellers alike are coming to this part of the world and coming back with experiences that are just really interesting.
Sure.
How was it for you, the first time you did it? - Absolutely amazing.
- What did it do? It's so hard to explain.
You'll find out tonight, but it was just an unbelievable experience.
The best dream you've ever had, but it's real.
(THUNDER RUMBLES) A storm rumbles over the camp as evening approaches.
I have a sense of foreboding about the night to come.
What will my vision be? I'm feeling quite apprehensive, actually.
I think this is going to be quite a powerful experience for me.
From everything I've read and from the people I've spoken to, this is not something anyone should take lightly.
I don't know what's going to happen, is the honest truth, I've no idea.
I think that the ultimate result of it will be positive, but I wouldn't be surprised if I go through some quite traumatic moments during this process tonight.
One by one, we step forward to drink a bitter, viscous shot of the concentrated ayahuasca.
Totally different to my last experience of doing ayahuasca, which was very fluid.
Lots and lots of people were doing it in one area.
This is a totally different sort of ceremony, and all that remains is to see what the evening holds in store for me.
No going back.
(RATTLING) In the darkness, Percy sings and whistles to call in the spirits and their visions.
Before long, the effects begin to kick in.
Some are familiar.
And others more difficult for me to dismiss.
(PERCY WHISTLES) As the ayahuasca floods my system, a battle rages inside my head.
The medicine is working in ways which, at first, are hard to bear.
I just couldn't stop my ego talking all the time, analysing and questioning the experience as it happened.
And so, for hours I had this battle between my conscious mind and the plant.
My arrogant self was challenging the vision.
At one stage, I talked to a snake, but the recurring image was of the ugliness of my own ego.
The ayahuasca was not going to reveal anything else until I dealt with this first.
It was a powerful lesson and a humbling experience.
Somewhat chastened, I leave Iquitos and head down river once more.
But from now on, I will be guided by my vision, to try to be humble as I listen to the stories of the people I meet on my Amazon journey.
Finally, I am entering Brazil.
My first stop will be the town of Benjamin Constant, and my timing couldn't be better.
As one might expect from a frontier town, Benjamin Constant's got quite a funny reputation, and I've no idea what's in store for me this next week.
But I do know it's carnival time.
Carnival has its origins in ancient Rome, where slaves and masters would exchange clothes for a day of drunken revelry.
It was later modified by the Catholic Church into a ceremony before Ash Wednesday.
But it soon evolved into a massive celebration of indulgence.
It's one last blow-out of alcohol, sex, food and dancing before the abstinence of Lent.
I can't wait! Can you believe it? I love this.
Carnival is celebrated all over Brazil, but in Benjamin Constant, it's a little different.
Cross-dressing is the order of the day.
I join a group of local businessmen for a bizarre game of football.
(WHISTLING) I've been sent off! How can you get sent off at a match like this?! Everyone was just enjoying it and so not caring and there was no ego.
It was just fun, fun, fun, and it was the best game I've ever played, without a doubt, I promise you that.
It's the last night of carnival, and thousands of people pack into the town's Sambadrome.
The word ''carnival''originates from the Latin ''carne vale', or ''farewell to the flesh''.
For six days, every town in Brazil is partying.
It's a national holiday of epic proportions.
Can I introduce a couple of people to you? Assistant producer, director, sound manand fixer.
There is nobody that's not getting involved today.
Hi, guys! (LAUGHS) I've been travelling for three months now and I'm ready to let my hair down.
I've been entered into the carnival queen competition, and I reckon I'm in with a good chance.
Everybody who does the fashion walk parade has to have a persona.
It's a rule.
You've got to be someone that people know.
So I settled with the Queen of England.
Somehow, I didn't win.
First prize went to a gaudy strumpet in a spangly skirt.
There's no accounting for taste.
But it's been the most wonderful introduction to Brazil.
After six days of parties, I'm back on the river again, heading east into the forest.
Next time, I travel into one of the most remote parts of the Amazon to see some old friends - the Matis.
Nice to see you, really nice to see you.
But I find them at a point of crisis, as an epidemic threatens the tribe.
And I live and work with some of the people often held responsible for destroying the forest.
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