‘The altars are portals into the spirit world,’ says Jhony Aponte, a follower from Barquisimeto. ‘They have an energy that opens a third dimension. People come here to be purified, if they have problems with their health or at work, or if they want to improve their love life.’
As night takes hold, the purifications begin. All through the forest, devotees hold ceremonies where anyone suffering from physical or mental ailments is cleansed in elaborate rituals. At one purification, a woman lies on the ground, the shape of her body outlined by chalk and candles. A shaman prowls around her, possessed by a spirit, his body hunched like an old man’s. He speaks in strange, guttural tones, barking orders at a young girl. He pours a bottle of cinnamon liqueur over the woman and sprinkles a sweet-smelling, blood-coloured juice over her body.
A man and a woman sitting either side of her puff on cigars and blow smoke into her face. A lone drum starts up and the crowd that has gathered to watch begins to chant fervently: ‘Fuerza! Fuerza!’ (‘Strength! Strength!’).
Everywhere we walk there are ceremonies taking place. They feel like private candle-lit plays. At another encampment, a family is gathered round a woman who speaks in a scratchy, falsetto voice. ‘You must be careful,’ she warns them. A man next to me explains that the woman has been possessed by the spirit of a dead relative.
At times it feels like a music festival. There are stalls peddling handicrafts, fried chicken and, of course, perfumerias selling esoteric products. People wander around, walking along narrow paths from one ceremony to another. Most of the men are stripped to the waist and wear white shorts or cotton trousers with red bandanas.
The culmination of the night is the ‘Fire Dance’ in a large enclosure in which followers draw strength from Maria Lionza to walk on hot coals. By 4am most of the camps have given over to drumming sessions while some hold further fire-walking sessions.
As we make to leave, we stumble across another purification. This one is more intimate. A man plays a single drum, its slow rhythm like a faint heart beat. In the middle of a chalk circle, a girl lies in a trance, her body convulsing to the beat.
A man and a woman sit on either side of her, smoking cigars and spitting into puddles of saliva that form at their feet. Gradually, the drummer brings the session to a halt. It takes him a while to bring the girl out of her trance. He stands above her and taps each of her knees then moves up to her face and gently strokes her eyelids. Finally he lifts her legs and bends her knees upright.
Slowly she wakes. He lifts her up and walks her round the circle of candles. Then they step out of the circle and slip quietly into the darkness of the night.
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