Samauma and the Sacred Tree

Welcome to this space where I will be sharing the first chapters of Samauma and the Sacred Tree

Samauma and the Sacred Tree

For my children, for yours and for the children still to come.

"Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

Prologue

She was named after an ancient sacred tree, revered by her people, its roots entwined deep in the earth while its branches stretched toward the stars: an ephemeral bridge connecting Heaven and Earth.

They used to call her the girl with rainbow eyes, the much-loved daughter of a wise shaman and a holistic therapist. And if that wasn’t enough, she was guided by Iracema, her spirit mother. But that was a long time ago.  In the past few years,  undoubtedly the worst of her life, she was no longer capable of distancing herself from her memories. They made her shiver during the day and kept her awake at night. Luckily, she was born with the ability to self-soothe through lucid dreaming, taking flight through different dimensions and immersing herself once more in the enchanting wonders of the rainforest, revisiting a past that felt achingly perfect.

“Samaúma, it is getting dark; time to come out of the forest.” She sees her eight-year-old self, eyes shut, hugging the smooth bark of her cherished tree, breathing in its musky smell. She waits a few more minutes, knowing the precise moment before dusk to open her eyes and witness her favourite daily show as the white flowers of her tree blossom in sumptuousness. Heart racing and a wide grin on her face, she gives her tree one final tight hug  before running home to her Yamandu.

Memories of Kirsten, her English mother who came from across the oceans to learn shamanism with Yamandu,  with her pale freckled face, kind grey eyes and hair as red as a tropical sunset, weighed heavy on her heart. She hoped her mother died knowing how much she was loved. She hoped she had said the right words at the right time. But it took a long time for Samaúma to understand that what Kirsten did was only to protect her, to keep her alive and that’s what good mothers should do, though sometimes they failed to understand that motherhood did not give them superpowers.

But as Kirsten would say, that’s water under the bridge now. As she walked once again through that verdant habitat,  the air thickened with the scent of damp earth and rich foliage, creating an intoxicating perfume that was both ancient and alive. Towering trees stretched upwards with their trunks wrapped in vibrant epiphytes: orchids, bromeliads and mosses while a kaleidoscope of leaves filtered the sunlight, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. The symphony of sounds surrounded her: the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant calls of howler monkeys and her beloved golden lion tamarins, and the melodic chirping of Harpy Eagles, alongside the Macaws with their red bodies and blue and yellow wings flitting between the branches.  She recalled the many battles she fought trying to save the lungs of the world. Some battles she managed to win, many she lost, including the greatest loss of her life.

Part I

Yamandu and Iracema

When young Yamandu fell in love for the first and only time, he felt blessed to be carried by the ecstasy and temporary insanity that only those brave enough to let their hearts crack wide open, abandoning all notions of 'sensible’, could experience, a force that had the power to uplift and destroy.

  Yamandu was an indigenous Tupi Guarani born and bred in the Amazon.  He started having visions when he was just 8 years old.  Many times, he alerted his tribe of incoming floods or unscrupulous explorers coming up the Amazon River towards their tribe. Soon, the tribe's Shaman took him under his wing. He was a fast learner, accumulating knowledge of the medicinal power of the healing plants around him.  By ten he was fascinated by the intelligence and interconnectedness of the colossal trees around him.  He could sense them, almost hear them communicating with each other through an intricate network of fungi and roots, sharing resources, such as water and nutrients; they could communicate about threats like insect attacks or drought, sending chemical signals through the fungal network to warn neighbouring trees of potential dangers. They could even adapt their growth patterns in response to neighbouring trees.  And to him,  they were his ancestral great grandmothers.  He fiercely loved them.  As he grew, he ventured deeper into the rain forest with the Shaman to explore the sentient intelligence around him,  connecting him to the womb of that wondrous eco-system.  As he became aware of his own life force, he learnt to use his eyes not just to see in the normal sense, but to gain insight, discernment, perception, and precognition.  Yamandu would sit for hours in a secluded spot connecting to what he saw, touched, heard, smelt, and felt around him.  Slowly the forest began to talk to him and show him the intricate interconnection of what we call life. He would live the rest of his life aglow with wonder and reverence to the perfection of that oasis.    

During the rainy season, the air was alive, almost electric as diverse species engaged in mating behaviours. It was amidst all that frolicking that her laughter bewitched him. He was walking back with the Shaman after hours of foraging for healing plants.   They had gathered Ayahuasca for the elders’ spiritual practice,  Cat's Claw (Uncaria tomentosa) for its anti-inflammatory properties, Copaiba for its analgesic effects and the stimulating Guayusa for their daily brew. With each plant carefully tucked into his pouch, he felt a sense of accomplishment. But just then, he heard her hearty, spontaneous laugh. He stopped in his tracks and hid behind a tree, captivated by the commotion.

Through the leaves, he could see her fishing alongside the tribe’s women: they  had just caught a ten-foot arapaima in their net. Her laughter rang out so loudly and freely that even the macaws seemed to chirp a little louder in response. The delight of her infectious joy drew in even the grumpiest of tribe women, who joined in the merriment.

He followed that enchanting sound, peering from behind the tree. He watched as she pierced a wooden pole through the net and, together with the women, carried the mighty arapaima back to the maloca, singing ancient Tupi mantras to celebrate their victorious catch.

Iracema was no longer the skinny girl with a runny nose who would cry wolf to the elders:  she had grown into a beautiful young woman. The Shaman observed his apprentice in silence, knowing that this life lesson was something Yamandu had to experience for himself. There was no rhyme or reason for what was about to happen.

He began to follow Iracema. She not only fished and hunted better than he did but also foraged for edible and medicinal plants. But that wasn’t all,  she could deliver babies and heal the sick, but it was her infectious joy that captivated him the most. She was feisty, with a mind of her own. Her round face framed sparkling brown eyes that danced with mischief, and her smile had a warmth that could brighten the deepening shadows at dusk. Yamandu knew she was the one for him. However, she was still young and had yet to experience the other young men in the tribe. It was customary for young women in his tribe to be with whomever they chose until they found the man they would marry and love for life. Each time he heard of her romping with someone else, his heart ached, and he found himself seeking comfort from the shaman, grappling with feelings of jealousy and longing as he watched her share her bliss with others.  Iracema was aware of him trailing her from the shadows, and while his numerous attempts to camouflage himself amused her, she couldn't help but feel concerned for his suffering. Finally, she approached him.

“Yamandu, why are you wasting your precious time following me around? Don’t you have better things to do, like learning how to be our shaman one day?” she mused.

“I know you think I am like the others, but I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t focus on my lessons with the shaman. I am either laughing like an idiot when I see you or crying like a lost sloth when I can’t find you,”  he confessed wondering what she had done to him.

“You are not at all like the others, I don’t think any of the others feel so madly about me like you do, and I like how you speak from your heart.  But to me Yamandu, sweet words mean nothing.  Action, thousands of little acts of love and care, may win my heart one day.” She made a fist and tapped her chest,  “This  heart is precious, and I must protect it.”

“Just give me a chance, Iracema. Let me surprise you, when the rain stops,”  he almost begged.

“Then come and find me, when the time is right.” Dazzling him with her smile, she ran back to her maloca.

After the rain,  the atmosphere transformed into a rejuvenated environment. The air became cool and fresh, filled with the earthy scent of wet soil and foliage. The dense plant life glistened with droplets of water, reflecting sunlight that broke through the canopy, making the green leaves, the branches, the foliage sparkle like tiny diamonds.

The sounds of the rainforest shifted: the heavy patter of rain faded, replaced by the gentle dripping of water from branches and the soft rustle of leaves as they settled. Birds and insects began to emerge, filling the air with their calls and chirps, while small animals ventured out to explore the newly refreshed landscape.

Yamandu was nervous when the moment finally arrived to surprise Iracema. He was eager to show her how much he cared, so he took his favourite spot where the mighty Samauma tree reigned supreme.  

“Now close your eyes and give me your hand.” She noticed that his hand was trembling slightly. But as soon as she took it, she felt his grip strengthen and she felt safe.

“Don’t you even dare to peek, Iracema.”

“I’m tempted, but I won’t. Do we have far to walk?” She giggled and moved closer to him.

“A few more steps, that’s all.”

They walked slowly through the forest as twilight deepened. Hues of orange, yellow, and purple painted the sky, and nightfall began to descend. The sounds all around her delighted and startled her. They could feel the comforting, warm moisture in the air, while different rumblings announced the transition from diurnal creatures settling down to nocturnal beings emerging to hunt and play.

“Now you can open your eyes,”  he said releasing her hand.

Iracema gasped when she spotted a bed made of her favourite wildflowers nestled under the sacred tree, illuminated by little fire lanterns. Her face lit up with joy.

"Is this all for me? It’s so beautiful… my favourite little flowers! How did you know? I can’t believe it: this is perfect!"

“This is nothing. Look up.”

She gazed at the incandescent sky, aglow as the sun dipped slowly below the horizon, ushering in the first twinkling stars, billions of light-years away. Here, on a tiny planet perfectly situated within what westerners now call “the Goldilocks Zone,”  at just the right distance from its sun, neither too hot nor too cold, conditions fostered the flow of liquid water at the perfect temperature for life to flourish, even in the smallest crevices beneath the ocean's surface or within the towering trees. Pulsating life coursed through every cell, driven by an insatiable will to survive and thrive against all odds, propelled by pollination’s perpetual dance. This natural world was an oasis, a kind of living miracle lost in the vast expanse of space.

“If I could, I’d give you sunsets, sunrises, the moon, and the stars,” he said, raising his voice and throwing his arms up to the sky.

“Oh, Yamandu… They’re already mine and yours too. They belong to all of us. But this bed covered with my favourite flowers and the little fire lanterns belong to me because you created them for me,” turning to face him, she grabbed his face with both hands and gently kissed his lips.   “Yes, they are only mine, and I love them.”   She knew there and then that she could give her body, heart, and soul to this strong young man with broad shoulders, dark eyes that shone with wonder, shining black hair, and a whimsical grin: she knew he would treasure her with his life.

The young lovers soon became blind to the world around them, entering a dimension where only their lustful bodies and keen awareness of each other existed. There was nothing else Yamandu and Iracema desired from this world, nothing: everything they needed was right there beneath the Samauma tree. This newfound realm unified their bodies, expanded their minds, opened their hearts, and connected them deeply to one another and to the energising force flowing around them.

As the days and weeks flowed into months, Yamandu's intuition began to raise alarms about a lurking danger surrounding Iracema. The tribe was aware of brutal attacks from unscrupulous outsiders searching for gold or seeking casual work in the oil companies and agribusiness invading their ancestral lands. Yet, consumed by his deep love and hope for a shared future with her, he chose to overlook the signs his intuition was sending. Besides, he felt safe in his knowledge and reassured by the fact that he had chosen such a remote spot.  Immersed in their intense passion, they remained oblivious to the prying eyes that observed their every move. One fateful morning, as Yamandu set out to fetch water from the waterfall and pick fresh fruits for Iracema's breakfast, they came to ambush her. Iracema screamed for Yamandu and ran for her life. Her screams and the sound of stampede could be heard from the waterfall. Panic surged through him as he dropped the water and fruits and dashed back to the tree, his heart racing with fear.  Disorientation took hold as he desperately followed the echoes of her cries, calling her name repeatedly.

“Iracema, Iracema I am coming for you”

“Be brace Iracema I am coming for you”

Each shout was filled with a mix of urgency and dread, a plea for her to hold on. As he ran, his mind raced with terrifying possibilities, each one more horrifying than the last until he could no longer hear her screams.  The suffocating silence was deafening inside his head.