Cleansing in Capulalpam

Today I went to do a little research of my own, into indegenous medicine practices in this region. Another hot, jam-packed bus ride, this time so full I ended up sitting in the dusty aisle, mich to the bemusement of those already seated, but I know my terrible sense of balance well enough to know it would not withstand standing as the cranky bus lurched and leaned around u-bends in the pine-forested highlands. After two uncomfortable hours, I stepped with relief into the cool mountain drizzle; though I nearly chased after the rapidly disappearing lights of the old aluminium bus as it wound down the deserted road, suddenly feeling very alone in the deserted village of Capulalpam. I asked directions in the drizzle, and began to relax as I worked my way up the steep village track towards the medical centre, damp mountain air smelling sweetly of sap and fresh leaves refreshing me. Though it was tainted by something more acrid - the smell of huge bugs, which had descended, writhing helplessly on theirt backs, twig like legs kicking the air futilely until they were crushed by some unforgiving footstep, releasing their pungent aroma.

Entering the newly-built, crystal white building that housed the indigenous medical centre, I thought the sign must be wrong and wasn´t sure what to expect. After a flurried welcome, the practices of ´limpias´ (cleansings) and temascal baths (a little like a healing sauna) were explained to me, and before I knew what was happening I had agreed to undergo a limpia myself. Slightly warily entering a dim, tile-clad room, a short, intensely-staring lady ushered me to sit, taking a deep, powerful breath with her eyes closed. There is something frightening aout the magic of medicine, about the mysteries of healing and powers of healers. I began to understand how this may be how patients feel at home, not really knowing or understanding what is happening to them, or what is going to be done to them: the feral fear of the unknown.

With a sharp release of that empowering breath, the healer began. An egg (thankfully, whole) was rolled all over my body, a quiet incantation repeated in the woman´s deep tones. Then the egg was cracked ceremoniuosly into a glass of water, the delicate wispy fronds of albumin rising up and unfurling like smoke on a dusky evening, revealing secrets - apparently evil spirits leaving my body, and telling the healer I had stomach troubles and neck ache apparently (strange, as I had spent the night before last vomiting ungraciously, and had a neckache from the cramped busride). Then I was briushed all over with bunches of raw herbs, still damp and smelling of the warm earth, pure and sweet. The whole process was deeply relaxing, if nothing else. My skepticism as to her diagnoses (what white person travelling here wouldn´t have a bit of a stomach upset and headache?) and as to whether I could possibly be ´healed´ by the process felt rather irrelevant: it was much like a gypsy reading palms or intricate patterns of tea leaves at a fair: we smirk and do not believe, yet for some obscure reason are drawn to the intrigue and mystery of what they can tell, paying good money to see what nature or spirits can tell us.

On leaving, I happened to bump into a doctor from the Seguro Popular clinic opposite in the foyer - interesting how the two takes on medicine interweave here - and was given an impromptu guided tour of the brand spanking new clinic, complete with spotless shining stirrups in a delivery room, a tiny minor trauma room, plush leather and mahogany-filledconsultation rooms and a pharmacy full of donated American drugs. Quite incongruous in the tiny, rural village, and quite empty - I wondered who had funded such a clinic, and whether the show on the outside was replicated in the care they provided for the community here.

Whatever their needs, I can see the benefit of combining modern and traditional medicine techniques, of respecting their heritage and embracing it, whilst providing modern care where possible.

My stomach problems have resolved, and I slept like a baby.