MY JURENY OF BECOMING A KAMBO PRACTITIONER
Have you ever stepped outside your comfort zone, only to find a deeper connection to yourself? This is exactly what happened when I decided to follow a vision from Ayahuasca, leaving behind a comfortable life to embark on an adventure deep into the Amazon jungle.
THE BEGINGING OF SOMETHING NEW
Though I’d been interested in shamanism since my teens, my journey truly began some ten years later when I took part in my first Ayahuasca ceremony. I entered it without any specific expectations, yet that night became one of the most profound, life-changing experiences of my life. I received tremendous emotional healing and, beyond that, guidance so powerful that it felt like my life had finally found its compass. Ayahuasca taught me how to let go of unhealthy habits, showed me the direction I needed to pursue, and gave me clarity on what lay ahead.
At the time, I was working as an Ayurveda and massage therapist. I liked the work, but after years of a monotonous routine, coupled with a recent breakup, I was craving change. I wanted to explore new places, so I set my sights on India. Given my work with Ayurveda and my interest in yoga and Eastern philosophy, India felt like the right choice.
INDIA AND MY INTRODUCTION TO AYAHAUASCA
Once I arrived, I fell in love with the country, though not without overcoming the initial culture shock. I traveled through different regions until I encountered the idyllic beaches of the south and met other travelers who had left their conventional lives behind. They embodied a type of freedom I’d never witnessed before. Life felt possible here, as if all you needed to do was follow your dreams, and everything else would fall into place. It was a striking contrast to the Western lifestyle, with its pressures of corporate jobs, bills, and the cycle of accumulating more things. I soon adapted to the beach lifestyle, forming friendships and expanding my consciousness in new ways.
One day, a friend introduced me to the idea of Ayahuasca and its shamanic use, sparking an immediate curiosity in me. When I heard there would be a ceremony soon, I signed up without knowing exactly what to expect. That night arrived, and as I drank the brew, shortly after visions began. The ceremony took place outdoors in a cozy resort, with the strong glow of the moon above and the rhythmic sound of waves crashing nearby. Slowly, external sensations began to fade, taking me into an inner journey that was both mysterious and transformative.
The effects were unlike anything I’d experienced before, yet they were loving, healing, and immensely guiding. During one vision, the spirit of Ayahuasca asked me, “What do you want to do with your life?” She presented two paths: one where I pursued my interest in art, and another where I dedicated myself to learning from her in the jungle. Though art had always been a deep-seated desire, the power of Ayahuasca’s invitation pulled me strongly. I took the decision and I knew in that moment that my life is about to change.
The shaman who facilitated my first ceremony had studied in Peru, and I felt an undeniable pull to follow his path. I resolved to travel to Peru a year later in 2009. Although I’d never been to South America or spoken Spanish, I knew in my heart this was something I had to do. During my six months stay in India, I participated in four Ayahuasca ceremonies, each reinforcing the call to the Amazon. Ayahuasca was showing me the steps necessary to bring this vision to life, both logistically and financially. I knew this journey would require leaving everything behind.
TRAVELING TO PERU AND BACK TO THE SCHOOL
Upon arriving in Peru, I spent the first month exploring the Andes and dedicating myself to full-time Spanish study. I wanted to prepare for the jungle and the intense ascetic practices required for becoming an Ayahuasquero. I was aiming for a traditional teacher and a place that wasn’t yet very touristic, for that I knew that I will need to speak the language.
Although I didn’t know exactly where I was headed, I had recommendations from other travelers and a fair number of warnings about the challenges I might face. My plan was to fly to Iquitos and start by visiting a hippie commune that had been recommended to me. It seemed like a safe initial destination, and from there, I could search for the right place to study. I was considering Pucallpa as a potential location, given that it’s home to the Shipibo tribe, who have a long-standing tradition of working with Ayahuasca.
When I landed in Iquitos, the world capital of Ayahuasca, the humid, heavy air struck me as an intense welcome. As I was heading towards my guesthouse the driver who took me there asked me about my visit in Iquitos and he straight away suggested I meet his uncle, supposedly a shaman, but I declined politely, wary of the tourist traps that I’d been warned about. Stories were circulating specifically about taxi drivers who earned commissions for bringing foreigners to “shamans” with dubious intentions, more focused on financial gains than genuine healing. Unfortunately, this is something that has only gotten worst since my first visit in Iquitos.
Once settled, I met someone who was living in the nearby jungle commune and he offered to take me there. After a long bus ride, we hiked deep into the forest, crossing rivers and passing towering trees. The scene was surreal, like something out of a movie. There, I found a jungle commune, a place where around 15 people from all over the world lived without electricity or running water. The best way to describe it? “Wild.” I was welcomed by them and we started to getting to know each other.
ECO-MEDICINE COMMUNE
Although the land was owned by one individual, it was open for anyone to live there, provided they followed a few basic guidelines that aligned well with my values at the time. I found it fascinating to talk with the landowner, learning about the history of the property and hearing his personal journey. He had arrived in Peru around ten years before me with similar intentions, and listening to his story was incredibly eye-opening.
He shared his firsthand experience of studying to become an Ayahuasquero, and the challenges he faced along the way. His teacher, he explained, turned out to be a ‘brujo’—someone who practices harmful, malefic work with shamanic medicines. This revelation was chilling, making me realize the potential dangers of this path. Though I’d been warned, hearing it directly from someone who had been a victim of such dark practices made it all the more real and heightened my sense of caution. I began to understand that what I was seeking might not be as straightforward as I had initially thought. Unfortunately, this is a real concern on this path that many people had faced, I also became a victim of it some years later. But for now, I was just exited to learn as much as possible.
After sharing my own story, we connected immediately, and I was invited to stay at the commune to begin my shamanic journey and see where it would lead. I decided to sleep on the offer, and the next morning, as I woke to the sounds of the jungle and the vibrant greens surrounding me, I took a walk down to the river for a dip. In that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging—I knew I had found my home.
I ended up staying there for the next two years before leaving for an extended period, but I returned multiple times over the following years, often spending several months with each visit. I could share countless stories from my time in the commune, but in essence, the place was still in its early, experimental phase as a community. Originally, it had served as an Ayahuasca retreat center, but after a dramatic split between the landowner and his teacher—the main shaman at the time—it had been left without clear structure and was even abandoned for a while. The owner eventually returned with a renewed vision of an eco-medicine commune, and this new project had only begun about six months before I arrived.
The following months were dedicated to refining the vision, building new living structures, and constructing spaces like the maloca (ceremonial house) and tambos (dieta or retreat huts). There were many other projects underway, along with communal activities that often-involved medicine work. More people began to arrive—some stayed briefly as volunteers, while others settled in for longer periods. I met fascinating people from all over the world, each bringing unique knowledge and skills, and I made friendships that taught me lessons no school could provide.
Without electricity or internet, our only source of news from the outside world came from occasional trips to the city, which I generally avoided, or from newcomers arriving at the commune. I was always intrigued when someone new came in, as they often brought stories and updates. I remember vividly the day a brother from Chile arrived. As we got to know each other, he shared his journey of traveling through different parts of the Amazon, visiting various tribes, and participating in their ceremonial traditions. This was the first time I heard about Kambo, as he explained his experience with the medicine. At the time, it sounded intense and a bit overwhelming, although I was definitely curious. He had experienced Kambo in Brazil, and I assumed I would need to go there as well if I wanted to try it. That thought made me set it aside, feeling it was something for another time.
My focus during this time was on Ayahuasca and plant dietas. Alongside the communal Ayahuasca ceremonies, I participated in many ceremonies outside the community with various shamans recommended to me, yet none of them felt like the right teacher. My first dieta took place in a Shipibo community in Pucallpa, but it left me disappointed. After returning, I started drinking Ayahuasca on my own, which went well, but I still longed for a teacher to guide me through the plant dietas.
FINDING A TEACHER
This changed when a friend from the commune told me about a shaman she had discovered while I was away. This woman lived nearby, and my friend spoke highly of her, mentioning her psychic abilities. I decided to give it a chance, and the ceremony with her turned out to be a deeply intense experience. I faced many fears and went through a personal roller-coaster. The next morning, when we spoke, she surprised me by recounting specific details from my visions, accurately describing what I had experienced. I was in awe; I had always believed in such things, but this was the first time I was a direct witness to someone with genuine psychic abilities.
She later shared that she was born with this gift, and over time, I saw her powers at work repeatedly. Yet, her intention was never to impress anyone—it was always about healing. She didn’t like to be called a shaman, preferring instead to identify as a curandera (healer) or Naturista (natural healer), a term that resonated with me a lot.
That morning, we had a long conversation, and for the first time, I felt I had found a true master. She agreed to teach me and even made a few predictions about my future work, which later came true. But for now, I was a diatero, a student, with a lot of work ahead of me. She taught me about healing plants, how to prepare them, and the discipline of dietas, including how to do them on my own. She noticed some minor health issues I had at the time and advised me to start with dietas focused on healing my body first. My impatient, younger self craved strong, mystical experiences with the most powerful plants, but she insisted on baby steps. It was a lesson in humility and patience, teaching me that without guidance, one could easily take on more than they could handle—a lesson I learned the hard way when I attempted a dieta without her permission.
Aside from that misstep, I followed her guidance closely and learned so much. I can say with certainty that I wouldn’t be where I am today without her teachings.
KAMBO CALLING
Time seemed to fly by, filled with Ayahuasca ceremonies, dietas, post-dieta integration, and valuable moments spent in the community with others. It was during this period that I heard about Kambo for the second time. Once again, it sounded like something that required a distant journey, but this time, I felt a deeper pull toward it. When I heard about it a third time, the person sharing it with me also happened to know someone who had been to the Matses community and was working with Kambo. They gave me the contact, and after some organizing, I prepared for the journey.
Two other people from the community were also interested in joining me. Our trip began with a 10-hour boat ride from Iquitos to a small village. From there, we found someone who would take us on a small motorized canoe for another 2-3 hours to the Matses settlement. It was a grueling journey, but the canoe ride was a magical experience. We traveled through narrow river paths, surrounded by lush jungle vegetation, with exotic birds soaring around us.
MATSES COMMUNITY
When we arrived in the community, we were warmly welcomed. The children watched us with curiosity, sharing laughter and joy—a response typical of every native community I had visited in the Amazon. The Matses elder, named Pepe, was surrounded by several of his children. Since Pepe didn’t speak Spanish, one of his older sons translated for us.
I noticed an article from a newspaper pinned to the wooden wall of their house. It told the story of a journalist who had suffered from chronic back pain for years until he came to the jungle and tried Kambo. Remarkably, his back pain disappeared completely after the treatment, and he praised both the medicine and Pepe, the facilitator. As we read the article, I could see the pride on Pepe’s face.
My goal was to try this mysterious medicine I had heard so little about. At that time, Kambo still held an almost mystical allure, as there was barely any information available online. I had read everything I could find, yet I still didn’t fully know what to expect. My journey to the Amazon had introduced me to many powerful plants and their uses, but I had never encountered a medicine derived from an amphibian.
Pepe didn’t waste any time. He offered us the medicine, and one of my friends volunteered to go first. We asked for any guidance, but Pepe seemed unconcerned with specific instructions. I had read that it was customary to drink water before a Kambo session, so we asked if we should. Pepe told us it was optional—something we could do if we wanted, but not necessary. My friend chose to go without water. Pepe spat on the Kambo stick and began scraping it with a wooden stick until he formed a paste. He then took a tamshi (a small vine), lit it, and burned three small points on my friend’s arm, removing the top layer of skin to apply the medicine dots on the exposed burns.
Pepe then directed him to move a bit further away for privacy. Soon, we could hear the unmistakable sounds of vomiting coming from his direction. After a while, hearing continued sounds of dry heaving, I decided to check on him, even though Pepe seemed calm and unbothered. When I found my friend, he was on the ground, covered in sweat, struggling to purge. I asked how he was feeling, and he simply held up his middle finger. Later, he explained that he was trying to convey how ‘fucked up’ he felt but couldn’t speak, so the gesture had to do. Following my intuition, I poured some water over his head—not fully understanding what I was doing, but it seemed to help. Later, he confirmed that it had indeed brought him some relief.
When it was my turn, I decided to drink some water, given how challenging the experience had been for my friend. I believe it did help, as my session wasn’t quite as intense, though it was far from pleasant. I, too, received three dots of Kambo and was directed to a nearby bush where I could process the effects in solitude. As the medicine took hold, my face began to swell, and the nausea intensified. I soon found myself purging, at one point from both ends simultaneously. Crouched on the ground in a frog-like position, I began to question my decision to try Kambo. I wondered, ‘Is this really a medicine I want to use?’ In that moment of vulnerability, I felt the presence of the Kambo spirit, as if whispering to me: You will give this medicine to many people.
Once we had all recovered, we asked Pepe to share more about his tradition and work. Other community members joined in, sharing their experiences with Kambo as we tried to understand its traditional use and benefits. That night, we accompanied the community members to search for the frogs and observed how the medicine was carefully extracted. We absorbed as much of Pepe’s knowledge as we could. Though the Matses had a very straightforward way of working with Kambo, which might not suit everyone outside their community, but it is a method that serves them perfectly.
THE DIETA
As our time with the Matses came to an end, we took a couple of Kambo sticks with us, along with Pepe’s blessing to use them. Back on the large boat, as I lay in my hammock, I took the opportunity to reflect on the experience and observe any changes in my body after the Kambo ceremony. To my surprise, I didn’t notice any significant differences. However, it’s important to note that I wasn’t suffering from any physical or mental issues at the time; I was in good health and already doing various plant dietas. In fact, another dieta was awaiting me as soon as we returned.
I shifted my focus back to working with plants and set Kambo aside for a while. But during a one-month tree dieta, I had a sudden insight: perhaps I could do a dieta specifically with Kambo. It was something I hadn’t heard of before, but I thought, why not? I knew that some shamans had done dietas with substances other than plants. This idea came as I reflected on the teachings from my Ayahuasca and dieta teacher, who had explained that dietas are a way to connect with and understand the spirit of a medicine. This, I realized, was what I felt I had missed during our visit with Pepe.
The Matses don’t work with Ayahuasca or practice dietas in the shamanic sense. While they follow certain dietary restrictions and might have a shamanic structure in some settings with Kambo, it isn’t comparable to Ayahuasca shamanism. Later, I learned that tribes in Brazil, like the Yawanawas, who also work with Ayahuasca, do practice dietas with Kambo and approach it in a way quite different from the Matses. At the time, however, I wasn’t aware of these variations, so I simply followed the insights that emerged during my tree dieta and trusted my intuition.
Not long after, I decided to apply Kambo to myself and experiment with a Kambo dieta. My goal was to understand this medicine more deeply and learn how it worked. I had no intention of becoming a Kambo practitioner—in fact, I hadn’t even heard that term at the time. I simply had what I believed to be a powerful natural medicine in my hands, and I wanted to figure out how best to work with it. I missed having a deeper connection with Kambo and wanted to feel its spirit more, just as I had felt with the many plants I had dieted with.
I went through a few more Kambo sessions, applying it to myself, experimenting with different dosages and placements. I was trying to understand its effects on the body. I did notice an increase in my energy levels after each session, but beyond that, there wasn’t much of a noticeable change. By this time, I had spent nearly two years in Peru, and my savings were running low. It was time for me to return home to earn some money so I could continue to finance more diets.
BECOMING A KAMBO PRACTITIONER
When I arrived back home, I found my mother unwell. She had just completed a lengthy course of antibiotics for respiratory issues and was struggling with fatigue. It seemed as though the treatment hadn’t helped much. I told her about Kambo, explaining that it was traditionally used to address a wide range of ailments, and suggested it might benefit her. To my surprise, she agreed—partly out of desperation and a desire for relief.
I applied Kambo to her in the same way I had done for myself. Her reaction was intense; her face was swollen for three days. Yet by the very next day, she already felt better, and her health began to improve significantly. For the first time, I was able to witness the healing benefits of Kambo that I’d heard so much about.
Afterwards, I started applying Kambo for some close friends, who then recommended me to others with various health issues. Word spread, and soon people were coming to me for Kambo treatments. Through word of mouth, I unexpectedly found myself becoming a Kambo practitioner, something I hadn’t planned or anticipated.
In the years that followed, I traveled widely, administering Kambo to countless people. Each session taught me something new, allowing me to refine my technique and improve with every experience. As I encountered clients with a variety of ailments and conditions unfamiliar to Amazonian tribes, I had to adapt my approach. The shamanic and holistic roots of the medicine always guided me and I recognized that healing work shouldn’t be rigid. Each individual has unique needs, and I understood the importance of adapting to them. Unlike the small tribal communities of the Amazon, where lifestyles, diets, and traditions are shared, the modern world required adjustments to make Kambo accessible and safe.
My aim became to balance traditional practices with modern understanding, preserving the spirit of the medicine while creating a safe and effective experience for everyone. Now, after many years, I can look back and say that I succeeded. The message I received during my first Kambo ceremony—that I would share this medicine with many people—has truly come to life.