14 Of the 48 paintings by Pablo Amaringo in Ayahuasca visions (Luna and Amaringo 1991), only three do not have serpents (nos. 1, 6, and 28). The 45 other pictures are filled with fluorescent snakes, often exceptionally large, and rather frightening. Amaringo comments on painting no. 3, called Ayahuasca and chacruna: “This painting represents the two plants necessary in preparing the ayahuasca brew. Out of the ayahuasca vine comes a black snake with yellow, orange and blue spots, surrounded by a yellow aura. There is also another snake, the chacruna snake, of bright and luminous colors. From its mouth comes a violet radiation surrounded by blue rays. The chacruna snake penetrates the ayahuasca snake, producing the visionary effect of these two magic plants” (p. 52). Luna writes: “By far the most conspicuous motif in Pablo’s visions is the snake, which, together with the jaguar, is in turn the most commonly reported vision under the effects of ayahuasca by all tribes” (pp. 41-42). Finally, the snakes shaped like hammocks shown in painting no. 19 correspond exactly to the use of the word “hammock” to signify “anaconda” in the twisted language of Yaminahua ayahuasqueros (see Townsley 1993, p. 459); the Yaminahua live hundreds of miles from Pucallpa, where Pablo Amaringo lives.
15 Eliade (1964, p. 497).
16 Kekulé describes his dream: “I turned the chair to the fireplace and sank into a half sleep. The atoms flittered before my eyes. Long rows, variously, more closely, united; all in movement wriggling and turning like snakes. And see, what was that? One of the snakes seized its own tail and the image whirled scornfully before my eyes. As though from a flash of lightning I awoke; I occupied the rest of the night in working out the consequences of the hypothesis” (quoted in Beveridge 1950, p. 56). The commentator I quote is Thuillier (1986, p. 386). The quote on the universality of snake dreams is from Wilson (1992, p. 349).
17 Mundkur (1983, p. 6, 8). Wilson (1984), who cites Mundkur’s study, formulates the fear-of-venom theory as follows: “What is there in snakes anyway that makes them so repellent and fascinating? The answer in retrospect is deceptively simple: their ability to remain hidden, the power in their sinuous limbless bodies, and the threat from venom injected hypodermically through sharp hollow teeth. It pays in elementary survival to be interested in snakes and to respond emotionally to their generalized image, to go beyond ordinary caution and fear. The rule built into the brain in the form of a learning bias is: become alert quickly to any object with a serpentine gestalt. Overlearn this particular response in order to keep safe” (original italics, pp. 92-93).
18 Drummond (1981), one of the rare critics of Mundkur’s theory, writes: “Mundkur finds that the relevant empirical feature is its venom: ‘The serpent, in my view, has provoked veneration primarily through the power of its venom.’ In making this generalization, he apparently forgets the several examples of venerated but nonvenomous serpents (i.e., boas and pythons) cited in his useful survey of the ‘serpent cult.’ Indeed, it would be difficult to make sense of ‘The Serpent’s Children’ and other Amazonian anaconda myths in an ethnographic context where the fer-de-lance and bushmaster are an everyday threat to life” (p. 643). Meanwhile, Eliade (1964) writes about the costume of the Altaic shaman: “A quantity of ribbons and kerchiefs sewn to its frock represent snakes, some of them being shaped into snakes’ heads with two eyes and open jaws. The tails of the larger snakes are forked and sometimes three snakes have only one head. It is said that a wealthy shaman should have 1,070 snakes on his costume” (p. 152).
9: RECEPTORS AND TRANSMITTERS
1 Weiss (1969) writes: “The Campas believe that the inability of the human eye to see the good spirits in their true form can be overcome by the continual ingestion of narcotics, especially tobacco and ayahuasca, a process that in time and with perseverance will improve the eyesight to the point where the good spirits can be seen for what they are” (p. 96). Sullivan (1988) writes in his comparative work on South American religions: “Tobacco smoke is a prime object of the craving of helper spirits, since they no longer possess fire as human beings do” (p. 653). Wilbert (1987, p. 174) lists fifteen Amazonian peoples who explicitly consider tobacco a food for the spirits; I will not repeat his work here, but will simply add to his list the Yagua, who also consider tobacco “a food for the spirits in general” (Chaumeil 1983, p. 110).
2 Wilbert (1987) writes: “In any case, tobacco craving is regarded as symptomatic of the hunger sensation of Supernaturals and is transferred from the tobacco-using practitioner to the spirit world at large. Lacking tobacco of their own, the Supernaturals are irresistibly attracted to man not just, let us say, because they enjoy the fragrance of tobacco smoke or the aroma of tobacco juice, but more basically to eat and to survive. Unfortunately, a scrutiny of the ethnographic literature gives the impression that had the idea been less exotic for Western observers or had investigators succeeded in penetrating indigenous ideology more deeply than they ordinarily did, we might have learned more often about this existential reason, as it were, behind the spirits’ predilection for tobacco. Scanty as the ethnographic record may be, tobacco as spirit food, nevertheless, has been documented for a good number of societies in lowland South America, which are widely spread and numerous enough to suggest that the concept is of long standing on the subcontinent” (pp. 173-174).
3 In a human brain there are tens of billions of neurons, and they are of several sorts. Each neuron is equipped with approximately a thousand synapses, which are junction sites connecting the cells to each other. Each synapse has ten million or so receptors. The number of neurons is frequently estimated at ten billion—see, for instance, Snyder (1986, p. 4), but Changeux (1983, p. 231) talks of “tens of billions,” Wesson (1991, p. 142) puts the figure at “100 billion or so,” and Johnson (1994, p. E5) proposes a bracket from “100 billion to a trillion.” Sackmann (quoted in Bass 1994, p. 164) estimates the number of receptors at each synapse at “about ten million.” There are approximately 50 known neurotransmitters, and a given cell can have different receptors for several of these (see Smith 1994). The nicotine and acetylcholine molecules have different shapes, but the receptor cannot tell them apart because they have the same size (10 angstroms) and the distribution of their electrical charges is similar (see Smith 1994, p. 37). Wilbert (1987) writes: “This simulation capability of nicotine has been likened to the function of a skeleton key inasmuch as it fits and opens, so to speak, all cholinergic locks of postsynaptic receptors in the body” (p. 147).
4 See the article by Changeux (1993) for a clearly illustrated presentation of nicotinic receptors. The central role played by calcium ions in the activation of DNA transcription is discussed by Farin et al. (1990), Wan et al. (1991), and Evinger et al. (1994). Concerning the activation of DNA transcription by nicotine, see also Koistinaho et al. (1993), Mitchell et al. (1993), and Pang et al. (1993). Concerning nicotine’s activation of genes corresponding to the proteins that make up nicotinic receptors, see Cimino et al. (1992); the latter note, however, that most studies of nicotinic receptors have been conducted on rats, and that recent research on monkeys reveals great differences from one species to another. The rat has nicotinic receptors in its cortex, which is not the case for the monkey; the precise distribution of these receptors in the human brain is still poorly understood: “It is difficult to perform such studies in human brain since the tissue can only be obtained a long time after death and it is difficult to obtain normal young brain. For these reasons, we undertook a preliminary study on nicotinic receptor distribution in monkey brain, whose CNS [central nervous system] organization is more similar to the human CNS organization than that of the rat or chick” (p. 81). Concerning the still poorly understood cascade of reactions set off by nicotine inside the nerve cell, see Evinger et al. (1994), as well as Pang et al. (1993), who note in passing: “The mechanisms with which nicotine . . . leads to repeated self-administrative behaviour are poorly understood” (p. 162).
5 The Nicotiana rustica species used by shamans contains up to 18 percent nicotine (Wilbert 1987, pp. 134
-136), whereas the Virginia-type tobacco leaves contain from 0.5 to 1 percent nicotine in Europe and occasionally reach 2 percent in the United States (according to the Centre for Tobacco Research, Payerne, Switzerland, personal communication, 1995). Some forms of contemporary Amazonian shamanism use cigarettes, as in the case I described in Chapter 3. However, the influence of the use of an adulterated product on the efficacy of the cure has not yet been studied. Moreover, according to the Edict on foodstuffs published by the Federal Chancellery of Switzerland (1991), producers are allowed to add a series of substances to tobacco “that will not exceed twenty-five percent [of the final dry product] for cigarettes, cigars and similar smoking articles and thirty percent for cut or rolled tobacco” (p. 196). These additives are divided into five categories, including moistening agents, preservatives, and flavor enhancers. The fourth category reads as follows: “d. Products for ash bleaching and combustion accelerators: aluminum hydroxide, aluminum oxide, aluminum and silicium heteroxides, aluminum sulphate, alum, silicic acid, talc, titanium dioxide, magnesium oxide, potassium nitrate, carbonic, acetic, malic, citric, tartaric, lactic and formic acids, and their components of potassium, sodium, calcium and magnesium, as well as ammonium, potassium, calcium, magnesium and sodium phosphates.” The fifth category reads: “e. Adhesives: the gelling and thickening agents of the Edict of the 31st of October 1979 on additives as well as pure lac, collodion, cellulose, ethyl-cellulose, acetyl-cellulose, hydroxyethyl-cellulose, hydroxy-propyl-methyl-cellulose, hydroxy-ethylmethyl-cellulose, polyvinyl acetate and glyoxal” (pp. 196-197). Unfortunately, it is not possible to obtain from the cigarette manufacturers the precise list of additives for each brand, given that the recipes for this “foodstuff” are jealously guarded.
6 Cigarettes emit 4,000 toxic substances, according to (Switzerland’s) Federal Office of Public Health (1994, p. 1). Klaassen and Wong (1993) write in their article on radiation in the Encyclopaedia Britannica: “The largest nonoccupational radiation sources are tobacco smoke for smokers and indoor radon gas for the nonsmoking population” (vol. 25, p. 925). Martell (1982) writes in a letter published in the New England Journal of Medicine: “Indoor radon decay products that pass from room air through burning cigarettes into mainstream smoke are present in large, insoluble smoke particles that are selectively deposited at bifurcations. Thus, the smoker receives alpha radiation at bronchial bifurcations from three sources: from indoor radon progeny inhaled between cigarettes, from 214Po [polonium-214] in mainstream smoke particles, and from 210 Po [polonium-210] that grows into 210Pb [lead-210]-enriched particles that persist at bifurcations. I estimate that the cumulative alpha dose at the bifurcations of smokers who die of lung cancer is about 80 rad (1600 rem)—a dose sufficient to induce malignant transformation by alpha interactions with basal cells” (p. 310). Evans (1993) writes in an article entitled “Cigarette smoke = radiation hazard”: “In 1 year, a smoker of 1 to 2 packs per day will irradiate portions of his or her bronchial epithelium with about 8 to 9 rem. This dose can be contrasted with that from a standard chest x-ray film of about 0.03 rem. Thus, the average smoker absorbs the equivalent of the dosages from 250 to 300 chest x-ray films per year” (p. 464). Strangely enough, the radioactivity of cigarette smoke is rarely mentioned in the majority of the articles dealing with the toxicity of this product. Abelin (1993), who provides a list of the different forms of cancer provoked by cigarettes, also notes that low-tar cigarettes have a lower risk factor than normal cigarettes. However, “up until now, a lowering of the risk of heart attacks or chronic lung diseases among smokers of ‘light’ cigarettes has not been noticed” (pp. 15-16).
7 Weiss (1969, p. 62) notes two literal translations for sheripiári: “he who uses tobacco” and “he who is transfigured by tobacco.” Elick (1969, pp. 203-204) suggests the word combines sheri (“tobacco”) and piai (“a rather common designation for the shaman in northern South America”). Baer (1992) translates the Matsigenka word seripi’gari as “he who is intoxicated by tobacco”—the Matsigenka being the Ashaninca’s immediate neighbors. In any case, the word means “healer” and contains the root sheri (or seri), “tobacco.”
8 Johannes Wilbert, personal communication, 1994.
9 That the otherwise infallible Schultes and Hofmann omitted tobacco from their classic Plants of the gods: Origins of hallucinogenic use (1979) is an indication of the degree to which Western science has underestimated it. Wilbert, who has led a long and solitary campaign for the recognition of tobacco’s importance in shamanism, wrote in 1972: “Tobacco (Nicotiana spp.) is not generally considered to be a hallucinogen. Yet like the sacred mushrooms, peyote, morning glories, Datura, ayahuasca, the psychotomimetic snuffs, and a whole series of other New World hallucinogens, tobacco has long been known to play a central role in North and South American shamanism, both in the achievement of shamanistic trance states and in purification and supernatural curing. Even if it is not one of the ‘true’ hallucinogens from the botanist’s or pharmacologist’s point of view, tobacco is often conceptually and functionally indistinguishable from them” (p. 55).
10 The interaction of specific snake venoms with the different nicotinic receptors varies. Deneris et al. (1991) show that certain nicotinic receptors are sensitive to given snake toxins, but not to others, and that there is even a subclass of nicotinic receptors that is insensitive to all snake venoms. See Alberts et al. (1990, pp. 319-320) for an explanation of the central role played by nicotinic receptors in the history of ion channels and by the venom of certain snakes in their identification. Changeux (1993) provides a detailed historical outline of the evolution of the research conducted on the acetylcholine receptor, where he explains the successive stages covered by scientists and the role played by nicotine, curare, and the snake venom α-bungarotoxin. He also explains the importance of the development, in the 1980s, of new techniques which allow the determination of the exact sequence of amino acids making up the proteins that constitute the receptors.
11 Of course, the legislation on controlled substances varies from one country to another, but legislation in the United States seems to serve as a model for many other Western countries. For an exhaustive survey of American legislation on controlled substances, see Shulgin (1992). Moreover, Strassman (1991) discusses in detail the labyrinth of bureaucratic, and sometimes Orwellian, obstacles he had to surmount to obtain N,N-dimethyltryptamine and to administer it to human beings in the framework of a scientific investigation.
12 According to Strassman and Qualls (1994): “The group was high functioning, with only one subject not being a professional or student in a professional training program” (p. 86). According to Strassman et al. (1994): “Our description of subjective effects of DMT [dimethyltryptamine] used reports obtained by experienced hallucinogen users who were well prepared for the effects of the drug. In addition, these subjects . . . found hallucinogens highly desirable. Thus, our sample differed from those used to characterize hallucinogens’ effects in previous studies” (p. 105). As I mentioned in Note 8 to Chapter 5, the studies by Szára (1956, 1957, 1970), Sai-Halasz et al. (1958), and Kaplan et al. (1974) all consider dimethyltryptamine as a “psychotomimetic” or a “psychotogen.” Concerning the use of prisoners to test this substance, see, for example, Rosenberg et al. (1963), whose article starts with the following sentence: “Five former opiate addicts who were serving sentences for violation of United States narcotic laws volunteered for this experiment” (p. 39). Leary (1966) describes his visions in a scientific and personal study of the effects of dimethyltryptamine: “A serpent began to writhe up and through the soft, warm silt . . . tiny, the size of a virus . . . growing . . . now belts of serpent skin, mosaic-jeweled, rhythmically jerking, snake-wise forward . . . now circling globe, squeezing green salt oceans and jagged brown-shale mountains with constrictor grasp . . . serpent flowing blindly, now a billion mile endless electric-cord vertebrated writhing cobra singing Hindu flute-song” (p. 93).
13 Strassman et al. (1994, p. 100).
14 Two articles published in the late 1980s (McKenna et al. 1989 and Pierce and Peroutka 1989) demonstrate that different hallucinogens activate distinct serotonin receptor subtypes. Deliganis et al. (1991) went on to show that dimethyltryptamine stimulates serotonin receptor “1A” while blocking serotonin receptor “2.” According to Van de Kar (1991): “Furthermore, an understanding of the 5-HT [serotonin ] receptor sub-types has led to a reevaluation of old data on the neuroendocrine effects of 5-HT agonists and antagonists” (p. 292). It had often been claimed throughout the 1980s that hallucinogens activated a single receptor (see Glennon et al. 1984). So far the precise serotonin receptors stimulated by psilocybin have not been determined.