Mambe, from the Maloca to the University
Powdered coca leaf and ash make up mambe, the way indigenous peoples of the Upper Amazon consume coca. Used to establish communication, promote healing, facilitate work, and enliven celebrations, the many properties of mambe have paved its way from the jungle to the cities. A mild stimulant with minimal cocaine content, numerous researchers advocate its healing potential for, among other things, treating cocaine addiction.
The mambe is a mixture of powdered coca leaf and ash from the leaf of a tree called yarumo.
Text and photos by Carlos Suárez Álvarez
Originally published in issue 124 of Cáñamo magazine, April 2008.
It is a warm and humid afternoon, with the clear blue sky that remains after the great Amazonian storms. The path leading to Don Gustavo’s maloca is very busy today. Coming from the nearby city of Leticia — in southern Colombia, on the Amazonian border with Peru and Brazil — and from surrounding communities, indigenous people of various ethnicities, white people, children, elders, women, and men form the colorful procession that crosses that unstoppable and mysterious mass of life that is the jungle. They head to the inauguration party of Don Gustavo’s maloca, whose floor will be stepped on for the first time tonight, struck with sticks, flattened by the soles of the dancers’ feet, ritually prepared for the celebrations to come. The walkers move forward eagerly, joking, encouraged by the sight of the maloca which, built on a gentle rise in the terrain, appears as a peaceful refuge, like the big, cool, and welcoming house that it is.
Waiting for all who arrive, inside, shirtless, with arms open, copper-colored skin, a protruding belly, a smile and a greeting, Don Gustavo, the maloquero, the host, welcomes the newcomers: “Hey! How are you? It’s great to have you here. Hang your hammock there. Come, do you want something to eat?” — again and again the same phrase, repeated to dozens of visitors, without losing its sincerity. In the maloca tonight, one hundred fifty people dance until dawn, eat, and drink. They also chew mambe and inhale tobacco rapé. Tonight the maloquero and his guests seek healing with the help of the plant spirits. Tonight the mambe is, once again, the spirit that sweetens the hearts.
One of the dancers rises from the bench and positions himself in the center of the maloca, starting the umpteenth dance of the night. The guests join in, women on one side, men on the other, face to face, spinning again and again on themselves, singing with a repetitive, calm, yet energetic rhythm. The spirit of the party is constantly fueled by the mambe, which is available to everyone, and the rapé, which Don Gustavo’s nephew, Pablo, occasionally blows into the nostrils of those who desire it.
Don Gustavo blows tobacco snuff into one of his guests’ nostrils.
tradition, evolution
The professor sits back comfortably in his chair and takes two jars from his leather bag, placing them on the table. One is small and dark, the other green, about the size of a jam jar. He continues lecturing on some general concepts of Amazonian society while opening the green jar, tilting it above his head and letting some of its contents fall into his mouth. After a few seconds—enough time to transform the green powder into a compact ball that he places in his cheek—he explains to the listeners, who watch the ritual with surprise: “This is mambe, an Amazonian custom. For some, it’s a vice...” and laughs. Then he opens the small dark jar, takes out a small stick coated with a brownish paste, and runs it over his tongue. “This is ambil, tobacco paste. Coca and tobacco always go together.”
Juan Álvaro Echeverri, an anthropology professor at the National University of Colombia in the city of Leticia, is one of the social researchers who has spent the most time studying the use of mambe in Amazonian societies. “Among indigenous people, mambe is part of everyday life. They have breakfast and start using it.” Apparently, coca began to be used in the Upper Amazon about two centuries ago. The plant arrived in the jungle and quickly seduced various indigenous groups. Thomas Whiffen, an English explorer who traveled the Putumayo River at the beginning of the 20th century, observed that consumption was a widespread custom. “The Indians are true maniacs of coca. It was impossible to observe anyone who was not under its influence for some time.” Another testimony from that time came from the merchant Joaquín Rocha: “The followers of this vice or custom say that coca gives strength for work, brave spirit for any endeavor, overcomes the boredom of inactivity, accompanies solitude, and comforts in depression. With such an array of advantageous qualities, it is no wonder that the whites who live in the land of the Huitotos have made, like the Indians, a necessity of this use and carry their jar of mambe wherever they go.”
Anthropologist Juan Álvaro Echeverri, researcher at the National University of Colombia, chewing mambe during a talk.
Mambe is the product of combining pulverized coca leaf — Erythroxylum coca, ipadu variety — and ash from the yarumo tree (Cecropia sciadophylla), whose function is to release the alkaloid to enable its activity. Although according to Echeverri, it seems to be is a relatively recent custom, it holds a central place in the worldviews and cultural practices of the Macuna, Yucuna, Huitoto, Andoque, and many other ethnic groups. “No indigenous person,” assures Echeverri, “would accept our claim that coca and its form of processing have been adopted from other groups in recent times. Coca, along with tobacco, is at the very foundation of society.”
The way mambe is consumed distinguishes the Amazonian tradition from the Andean one, where the leaf is chewed whole and then spat out after extracting the juice. From a botanical perspective, it is worth noting that the variety cultivated in the jungle, known as ipadu, contains alkaloid concentrations lower than those found in the Andes; while in ipadu it does not exceed 0.25%, the alkaloid concentration ranges between 0.63% in Bolivian coca and 0.77% in Colombian coca in the Andean varieties.
Beyond cocaine, the coca leaf has many other virtues. Research led by ethnobotanist Timothy Plowman demonstrated that ingested coca leaf provides nutritional elements: “One hundred grams of coca leaves suffice to meet an adult’s nutritional needs for 24 hours. Thanks to its calcium, protein, vitamin A, vitamin E, and other nutrient contents, this plant offers even broader possibilities in the field of human nutrition than in the strictly medicinal field.” Given all these attributes, and considering that pathological consumption is practically nonexistent, it is striking that the plant, at least in its natural form, remains subjected to the strictest international restrictions.
Don Gustavo’s assistant carefully gathers the coca leaves.
It has been nearly fifty years since the plant was declared demonic: no therapeutic value, prone to abuse. For anthropologist Anthony Henman, author of the reference work Mamacoca, defender of mambe and inventor of a homemade method of producing it, the prohibition is preventing the emergence of healthy forms of cocaine use: “When you mambe, you’re putting cocaine into your blood, but it enters slowly and steadily, so you have a level of stimulation you can maintain for hours. It’s very different from the cocaine use model where you binge and then fall into a series of peaks. The problem with refined cocaine is that you always consume a large amount; it takes a lot of self-control and discipline to manage it. Demand for cocaine could be redirected toward softer and less problematic forms. A good number of cocaine users would be very happy with mambe.”
One such user shares his story. He recalls that a few years ago, when he lived in Bogotá, he was sliding down the dangerous path of cocaine. “I don’t know what would have become of me without mambe,” he sighs as he pulls a white jar from his bag. He opens it, scoops some out with a small spoon, and offers the group a mambeada. It’s morning, and the young man goes about his daily chores with a cheek swollen by the mambe ball, which gradually dissolves and moves down his digestive tract. “Mambe allows me to study and work; it also doesn’t cause the depressions that cocaine does.” The stimulation is mild: increased concentration, sensory sharpness, ease of communication… Although comparable in potency to coffee, the effect is less harsh and it’s harder for it to cause tachycardia or insomnia, even if mambe is consumed at night — whether used for conversation after dinner with friends or to go out dancing.
Mambe is placed in the mouth, formed into a compact ball with saliva, and kept in the cheek until it is gradually swallowed.
mambe and market
Far from indigenous customs, Don Gustavo reflects on the use of mambe in certain urban spaces in Colombia: “Bad? It’s not bad... What can I say? It’s a little bad because they weren’t born for it, they don’t know the history of coca, they don’t know who owns the coca or why they use mambe. Maybe they use mambe because it feels good, right? You put the coca in, and you focus in front of the computer... Fine... They feel good... But they don’t know for what or how they are going to connect with my God, with the energies, and with the animals that are up there.” Don Gustavo has lived a lot and seen much to bother with ethnic fussiness or to demand a “true” use of coca.
Far from the stereotypes that portray Amazonian societies as closed and fiercely protective of their traditions forever and ever, the people of the Amazon embody the opposite: open, willing to exchange, eager to incorporate new customs... Constant evolution. Since the Spaniards arrived five centuries ago, indigenous peoples have established trade and communication with whites. That is the context in which Don Gustavo became a man. His mother was indigenous from the Macuna ethnicity; his father was a merchant from Medellín with whom he traveled along the rivers of the Colombian jungle. After his father’s death, like many other young indigenous people in the region, he worked for drug trafficking, planting coca and processing it into coca paste. “Crazy. I was lost in drugs for three years. Thanks to my God, I left the coca plantation and came back. The whites damaged us indigenous people. Many got damaged in the Mirití river: the Yucuna, the Tanimboca... They all consumed chemicals until our elders put a stop to it. They said: Okay, let’s plant the coca leaf, dry it, sell it, but let them work in the whites’ lands. We sell, yes, because we need money to live.”
Surrounded by the market economy, traditional activities prove insufficient to meet new needs: books for school, clothes, tools for work, batteries, various foods, western medicine... About to retire from his modest job at the Leticia port captaincy, Don Gustavo tries to adapt to the new times; for this, he offers his knowledge, his maloca, his chagra (traditional plantation) and his patch of jungle in the tourism market. Of course, some accuse him of selling his culture, but Don Gustavo has a family. “I need to earn money to live and leave something for my children. I’m going to work with tourism. Right now we’re building the maloca and we also have a house here for people to stay... They can go bathe in the river... Let the whites come and see that there really are indigenous people who live here and are managing their culture.”
Don Gustavo Mejía Macuna, at the door of his maloca, overlooking the Tacana River, near the city of Leticia.
ToBAcCO, COCA, healing
In the center of the maloca, the dances continue in succession. Since there are guests from the Huitoto, Andoque, Carijona, and Bora ethnic groups, the steps, rhythms, and songs shine in their diversity. Don Gustavo and his guests talk at length in a corner, seated around a low wooden table on which rests a white plastic container holding mambe, as well as cigarettes, rapé, and ambil. Coca forms an inseparable union with tobacco in its various forms, though rapé is the preferred form among the Macuna. Using a cane, the maloquero blows tobacco into each nostril of the mambe user; the effect is instant and electric, like a current of energy that once again drives the person toward communication, opening the senses. “When you blow tobacco,” Don Gustavo explains, gesturing, “you immediately make contact with my God. From there comes the energy… Tatatatatata… Open…!!! Ta…!!! The wall of the world.”
This is how the maloquero and his guests tell stories, exchange thoughts, remember those who are no longer here, discuss politics, honor the elders, and resolve conflicts. “When I begin telling stories, I open up a lot. I expand… Ufff!! I fly and connect with all energies, with my God, with the energy sustained by my grandparents, the grandparents I have in the water, from the other world… Tatatatata!!” The maloquero must ensure a proper atmosphere for interaction, communication, peace, and healing. “Coca does not cure, but it allows people to be open to healing,” Don Gustavo clarifies. “Sometimes I ask people: How is the world? They tell me the world is bad. No, the world is not bad. My God made everything complete. Our head, though, is a little bad. That’s what diverts us. What are you going to do? How are you going to grow? What do you think? You will listen to advice from your grandparents, uncles, mother, and father; that’s how you start to get out of it. That is the order. And the world that my God left, to take care of. Not to harm but to care for.”
While Don Gustavo continues “telling stories,” an orange sun rises above the forest canopy. The dance has ended. Some of the participants sleep in hammocks; others, outside, begin the journey back in the light of the new day. The cosmic transgression has concluded; with the help of the plants, the cycle of day and night has been overcome. The brave ones who have sung, danced, and talked until dawn depart leaving behind a bad thought or an illness, taking with them a friendship or a new song. Little by little, the maloca empties, but at each farewell the maloquero’s kind words resonate once more: “Did you have a good time? I saw you dance a lot, that’s good. Do you want a little mambe for the road?”
