The Serpent’s Song

Ritual Performances of the Kaxinawá in the Amazon Forest

Cláudia Neiva de Matos

THEATRE, PERFORMANCE, POETRY

The ritual origins of western theatre have been the subject of many studies ever since Aristotle located the beginnings of
Greek theatre in Dionysian cults and established a direct line of development from dithyrambs to Attic tragedy. How much of
this is true nobody will ever be able to say, since much of this history ‘is mythical, and the connections are obscure, or at least
hypothetical’ (Barthes 1982:64). However, there can be no doubt that among the Greeks, as well as in other ancient cultures,
there existed practices (ritual and/or theatrical), which involved multi-expressive channels of communication, such as
gestures, voice and music. Dance and song, music and poetry, stage sets and costumes —all these elements can be seen to
mobilize and metamorphose the human body and spirit, and are characteristic of the communicative activity which we call
performance.
This behaviour can be ritualistic or theatrical, but is not necessarily restricted to artistic performances on the stage. For Paul
Zumthor, performative activity is fundamental to oral communication and always includes ‘as an irreducible element the idea
of corporeal presence’ (Zumthor 1990:41–2). In order to ‘introduce into the study of literature the concept of sensorial
perception, or in other words, the living body’ (Zumthor 1990:29), Zumthor underlines the connection between poetry and
theatre and sets out his proposal for an extension of the concept of performance:

I am convinced that the idea of performance should be considerably extended; it should incorporate the whole complex
of activities embraced by the word ‘reception’, but relating these to the decisive moment, in which all of these elements
crystallise in and through an act of sensorial perception—that is, by means of a physical engagement…. Until now, the
term and the idea of performance tended (at least in the Anglo-Saxon meaning of the word) to cover all kinds of
theatrical activities. But is not all literature fundamentally theatre?
(Zumthor 1990:19)

Contrary to most academics, Zumthor concentrates his attention on the body of the listener and/or spectator in the process of
aesthetic communication. When emphasizing the active role of this ‘receiver’, the analyst displaces and enlarges the stage: the
fundamental action of the performance takes place inside the spectator, opening up and fostering a personal link with the
‘emitting source’, be this a text, an author, or an actor. The effect of this aesthetic transaction Aristotle tried to describe with
the concept of catharsis. However, ‘performance is the only live form of poetic communication and…a heterogenic
phenomenon, which is impossible to define in simple and general terms’ (Zumthor 1990:37).
In the first instance, this concept applies to

Performance Research 3(3), pp. 104–113 © Routledge 1998

poetic forms transmitted by the voice. But Zumthor takes it a step further and introduces the body into the act of reading and
literary reception. This is particularly the case with literature not purely concerned with transmitting information in a codified
fashion, but rather with employing ‘non-informative elements with the intention to provide pleasure, which…for the reader
constitutes the main and often only criterion of poeticity’ (Zumthor 1990:27). In this case, the performance does not depend
on the physical presence of the author, or on the concrete presence of a voice. Rather, it takes place in the world of reception,
by the suggestive power of the poetic word.
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I DREAMT JUST ONE DREAM: THE CIPÓ AND I

The above observations are part of the theoretical framework which I am using for my research into the performative aspects
—poetry, drama, and ritual —of a particularly important element of the indigenous Amazonian culture: the psychedelic
journey provoked by the drinking of Cipó.
‘Cipó’ is a generic name given to various types of vine found in the Amazon forest (in Peru they are called ‘Ayahuasca’). It
is a hallucinogenic drink consumed by many tribes of the Amazon basin, including the Kaxinawá, who have been the subject
of my investigations. The Kaxinawá call themselves huni kuin (real people). * There are 3,500 of them in the Brazilian states
of Acre and Amazonas and a further 1,000 in Peru. Their first contact with white people dates back to the nineteenth century,
when the rubber industry began to flourish and the whites invaded the land of the native population of the Amazons.
Following the murder, expulsion and exploitation of the Indios, the Kaxinawá are not in a bad situation nowadays, at least
compared with other tribes in Brazil, considering that they have been able to preserve their language, culture and identity.
The power of the Cipó did not escape the attention of the whites and became part and parcel of the psychedelic culture of
the 1960s. In its mystical connotation it was introduced through and developed into an important element of a religious sect in
Brazil, mainly composed of white people, Called Santo Daime. † The drink is prepared with various types of Cipó and other
leaves and produces a chemical mixture ‡ that affects sensory perception, particularly vision, and provokes Optical illusions,
or what the followers of Santo Daime call ‘miração’ (inner vision). The Indians occasionally use the same Portuguese term,
but they also have other words to describe the effects of the drug. In Rãtxa-Kuin, the language of the Kaxinawá, the term pae,
meaning strength or energy, is used. The name of the drink of Cipó is nixi pae, but it is also called huni (human being).
Cipó is generally drunk in a group of men, which includes an elderly man invested with shamanic authority. He acts as a
singer and helps the travellers on their journey, invokes the magic energy and controls its excesses. § It Can happen that there
is more than one singer present and that two, three, or more of them sing different songs at the same time. However, when the
Cipó is drunk for a healing purpose, the ritual may involve only two participants.
Although the practices linked to the use of Cipó among the Indians are determined by tradition, they are not as formalized
as in the Santo Daime ceremonies. For the Kaxinawá, the great magic power experienced and celebrated during the trance
state is attributed not to a formally defined sacred being, but to the spiritual essence of Nature, called yuxin. It is to be found
in every particle of creation, including the human being. Propelled by the power of dami (transformation), it links matter and
mind, the plant and animal worlds, the cosmic and human universes, in a process that expands the sensorial perception of the
concrete world and creates both a mystical and aesthetic state. Such an experience forms the basis of some of the Kaxinawá’s
most significant artistic creations.
Among the Kaxinawá, the experiences and representations of the spiritual forces of nature, when the doors open for the
yuxin spirits to appear, are contained in what one may call the ‘Jibóia complex’. This is a group of practices, myths and
beliefs that are interlinked through their common origin—the Snake Jibóia (Yube). * The legend of the snake Stands at the
centre of the cultural system and world-view of the Kaxinawá. It is also the main character of their myths as well as of their
visual arts (kene): drawing, painting, crafts, ceramics and body painting. It was Jibóia that one day ‘taught Muka Bakanku, an
old woman, the art of jenipapo drawing,† the design of hammocks, baskets and ceramics’ (Lagrou 1996: 199).
Kene, the graphic art of the Kaxinawá, is mainly produced by women. Among the men, the Jibóia’s powers manifest
themselves through the drinking of Cipó (huni, nixi pae) and in the songs (huni meka) that accompany, stimulate and express
the effects of the drug. The Jibóia is also the central theme of the stories and songs connected with the hallucinogenic journey.
The lyrics follow a traditional aesthetics and use highly characteristic forms:

To sing as we used to do before, ha ia e, e,

The Cipó I have already
drunk, ha ia e, e,
And the force is becoming

*
‘Kaxinawá’ (Bat’s people) isa term given by the whites. For more information about this people see Aquino and Iglesias (1994).
†
The Santo Daime sect was founded in the early part of the twentieth century, when Raimundo Irineu Serra came into contact with
the Kaxinawá and experienced the power of Cipó. The belief of the Santo Daime cult is a mixture of Christianity and elements
taken from the Nature religion of the Indios. A series of hymns, inspired by the Cipó journey, ispartofthesect’srepertory of songs.
See MacRae (1992).
‡
Details about the drink’s composition and its ingredients can be found in Lagrou (1996:204–5).
§
The meaning of the term ‘shamanism’ as a reference point in anthropological research becomes richer when aspects of
performance and aesthetic represen- tation are taken into account. See, with regard to the Kaxinawá, the essay by Elsje Maria
Lagrou, ‘Shamanism and representation among the Kaxinawá’ (1996).
92 NEIVA DE MATOS

• Body painting executed with the juice of the jenipapo fruit amongst the Asurini in the Xingu-Tocantins region of the Amazons.
Photo: Renato Delarole

stronger, ha ia e, e,
I am singing to find a
release, ha ia e, e,
Every son inside the force,
ha ia e, e.‡

The origin of nixi pae, according to a myth told to Lagrou by two Kaxinawá, begins with a man going to hunt anta, a wild
mammal that lives in the Amazon forest and the central region of Brazil. As soon as he is in the forest, a serpent comes out of
a lake and transforms herself into a beautiful woman, who has the whole of her body decorated with jenipapo designs. They
fall in love, and the serpent-woman’s relatives teach him how to drink nixi pae, to overcome the moments of fear and
sickness, and to gain access to the world of ‘hallucinatory vision’. When he returns to his people, he teaches them how to
make the drink of the Cipó:

The men brought all types of Cipó until they found the right ones. The same happened with the leaves. Then he
explained how to prepare the drink and afterwards to let it cool down. In the night, he drank it with the other adult men
of the village. The man sang the songs he had learned from the serpent. He sang all night, all next day, another night and

*Lagrou refers to a different snake called sucuri, but I prefer to call it Jibóia, as this is the name my Kaxinawá informants
used during our conversations.
† Jenipapoisa smallfruitwhose black/blue juice is used as ink to paint bodies and other surfaces with decorative patterns.
‡ All songs reproduced in this essay were taken from the Kaxinawá language. As far as possible, the English translation attempts
to preserve the syntactical structure and hazy imagery of the original. Many verses are made up of incomplete sentences and
have no verb. They are distinctly different from ordinary language and communicate primarily through visual and multi-
sensorial imagery.
 KAXINAWÁ PERFORMANCES 93

day, and at the end of the third night he fell dead…. Through this adventure…. he learned and brought to his people the
secret of the drink that gives access to the invisible worlds of the spirits of water, sky and forest.
(Lagrou 1996:204–5)

The huni meka have an important place among the various types of ritual songs in the Kaxinawá culture. Contrary to most
indigenous songs, they do not require any choreography, although their lyrics mention dance quite frequently:

Walk, walk, my lxã,

Dance on the wave of strength,
Soar highly while dancing
And keep growing, my son!

Apart from the songs related to subsistence (fishing, agriculture, etc.) and festivities, the production and reception of huni
meka seem to be more concerned with the exploration of subjectivity and inner imagery.§ This probably explains why so often
one person sings to help the others on their spiritual journey and to get the best of the energy (pae) which Nature offers to
them. In this type of dreamlike poetry, the words have an intimate, contemplative touch. But for this contemplation to reach
its full revelatory power, the singer’s presence as poet, interpreter, shaman and performer is absolutely essential. The song
captures the ‘almost cinematographic dynamic of the psychodelic journey’ and acts as ‘a means of expressing the male
experience’ (Lagrou 1996:206). In fact, the masculine quality is always present in the erotic lyrics:

Far way another firm soil

Far way another firm soil
She follows, commanding,
Into the middle of the male body
Into the centre of a locked force.

Kene and dami have the same mystical origin, the Jibóia, ‘a happy shaman and ambiguous being, who lives in the earth, in the
water and in the air; who is male and female, young and old, and who created the water and the butterflies’ (Lagrou 1996:
206). The journey and songs integrate the male and female worlds and provide a matrix of images, which fill the dreams of
men and make them alert, watchful, ready for action. Here, the Apollonian side of the performance comes to the fore,
integrating song and dream and translating the experience of the inner visions into kene (drawing).

She was very near, to me, to me,

The dreamt force was coming closer, to me, to me,
The hidden Jibóia waits and looks, to me, to me,
The rainbow comes down from the sky, to me, to me,
The force she drank went up, to me, to me,
Within, the force is kicking, to me.to me,
From the sky the songs would come, to me, to me,
From the sky the drawing voice, to me, to me,
In this way I can go inside myself, to me, to me.

In this imagery, an important role is played by the air and the sky, and many winged beings confer a special dynamism on the
contemplated scene:

There above, high up in the sky

The lower vulture of the sky
The enchanted vulture of the sky
Under your curved wings
You keep on gathering the force
The force is always gathered
Inside the locked force
Haira haira, haira haira, e, e, e, e, e, e, e, e, e,
Haira haira, haira haira, e, e, e, e, e, e, e, e, e.
94 NEIVA DE MATOS

The huni meka are drawn-out songs, which can go on indefinitely as they accompany the journey. They are structured in a
repetitive manner and may or may not have a refrain. Often the refrain is executed as what the Indios simply call ‘sound’; that
is, rhythmic sequences of non-signifying syllables creating hypnotic and enchanting effects. The verses work mainly with
visual references. They alternate and combine cyclic and linear movements, which mirror the phases of the hallucinogenic
journey. Parallel to descriptive and narrative passages, which reinforce the visions of the person who drank the Cipó, there
are comments regarding the action of drinking, and sections which celebrate the integration of body and spirit, vision and
sound.

When the sound fills this vision, hai e, hai e,

Morning rises hearing the sound, hai e, hai e,
Come out, spirit of the dream, hai e, hai e,
Turn around, spirit, and come, hai e, hai e,
Big body big dog, hai e, hai e,

The texts are formulated either in the first or second person singular, as if spoken by or to the protagonist of the journey, and
often both versions are used in the same song. For example:

You carry on always singing, hai e, hai e,

You have already turned off the force, hai e, hai e,
Inside the hollow belly of a man, hai e, hai e,
I poured the Cipó of the dance, hai e, hai e,
I already drank this force, hai e, hai e.

This oscillation between first and second person singular shows the symbiosis between the man who dreams and the man who
supports the others while they are absorbed in their dreams. It suggests a transcendence of individuality and a transformation
of ‘self’ into ‘other’. This process is typical of the force of dami, the energy of psychic and physical metamorphosis, and,
according to Lagrou, ‘serves as a key symbol in the shamanic cosmovision of the Kaxinawá’ (Lagrou 1996:207). In the
altered state of consciousness, everybody is a sort of shaman. That is why the singer is able to incorporate every person into
the ritual, sharing their dreams, and giving them a voice and a form.

CELEBRATION OF UNITY: NATURE AND CULTURE, BODY AND SOUL, I AND THE OTHER
The production of images—in this case, individual and internal images—under the effect of the Cipó drink, but also under the
suggestive power of the songs, brings to mind Nietzsche’s theory of the origins of theatre and literature in The Birth of
Tragedy. In this seminal work he proposes a

§ According to Lagrou, most of the rituals relating to ‘yuxin-ness’ are collective, as is the case in the Santo Daime cult.
 KAXINAWÁ PERFORMANCES 95

• “Dashúati”. Artist: Tuin Yrumapa Kaxinawá

connection between artistic expression, sensual apprehension and transformation of the world, experienced by individuals
and groups from the times of the Dionysian cults until the constitution of Attic tragedy. The rise and decline of classic Greek
theatre, especially of tragedy, are connected to the transformation of the relationship between individual and collective, and of
the roles involved in the performance.
Nietzsche saw the origin of art in the marriage of Dionysiac and Apollonian forces: arts directed to the ears and the eyes,
unfolding and recomposing the senses, putting together sound and image. But this association takes place only in the union of
poetry and drama in tragedy. The generating power of poetic language is centred in the Apollonian epos; but in the songs of
the Dionysian ritual the ancestral lyricism and the enchanting power of the words produce a profound movement in the human
being’s body and soul. The word is never a silent
96 NEIVA DE MATOS

• “Adam and Eve”. Artist: Tene Kaxinawá. A shaman is caring for a sick person, by drinking the cipo himself and calling forth its
strength by singing a ritual song
abstraction; but it needs to be embodied and incarnated in the human voice. It is here that the intellectual (Apollonian)
element of the word is united with the physical (Dionysiac) element of the sound.
The power of poetic-dramatic expression has its origin in the chorus. What is the place occupied by the chorus? In the
beginning, the large chorus of the dithyramb, which did not know of actors or characters, was a spectacle in itself. The sole
reality of the chorus was a ‘vision generated from within itself’ and expressed with ‘the symbolism of dance, sound, words’
(Nietzsche 1993:44). The introduction of characters happened gradually, but always referred back to the basic principle of the
person’s transformation. Initially, the Chorus represented the god Dionysus, incarnated in the form of satyrs, then as a chorus
Of satyrs, and finally as humans. * The primal discharge of Dionysian energy and the shock it produces makes a person

abandon his or her individuality and enter another character.

Enchantment is the precondition of all dramatic art. In this enchantment the Dionysiac reveller sees himself as a satyr,
and it is as a satyr that he looks upon the god: in his transformation he sees a new vision outside himself.the Apolline
complement of his state. With this new vision the drama is complete.
(Nietzsche 1993:43)

The receptor, the person who hears and sees and through the songs receives the force of the spirits, is in reality the one who
occupies the centre-stage position, even in moments of introversion and silence. The relationship between the songs and the Cipó
journey highlights certain aspects of Zumthor’s concept of performance, and also of Nietzsche’s notion of transformation in
the original Dionysian rituals. It refers to the moment when the ego transcends itself, when personal and collective dreams
 KAXINAWÁ PERFORMANCES 97

come together, when the psycho-neurological properties of the drink merge with the effect of the poetic language of the
songs. Here, the human being confronts himself or herself in his or her most profound depth and stands at the same time in
and outside of the self: everywhere everything is yuxin (spirit), huni (human), pae (strength) and dami (transfor mation).
The most prominent feature of this performative situation of the Cipó journey is the presence of the voice. Even in other
types of indigenous vocal and musical performances, where choreographic elements play an important role, it is still the
language of the songs that takes prime position in the set-up and development of the performance. Using the basic formula
words+music+ movement, where each element influences the others, the ethnomusicologist Hélza Camêo supposes for
indigenous artistic expression the existence of a central stimulus, an initial impulse, a generating power, which comes through
the voice: ‘Consider the song as a result of an emotional exaltation of the word, which in the intensity of its ejection acquires
a musical content, becomes expressive, and highly impressive’ (Camêo 1977: 12).
The poetic words emitted by the singer’s (performer’s) voice organize, in a psychological and cultural way, the trance of
the ‘travellers’. In this condition, the physical and metaphysical realms are fused by means of the dami’s power: ‘Nature is
transformed into human being and human being into Nature’ (Lagrou 1996:214).
The performance of the voice, the vocalization of the words in chanting or singing, unites in the Cipó journey the human spirit
with the energy of Nature, not only as an individual sensation, but as a collective experience of the world. The performance
brings into relief the importance of communitas, meaning not just the physical presence of a community, but also the
actualization of a culture deeply rooted in the collective unconscious. As Hymes says, the performance works with a ‘non-
redundant repetitiveness’, or, to use Zumthor’s phrase, ‘the performance and what is transmitted through it are linked in as
much as the nature of performance affects what is known. The performance, somehow, modifies knowledge’ (Zumthor 1990:
35).
It is through the songs that the Cipó’s natural magic is inserted into the community’s traditional culture. The forces of
nature and culture are joined in the experience of ecstasy. The Cipó journey is an existential rite of passage, where the
individual is released from a state of isolation, and reactivates, in a concrete practical and an imaginary inner fashion, the
figure of the chorus, which everybody carries inside himself or herself and projects into the infinite space of the world:

Ancestors present, to me,to me,

Different within and dancing, to me, to me,
The drink rises and flies around, to me, to me,
From high above pulling the sun to me, to me.

The Cipó journey, as portrayed in the serpent’s song, acts as a means of connecting sender and addressee, voice and vision,
body and soul, nature and culture, individual and collective, eternal return and continuous advancement. Through the Latin
prefix per, ‘movement through’, it seems also to give new meaning to the term ‘performance’.
[Translated by Günter Berghaus]

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
I wish to express my gratitude to Joaquim Maná Kaninawá, Josimar Tuin Kaxinawá and Daniel W. Guimarães for their help
in translating the verses into Portuguese. This work has been made possible by the generous help of the Comissão Pró-Indio
do Acre, whose paedagogic programme includes the documentation and publication of indigenous songs (e.g. the collection
Nuku Mimawa, listed in the References; see Kaxinawá 1995).

REFERENCES

Aquino, Txai Terri Valle de and Iglesias, Marcelo Piedrafita (1994) Kaxinawá do Rio Jordão: história, território, economia e
desenvolvimento sustentado, Rio Branco (Acre): Comissão Pró-Indio do Acre.
Barthes, Roland (1982) ‘Le Théâtre grec’, in L’Obvie et l’obtus, Paris: Seuil, 63–85.
Camêo, Hélza (1977) Introdução ao estudo da musica indígena brasileira, Rio de Janeiro: Conselho Federal de Cultura/Departamento de
Assuntos Culturais.

* Silenus, son of god Pan, leads the chorus in the satyr plays. To Nietzsche, the satyr was the ‘archetype of man, the expression of his
highest and most intense emotions, an inspired reveller enraptured by the closeness of his god, a sympathetic companion in whom
the god’s suffering is repeated, the harbinger of wisdom from the very breast of nature, a symbol of nature’s sexual omnipotence’
(Nietzsche 1993:40).
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Kaxinawá, Joaquim Maná Paula (ed.) (1995) Nukti Mimawa (Livro de musicas), Rio Branco (Acre): Kene Hiwe/Setor de Educação da
Comissão Pró-Indio do Acre.
Lagrou, Elsje Maria (1996) ‘Xamanismo e representação entre os Kaxinawá’, in E.Jean Matteson Langdon (ed.) Xamanismo no Brasil:
novas perspectivas, Florianópolis: Editora da LTFSC, 197–231.
MacRae, Edward (1992) Guiado pela lua: Xamanismo e uso ritual da Ayahuasco no culto do Santo Daime, São Paulo: Brasiliense.
Nietzsche, Friedrich (1993[1872]), The Birth of Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music, trans. Shaun Whiteside, Harmondsworth, Mx: Penguin.
Zumthor, Paul (1983) Introduction à la poésie orale, Paris: Editions du Seuil; English-language edn (1990) Oral Poetry: An Introduction,
Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Zumthor, Paul (1990) Performance, Reception, Lecture, Quebec: Le Preambule.