Eulodia Dagua "On Speaking Nicely to a Medicine Tree: Kichwa Harvest of Cespedesia Spathulata."

Our fathers say that when we go into the forest to harvest medicinal bark, we must first stand before the tree and speak to him. This morning we have come to this forest to take his bark. We do not take his bark needlessly. We humans get sick, and we suffer many pains, so I will now speak to this amarun kaspi tree. Now we are going to take your bark. Soon we will take it with us. And so, we ask you to give us your bark, so that we may drink it. It is true that many of our family members are sick. That is why we come to take your bark. We will take your bark this morning. Heal whatever pains our bodies may carry. We take your bark and cook it to drink. We are also taking your bark to give to our relatives, so they may be healed too. We drink so that we may stand strong in the forest, like you. You stand strong in the forest—no one can knock you down, no one can knock you over. We drink because we, too, want to be strong like that. And so, I will now take your bark. I have woken you up. You are awake now. Just a little while ago, you were still sleeping. We are going to take this from the side where the sun rises. This is how you should take his bark. You drink his bark water in order to become red like him. Not pale, not tired-looking, but strong like him. To become a bright-colored woman or a bright-colored man, you drink this bark. If you have children, give them this bark to drink, and they will be able to study well. Yes, to study—to go and study, whether in high school or elementary school—this is good, they say. I have never given city medicines to my children. I always use this indigenous kind of medicine to treat all of their illnesses. And now, because of this medicine, they get good grades. Now we take it from the side where the sun sets. How beautifully red the bark is here. Yes, that is how the male tree is. My father used to tell me: you look for the male bark to give to your girl children. When I was young, I didn’t know this. My father used to take this bark while singing. “When you take the bark of the male tree, you sing. When you take the bark of the female tree, you sing,” he told me. On the side of a hill, The anaconda (tree) man I am taking away with me to drink. A large tree Whom no one had frightened, I stand here taking it. So that someday I may not have a pale face— For when I see his face, my face will become red. In the distance, he will be standing, His head tied with a feather band On the side of a great canyon. Your (tree’s) face will never look pale. His face will never appear so. Far away, his spirit stands with a red face. That is how it is. With your spirit, sweep my illness. Sweep me. Sweep. Take away my sickness—just sweep me. And when you take away my sickness, Hide it away in a deep hole in the earth. That is how my father used to sing. Singing about the forest medicine. Yes! That’s it. That we might stand like him! So that you don’t become sick—you stand, singing.