The timing for undergoing a guided Ibogaine trip at the hands of Akyundo could not have been worse. I was feeling weakened from my bout with dysentery. I had also been suffering nightmares as I slept on my foam mattess in Apurali’s courtyard. I would dream I was the leopard whose paws had been cut off to be sold in the fetish market. My cubs were watching, hazel eyes enormous, from their hiding place in a patch of brush. Or the monkey whose head had been chopped off. I had just been weaned from my mother. I was eating fruit in a tree. With violence, a rope ripped me from the tree, and I was held in rough hands. Or the antelope whose testicles had been wrenched from its body. Nothing else from me was wanted, so I was not even killed. I was left there to bleed to death. continue reading »