A man dressed in black, who looks like a wild and crazy vagrant, comes to my car and orders me out. Thinking that I am being car-jacked, I’m actually relieved when he opens the back door to his own vehicle. He demands that I get in and sitting on the back seat is a woman completely immersed and fumbling with a lot of loose sheets of lined yellow paper. She is too overwhelmed to even look up.
The man requests that I help her. As he dramatically unfurls a blanket of glitter and feathers, I realize that he is a shaman. He loudly demands that the spirits around her that are of chaos and confusion flee, or be smothered.
Kneeling, the shaman is healing the woman’s broken spirit by washing her feet with the crisp, sweet, bright red pulp of a juicy watermelon. Healing her completely is his commitment, and in appreciation she places a crown on his head that is made from her pubic hair.