He pauses dramatically, making eye contact with Mark, Joe and me, sitting in a small group at the end of the row, and on to Marie and Anna, huddled beside us holding hands excitedly. Clara sits on the other side of them, looking nervousnext to Craig/Greg, who is at the other end of the bench. He is still wearing that hat and it still feels like he’s mocking Texans even though he is one.
‘But ...’ Gary stops, grinning triumphantly before continuing. ‘Screw all that! We’re the unofficial branch of the Ayahuasca retreat tree. The mavericks, the rebels, the revolutionaries. We are District 12 taking on Capitol City. But withAyahuasca.’
Clara twitches violently. I suspect she is aHunger Gamesfan.
He continues. ‘So let’s all just chill the eff out, drink a bit of tree bark and – as for that no drinking alcohol rule—’ he stops again, slowly pulling out a bottle of absinthe from behind his back. ‘Fuck it! We’ll take some Ayahuasca tonight, as the sun goes down, and in the meantime, let’s get drunk and havesome banter, yeah?!’
Oh God.
He said banter.
I am stronglyanti-banter.
This is everything I feared it might be.
I guess I should’ve known when Mark and Joe told me it was their mate running things. Or at least known when Mark said Gary smuggled the drugs in up his bum. How am I here? What am I doing? Is this a total waste of my time here? Should I just leave?
Gary handsthe bottle of green stuff to Mark and I watch as he and Joe snigger as they each take a swig.
I reach for it, and pause. Maybe I can still get something out of this process though. Gary and the rest of them don’t have to take this retreat seriously, but I can.
My hand drops and I shake my head at the proffered liquid. It passes me, down to Marie and Anna who gladly take a drink, gigglinggleefully at each other. They are just so sweet together, I can’t handle it.
‘Absinthe and Ayahuasca!’ shouts Craig/Greg,woo-hooing as the bottle reaches him. ‘Truly, Shaman Quam, you are a leader among men. Let’s get this party started!’
The group starts chatting excitedly. Clearly, they had more of an idea what they were signing up for than I did. A Thai woman comes in the door of thehut. She offers around bowls of what look suspiciously like Doritos – tangy cheese tortilla flavour – and lingers over Mark, smiling widely. No one is immune to his looks. He politely takes a crisp, ignoring her admiring stare.
‘Hey Jessica Jones,’ Gary flops down on the bench beside me, almost landing in Marie’s lap, who squawks in surprise. ‘Scheiße!’ she says, adding,‘Achtung.’
Theyare suchhealthy-sounding, satisfying words and I am suddenly desperate to learn German. Maybe they can teach me this week? I may as well get something out of my time here. And how long does it take, even, to learn a new language? Probably like a week?
‘How’s it going, Shaman Shaman?’ I say conversationally, shuffling up to make room for him. He fists his hands under his chin, adopting a therapypose and looking at me deeply.
‘I am pure light and joy, Alice, that’s how it is going. How areYOUthough, my new friend?’ he says in asing-song voice. ‘I feel like maybe you’re not ready to open yourself up to this. I really need you to give yourself over to this process wholeheartedly. I need you to help mehelp you.’
‘Which process is that, Gary?’ I say, giving in to my irritation.‘The drinking heavily process? Or the one where you culturally appropriate andco-opt a traditional spiritual retreat to make money?’
He smiles. ‘You should relax, my friend. It’ll be great, I promise.’
The Thai lady passes by and I grab a handful of Doritos, nodding my thanks at her. ‘I am incredibly fucking relaxed, thanks,’ I say.
He sighs and turns to the group, his voice raised.‘Everyone gather round, let’s get to know each other a little better, shall we? Has everyone had a drink? Keep passing the bottle along, it will help us with the bonding and the sharing of ourselves. Kohsoom, could you bring the stools in?’ The Thai lady nods obediently, leaving the hut and returning with several tiny stools, clearly built for children. Clara, Mark and Joe all abandon the benchfor the tiny seats, forming a circle, and for a moment we all just stare at each other, waiting.
Gary clears his throat. ‘I’ll start, then, shall I? I grew up in North Wales, on the Isle of Anglesey. I have six sisters and worked as an accountant for seven years before I discovered enlightenment during a trip to Phuket when I wasthirty-two. Last year I retrained as a life coach and then setup shop here around Christmas.’
So he’s been a guru for all of five months. How wonderful. Howauthentic.
Gary catches the look I am giving Mark – a not very nice look – and quickly adds, ‘But even though I have not been running these retreats all that long, I have already had multiple conversations with the universe. Very deep conversations. I am enlightened and more than qualified tohelp you reach the same level as me. Plus, I think I’m the only one around here with a big pile of Ayahuasca in my bag, am I right?’ He laughs and smiles nicely at me.
I smile back despite myself. He is obviously a total fraud, but at least he’s open about it. I also have a kind of respect for the way he’s changed his life so dramatically. It feels like there are so many people around – myselfincluded – who sit there, buried in a life and job they don’t like, always moaning and wishing for something else; dreaming big, but doing nothing to change anything. It is so boring and unsexy. Gary has, at least, done something about it.
The Texan clears his throat. ‘Well folks, I’m Craig,’ – or is it Greg? – ‘I’mfifty-three and I live in Austin – the Lone Star State!’ He pauses dramaticallyand I see Clara is very close to applauding. She grins across at me. He continues after a moment and suddenly looks a little vulnerable under his big hat. ‘I’m going through a pretty hellish divorce right now, folks, and my life kinda sucks.’ He sighs. ‘You know, life can be hard and sometimes I just wish I could be Mike O’Donnell for a day.’
He looks at each of us expectantly and we all lookat him blankly. Who the hell is Mike O’Donnell? Is he an American footballer or something? A US politician?
‘Mike O’Donnell?!’ he says, exasperated, looking at each of us. ‘The lead character in the most important movie of thetwenty-first century?’
Still nothing.
