To the left of the entrance, in the dark space, a wooden table upon which a number of hosiery baskets are laid, each containing a variety of coloured pills and green capsules. A rather anorexic bookshelf relies upon the dirty wall to stand. At the back of the unkempt bed, rests an antique medicine chest, empty. On the right, pots are steaming in the minuscule kitchen. In front of me, the wooden staircase leads up to the workspace.
I had chosen to pay a visit to a renowned local healer, Wayan. To reach the peace of mind I so longed for, flip-flops on, I was ready even for incantations and burning incense.
Filling my craving for happiness seemed to depend upon body reading and balancing, massaging, palmistry (?) and a vivifying herbal shower. Naked, I soon found myself oddly sitting, a camphor-scented sarong wrapped around me. A young boy strongly scrubbed out my body with some fresh green leaves. He then started to meticulously rid my skin of any defect, zits and moles alike. A myriad of micro-wounds appeared. Unsettled, I wondered: “The yellow tincture he generously applies will prevent any infection, right? Or will it be that chalk-thing he spreads on my back?”
When Wayan started massaging me, I felt filled with waves of positive energy. I was however wondering if the healer getting her long black hair brushed during breaks was part of the treatment. Was the bad spirit - that had apparently settled in my left arm after a spell had been cast upon me - leaving through her hair at each stroke of the hairbrush?
Following local traditions, Wayan started scrapping my moles, considered ugly in Bali, with a giant toothpick until blood rushed, just so that they would not grow back. Did I mention my body is covered with moles? Resistance was futile. Rather alarmed, I was then hesitating between murder and laughs.
Wayan subsequently vigorously rolled a stick on my sore armpits while an old lady, standing on the massage table, stretched my arms towards the sky. Surprised, she said: « You are so angry! Who with? ». According to her, to be happy, one should never be angry with anyone for more than 2 years. Well, the countdown certainly had started then...
Finally, having had several pots of tepid green water thrown at me by way of shower, the rejuvenated me was served with Prima duta herbal tea. I started giggling: First doubts? Despite this rather unforgettable day, inner peace was still far more than a toothpick away.
