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I am reading an interesting book called THE MEDICINE TRAIL, about someone who goes into the Amazon and like places looking for herbal remedies. When it got to the bit about a manioc drink (chew it, spit it into a bucket, repeat for 3 weeks, leave resulting goo to ferment for 4 months), I was so revolted that I read it out aloud, leading to this conversation:

T: It tastes disgusting.

Me: You've tried it? [thinking: when has T been in Brazil? Africa, yes, but S America?]

T: yes.

Me: where?

T: at a Brazilian shaman's house. In Kensington.

Me: what the fuck was a Brazilian shaman doing in Kensington?

T: well, I don't know! Whatever he was looking for, he didn't find it. He moved.

The path to enlightenment goes through Chelsea, apparently.

Date: 2006-01-21 10:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] shewhomust.livejournal.com
There's a bit in William Dalrymple's From the Holy Mountain - as I recall, he's trying to track down an Iraqi sect of devil-worshippers, and discovers that their main stronghold is Kentish Town...

Date: 2006-01-22 02:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mevennen.livejournal.com
Bizarre! Although given London's long occult history, maybe it's not too surprising.

I love the idea of devil-worshippers in Kentish Town, though...What next, the Thuggee sects of Belgravia?

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