How I Became a Brazilian TV star, UDV vs. Santo Daime, and the Tragic Fate of Lawrence Branco

HOW I BECAME A BRAZILIAN TV STAR

On Wednesday, my status in the world changed from a guy who’s never been on television to a guy who has. That’s right; I’m on television, right here in Brazil. I filmed a commercial for Brazilian Father’s Day.

This was offered to me by an agency just a few doors down from the English school where I work. It was kind of funny, actually. They called me last minute to go and shoot this video. A car came and picked me up, driving me out to a multi-million dollar mansion in “Jardim das Americas”(Garden of the Americas), a gated community in Ponta Negra, which is the nicest suburb of Manaus. Along the way we stopped to pick up the two year old boy who was to play my son in the commercial.

Upon arrival, I had some time to poke around before the camera crew got there. This place was gorgeous; I mean really impressive. The back yard was carpeted in dense, emerald green, shortly trimmed grass not much coarser than golf green. Sharply manicured shrubbery and neatly trimmed trees intermingled with a concourse of shallow, tiled decorative pools. As the blue and white tiled pools meandered toward the back of the property, they fed into a forty foot long, round irregular shaped swimming pool. Exquisite patio furniture boasted a comfortable sit, and incepted visions of ice cold colourful beverages in the sunshine. Brilliant sunlight radiating from baby-blue skies and the thirty-five degree breeze made my mouth water even more.

The white, linear design of the house suggested Scarface-era extravagance, as was confirmed to me by the aged grout between the polished floorboards. The interior of the house showcased modern looking, imported leather furniture and tastefully coordinated accessories. It was obviously decorated by professionals, and kept in pristine condition by the several fulltime groundskeepers and housemaids.

After I had a brief perusal of the first floor, the camera crew showed up along with the woman who was to play my wife in the commercial. Introductions were made, and things began to move along.

Given the last minute nature of the phone call and my typical minimalist wardrobe, the clothing I showed up with proved to be unsatisfactory for television. They suited me up with a long sleeved shirt to cover up my forearm tattoo, they switched my shoes with those of the cameraman, and they swapped my belt with the driver’s. He was a bit chubbier than me, so we had to notch out a new hole.

The story behind the commercial is of a baby boy who is shown growing into a man, and that man is me. The story ends with me having a baby of my own.
So, the scene was set with my “wife” and my “son” sitting on a plush bed-style couch in the most luxurious entertainment room I've ever seen. Upon the “ação” command I was to enter the scene with a briefcase in hand, set the briefcase on the couch and sit beside my wife and kid. I would then proceed to affectionately speak with and caress my son, give him a kiss on the head, kiss my wife on the cheek, look at the camera and smile.

The kid, however, was not entirely thrilled about the whole process. He was clearly there against his will, and became decreasingly tolerant of the proceedings. The crew got what they needed from me and the lady, but they couldn’t get the kid to smile and look at the camera. So, they instructed me to play with him and get him smiling. “Me?” I thought. “What do I know about kids?” I tried being goofy with him, rolling around on the couch. He started crying. There was nothing I could do to even get him to look at me. So, digging deep memories up from my own childhood, I did what I’d seen countless adults do to kids in the past. I lifted up his shirt, put my face against his tummy, and started blowing. The loud “Pbpbbppbbpbpttt” sound and resulting vibrations caused the kid to erupt into hysterical laughter. The crew was ecstatic. “Mais, mais!” they commanded. I did this about ten more times, each time sending the kid further into hysterical laughter. After ten seconds we had it. “Ja,”said the director, “mata.” And that was it. They paid me a hundred bucks in cash for two hours work.

The commercial was fun, and will hopefully lead to some more side jobs that will give me a little booster shot of cash from time to time.

UDV vs. SANTO DAIME

Having completed my first ceremony with the União do Vegetal last night, I can now illustrate the similarities and differences between these two Ayahuasca religions of Brazil. While both sharing the highest regard and respect for the Ayahuasca tea, or “cha,” and incorporating it into their religious ceremonies, their ceremonial procedures and religious propaganda differ. Although I was treated with utmost hospitality and respect by both communities, I prefer the UDV, for reasons outlined below.

The Santo Daime ceremony I attended two weeks ago made me feel a little uncomfortable due to the deep Christian undertones of the proceedings. The hymns were rife with the fairy tale characters and stories of the bible but perverted by the worshipping of Ayahuasca as well. I have great respect for the power of Ayahuasca, because I’ve experienced it first hand, but I’ve always had a difficult time swallowing historical Christian fairy tales. The UDV, however, was more focused on the Ayahuasca alone. The religious propaganda was light and did not attempt to define something which can’t be defined. References to God were few. The ceremony itself was more about focusing inward and using the Ayahuasca for access to a more profound universal knowledge and to cleanse the body and spirit.

Additionally, the amount of singing and dancing required by the Santo Daime was tiring and made it difficult to concentrate on the messages I was receiving from the Ayahuasca. In fact, if I left the ceremony for any length of time I was tracked down by the “conductor” and escorted back to the ceremony, where I would be pressured to participate in the organized dancing. The UDV ceremony was quiet, with all members able to sit and relax in comfortable chairs while they concentrated on their own experiences. There were no group hymns, only a few chant-like songs sung by the “Mestre” and other senior members. Their voices sounded good, almost like the chanting one would hear from a shamanic experience in the jungle, and contributed positively to my experience. There were a few pre-recorded songs played over a sound system, but there were no obligatory songs to participate in.
With everything said and done, I prefer the UDV because I resonate more with their ceremonial proceedings and feel more comfortable with their low amount of religious propaganda. However, both communities were extremely warm and welcoming, and I met really friendly and enjoyable people at both ceremonies. Regardless of my preferences, both communities are positively transforming themselves and therefore the world through the responsible use of Ayahuasca, and I support both of them.

THE TRAGIC FATE OF LAWRENCE BRANCO

Lawrence Branco was a friend of mine. I met him in March, 2011, when I passed through Manaus for carnival. He was the manager for Hostel Manaus, the place I stayed while I was here. Very helpful and accommodating during my visit, Lawrence became a valued acquaintance and contact in Manaus. After returning to Manaus this time, I returned to the hostel often to hang out and chat.

After I built the website for Ayahuasca Tours Manaus, I went to Hostel Manaus to put up some signage advertising my services. Lawrence was working the desk alone. After having me explain my proposed services, he admitted he had been thinking about trying Ayahuasca. Lately, he confessed, his self- destructive behaviour was getting out of control. He told me he was often drinking so much he would black out, not conscious of things he was doing. He would “try to kill himself” by playing in traffic, driving drunk, and getting in fights in the street. Those described behaviours are an extreme contrast from the mild-mannered, articulate, educated man I knew him to be. Lawrence said he felt like he was possessed by an “evil spirit” and was concerned for his life, even more so concerned for the welfare of his two year old son. So, we made plans to go together to the Santo Daime ceremony the following weekend. This conversation happened on Sunday, July 24, 2011.
Later that day I sent him an email suggesting he make a few small changes to his diet and avoid the typical drugs, cigarettes and alcohol until the ceremony. His response was, “fantastic my friend, I already eat health stuff...See you soon, thanks!”

On Wednesday, July 27, I sent him an email outlining our schedule for the weekend. Oddly, however, I didn’t receive the usual prompt response. When Friday arrived, I sent him another message requesting that he call me so we could confirm our plans for the next day. I got no response. On Saturday, the day of the ceremony, I sent him another message. Frustrated and assuming that he’d gotten cold feet and chickened out, I sent him a message questioning if he’d “gone soft,” and requesting that he call me or I’d have to leave without him. This really bothered me because I thought he was a really solid guy, and I didn’t want to believe that he had flaked out on me. I was already experiencing frustrating communication issues with several other people in my life, and I started wondering why people were responding to me in this way lately. I couldn’t believe he was one of them.

As the clock ticked, I checked my email, even for a simple notification that he was no longer interested in coming. There was nothing. So, I left. I went and participated in the Santo Daime ceremony without him. On Sunday, July 31, when I returned home, I checked my email to see if there was a response. There was not. I spent the evening writing and posting my blog, not thinking to check my cell phone. However, just before going to bed that night, I opened up my cell phone to set an alarm for the next morning. The text message that was waiting in my inbox made my stomach drop.

I received news that Lawrence Castelo Branco, just 30 years old, was killed in a car crash early Wednesday morning, on July 27. Considering the time and location of the accident, and having knowledge of where Lawrence liked to hang out and drink, the situation suggests it happened after leaving a bar on Avenida do Turismo, and that alcohol was probably involved.

This news came to me just before midnight. The first emotion I felt was guilt for assuming had flaked out on me, being too afraid to tell me he didn’t want to try Ayahuasca with me. I felt deep remorse. He didn’t flake out on me, he was dead. Then I felt sadness. Not only did I feel sadness because I had just lost a friend, but because I, especially, knew how troubled he was in the last days of his life. He knew he was in danger of seriously harming himself, and he wanted help.

I lied awake the entire night, sleeping no more than a few minutes before I had to get up for work at 5:30 in the morning. I thought about all the times I’d come so close to death, and the amount of times I’d put myself in life threatening situations out of self-hatred and anger, and the amount of harm that alcohol has done to me and my life, and about how I’ve been brutally struggled against my own demons for so many years. I am well familiar with the way Lawrence was feeling before he died. And this had a very heavy impact on me.

As vehicles of consciousness in this universe, our greatest gift is being able to experience life; to witness the universe unfold. It is the only thing we have that truly matters. It’s impossible to know what the greater cosmic scheme is or what, if anything, happens to our consciousness in death. The only thing we know we have for sure is a short window of opportunity to experience the wonders of life in this universe. All too often we overlook this gift and forget how short our time is, getting caught up in menial day-to-day occurrences. Mental chatter, societal pressures and norms, and outside influence can cause self-resentment, creating the desire within us to harm ourselves through intoxication and self-abuse. This is a tragic waste of our precious and finite gift of life. I now wonder if Lawrence could have been saved if he would have made it through just one more weekend. I will never know.

If this story strikes a nerve, I urge you to evaluate your own behaviours. Evaluate the love you have for yourself. How do you feel about your true self? Not what you do for a living, or the persona you present to the world, but your true self. What kind of thoughts course through your mind when you lay in bed at night? Is life frightening? Do you ever feel like nothing matters, like no one would care if you lived or died? Question the motivations behind your own actions. Don’t be afraid of the truth, seek it out, always. Take Ayahuasca. Learn from it. And more importantly, live life in recognition of its brevity. Someday, you will no longer have the chance.