Meeting with the Matses: 11 Days of Connection, Education, and Personal Growth

Burambo!
As the Matsés say—a word that means many things: a greeting, a farewell, a gesture of gratitude, and perhaps most beautifully, a bridge between worlds.

It's a language few outside their remote jungle community understand, and yet, those syllables now echo in my heart like a song I’ll never forget. Spending 11 days living alongside these extraordinary human beings has been nothing short of life-altering. There are no words quite sufficient to express the depth of presence, humility, and wisdom I witnessed in the Matsés people. The leaders move with quiet strength—a deep, rooted confidence that doesn’t shout, but resonates. The women radiate joy, crafting with their hands and weaving laughter into each moment. The men, grounded and fearless, carry a humility that softens even their most warrior-like qualities. These are the attributes we all yearn to embody. And in their presence, I felt both small and profoundly expanded.

My journey began in the frozen stillness of Chicago—three flights and a hemisphere away from where I would land, drenched in sweat and awe, in the sweet, thick air of Iquitos. A city teeming with life, where the buzz of tuk-tuks competes with street vendors’ calls, and the scent of grilled meats and jungle fruit spills from every corner. Life there is unfiltered. Raw. Vibrant. And unlike anything we experience in the western world. Children run barefoot through the streets. Stray dogs lounge in the sun. The mosquitoes are relentless. And yet, you find yourself surrendering to the rhythm of it all.

And oh, the food.
Fresh ceviche kissed with lime. Towering stacks of exotic fruits. Market stalls bursting with meats, spices, and produce you've never seen before. It’s a feast for all the senses. But for me, it remained untouched. I had already begun my dieta—a sacred commitment not only to the plant medicines but to my own body and soul. No sugar. No caffeine. No alcohol. No sex. No stimulants of any kind. Just simple, clean foods: steamed vegetables, plain rice, lots of water, and silence where distraction once lived. The dieta is a purification—a test of devotion to the path. It’s a stripping away of all that is unnecessary so the spirit can listen more clearly, and the body can receive the medicines without resistance. It’s also a practice in humility. And I’ll be honest, nothing humbles you quite like giving up your morning coffee.

From the dense urban heartbeat of Iquitos, we journeyed deeper—first by car, then boat, and eventually on foot—into the heart of the rainforest. As the city faded into green, I watched the jungle rise to meet us. Layer upon layer of plant life, towering trees, and vines thicker than my arm. So much biodiversity just steps beyond the pavement. It was overwhelming, sacred, and somehow familiar. The jungle felt alive in a way few places do—watching, listening, breathing with us. And yet, many locals remain unaware of the profound healing power growing just beyond their homes. Medicines hiding in plain sight.

When we first met the Matsés, there was a quiet awkwardness in the air—a mix of curiosity and nerves on both sides. It was only the second time they had left their territory to meet with outsiders in this way. I could feel their hesitation, and I could feel my own. Who were we, stepping into their space, asking for their teachings? But slowly, something shifted. A trust began to form. A bridge of mutual respect, held together by our shared reverence for the frog, for the forest, and for the sacred medicines that had brought us all together.

The original intention of this journey was to deepen my understanding of Kambo—the potent secretion of the Phyllomedusa bicolor frog—and to train in its traditional application under the guidance of the Matsés elders. But what unfolded was far beyond technique or knowledge. What I found was relationship. Not just with the medicine, but with its guardians. With the jungle. With myself.

Each ceremony was a revelation. The Matsés focused as they worked, calling in the spirit of the frog, honoring it with gratitude and precision. I watched how they moved—carefully, respectfully—never rushing, never disconnected. They treated Kambo not as a commodity, but as a living being. A teacher. A protector. Their way was not clinical, but sacred. And that sacredness seeped into my bones.

There was one moment I’ll never forget. We had just completed a ceremony, and I was sitting in the Maloca, my body still trembling, my heart cracked wide open. One of the elders came and sat beside me. He didn’t speak English, and I barely understood a word of Matsés, but he placed his hand in front of his chest in a fist and then smiled and nodded at me. In that moment, words didn’t matter. What passed between us was something far older than language. A recognition. A remembering. A respect. We saw each other as equals: strong and courageous.

This trip was not easy. It pushed my edges. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. But it also gave me a gift I never expected: the gift of belonging. Not in the sense of being accepted by another culture—but belonging to the Earth. To the web of life that connects us all. The Matsés don’t separate themselves from the forest—they are the forest. And through their eyes, I began to see that I am, too.

I left the jungle changed. Not in some dramatic, fireworks kind of way. But in the subtle, sacred way that only truth can change you. A little softer. A little stronger. A lot more reverent. And with a promise to carry these teachings forward in my own practice with integrity and care, just as the Matses.

Burambo, dear ones.
In the spirit of gratitude, in the beauty of goodbye, and in the sacredness of coming home to yourself.

- Joshua Scarpuzzi

Founder / Kambo Practitioner / Medicine Guide

After returning from his trip, Josh opened up the "Matses Handmade" section of our online shop which features handmade items made by the men and woman of the Matses tribe. 100% of what you pay for these items goes directly to the Matses artisans, and funds new projects building infrastructure and resources in their communities. Do to recent illegal mining and drilling, their land and resources are at risk. Forced to seek help from the world beyond their tribal lands, tribe leaders are now seeking assistance to build the necessary infrastructure that provides their people with clean water, food, and protection from outsiders aimed at taking advantage of their invaluable resources. If you feel called to make an impact beyond purchasing these items, we invite you to reach out and inquire into ongoing conservation projects that need additional funding.