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 Health & Beauty | August 2006 
More Illegal Immigrants Turning to Folk Medicine
 Carol McGraw - The Gazette
| | What in America is considered alternative medicine is a mainstay medical tradition in some countries, but it's becoming more popular here with the influx of immigrants who bring their folk medicine with them. |
Colorado Springs, Colo. - In a tiny clinic in the back room of an herb shop on North Circle Drive, there is no need for insurance, green cards or a lot of cash.
For as little as $10, patients get the works - they are rubbed with eggs, sprayed with holy water and enveloped in smoke while Alejandra Valenzuela recites the Lord's Prayer.
They come here to consult with Valenzuela, a curandera, or Mexican folk healer, who performs "limpias" - cleansings of body, mind and spirit.
What in this country is considered alternative medicine is a mainstay medical tradition in some countries, but it's becoming more popular here with the influx of immigrants who bring their folk medicine with them - whether they are Hispanic, Asian or European.
Most of Alejandra's customers speak Spanish, and in recent months, as the immigration debate has heated up, she has noticed that the illegal immigrants among them are complaining more about stress, and they fear seeking help at public clinics.
She predicts she'll get even more business since state and federal laws enacted this summer restricted medical care available to the undocumented.
The laws require anyone seeking government services - such as Medicaid and other taxpayer-funded health programs - to show proof of citizenship. The laws extend to nonprofits that receive state grants, according to the Colorado Attorney General's Office. Emergency medical aid and programs for children are unaffected.
The undocumented among Alejandra's clients say they feel safe here - away from questions about their citizenship. A visit to get spiritual advice, tea for stomachaches or an ointment for a bad back usually costs no more than $20.
Big sellers are the blue-and-white candles said to have the power to keep immigration officers away.
Alejandra - who uses only her first name professionally - does her spiritual healing in a cramped back office. A carton of eggs, herb-rub packets and holy-water spritzes are on a side table.
She wears a black T-shirt emblazoned with a likeness of an Aztec Indian. A fistful of charms on her necklace represent saints, gods and goddesses. Over her breastbone is tattooed a flaming heart - the Sacred Heart of Jesus, whom she calls upon for help. She has amulet rings on every finger. Her shocking pink shoelaces seem incongruous.
Jeronimo, a local dishwasher who has been in this country illegally for 10 years, tells her his back hurts and he feels run down. He has no insurance.
The curandera sprays an uncracked egg with herbal water and then places the egg in Jeronimo's left hand to absorb the "negativity." She takes it back and rubs the egg briskly along his legs and arms, across his chest and back, over his head. She makes signs of the cross as she goes, and gallops through the Lord's Prayer and the rosary.
Her usual soft voice becomes gruff and authoritative:
"Let all bad spirits leave this body and return to the depths of hell. Amen."
Jeronimo does not utter a sound or make a move. She whisks him with a purple packet that contains crushed herbs.
She cracks the egg into a glass of water and examines how the milky whites collect in clumps. "You're OK," she says.
"I feel better," he sighs.
New immigrants and oldtimers alike who used this folk medicine in their native countries believe that during limpias, negativities and bad spirits that have settled in when a person was, say, scared or sick or drank too much alcohol are removed, and the good spirits are called back.
Other customers see these treatments as simply ways to relieve stress, promote relaxation and soothe aches and pains.
Besides performing limpias, Alejandra prescribes a variety of teas, ointments, bath salts, perfumes, incense and candles.
"If a person does not have faith, it won't work," she says.
"I just look at people and know what is wrong with them," the curandera says. But she does not say this in a bragging way. "I am nothing without Jesus."
Alejandra, 34, is one of a number of younger Mexican Americans who have returned to their roots by becoming folk healers. Many Hispanic families can point to healers in their line somewhere. Alejandra's great-grandmother Juanita's piercing blue eyes and prayers scared away bad spirits. And Grandma Antonia dispensed spiritual protection, herbs and doses of grandmotherly love to ailing family and neighbors.
Traditional Mexican healers use a mixture of Aztec, Spanish and Indian healing techniques. To that, Alejandra adds some others, including a Japanese-inspired healing touch that she learned from a local Reike master.
There are several types of Mexican folk healers to choose from - curanderos, masajistas (masseurs) parteras (midwives) - and practitioners of other traditions, such as Santeria, with Caribbean-African origins. Some curanderos do it all as general practitioners.
"The rituals are wonderful, and the herbal remedies have substance. It's a viable medical alternative for those who can't afford conventional medicine," says Dr. Eliseo Torres, a University of New Mexico vice president of student affairs, and professor of socio-cultural studies. He has written two books about curanderos and herbal healing rituals.
"Sometimes, it's just having a hot cup of tea and having someone to talk to," Torres says.
In Third World countries, it's folk healing or nothing for many of the poor. "Here in this country, where many don't have insurance or money for care, they end up in emergency rooms for something that a good curandero could have taken care of for a lot less money."
As in any profession, there have been reports of charlatans who charge large sums for treatment, who haven't been adequately trained. There have been reports of sexual abuse and of deaths from misuse of herbs. And customers with serious maladies don't always get the necessary medical help.
With that in mind, the University of New Mexico has started a Mexican Folk Healing program that integrates the traditional and holistic with modern medicine to promote more professionalism. The nine-month program works with an institute in Mexico to bring expert curanderos to teach everything from anatomy to reflexology to herbology. The school also cross-trains curanderos with medical practitioners. A well-trained curandero can treat minor illnesses, and diagnose and refer the serious ones to physicians.
The school also received a U.S. Department of Agriculture grant to set up medicinal herbal gardens in poor areas of Albuquerque. Curanderos and American Indian healers teach residents how to grow and prepare the plants in tincture form to treat minor illnesses.
At Botanica Caridad Del Cobre No. 2 in Colorado Springs, where Alejandra works, owner Martin Ramirez of Denver says he carefully chooses his healers.
"There are fraudulent ones that don't know what they are doing. You have to be careful," he says. Healers who work out of his store are instructed to always suggest modern medical care if ailments seem serious, he says.
Ramirez owns another botanica in Denver and also has an herb distribution company that caters mostly to small towns around Colorado and surrounding states. Curanderos are especially popular in the small farm communities and rural areas of Southern Colorado where immigrant workers use midwives and herbal remedies. He opened the Colorado Springs store so his customers don't have to travel to Denver.
"When you make $300 a week, and have to send $100 back home, you can't afford insurance and expensive treatments," he says.
On a recent day, several customers were leaning against glass display cases in the Colorado Springs store, waiting their turn to see the curandera.
Walgreens this isn't. The shelves are packed with statues representing a plethora of saints, angels and gods. Buddha stands alongside Ganesh, a Hindu god. Egyptian and Aztec deities share space with St. Jude and St. Lazarus.
There are yellow feathers for writing prayers with artificial bat's blood, volcanic oil to soothe sore joints, soaps to attract money and lovers. Tiny amulets are said to protect and deflect almost anything desired. There's a wall of packaged herbs for medicinal use.
Angel, 52, came here illegally 30 years ago but was pardoned under the 1986 immigration amnesty program. He works in a restaurant and has been receiving medical care for a spine problem at a local community health center. But he needs additional tests that will cost $1,000. He doesn't have the money or insurance. He is here for pain relief.
Then, a man who goes by the nickname Bear gets treatment.
"How you feel?" Alejandra asks.
"My legs, my head. Pills don't take it away," Bear, 65, replies. "I'm diabetic."
"You have to watch what you eat and take. Go to a doctor as soon as you can," Alejandra tells him.
He says he likes it here with the curandera. He used to go to them with his mother when he was a boy in Texas. "I feel at peace here. And I can tell the difference when I leave."
She gives him a candle to light for seven days in honor of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the saint he believes protects him.
A 32 year-old woman, who has been in the Air Force for nine years, has been coming to Alejandra for a month. She has just come from an MRI imaging test at a laboratory, paid for by her insurance. But now she wants a spiritual healing that sometimes eases her headaches.
"It's like a prayer," she says. "I don't like popping a pill for everything. This doesn't have bad side effects. I feel relaxed."
Alfredo, 37, is an undocumented restaurant worker who wants herbs for a friend with a face swollen from a tooth infection. The man fears going to doctors because of his immigration status, and in fact, is sometimes afraid to even walk around town, Alfredo explains in Spanish.
Alejandra sells him some herbs but urges him to get medical care for his friend. Alfredo says the man can't afford it.
Alejandra watches him leave.
"I want to heal the whole world. Sometimes I wish I could do more for them. I tell them when they should go to a doctor. All I can do is ask God to help them," she says. |
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