How Ayahuasca Is Supporting the Yaqui in Healing Addiction

In Sonora, Mexico, beneath the shade of mesquite trees, busy hands string colorful beads. Yaqui tribe members are processing the previous night's ayahuasca ceremony. There is much to discuss. Some are confronting methamphetamine addiction. Others are grappling with cartel violence or the generations of struggle to defend Yaqui land and water. 

"At first, I didn’t know about the medicine. But the first time I took it, it helped me strengthen my path in our culture," says Yoomasali Sewa, a Yaqui woman studying Indigenous law at Universidad del Pueblo Yaqui. She says she was criticized by other Yaqui for consuming ayahuasca, which is not a traditional medicine within the Indigenous nation. Still, Sewa says the experience resonated with her, sharing that “ayahuasca activates the knowledge that, many years ago, our elders and grandparents taught us — the values of our culture and of nature."

Tribes from the Amazon brought ayahuasca to Sewa’s father’s land, beginning a process that would culminate in the creation of the Yaqui Intercultural Medicine Clinic in 2020, a community space developed for the Yaqui to work with ayahuasca, Peyote, bufo, and Temezcal (or what is often referred to as a sweatlodge). 

There is much to heal. For generations, the Yaqui have resisted Spanish invaders, missionaries, and the Mexican government. They have clung to their culture and fought against diverting the Yaqui River, a source of agricultural and cultural significance, to nearby towns. They’ve managed to survive despite centuries of political pressure, while the effects of climate change have scorched the land and brought severe drought. More recently, drug cartels brought methamphetamine into Yaqui territory, presenting what some saw as a way out of poverty that instead led to violence and disappearances.

Homicide rates consistently rose throughout the 2000s in Sonora, thanks to cartels smuggling crystal meth and fentanyl across the Mexico-United States border. It didn’t take long for these drugs to make it into the Yaqui community, with nearly half of those seeking help at the Intercultural Clinic struggling with methamphetamine dependency. For perspective, in 2019, Sonora’s Health Secretariat documented that of 7,331 addiction cases in the state, 72% were for methamphetamine use. 

But where violence and addiction took root, an effort to reclaim life and identity through healing also emerged. Many Yaqui have since turned to ayahuasca as a way to reestablish connection to their culture and to heal from substance use disorder. 

"Young people who struggled with methamphetamine addiction found great help in overcoming that situation, and leaving that drug behind," says Raquel, another Yaqui participating in ayahuasca ceremonies. "Many of them, after just one ayahuasca session, reduced their craving for methamphetamine almost to zero. In other words, they stopped using it after only one ceremony."

Studies support Raquel’s observations. According to research published in the journal Frontiers in Pharmacology, working with ayahuasca in ceremony can reduce drug and alcohol use and cravings. “We found wide-ranging improvements 1-month post-treatment across [many] domains, and identified baseline traits which predict pre-to-post changes on primary outcome measures,” the study’s authors write. “Participants reported significant reductions in alcohol and cannabis use, along with greater self-efficacy and emotional regulation — traits linked to sustained recovery from addiction.”

Research has also traced the Yaqui’s path toward recovery, providing data that plant medicines can interrupt addiction, even if relapse and sobriety follow in waves. For some, continued ceremonies deepened their progress, while therapy, Temazcals, and reconnection with family and tradition laid the groundwork for lasting healing.

"Methamphetamine reached the Yaqui tribe after alcohol had already taken hold. I feel like it might have been, perhaps, a political strategy, maybe by the state, intended to harm our young people, weaken future generations, distract them, to pull them away from the life we Yaqui had," says Raquel. Her interpretation echoes the uncertainty and suspicion that has grown in the community as methamphetamine has spread across Yaqui territory, a reflection of lived experience rather than documented policy.

Working with ayahuasca helped some Yaquis release feelings of rage and frustration. As they processed, or “integrated,” those emotions, many found themselves reconnecting with family, land, and culture through community activities such as group and individual therapy, crafts, music, team sports, and traditional practices. While plant medicine played a role in some individuals’ healing, it’s only one piece in a greater tapestry consisting of deep reconnection to Yaqui land, plants, animals, traditions, music, and stories.

This tapestry of healing practices didn’t appear overnight. It grew from years of intercultural exchange and collaboration between Indigenous nations, such as the Wixárika from Mexico, the Lakota from North America, and several South American tribes, including the Chaoagua. 

In 2000, German-Mexican clinical psychologist Anja Loizaga-Velder, who has experience working with plant medicine, was invited by members of the Yaqui tribe to help develop and refine a healing program that integrates clinical expertise and data collection. 

"In order to be effective in this specific context, it took us 10 years in a preparatory phase before the clinical program was established," says Loizaga-Velder. Through regular visits, Loizaga-Velder and her partner, Armando Loizaga-Pazzi, built relationships with the Yaqui people and eventually established a formal program centered on a culturally attuned program led by Yaqui and professionals who understood local customs, belief systems, and language. 

"Western psychology presumes universality, but it's actually based in the Western, academic university, urban educational paradigm and understanding of the psyche," says Loizaga-Velder. "Intervention needs to take time to understand the worldviews and living situation of the people, and also their belief system." 

Loizaga-Velder’s research suggests that even within a supportive cultural context, there is no one-size-fits-all solution, and outcomes vary. Treatment success was related to participants' motivation and readiness for change, as well as to whether they had strong support from clinic staff, family, and friends, particularly when navigating relapse.

"We learned that, actually, the personal sharing became deeper around the lunch table, around preparing meals, arts and crafts, and cultural activities. So, the program implemented those traditional forms of community building," says Loizaga-Velder. She adds that healing communally, sometimes with several generations of a family present, extends the benefits from one person to the entire community.

Healing together is a critical part of the Yaqui story, just as their fight to protect land and water is. In fact, the Yaqui people have engaged in resistance and land defence since the arrival of the Spanish, fighting to avoid displacement and later, to avoid being forced to work in commercial agriculture and mines. 

In recent years, opposition to gas pipelines and efforts to pressure the government to honor a Supreme Court decision granting Yaqui water rights have led to disappearances, kidnappings, arrests, and conflict between the eight Yaqui villages. The remaining water has been contaminated with pesticides banned by the UN Rotterdam Convention and is allegedly contributing to higher cancer rates amongst the Yaqui. 

“The government and the state were cunning — they pitted Indigenous people against each other, so they would end up killing each other," says Victoria Anahí, an activist, psychologist, and former director of the Intercultural Clinic. Anahí tells stories of intimidation, briefcases full of cash, and having her car set on fire, adding that her activism efforts left her with PTSD.

After transformative experiences with ayahuasca and Bufo, Anahí got involved with the clinic.

“For about a year and a half, our clinic treated between 100 and 150 patients. In fact, it was more like over 100 families, since we usually provided care by family groups,” says Anahí. She remembers how, at the beginning, people did not connect a loss of water, land, and traditional food to their well-being.

“So much of life connected to nature has been lost,” Anahí says. “During the ayahuasca ceremonies, some of the young people became aware of this — aware of the territory. These medicines heal in a way that isn’t just about saying, ‘Oh, it cured my stress.’ It’s something integral; it’s about human nature, the divine engineering, how we’re made, how we function. It’s like realizing that the river must flow in its natural course.” 

In mid-2021, after a year and a half of operation, the Mexican media brought national attention to the clinic. With that attention came challenges and internal conflicts, forcing the clinic to close and treatments to grind to a halt. 

Loizaga-Velder says the closure is a tragedy. She devoted hundreds of hours to the project, brought in funding, and carefully cultivated relationships.

“There are not enough mental health professionals in the country. And those who get the worst treatment and the lowest quality of treatment are rural and Indigenous communities,” she says. “This clinic originally arose with the sole purpose of improving the health situation for community members.” 

For nearly three years, the clinic stood empty. Then, in September 2025, Sewa sent Doubleblind a WhatsApp picture of blankets being pulled over the frame of a temazcal.

“Today we continue work, although without any resources. We don’t charge for the care we provide, because we have always done it collectively,” says Sewa. “At this moment, we have no support to build a formal, well-established project with proper facilities. We only have the space where we perform temazcals.”

While the clinic is operating under a new name, its existence is uncertain. No one can comment on whether plant medicines or research will be conducted again in Yaqui territory, as feelings surrounding the successes and closure of the original clinic are still raw. 

The future of the clinic and access to medicine is unclear for the Yaqui. Still, Anahí reflects on what has been learned: "We need to pay attention. And again, we need to be very humble and recognize that [ayahuasca] has existed for thousands of years and that no one here is a pioneer of anything.”

And for Sewa, the medicine’s message endures. 

“Many things have happened to me — sometimes I’ve felt very bad — but I never let that darkness take over my spirit,” says Sewa. "Through the medicine, you also hear those voices — from the heart, from the spirit. That’s where our ancestors advise us on how to strengthen our culture and our community."

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