Then she went into the kitchen and produced a giant glass mixing bowl full of leaves, roots, berries, something I recognized as turmeric, some shaggy mass of something that looked like witches' hair, plus eye of what I believe might have been newt . . . all floating in its own brown juice. There was about a gallon of it in the bowl, whatever it was. It stank like a corpse.

"Drink, honey," Wayan said. "Drink all."

I suffered it down. And in less than two hours . . . well, we all know how the story ends. In less than two hours I was fine, totally healed. An infection that would have taken days to treat with Western antibiotics was gone. I tried to pay her for having fixed me up, but she only laughed. "My sister doesn't need to pay." Then she turned on Felipe, fake stern: "You be careful with her now. Only sleep tonight, no touching."

"You're not embarrassed to fix people for problems like this, from sex?" I asked Wayan.

"Liz—I'm healer. I fix all problems, with women's vaginas, with men's bananas. Sometimes for women, I even make fake penises. For making sex alone."

"Dildos?" I asked, shocked.

"Not everyone has Brazilian boyfriend, Liz," she admonished. Then she looked at Felipe and said brightly, "If you ever need help making stiff your banana, I can give you medicine."

I was busily assuring Wayan that Felipe needed not one bit of help with his banana, but he interrupted me—always the entrepreneur—to ask Wayan if this banana-stiffening therapy of hers could perhaps be bottled and marketed. "We could make a fortune," he said. But she ex-plained, no, it's not like that. All her medicines must be made fresh each day in order to work. And they must be accompanied by her prayers. Anyway, internal medicine is not the only way Wayan can firm up a man's banana, she assured us; she can also do this with massage. Then, to our lurid fascination, she described the different massages she does for men's im-potent bananas, how she grips around the base of the thing and kind of shakes it around for about an hour to encourage the blood to flow, while incanting special prayers.

I asked, "But Wayan—what happens when the man comes back every day and says, ‘Still not cured, Doctor! Need another banana massage!' " She laughed at this bawdy idea, and ad-mitted that, yes, she has to be careful not to spend too much time fixing men's bananas be-cause it causes a certain amount of . . . strong feeling . . . within her, which she isn't sure is good for the healing energy. And sometimes, yes, the men get out of control. (As you would, too, if you'd been impotent for years and suddenly this beautiful mahogany-skinned woman with long black silky hair gets the engine to turn over again.) She told us about the one man who leapt up and started chasing her around the room during an impotency cure, saying: "I need Wayan! I need Wayan!"

随后她去了厨房，拿出一只巨大的玻璃钵，钵里装满叶、根、浆果、姜黄、一团看起来像巫婆头发的东西，还有我认为是蝾螈的眼睛……全部浮在原本的棕色汁液中。钵内的这玩意儿约有一加仑之多，臭得像尸体。

"亲爱的，喝了吧，"大姐说，"全部喝掉。"

我忍着喝下去。不到两个钟头……嗯，我们都清楚结局如何。两个钟头不到，我没事了，彻底痊愈。必须吃几天西方抗生素才能治好的感染，全都消失了。我想付钱给她，作为她把我医好的代价，她却只笑说："我的姐妹不需要付钱。"而后她转身对斐利贝假装严厉地说："你现在得小心待她。今晚只能睡觉，不准碰她。"

"医治人们这些因为性而引起的问题，不让你觉得难堪？"我问大姐。

"小莉，我是治疗师。我治疗所有的问题，女人的阴道，男人的香蕉。有时候我甚至还为女人制作假阴茎呢，让她们独自做爱。"

"人造生殖器？"我吃惊地问。

"小莉，不是人人都有个巴西男友。"她提醒道。然后她看看斐利贝，快活地说，"你如果有需要帮忙让你的香蕉变硬，我能给你药。"

我赶忙向大姐保证斐利贝的香蕉一点都不需要帮忙，但向来有生意头脑的他打断我，询问大姐这种让香蕉变硬的治疗能否装瓶上市。"能让我们大赚一笔。"他说。但她说不是这样的。她所有的药都需要每天新鲜制作才能奏效，而且必须配合她的祷告。无论如何，她说，内服药不是她让男人香蕉硬挺的唯一方式，而按摩也能达到效果。而后我们惊异地听她描述她为男人不举的香蕉所做的各种按摩，她如何抓着这玩意的底端，甩动一个小时，促进血液流动，同时念特殊祷词。

我问："可是大姐——万一男人每天回店里来，说："还没治好，医师！需要再做一次香蕉按摩！"那怎么办？"这无聊的主意令她发笑，她承认是得当心别把太多时间花在治疗男人的香蕉上，因为这在她内心造成某种程度的……强烈感觉……她认为这对医疗能量并无好处，有时确实会让男人失控。（倘若你多年不举，突然间这位一头乌黑秀发的褐肤女郎让你的引擎再次运转，你也会失控。）她说有个男人在某回治疗不举之际跃起身子，开始绕着房间追她，说："我需要大姐！我需要大姐！"