Seductive Poison (31 page)

I soon discovered that assignments in the most distant fields were the best. Even though the work, clearing new acres, was usually harder, it was out of earshot of Father’s continual amplified diatribes. But I quickly lost the hope that it might be possible to escape while out in the fields. The jungle was full of unknown threats. A few steps inside her depths could mean being lost forever. She was alive with underbrush, roots, vines, enormous insects, lizards, snakes, beetles, mosquitoes, spiders, and varmints. In this foreign and forbidding place it was impossible to have a sense of forward or backward. Everything looked the same—green, brown, and dense. I came to realize that the jungle green served as our prison bars, a barrier we couldn’t penetrate.

Nevertheless, in these distant fields, far away from Father’s manifestos, I found that I could breathe and think, even under the watchful eyes of the armed guards. I mused about the life I had turned my back on, the family I had grown distant from and missed: my big brother, the professor; Annalisa and her two little children; gentle Larry; and Papa, who I hoped hadn’t forgotten me. I thought of Mama and her loneliness here without Lynetta. She had been so brave in her effort to quell my anxiety, but I had seen her disappointment. At least I could be thankful for the friendships of Mary and Dahlia and their sincere affection for “little Lisa.”

In the coming weeks, I realized, I would have to hide my misery and exhaustion from Mama. I already felt desperately guilty and knew from my experience in the States that my sense of responsibility to her would gradually suffocate me if I didn’t pull away. Even in those early days in Jonestown I was conniving and maneuvering, becoming hard and disconnecting from the only person who could possibly keep me from running for my life, Mama.

12
Dark Days—White Nights

It had been several weeks since our arrival and by now I was accustomed to the unusual smells in the food and drink. I was even unaffected by the rice weevils and other strange bugs we ingested daily. Now I, too, ate enormous mounds of rice covered in gravy.

Christmas had come and gone without fanfare and I had acclimated to this new life of physical labor and late night agricultural meetings. I knew I had been here for at least three weeks because I had taken and passed three socialism tests.

In spite of our isolation in the jungle, we knew everything that was happening all over the world because Father read us newspaper and magazine articles over the loudspeakers daily. He told us in detail how violent the United States had become and how his place in history, as a great leader, was being tarnished by the evil defectors in America. Whenever he read to us about the vicious actions being taken by our government against innocent people, I was relieved we lived here. I learned of a leader in Uganda named Idi Amin, who apparently was a great diplomat. Father said we should learn to emulate his “wild actions.” He said that when people acted like “crazy niggers,” the establishment would back off and leave them alone. He said this was how we would begin to act here, too. If we threatened various government agencies with killing ourselves or leaving the country in a mass exodus, we would get our way more easily. Everything, he said, was done for effect. He had to test how far he could and should push them. It never occurred to me that these tests one day would turn into ghastly reality.

I still worked the fields but had been reassigned to Lorina’s crew as Lee had been pulled from the fields to oversee the construction of more housing. Father had announced an incentive program: On Sundays, the only day we had the late afternoon free, those people who wanted a relationship and had gone through the approval process, could begin to construct their own cabins. Within hours, the relationship list quadrupled. Mark came to me that same day and asked if I would like to live with him, but I had decided on my first day that I would not pursue this dangerous course. My excuse to him was that the Cause was more important to me than an egocentric relationship and, anyway, he was hardly ever in Jonestown. Although he had helped prepare the land and original buildings for our arrival, he was now becoming a licensed ship captain at Father’s behest. Father had decided that we needed to purchase a larger boat for our next emigration, to a more friendly country. The Six-Day Siege had deeply affected and deformed his perception of our safety and there were discussions of our moving to Cuba or the Soviet Union. On a couple of occasions, when I visited the radio room to ask Carolyn a question, I overheard small talk about visiting the embassies of socialist countries in the capital. Mark seemed discouraged, and it was hard to let go of such an old dream, but my decision was made. When I needed the secret relief of a fantasy, I thought about the nice Cuban doctor.

Life was tough in the Promised Land. The physical labor during the day was grueling but it was nothing compared to the terror we experienced at night. Every night, someone was confronted. Every night, I was afraid I, or someone I was close to, would be next.

During one emergency meeting I was perched in my customary place near Jim’s son Stephan, biting deeply into my cheek to stay awake, when I felt my head jerking backward.

Had the guards seen me? I began to breathe in slowly and deeply, and started my self-preservation mantra: Look alert! Stay awake! I bit harder, drawing blood, fighting sleep, fighting to keep my body erect. I knew how dangerous it was to be found inattentive or sleepy, but it was getting harder every night.

From somewhere in the crowded Pavilion came a rustling sound. Oh no! I thought. Someone’s fallen from the bench. Someone’s fallen asleep!

“Stand!” Father bellowed over the loudspeaker. “Are you not afraid? Do
you
believe that
you
are different from the rest of us? Speak up and explain yourself,” he hissed.

Charlie, a sixty-year-old father of five, stood up, brushing the dirt from his pants. “Father, I’m sorry. I did not mean to—” He was cut off by shouting. Everyone was angry. Someone always had to do this. Now Jim was furious, and we were going to have to confront Charlie and everything would drag on even longer. But no wonder Father was mad. If we were attacked now, Charlie would be our weak link. We must be careful, ever watchful of the weak one. Falling asleep proved that your head was in the wrong place, which made you more susceptible to committing treason.

“So, you think falling asleep during an emergency meeting is easy? Let’s see how you fare with this. Put the snake around his neck!” One of the guards carried a ten-foot boa constrictor’s cage into the middle of the Pavilion and opened the door.

“No! Wait,” Father yelled. “Get Charlie’s son to do it. I want Nick to put the snake around his daddy’s neck.”

There was a chilled silence. Nick was one of the most trusted and well-like guards in the camp. Was Jim testing his loyalty?

“Oh God, please, Father,
no!
No, don’t!” Charlie begged as Nick devoutly weighed his Father down with the massive serpent.

“Jim, please. It’s just that the field work is—”

“Stop your sniveling,” Father demanded.

“Shut up, man! You’re an embarrassment,” Nick muttered.

“What’s that?” Father asked. “You ain’t crying about this, are you, Nick?”

“Hell no, Father.” Nick wiped at his eye. “The fuckin’ snake’s tongue scratched my cornea,” he lied.

Jim chuckled into the microphone. “Why are all of you so quiet out there? Where’s your indignation? I want you to scream out why you hate Charlie! Anyone too prissy to scream will find themselves up here with this snake when I’m done with Chuckie-boy.”

“Why don’t we put him in the Box, Father?” a frail voice from somewhere in the Pavilion called out.

“’Cause we got Jeff in there. And he ain’t comin’ out for a while.” Father looked around. “Who the hell asked that stupid question? Stand! Was you sleepin’ in our last meetin’ when Jeff was dragged off to the Box?”

“No, Father. I just thought maybe he’d been taken out by now,” said the voice, becoming weaker with fear.

“What do I hear in your voice? Sorrow? Do you feel sorry for Jeff? He’s an antirevolutionary. He’d turn on you in a second if the
mercenaries came in right now. He’s being punished for his refusal to stop daydreaming. Don’t you remember?”

Suddenly there was nervous laughter near Father. A puddle was forming around Charlie and his pants were wet. Father’s attention was successfully drawn away from another confrontation.

“Okay! Get the snake off him. His face is getting red.” There was quiet commotion as three guards struggled to remove the constricting snake from Charlie’s puffy neck.

“Now, let this be a warning to all of you,” Father growled. “You will all be tested again and again, whether it be watching to see if you are working hard in the fields or by sending one of my spies out to pretend they want to leave. You better report them! ’Cause if you don’t, you’ll be up here, too, with a boa hanging from your neck and begging me for my forgiveness. That’s right, even your son or daughter will be doing my bidding by testing your loyalty to the Cause. Don’t let me down. Report the traitors to Carolyn or me.”

My head jerked again and I was suddenly aware that Stephan was sitting close enough to me to keep me from falling sideways and Lew, another of Jim’s sons, was behind me with his hand on my back, both of them ensuring that I wasn’t next. I realized how lucky I was, and shuddered at the thought of being punished. The Learning Crew seemed bad enough, but I didn’t know how I would survive the Box.

The Box was a small underground cubicle to which even children would be sentenced if they had thought or done something Father thought punishable. It was six by four feet, dark, hot, and claustrophobic. Poor Jeff had been kept inside for ten days. People kept there were given nothing but mush to eat and drink. There was also the Well, a punishment used especially for children. They would be taken to the Well in the dark of night, hung upside down by a rope around their ankles, and dunked into the water again and again while someone hidden inside the Well grabbed at them to scare them. The sins deserving such punishment included stealing food from the kitchen, expressing homesickness, failing a socialism exam, or even natural childish rebelliousness. Their screams were chilling but we had learned from the consequences of previous people’s objections not to complain.

People who could not be reeducated and continued to voice unhappiness or dissatisfaction were put in the Medical Unit. There, they were involuntarily drugged into acquiescence and maintained in that state indefinitely. These punishments effectively silenced all
outward dissent. I consoled myself by remembering that these punishments were nothing compared to being captured by the enemy and tortured to death.

Thankfully, I kept a good rapport with most people around me, with the guards and my crew, and I had the quiet protection of Lee, Stephan, and Lew. And Maria and I seemed to have ironed out our “chemistry problem.” I stood in for her in the radio room one morning while waiting for my work crew to assemble. While she ran to the loo, I operated the radio, feeling quite confident in my repartee with Paula in the capital. I had heard and seen Teresa do enough of it to know the call signs and a few codes. After this, Maria occasionally asked me to stand in for her while she ran down and talked to Jim at their house. For some reason she seemed to feel less threatened, or perhaps less jealous, of me now that I labored in the fields like everyone else. I had begun to drop a lot of weight, my pants were baggy, my hands had calluses and blisters, and my boots were almost worn out. My curly locks had been buzz-cut since the incident with the beetle. Maria seemed concerned about me. She even became conciliatory and always brought me meat or a hard-boiled egg from Jim’s personal fridge as a gift. I hoped she would tell Father who was holding down the fort while they discussed business.

One evening after my seventh socialism exam, I was beckoned over to the radio room by Carolyn. Maria was packing up her day communications notepads and talking to Jim. When she saw me, she smiled. I noticed that she had lost more weight.

“Grace will cause a siege …” Jim moaned, rubbing his hands together and looking sallow. Father usually stayed in the radio room all night with Carolyn, giving orders to Teresa in the States. Carolyn stepped outside the room and invited me to sit on the step with her.

“Debbie, I may need your help tonight,” she said. “Annie has caught the bug that is going around. She may be too sick to care for John-John and Kimo for a while. Trouble’s brewing … Jim’s been anxious and unable to sleep for several days now.”

“But I hear him—”

“Sshhh …” Carolyn put her finger to her mouth. “Tapes … He decides which ones should be replayed.” She sighed. “He’s taken ill, too, and during the day he rests, trying to catch up on his strength before another all-night session in here. He gets a lot of
severe headaches and has a skin inflammation that needs medical attention.”

I turned toward Jim, who was giving instructions to the States.

“Make sure the Concerned Relatives are watched,” he yelled into the mike. “The Mertles, the Stoens, and every other SOB. Tail them and find out who they’re in contact with! This could be the end if they start writing letters to their congressmen.”