Seductive Poison (36 page)

“Carolyn? What should I tell Mama?”

“Tell her you’ll be gone a few days. You’ll only be gone two weeks. Debbie, you’ll be great. Do what you do so well. You’ve never let us down.” She hugged me, then turned to reenter the radio room.

Father trusted me again. I had to keep calm. Stay cool. Act normal!!! Don’t fidget. Always look Father in the eye. Be thoughtful and serious. Don’t even dream of getting giddy!

This time, the stakes were too high and the reward was for keeps. Making a mistake would land me in the medical unit with the traitors Jim knew he could never trust again, on silencing, coma-inducing medications.

The ghostly cry of a howler monkey seeped through the darkness. Shivering in the predawn twilight, I began to compose my conversation with Mama. “Mom? I’ll be leaving for a few days …” No—more upbeat. “Mama, Jim wants me to go to the capital, but once I’m there I plan to never come back. But don’t worry, when I’ve returned to America I’ll find a way to get you out too …” Don’t be ridiculous. If only I could do it like people outside who would speak openly and exuberantly about their
plans, make plane reservations, have going-away parties, talk on the phone for hours with friends and family about their hopes and aspirations, and then, just leave. I could not. In Peoples Temple, no one waved good-bye; only traitors, defectors, and villains wanted to leave. Father said that every single person who had ever betrayed us had done so for selfish reasons, but he taught us there was serious retribution for displaying such weaknesses. Defectors were followed, harassed, their lives threatened. An entire family was forced back once and held hostage.

I wished it wasn’t so. I didn’t want to be thought of as evil. But I had no choice. I couldn’t just change my mind and make different plans. I had to lie, coerce, pretend, and betray. Would I be able to do it convincingly? Could I say good-bye to Mama without the treacherous tears? Would she guess the truth? Would her soft brown eyes redden with sorrow as she discerned my deceit? Was it fair to tell her and make her my accomplice? Would she think I had gone mad and report me? Could I trust her to keep our secret?

Tormenting images of Mama alone, crying and helpless, began to stalk me, clawing at the edges of my conscience. If I didn’t leave now, would I ever get another chance? My head felt heavy and I wanted to flee my wicked thoughts. I knew that I must confront my decision to leave Mama, but I couldn’t concentrate. I wondered when it had all gone awry. How had I gotten this far without realizing that something was seriously wrong?

All the beautiful and colorful dreams about our Promised Land had been struck down. I would never sit upon a wide and spacious porch rocking my baby, anxiously waiting for Mark to return from his work in the fields, smiling at Mama as she poked her head out the door of a cabin next to mine, asking if I’d like a piece of toast and marmalade, while Shanda, Beth, and Mary strolled by on their way to the pond. All my hopes and desires had long since evaporated with the heat of the equatorial sun. It was not to be. It was time to put away my childish dreams, to bolster my nerves and harden my feelings. If I could get out of Jonestown I would have a fighting chance of escaping Guyana all together. But I had no idea how to do it.

I wouldn’t pack much. That would prove my devotion. Father would look at my tiny satchel and laugh. He’d hug me, his darling warrior, and turn to Carolyn, “This is what I expected from my Debbie. She only plans for the shortest time away from us …” Oh
yes, then I would have won. I would have fooled them all. But could I camouflage my excitement? Would Father sense it? Would he look into my eyes and perceive my deceit? And what about Mama? If only I could really hug her good-bye. But I mustn’t look anxious or distressed. I was only leaving for a few days.

I reached for my boots. I was to be ready by 9
A.M.
I couldn’t delay. It was quiet now and I began to shove a few items into my bag: undies, a shirt, two pairs of trousers. Surely they’d have something nice in the capital for me to wear to the embassy. I tied my laces tightly in hopes of keeping some of the mud out of my boots, and straightened the sheets on the cot. Maybe I’d fit into someone’s sandals. I’d hate to wear this footgear with a dress. I noticed Beth’s soft brown bear had fallen from her bunk, as usual. I brushed it off, gently placed it next to her shoulder, and tiptoed to the door.

“Debs?”

“Yeah?” I whispered.

“Bear and I’ll miss you.”

“Same here, Beth.”

“You won’t forget our promise, will you?”

“I promise to drink a Coca-Cola for both of us.”

“No! Bring one back, Dufus …”

“Oh, that’ll be easy …” We both giggled.

“Bear?” I called back softly. “Take good care of Beth for me,” and I closed the door.

The morning air refreshed my weary body. I watched the dawn’s early light filtering down through the wallaba tree and felt another wave of nausea. This one was filled with sorrow and regret. Why had we been deceived? I gazed out at the enormous wall of life that surrounded me. The edge of the jungle seemed to wink back at me, snickering. Her immense border taunted me, reminding me that she owned this place. I noticed a sparkle of light reflecting off the gloriously tall treetops. Then, hoisting my satchel upon my head, I stepped down into the mud and began my trek to Mama’s cabin.

A snake slithered across my path and hesitated. Her red-and-yellow-patterned skin resembled fading diamonds. Her belly was distended. Perhaps she had swallowed a baby bird last night. I wondered what it must be like to be eaten whole, alive, and unable to move, aware that your last breath had just been taken and your
essence would now gradually be broken down by various acids and chemicals until nothing remained of who you once were.

The smell of mud, the discomforting sound of the jungle’s stillness, this hike to Mama’s cabin could be my last. But I’d figure a way to get her out. I calmed myself by humming the German children’s song she often sang to me so long ago, holding me tightly while bouncing me up and down on her knees …

Hoppe-hoppe, Reiter. Wenn er fällt, dann schreit er. Fällt er in den
Graben, fressen ibn die Raben
…

I looked over my shoulder at Father’s compound. His gate was ajar. I wondered who had forgotten to close it. Of course, he had nothing to fear here, safely secluded, surrounded only by his disciples and encapsulated by the jungle. It was curious that with all our suffering, no one had tried to kill him. I knew I wouldn’t. I was not that brave. There might have been a swell of loyalists that would, in turn, hurt me. No one wanted to be here, but were too afraid of each other to do anything. The American consul had come in two weeks ago to visit specific members but no one could speak freely or honestly. Everyone was watched. Father had assigned one of the seniors to act as if she were sweeping, but she was there to listen and report. We all knew it.

No one had any confidence in himself or anyone else, not even family. Last week, Rick, who had been one of the bus mechanics in the States, had told his eleven-year-old son, Jeremy, that he’d figured a way out. The boy had probably thought he was being tested and reported his daddy to Jim. Jeremy’s dad was on the Learning Crew now, probably forever. Even if he were “reeducated,” Jeremy would never be able to speak with him again. Rick had proven he could not be trusted. By contrast, Jeremy was being treated supremely. He was relocated into a better cabin with two of the high school youths as his “parents.” He would work harder than anyone and be more loyal than most, just to prove he hadn’t inherited treasonous tendencies from Rick. Jeremy would be made an example to all the children. Snitching on someone could better your miserable life.

I continued on the wooden walkway, now slick from our morning showers, and past the open, tarped “schoolroom.” I was supposed to give a lecture to the kindergartners about socialism tomorrow. Long, leggy weeds were growing through the steps in front of the
radio room. I hadn’t noticed them before. It seemed odd that I was seeing things differently. The fog was lifting from my mind now that I’d been given one last chance to correct all the wrong decisions I’d made. I wondered who would get in trouble for not keeping the steps clean. The light was off. Carolyn, Maria, and Jim had finished the night shift an hour ago.

Something in my pocket poked my chest. I reached in and was reminded that I had a letter from my brother Larry. I had to show this to Mom. I’d had it for a week. We were rarely allowed correspondence from family, but Larry’s letter was sweet, inquisitive, and safe. He was asking how we were doing. He was worried about Mama’s cancer and hoped she was comfortable. He didn’t know there were no real medical facilities in Jonestown. He’d be upset to learn that Jim had confiscated all the pain medication we had procured for her from the doctor. He wanted to come, and looked forward to the day Mama, he, and I could be together. Poor Larry had no idea what it was like. Of course, neither had I, or Mom, or anyone else.

I heard people talking and giggling near the kitchen hut. Someone was tossing water from a deep metal pot and joking with an older woman.

“Hey, sugah, you better get over here and give your auntie Mary a hug. Girl, I sure don’t see you much. Less than I did in the States…. Why do you sa’pose that is?” She hugged me. “You have your reasons, I won’t pry now. You have enough to worry about.”

“Oh, Mary, I’m sorry, but …”

“Don’t be makin’ excuses. I know you’ve been workin’ hard…. But look at you now…. Carolyn says you’re leaving for Georgetown…. Listen, honey, I sure could use some spice from the Indian quarters. You could bring some back with you.” As she pulled our heads together in a conspiratorial huddle, the life we had once shared flashed before me. Her pink bungalow, in the middle of Watts, the dinners she kept warm for me on the stove—black-eyed peas, fried chicken, collard greens, and scrumptious sweet potato pie. Then Mary had sold her home of fifty years, like all the other innocent and trusting seniors, and faithfully donated its proceeds to the Temple for the Promised Land.

“Darlin’? You hear me? It’s our secret. Don’t go tellin’ a soul! Just come on by the kitchens on your way to visit Lisa and drop it right here, in this pocket.” She pulled her apron away from her belly and pointed at the large pocket on her pants. “Yes, honey, come nice
and early so’s no one will see.” There was silence for a minute as she grabbed me. “You comin’ back …” she whispered in my ear. A quietness swallowed us and she hugged me tighter. “Mmhumm…. Your mama and me gonna miss you, girl.” She pulled me closer, deep into her bosom, holding me firmly, then sighed and released me. Shaking her head, she kissed my forehead and turned back toward the ovens and the open fire. “Yes, Lord,” she murmured wearily. “Time for my baby to go.”

I waited outside Mama’s screen door to compose myself. As with Mary, I had been remiss in my familial responsibilities to Mama. I had worked hard to keep from seeing anyone I loved. I was glad Larry was still in the United States because Jim didn’t like or trust him. One less person to lie to and disappoint. But what would happen to Larry if I left? If I couldn’t get to him first, he’d be ordered down here. He’d be told horrible lies about me. Would I be able to warn him in time? Would the two of us, with the help of Annalisa and Tom, be able to get Mama out and back home safely? No…. The embassy would help me get her out. They would help anyone who wanted to leave once I explained it all to them. Everything would be fine…. Yes … it’d be fine….

The veranda was screened and ran the entire length of her cottage. A small, round wooden table was pushed up against the screen’s base. Alongside her cottage wall, a dark blue-and-gray-striped blanket covered a lonely cot that seemed to wait endlessly for someone to come and visit. How lonely Mama must be with no one to come see her.

“You look worried, honey.”

“I’m fine, really. It’s just that I’ve been assigned into the capital with the youth group for a few days …”

“Oh?” She turned and I followed her into the cabin.

Although the corners were dark inside, she had made it comfortable. Her bed was covered with the purple, red, and orange wool serape Dad and she had bought in Mexico. Her trunk now acted as a little table.