Not Without My Sister (8 page)

I was disgusted. John did not own up to his responsibilities as a father-to-be and it was obvious that Krys was being thrown to the wolves as the scapegoat. In his Letters Mo often referred to the Muslim and Indian cultures of times past, where young girls were married, as an example of how sex with children was legitimate.

I wanted to throw these letters in the rubbish bin, but instead, we had to sit for hours reading them without question. The reality was that in our world the young girls were used to satisfy the lusts of the men without any thought for the longterm consequences of their actions. Krys would become a single mother before she had a chance to live her own childhood. I was determined not to suffer a similar fate.
It was now 1987, and Teen Training Camps were being held on every continent, following the blueprint given in
The Basic Training Handbook
. Some two hundred young members from all over South East Asia attended a camp in Manila for two weeks. Maria and Sarah Davidito orchestrated the camps for the teens and pre-teens, as it became apparent that the children were in need of indoctrination into the beliefs of the Family. Brazenly, we were told, "Yes, we're brainwashing you--washing your brain clean of the Devil's influences and replacing it with the Word."
When I arrived at the camp, I was shown to a "girls" room" often other girls in my little group. We were called the "Lovelights." Each team had their own shepherd, whose job it was to monitor the teens twenty-four hours a day. I was excited to meet so many other young people, but we had little time to talk. In the morning we lined up single file and marched to the dining hall for breakfast. Our days were filled with classes, inspirations and, memorization. Loyalty to the Family and "David our King" was emphasized in skits and songs, and we all had to memorize and sign a pledge of dedication to our prophet and Maria. Every night before bed we wrote reactions and confessions in an Open Heart Report. Willingness, humility, and submission to leadership and God were the qualities we were supposed to strive for, in preparation for our calling to become future leaders of the world. It all seemed so surreal.
We had it drummed into us that we were "It"--the best place on earth to be. I had never known what the alternative was, but the adults told us horror stories of tragedy, pain, and emptiness before joining the Family and I concluded that no matter how bad I had it, it must be ten times worse in the System.
Before we left, we all filled in a lengthy questionnaire that asked intimate details about every aspect of our lives. "We want you to be completely honest because these questionnaires will be sent to Grandpa and Maria to read," our teen shepherd told us. This was our chance to say what we felt and to be heard. I dutifully and trustingly wrote down my inner thoughts, as well as the traumatic sexual experiences I had suffered, including names and when it had happened.
Shortly after we returned from camp, Marianne read everyone a memorandum from Maria and Sarah Davidito. I had not been the only girl to report bad sexual experiences, and this, together with a number of teen pregnancies, alarmed the leaders. However, they were careful not to blame Mo, the prophet.
We were told, "There is nothing wrong with the Law of Love, but sexual contact between adults and children is now discouraged"--not banned, but "discouraged." I sighed with relief. I did not care about the doctrine, I was just glad that we did not have to practise it anymore.
But I was wrong. The new laws were meaningless, as I was shortly to find out.
I had first been molested as a child of six by Peruvian Manuel in Greece, on the back double bed of Silas and Endureth's caravan. He and his wife Maria had gone with us to Sri Lanka during the big exodus. Now, they were living in our sister Home, run by Silas and Endureth. We would go over every week for Sunday fellowship, and I often went to visit Renee and Daniella and we went out busking together. Peruvian Manuel was always flirtatious and eyeing me up while I was there which made me very uncomfortable. He came over to our house one day and stayed the night. He was given the bottom bunk in my room because Armi had gone on a trip for a few days. I was extremely nervous. Childhood memories flooded back to haunt me as I clambered on to the top bunk and closed my eyes.

A few minutes later, he came into the room and started stroking my back. I kept my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. He did not get the hint, and reached down to my vagina and pushed his finger inside.
"You're so sexy, you know that?" he whispered in my ear.
I lay there rigid and opened my eyes. "Leave me alone. You can't do this," I said, referring to the new memorandum.
He placed his mouth on mine and forced his tongue in, while still pushing his finger up me more ardently. I was scared and hated confrontation, but I refused to be bullied into this. "No! No! No!" I hissed through gritted teeth. "You know it's against the rules." I pulled away from him and closed my mouth tight. After a moment or two he backed off.
"Okay...," he said, but lingered. I stiffened my body. He let out a sigh and went down to the bottom bunk. I lay awake for the longest time, my heart beating hard as I heard him masturbating. When I was sure he was asleep, I closed my eyes but had a fitful night's sleep.
In the morning, I got up, grabbed my clothes and went to the bathroom to get dressed. Later that day, I found Marianne sitting by the pool, and asked if I could speak with her. I naively believed that if I reported it, he would be dealt with. Marianne showed no sign of shock, or even disapproval. All she said was, "I'll speak to him about it." She never mentioned the incident to me again, and I was left to wonder why or what happened. I concluded that these new rules were meaningless because the leaders were not going to enforce them.
Indeed, the one who would be corrected was me. Soon afterwards, Marianne called me to her room and sat me down on a chair in the corner of the room. She and another leader, Zadok, sat opposite me.
"You have some deep, spiritual problems," Marianne started. "We are very concerned about you and you need to be honest. You have a problem with spacing out a lot and daydreaming. Idleness is the Devil's workshop."
I never quite figured out what "spacing out" actually meant, but it was borrowed from hippie lingo when someone was on drugs and had a blanked-out look on their face. If I didn't hear what someone said, or if I was not busy doing something, or simply looking out the window, an adult would snap, "Celeste! Stop spacing out." ...
"What are you thinking about when you daydream?" Marianne asked.
I was at a loss as how to reply to her question. "Nothing. I don't think about anything really."
She looked puzzled, then asked me again what thoughts I had been thinking. She warned me how serious a crime daydreaming was, and reminded me of "The Last State" Letter about Mene. We had read the Letter at the Teen Training Camp. She had been a "daydreamer" and this led to her thinking evil things about her Grandfather, the letter said. The violence in the letter scared the living daylights out me. It described how Mene had come into his room and Grandpa had greeted her with a kiss and then had suddenly grabbed her and shook her violently while speaking in tongues. He'd beaten her with a rod and rebuked the devils and demons out of her. I was even more shocked when he accused her of betrayal, saying he had taken her into his bed and yet she had the gall to criticize him and refuse him.

She was his flesh and blood, and he had sex with her?
Even though we were told that "all things were lawful unto us" incest was a step too far for me to accept.
In "The Last State," Grandpa also accused Mene of being insane and gave Sarah Davidito and Peter Amsterdam, his third in command, permission to beat her whenever she had bad thoughts and to tie her to her bed at night. I could not understand how the perfect girl who had been our role model could have changed so drastically into a sinful monster, possessed by the Devil who warped her mind with murderous thoughts.
After Mene, the leaders were convinced that there were other potential doubters and dissenters. Because Mene had been the good girl, all the good kids were under suspicion too. I worked hard and tried my best to keep the rules, but Marianne had it in for me in her room that day and would not give up until I had confessed to some crime.
I could not think of anything to confess to. "I don't space out," I insisted. "I'm not imagining or seeing anything."
Frustrated she paused, and then looked angrily at me. "Well, that's even
worse
! The Devil is speaking to you and you don't even know it."
I could not believe such nonsense. I let out a laugh, and then stifled it quickly. But not quickly enough.
"You think it's funny?" Zadok chided. "This is serious and the Devil is out to destroy you. If we don't break you, God will have to do it. And believe me, that is so much
worse
."
Then came what I believe was the real reason for the correction. Marianne had been given the reports I had written at the camp and these showed, she claimed, that I had been harboring bitterness against God and "my brothers in the Lord." She told me I needed to forgive those I felt had wronged me. She also accused me of making an idol of Dad in my heart. She had heard reports from people in the Home that I had been talking about missing my dad. This was proof I had made an idol of him. I had to forsake him and give him to God.
"God is a jealous God," she scolded, "and he will have no other gods before Him."
I treasured Dad's rare letters and read them over and over again when I missed him. The hope that I would see him again kept me going. Now she was telling me I had made him an idol that I needed to destroy. This attack was the final straw, the hurt nerve that could not be touched. I broke down into tears.
How could I forget my own father?
All my feelings of abandonment and loss of the person I loved most in the world burst out, and I could not control it. I desperately wanted to hold back the tears but couldn't.
This display of emotion satisfied Marianne that she had finally broken my pride and rebellious spirit. She pronounced my "sentence"; I would have to spend the next month in isolation, reading and writing reactions to Mo Letters on rebellion, yieldedness, submission and demon possession. I would have an adult "buddy" who would read with me—I was not allowed to talk to anyone else.
Changing my attitude would not be enough though. I was also asked to change my name. Celeste was too spacey (because it meant "heavenly" in Spanish). My head was too much in the clouds and I needed to choose a more down-to-earth name.

"You have a few days to think and pray about it, and then you can get back to me on what the Lord shows you," she said.
For three days I could drink only soup and water. The hunger pains were my only company as I was confined in a small room apart from everyone else. At the end of the three days, Marianne asked,
"Well, have you decided on your new name?"
I nodded. "Joan, after Joan of Arc. I want to be a fighter like her."
Marianne was pleased with this. "Jesus needs fighters in his Endtime army," she said. "Good. I'll let everyone know."
During my month of isolation my mind and feelings went numb, almost as if I went into shutdown mode. I remember this time as a blur, where one day blended into another. At the end of the month, the commune gathered to say a prayer of deliverance over me. My head was anointed with oil and everyone laid hands on my head, speaking in tongues. The demons of pride, self-righteousness and rebellion were supposedly cast out of me.
I was confused.
Was there really a struggle for my soul in Heaven between God and the Devil? Why didn't I feel it then?
I still had no idea what I had done wrong or what part of the Devil Marianne had seen in me, but I was just glad and relieved that it was over.
Later I found out that I was not the only one who had gone through a breaking when I was stunned to read two Letters of Confession, published for the whole Family, in which Dad confessed his sins as part of a public demotion and retraining at the Kings house. First, he admitted his fame with
Music with Meaning
had made him too proud. During his years in college he had dabbled in the occult. The demons must have latched on to him and he asked for cleansing prayer to rid him of their influence. I was hurt when he wrote that the women in his life were better off since he had left them for the Lord.
Did he really believe that?
I wondered.
In a second Confession, he said that he had made an idol of his mother, Krystyna. Mo had said that demons could "hitchhike" into your home; riding in on photographs. To break her hold and get rid of the evil spirits on her photographs, Dad had burned every picture of our grandmother. She was a Catholic and a loving mother before her death. How was anything about her demonic? I was heartbroken that he had destroyed these irreplaceable pictures that had been given to him by his father and relatives on his trip to Poland in search of his roots. The only photograph left of our grandmother is the one he gave me to keep on his return.
On the back of the Teen Training Camps, "retraining centers" were being set up in key locations around the world for the Family's teenagers and "rebel" adults to be sent to for further training. At the same time, Mo went too far in his meddling with Filipino politics and the military, and the Family wore out their welcome. The media picked up the story and Mo declared the Philippines a "reaped field." Marianne was ordered to move her entire Home to Tokyo. During this period of transition, Armi, Krys, my little sister Juliana and I were sent a nearby complex in Manila so huge it was known as the Jumbo. Krys still lived with us in the girls' teen room even though she had just had a little baby girl. She had difficulty bonding with her child and didn't take care of her properly because she wanted to share in the few fun things the rest of us teens were allowed, instead of staying back all the time, watching a baby she hadn't wanted.