Not Without My Sister

by Kristina Jones, Celeste Jones, Juliana Buhring

  After putting David to sleep and doing my homework, I was so tired I forgot about the dishes and crawled into my bed. I woke up to the sharp sting of a belt across my body and Joshua shouting, "Get up...now!"

  I clamped my little fists together and tried to scramble down from my bunk, which always hurt my feet. I hurried over to the sink, clambered on to a chair and started to clean the dishes, while he loomed behind me, shouting, his breath stinking of beer. The dishes felt slippery and I was terrified I'd drop one. It never occurred to me that he was squandering the money that Mum was earning hard.

  After five depressing months crowded into the B&B, we were given a council flat in Deptford, a drab, run-down area in South London, near the Thames. The Salvation Army donated us some furniture and we moved in. A kind Scottish lady lived next door and sometimes I would be allowed to play with her daughter who was the same age as me, and some of the local children. Our flat was small, with a tiny balcony and no backyard. David and I shared a bunk bed—I slept on the top.

  Many evenings after praying together, Joshua would read us a bedtime story. I was no longer allowed Winnie the Pooh and such tales, which had always been my favourites. I was told that these stories and fairy tales were System propaganda and a waste of our precious time. Instead, Joshua read stories about Davidito, Maria's son; these were later compiled into The Davidito Book. This was written by his nanny, Sarah, and read like a diary that followed the daily life of the "little Prince." It became the childcare manual for The Family to follow The chapter "My Little Fish" included pornographic pictures of Davidito and Sarah's daughter, Davida, lying naked in various sexual positions. There was even a photograph of Sarah sucking two-year-old Davidito's penis, and Maria's secretary, Sue, lying naked with him on top.

  Joshua taught me that sex and nudity were natural, so that by the time he started molesting me I had no idea he was doing anything wrong. The first time was one evening in Deptford and remains with me like a snapshot. I can still see the orange curtains, covered with big white flowers, and the central light with a shade dangling down, throwing shadows. I was lying on the top bunk enjoying a bedtime story and David had fallen asleep on the bottom bunk. Mum came in, left some clean laundry, and went out of the room. When Joshua finished reading, he put the book down and stood up level with my top bunk. He put my legs around his neck and started to stroke me. He put his mouth on my mouth, and forced his tongue inside. It was wet and slobbery and I felt like gagging. I was three years old.

  Then, he started licking my vagina. His beard was scratchy and I tried hard to stay still even when it hurt or became uncomfortable. It was just the beginning. He would get me to touch him and he would rub himself up against me. I was terrified of making him angry and always did what he said.

  "Come!" he'd insist, getting angry when I seemed con-fused. "Can't you have an orgasm, damn you?" Mo believed even small children could climax, but how did I know what an orgasm was? The only emotion I felt was terror, and often pain.

  It was not just what was done to me that left scars and tore at my heart, but also seeing the abuse that was inflicted on my little brother and my mother. He quoted verses and ranted for hours and hours at us and we had to sit there and dumbly take it. He ranted and raved, telling Mum her faults until it escalated into blows, or he'd throw things at her. I was embarrassed and ashamed of Joshua when he shouted or hit us in front of the Systemites or other Family members for being less than perfect. I often thought he was the one who needed a telling off I didn't want to be or act like him. David rarely escaped his temper. As he grew older, the beatings became harsher. His childish attempts to get things right would annoy Joshua, who expected us to act like fully functioning adults.

  "Stop acting like a child!" he'd shout; and I'd think, But we are children! To make it more confusing, the hate and anger would often be followed by phrases like "I'm doing this because I love you."

  We weren't allowed to simply be children and play; we were more like his personal slaves who had constantly to be alert in case he should suddenly demand us to do something. We had to acknowledge his words with an "amen" or "yes, sir." I was always on edge attempting to pre-empt his constantly changing rules. I could never do anything right for him, no matter how hard I tried. I lived in survival mode, never quite knowing when my brother and I would be subjected to his violence.

  He would explode at the smallest mistakes. "Nina! Why didn't you see that David might put that in his mouth?" Slap! "Nina! Who asked you to come in and pick David up? I'm talking to your mother."

  "B-b-but he's cryi—" Slap!

  These things made it very difficult for me to keep being nice to him, though I did want to be—not because I loved or even liked him; I hated him—but because I desperately wanted for us all to get along and be happy, and some instinct told me that by liking Joshua I might make Mum's life a little easier.

  It was during this time that Joshua's parents came over from Australia to meet us and get to know us. They booked themselves into a hotel to be near us so they could take us out every day. They were nice, breezy Australians who seemed so kind and affectionate it seemed amazing that Joshua was their son. They told us to call them Nan and Papa and accepted us immediately as their grandchildren. I loved them because they interacted with us in a very natural way, something that Mum never did. She had the ability to go off into her own world, a kind of mental switching off. Perhaps it was the only escape she had.

  Finally Mum received the long-awaited reply from Dad. When Joshua went out, I snuggled up to her in bed, and we poured over the letter. He wanted us back! My heart sang with joy and Mum smiled as she stroked my hair. "We'll soon be a family again," she said. "I can't wait to see Celeste—it's been so long." I nodded in silent agreement.

  Using contraceptives was considered rebellion against God. Mum truly believed that God would only allow her to get pregnant if it was His Will—and when she became pregnant with her fourth child through Flirty Fishing, all our hopes of escape were dashed. As usual, she was ill and bedridden most of the time, so no further plans to join Dad were made.

  A single brother living in our home witnessed Joshua's abuse of Mum and wrote to Dad about it. Dad wrote back with some concern, saying he had received this information, but that was as far as it went and we heard nothing more for some time. I would quietly ask Mum when he was coming for us and still cried at night for my daddy—but it made no difference. I was stuck in the middle of a nightmare without end.

  After she recovered from the worst of her morning sick-ness Mum wrote again to Dad, telling him she was desperate to come back, but he replied that he was with a new sister, Crystal. "The door is now closed," he wrote in his letter. When Mum read the words to me, I wanted to cry but didn't know how.

  When I had turned four, Mo issued the "Go Caravan" initiative. He decided that if Family members lived in one place too long, not only would they become tied down to the System, but they would also be easy to trace. Living out of caravans seemed the solution. Just after my birthday we had raised enough money in the streets to buy an old caravan and a car to tow it and we were off, out of London to the country-side.

  We parked up at four different campsites in the south of England, always with other families who were also Family members. My favourite was next to farmland, where I would watch the farm animals. For the first time, I was given a certain amount of freedom and played outside as much as I was allowed. But at times I was called into our caravan to pose for nude pictures behind closed curtains. Joshua told me how to pose and where to put my hands.

  "Smile, look happy!" he'd order; and I'd pin a huge fake grin to my face so I could go out again and join my friends.

  Sometimes, when I went to use the main toilet block, a man would follow me in, and make me suck his penis while I was trying to have a wee. The first time I fell back into the toilet bowl and was stuck for what seemed like hours before I found the strength to wriggle myself out. I wasn't shocked by what he'd done, because I tho
ught that's what men did—instead I was frantic that I would be missed and get a spanking for being late in. Joshua was always telling me off for "justifying myself" and not taking responsibility for my actions. So I said nothing and just accepted it when it happen ed again. I wasn't one to moan and complain; I was taught that every frown and murmur sent up a foul smell to Jesus' nostrils.

  Although I was still only four, Joshua said that I was now old enough to sleep with him in their bed. He'd put on a tape of Ravel's Bolero. It was an old tape and hissed like a nest of snakes while he sexually abused me. It seemed to be his favourite piece of music to have sex by; he played it whenever he was "sharing" with anyone. All the hectic pace did was to set my nerves on edge and make me even more tense than I already was. It got to where I dreaded hearing the music start, knowing what was in store for me.

  My brother Jonathan was born in October 1980, in Ham-bledon, Hampshire. He was a calm, agreeable baby, never fussy, and had the most beautiful smile and wise, dark eyes. I was glad when Mum came home from the hospital. She taught me to feed him, rock him to sleep, and change his nappies, all of which I enjoyed doing. He was my real baby doll.

  Joshua was very irresponsible with money, but he never seemed to be concerned. He always said, "Don't worry, the Lord will supply!" When people were generous and invited us for meals or gave us donations, this confirmed that God did seem to take care of us. On the whole, though, there were few ways of raising money in the country. There weren't many to witness to, and we were always hard up and often hungry. Joshua never considered getting a job to support his growing family. Working for the System would be like working for the Devil, he said. Instead, he instructed Mum to apply for social security as a single mother with four children. The officer came over to our caravan to interview her. Joshua told the lady that he was just the childcare helper but she wasn't convinced and turned to me.

  "So, where do you sleep?" she asked.

  I knew that as a Systemite, she wasn't supposed to know about our sexual freedoms and that I slept in the big bed with Joshua. So I told the only other truth I knew and blurted out, "My Mummy sleeps with my Daddy!"

  When she had gone Joshua screamed at me, "You're stupid! Stupid! What are you, Nina?"

  "Stupid," I said; then uselessly pleaded not to be beaten with the belt. Mum did often plead for him to give us another chance, to be more reasonable, but this only got all of us in

  trouble. She did not get her benefits and to raise money we hit the streets, witnessing and busking even more.

  Eventually we sold the caravan and moved back to Lon-don. I missed being able to play in the open fields, stringing daisy chains and taking my brothers on walks. Instead, I spent my days selling tracts and witnessing in Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. I liked it when I was teamed with Mum and we would go to Oxford Street together. She would allow me to watch the giant cuckoo clock or look into the shop windows, something Joshua would never stand for.

  Around this time Joshua was on edge. A grandmother had successfully won a case in which her grandchildren were made wards of court and would be taken from their parents unless they left the Family. Joshua had seen the veiled looks my Granny and Granddad had directed at him, and knew they despised him. Even though he hid most of the more serious abuse from them, he was never certain that they hadn't seen anything, so he worried that my grandparents would make us wards of court. This paranoia hastened our eventual return to India.

  My father's radio program, Music with Meaning, had become very popular and thousands of potential recruits were writing into the show. It was decided that we were needed to go and do the follow-up. I was so proud of my Dad and listened avidly to the tapes, hearing his voice and even Celeste singing. I prayed that I would see them in Sri Lanka where they were based. Then Mum became pregnant for the fifth time. She was only twenty-five years old. The shepherds condemned her for having difficult pregnancies, but still, she was not allowed to use contraceptives. Even though I was so young, Mum discussed this with me, and I was upset by the injustice, as I struggled to change her bile bucket, make her food to eat and take care of the other children.

  I was desperate to see my father and tell him everything that Joshua had done. "It's okay Mum, we'll pray extra hard for you so that you feel better soon," I'd say, as I washed her face with a damp cloth and tried to make her feel better. That fourth and last Christmas at Granny and Granddad's home in the Midlands, she was so ill she went into hospital and was given medicine that helped her keep food down.

  After the holidays, we returned to London and stayed in various cheap, backstreet hotels. Mum was very weak and relapsed without the medicine, so she had to go back into hospital for a month. For the first time, she discovered what the problem was. She suffered from hyperemesis gravidarum, which meant that she couldn't keep food or water down and frequently vomited blood and bile for the first six weeks of every pregnancy.

  Just before we left for India, my grandparents came to London and took us to London Zoo. I especially loved the elephants, monkeys, and giraffes. Joshua was on his best behaviour and was in a very good mood—he was glad to be finally going back to India. We believed that this was to be the last time we would see Granddad and Granny. David and I were sad about this, but confident that it wouldn't be long until the Endtime, when Jesus would return and we would all be together again in Heaven. They gave David birthday money for his fourth birthday, and he insisted on using it to buy us all fish and chips. At the end of the day, we said our goodbyes and promised to write.

  Chapter 12

  India was the land of my birth. I felt I was going home. But more than that, it was where I had last seen my dad and Celeste. I was so excited—perhaps I would see them again. Dad would save us from my stepdad. He would see at once how much we had suffered.

  On the plane, when Joshua was sleeping, I whispered in Mum's ear, "Can we see Dad?" I kept half an eye on Joshua. He was like a mean dog, always watchful, ready to snap, but this time, tired from changing planes, he was in a deep sleep.

  Knowing how I longed for my father, she placated me with a "We'll see."

  After a long flight we landed in Bombay and took a taxi to a nearby hotel. I was immediately hit by the aromatic and almost suffocating muggy heat, and everywhere I looked I saw amazing sights—throngs of people crowding the streets, women with baskets on their heads, stalls selling strange foods, spices, and fruits I'd probably known once but could no longer remember—mangoes, watermelons, and mysterious dark spheres with spines on the outside.

  We would spend the next six years traveling from one end of India to the other, trying to save souls before the Final Days—the Endtime. Forever driven onwards by this mission, we knew no peace, had no settled home. It was bewildering. Because of this, despite loathing Joshua, our dysfunctional family unit was the only security I knew and I clung to it with a sense of desperation.

  After a few days in Bombay, we left for Poona, where many other families who had also just arrived from the West congregated at the Reception Home. I struggled to get used to the heat and developed a severe heat rash.

  After a few weeks at the Reception Home, our family was dispatched to Calcutta, some 1500 miles away. The rail journey took two days. We were enthralled by the passing landscape as we looked out of the barred train windows, the wind in our faces. Hills rolled by and then the desert, and paddy field after paddy field. Everywhere, children were playing cricket; they would wave at us and we waved back.

  At last we pulled into Calcutta on the north-east coast of India, a historic city that was once the capital of the British Raj before New Delhi. It's also one of the most crowded cities in the world. As we emerged from the station, the noise of traffic and Indian music filled the air and we stayed close to Mum and Joshua so we wouldn't get lost in the daily hubbub of an Indian city. Joshua rented a spacious three-bedroom ground-floor apartment for us, and some basic items of furniture. He hired a maid to wash our clothes, and when he found out how little it cost to
hire a cook, he found a young man to do this work. I know Mum really appreciated this, as by now she was heavily pregnant and had to rest a lot. She was not able to get out much either, as the heat in Calcutta was very intense. On our Freeday once a week, we would often visit the nearby country club where the manager let us swim for free and brought us tea with toast and jam. The boys and I learned to swim. Unfortunately Joshua thought David should learn by throwing him in at the deep end, which traumatized him and me who was concerned for him as he almost drowned.

  Even on our days out—like an outing to the zoo—Joshua made us hand out leaflets instead of enjoying a normal family day out. However we did not dare to question his reasoning, as whatever he said was the law as far as we were concerned and there was no changing it. Our lives were con-trolled by the whims of an impulsive, moody man—and now, we were thousands of miles away from Granddad and Granny, to whom we could have fled in an emergency.

  Late one evening in August, Mum went into labor and Joshua rushed out into the street and flagged down a rick-shaw. The rickshaw driver was remarkable as he only had one leg. Joshua wanted to take over driving, as we were quite a load, but the driver wouldn't hear of it. By the time we got to the hospital Mum was crumpled up with pain and breathing desperately hard. She was taken to a bare white room with just a table in the middle. Joshua ushered the boys and me into the room and we all witnessed the birth. It was terrifying to hear Mum cry out to Jesus during the painful hours of pushing. We stood in awe when at last we saw the baby's head and thanked the Lord for keeping Mum safe and giving us a new baby brother.