"I presume someone believes her story," Gideon replied self-righteously. "And I doubt... cannot comment on the story as I don't know the details. But I do know that I have been in our group for twenty-three years, and have never once seen any sexual abuse of any child and this is born out by the evidence around the world of over five hundred of our children who have been intimately and thoroughly examined by court appointed officials. Not one single case of child abuse has ever been found," he answered. "In fact, the evidence is entirely to the contrary—that our children are happy, well adjusted, well brought up and educated."
I shook my head in disgust as I listened to Gideon. I felt anger welling up inside me and my face felt as if it was on fire.
"Kristina—," Eamonn cut him off and turned to me. "They say members are free to leave the group. Does this comfort you?"
"No it does not!" I exclaimed. "When all their lives David Berg has instilled in them fear of leaving, fear of the System, fear of what will happen to you outside their elite group."
`And will you continue your campaign?"
I looked directly at Rachel and Gideon as I answered, "Yes, I will."
I was determined to continue speaking out, but had just bro-ken up with Bryan and I needed to relax and get my head together from the difficult and drawn out break-up. I also needed some peace and quiet, without the emotional stress of everything that was going on around me, and I arranged to go to Australia with my son to visit Nan and Papa for a few months.
At Sydney airport I spotted Nan and Papa straight away. We were all in tears as we hugged. They still called me Nina and I did not mind a bit; it reminded me of the good times in my childhood. Jordan took to Nan immediately. Being with Nan and Papa again made me feel safe and loved.
I was saddened when I saw all the pictures of us hanging on their wall. It struck me how much it must have hurt them that their only son had abandoned them and how lonely it must be with their grandchildren halfway across the world. I spent many hours telling them about my brothers and sister in England.
The four of us went on many outings to the zoo and parks and the incredible Blue Mountains—and I remembered the air in a jam jar, one of the few amusing stories that Joshua used to tell us. They took us to meet their welcoming friends and relatives. It was good to know they had a wonderful set of friends and family to keep them company. They took an active part in their church community and Nan sang in the choir. While I was there, they asked me if it was okay for their son and his Greek wife to come over. They had been in Sydney for a few months; he was driving a cab to raise funds so that he could go back to the "mission field." I assumed he had been forgiven his "excommunication"—and I wondered if it had ever happened at all.
Joshua greeted me as if nothing had ever happened. He ruffled my hair. "You've grown," he said.
I flinched. Suddenly I felt like I was a little girl again. We all had tea and made polite awkward conversation. Over lunch Joshua complimented me on my toddler and at one point admitted to everyone that he had been very strict with us as children. It was hard for me to hear and say nothing and I felt uncomfortable when he was around my son.
After lunch, while Nan and Joshua's wife were in the kitchen doing the dishes, Joshua came out and sat with me on the porch. We got into a heated debate about Mum. He criticized her for backsliding and running off with his children. I explained that she did what she had to do, and that I thought she was very brave.
"You were wrong and a hypocrite because you were the one who had wanted to split us up," I said.
"I guess I shouldn't have pushed your mum into leaving your dad. I am sorry for that," was all he owned up to.
Our conversation led into a discussion about the "Law of Love" and "One Wife." I told him that those teachings had led to untold abuse and I relayed my childhood memories to him.
"You remember that?" he asked, surprised.
"Of course I do."
He started the usual patter of prepared responses about how the Family was free from the bondage of the System, who wrongly viewed it as abuse. "See, it's not really abuse—," he started to defend himself.
Suddenly there was a roar from inside the house. Papa burst out the back door on to the porch, trying to steady himself with a cane. He had overheard us from his room, where he was in bed resting from a recent hernia operation.
"How could you?" Papa said. "I heard every word!"
He lifted his cane and struck his son on the shoulder with the little strength he had. Nan came running out and Papa told her what he had heard. She looked shocked and I was reminded of that time when she stayed in her bed in India for three days. It must have been very painful for this kindly woman to have suspected what was going on, but not been able to say or do anything.
I jumped up in surprise and concern for Papa. I had never seen him so angry before, much less heard him raise his voice.
He was livid. "Don't you dare criticize her mother! I am warning you! Get out! This is my house and I won't hear a word against her!"
A general uproar followed and Nan and Papa ordered Joshua and his wife to leave the house.
That night I gave them my side of the story in detail for the first time. It was painful for us all and we never brought the subject up again.
That week Joshua sent me money to buy a new pushchair for Jordan. But I had no desire to ever see that man again. He wrote a letter to me wanting to repair the relationship and continue being my dad. He said how it had torn his heart to have lost us that day in London when Mum fled with us. I didn't remind him that he had threatened to take her children from her and send them to the cult to bring up. There was a place in my heart that pitied him, but though I had forgiven him, it was too late. The past could not be undone.
Chater 21
Juliana
Winds of change were blowing through the Family in the early 1990s, beginning with the announcement of Mo's death. The entire Bangkok school gathered in the large meeting hall and the letter detailing our leader's "graduation" to Heaven was read. He had died in his sleep after years of pro-longed illness with Family members around him, just like he wanted it. There was hardly a dry eye in the room; everyone around me was weeping in tongues and prayer. I knew I probably should have been joining in more, but I did not feel the least bit sorrowful. Mo was just a name without a face, a phantom whose writings dictated my life in every way, and yet as a man, prophet, or saint, he meant nothing to me. The meeting dragged on for hours with songs, anecdotes about our late prophet, prayers, and pledges of love and dedication. I was bored out of my mind.
The atmosphere was sombre for an entire week. No one was sure what the fate of the Family would be, or whether Maria, Mo's chosen heir, would rise to claim "the mantel of anointing." We heard that a new guiding law book was being written for the Family. There was a feeling of hope, that things would begin to change for the better and that Maria would modernize and improve the Family rules and way of life.
I was nearly thirteen when, during this time of uncertainty, I was given unexpected news. They were sending me to Japan to live with my dad! I had long ago given up hope of seeing Dad again and I could not believe it when I was told. At the same time, I was given a letter from my mum with a photograph of Mariana, Victor, and Lily. The letter was short, and I briefly glanced over it; it was the photo that interested me most. I stared at them—my brother and sisters—for hours. Mariana stood a head taller behind Victor and Lily. They were in a beautiful wood in Switzerland and I was sure their smiles were for me. I must have showed that picture to the entire school. My heart was so full of joy at this sudden turn of events; it was like Christmas!
The Heavenly City School housed all the stars of the modern Family of the 1990s. They were commissioned by Mo and Maria to produce new modern music and videos that the Family around the world could use for witnessing, both to sell and to air on television. In order to appeal to Systemites, and especially the youth, the Family young people dressed up and wore make-up, like
they did in the outside world. It was seen as a necessary evil, to win the lost for Christ. Kiddie Viddie, Treasure Attic and other Family production videos had created a new set of young Family celebrities. It had also brought some outside or worldly influence previously absent. The Heavenly City School was the cool place to go, where the cool people gathered to out-cool each other. It took months for me to begin to fit in.
It was only after arriving at the School that I learned that Dad was not actually living there. He was in a small World Services Home in Tokyo, where he lived with his new Japan-ese wife, Sunshine, and baby son, Kingdom.
In 1995 Maria crowned herself Queen Maria in a series of letters explaining how Mo's mantel had been passed on to her. This was followed by the crowning of her new consort, King Peter or Peter Amsterdam, Mo and Maria's former business administrator. Mo loyalists found it difficult to accept the reign of a woman with a very different style from their former leader. But many of us young people in the group remained hopeful that with the change of leadership, things would get better for the second generation. It did seem, at the time, that things were loosening dramatically, and there was much more freedom of expression. It was this hope of a different future that kept many of us hanging on. I was happy to be given a certain amount of choice in my day-to-day life under the new regime. I could wear what I liked within reason; I was not watched twenty-four hours a day and marched around in a group. I was given more responsibility and more free time to myself.
Hope can be a powerful instrument in the hands of the one who can both give and withdraw it. The one with that control was Queen Maria.
After about a year, Dad left the World Services Home in Tokyo and moved with Sunshine and Kingdom to the Heavenly City School. Dad told me Sunshine was pregnant again and he was kept busy with his new family and script writing for the video productions. I only saw him occasionally at the dinner table. Although I seemed outwardly cheerful, inside I felt lost and worthless. I no longer knew where I fit in the grand scheme of things. I hated Dad. For leaving my Mum; for abandoning me; but mostly for pretending it was all okay.
The illusion worked for him. But it had never been okay for me.
I had grown up alone, and now that I finally had a parent, I was still alone, friendless, at war with the world and at war with myself I decided it was time to end the crushing rejection that had dogged my life. So convinced was I that I had been a mistake, I wrote a note giving away my belongings to one of my few friends. Then I climbed on to Dad's second-story windowsill and talked myself into jumping. The pavement below stared up at me, and suddenly it seemed a very short way down. The disjointed thought struck me that I might not die after all, and might survive as a paraplegic, or a vegetable. The thought froze me long enough for Dad to walk into the room.
He hardly glanced up as I quickly jumped back inside, wondering what he might think. But he never thought. He never even reacted.
Until I told him, "I want to leave the Family." It was only then that he panicked. I really said it to get his attention, and I did. But not in the way I imagined. When he asked me why I wanted to leave, I told him I was unhappy. His solution was to send me to India—being on the "mission field" would cure me. For Dad, out of sight was out of mind. Perhaps seeing the mess of a teenager that I was disturbed him too greatly and showed up his glaring failures as a parent. I had lost all respect for him as a father.
To the rest of the Family, anyone coming from Japan was worldly and out of the spirit. By this time, I had learned to dress to fit in. I wore cut-off jeans just over my knees, and a vest. The shepherds in India wrote a scathing letter to my dad saying I came off the plane looking like a whore. They brought me some long flowery skirts and said I could only wear feminine clothes in the spirit of a true Bible woman.
No matter where I went, I could never get it right. I had tried so hard to fit in at the Heavenly City School, arid had succeeded. Now, I was being condemned for it.
I had only been in India a few days when I came down with serious diarrhea and a dangerously high fever. I slipped in and out of delirium for a week. The only relief my stomach felt was when I hugged a scalding water thermos to it. As a result my stomach was covered in welts. I could not even keep water down. By the time I began to pull out of my sickness, I was a skeleton. The minute I was well enough to sit up and eat, I was given the usual talk. Why was God punishing me? What lessons was I learning? I had to start reading a list of Mo Letters and write reactions to whatever spiritual weak-nesses had triggered such a violent physical manifestation.
My months there were a nightmare. I worked scrubbing, cooking and taking care of kids from morning to night, or pounding the streets to sell the tapes and videos. We only had a day off every other week. There were other young people there, but the shepherds did not like me talking to them, as they were afraid I would contaminate their pure spirits.
Often, the shepherds would take me into a private room for correction—for the usual sins: rebellion, worldliness, and lack of hunger for the Word of God. It seemed to me that they just had it in for me. The Home shepherd, an Indian man named Matthew, scared me. He would shout at me until he got me to cry, and then he would smile. "Now tell me you love me. Do you love me?"
"No." I looked at him hatefully.
His eyes grew fiery and he grabbed my head with his two hands and held my face an inch from his own. "Tell me you love me, or you can't leave this room."
He played this little power struggle game until he had wrested the words out of me. Then he would kiss me all over my face and hug me for what seemed like hours before finally allowing me to leave. He tasted and smelt like curry. I would lock myself in the bathroom afterwards, hold my head back and scream silently. That gave me some small relief.
After three months of this, I was desperate to leave. Japan seemed like heaven in comparison. Every day I begged to be allowed to go back to my dad. They had failed to retrain me, so they eventually wrote to my father. telling him to come take me off' their hands; they could do nothing more for his little terror.
Dad came running to get me with fire under his ass. I tried to explain the truth, but he was having none of it. He was still a giant celebrity in India and I had disgraced his good name. He told me in no uncertain terms that he was both ashamed and disappointed in me. On this note we flew home to Japan in time for Christmas. I was looking forward to going home.
At immigration, the officers pored over our papers. They believed Dad had been working illegally in Japan and refused us entry. All the flights out of Tokyo were fully booked for days. So Dad and I were driven to prison in a caged bus.
We passed Christmas behind bars. During the day, the jail was fairly empty, and we sat in the dining hall playing snap with the guards. It was a lark watching them all stiff and serious as they stared at the pile of cards and jumped to attention with a brisk "Snapu!" when two cards matched. Dad and I became very popular with the guards. They were sym-pathetic, knowing Dad had a Japanese wife and two kids, and that we were missing Christmas with them.
After four days, we were put on a plane to Thailand. My heart sunk when I heard our destination. I was going from the frying pan back into the fire. We went back to the Bangkok Training Center. Once again, Dad left me in the Junior Teen group. He seemed relieved to have me off his hands and hardly ever bothered to check how I was doing. I caught up with my foster sister Vera, and we became close friends once again.
But the shepherds in India had blacklisted me as a potential "rotten apple" and the Central Reporting Officers gave the Training Center an immediate update on my serious state. They decided to continue my retraining where India had left off. I was put on silence restriction and worked like a slave. It was my job to sweep, mop, and buff the entire school, nearly a quarter of a mile long from end to end. This was a monumental job, by the end of which I could hardly stand up straight from bending over for so many hours.
After this, I had to wipe every window and there were hundreds. I had to keep
the entire serving area, kitchen and dining room and visitor areas clean at all times. I had to work seven days a week, with no day off and no school or play. This was the only form of discipline they could inflict and they went the whole nine yards. Anything I enjoyed was forbid-den. The few times I saw Dad, I would ask when we were leaving. We were only supposed to stay a couple of weeks, but the weeks were dragging into months, and a terrible fear seized me that I might be stuck there forever.
In February, the Family-wide yearly three-day fast was held. Usually it was at this time that the newest "revelations" from Heaven were passed on. This year, we were in for a real treat. The "Loving Jesus Revelation" was revealed. There were hundreds of pages to read and it took the entire three-day fast to get through. It was revealed to us, God's chosen End-time Brides, that Jesus was lonely and craving our love. The Bible made it clear through books like the Song of Solomon, that we, God's last church, were the Bride of Christ. He wanted more of us than just to love him as a father, or even a big brother. He wanted us as His lovers.
Not Without My Sister Page 25
