Seductive Poison (29 page)

There were refreshments on a table under a narrow thatched roof. Holding the hand of a seven-year-old Jonestown boy, I grabbed two cups of soda and looked for a shady place for us to sit. He grimaced as he tasted the liquid. I asked for a sip and found that I had accidentally grabbed beers. Thinking it rude to take my drink back to the table or to throw it away, I dutifully sipped from both cups and the child went back to find something more to his liking.

On the ride back into Jonestown that evening I asked Shanda about socialism classes and which famous Six-Day Siege they were studying. She looked at me suspiciously.

“You don’t know about it? When Angela Davis came on the radio from the States and tried to help us?”

“No, Shanda,” I said. “I’m talking about an event during the Russian Revolution.”

“Girl, where have you been? It was here, Debbie. We almost died. Grace and Tim Stoen instigated it. They tried to g
et
John-John back from Father. They hired mercenaries to attack us. Father had us paint our faces black with coal and circle the camp with machetes and sickles to stop them. We stayed out there for six days and nights. We even ate and slept out there. Father said they would kidnap and torture the children. It was awful. It’s frightening what the CIA is trying to do to us. They want to invade and kill us. Father says that they’ll try again, too. We’ve had several attacks. Father calls them White Nights, since it is white men who are trying to ruin our project here. Weren’t you in the meeting in San Francisco when Angela Davis spoke to us? She said she understood our plight…. She agreed that there was a conspiracy against us and against all people who strive for change.”

I looked into Shanda’s eyes. I wasn’t sure if I was more scared for her or for myself. She suddenly looked different to me. Since living here she had faced death and known fear of invasion. She wasn’t an innocent teenager anymore. She was one of the brethren, one of the chosen, and she carried the weight of her tenuous existence upon her shoulders.

What was she telling me, exactly? It dawned on me she had just explained the six days of hysteria that I had taken so lightly while my focus was only on Mama. What had happened in the last few
months to our Promised Land? This land was to be our final destination, Utopia, far from the insanity of the world we had just escaped. Mama wasn’t strong enough to grab a machete and fight on the front lines. She was very sick and needed a lot of rest and care. This place was supposed to be an island of peace and harmony, of walks with friends, discussion groups, having children, and living unfettered from the carnage of capitalism.

“Shanda …” I turned to face her while the truck entered back through the gate and into our guarded Jonestown compound. “How did Lynetta do in the siege? Was she on the front lines too?”

“Lynetta?” she asked. Her mouth twisted into disbelief. “Didn’t you know? Lynetta died a while ago. She’d been ill a long time. Jim took it real hard; you know how no one is supposed to die in his aura.”

My knees gave in. I sat down, not caring what happened to the linen outfit. Shanda put her hand on mine.

“You didn’t know? Oh God, it was kept from you … and Lisa was so close to her.” She seemed to shudder.

I sat very still, afraid that if I moved I might retch. Why … ? Who had decided Mama and I shouldn’t know about Lynetta? Mama had dreamed about this friendship, it had consoled her on lonely days in the United States. And now she had no close friends … only me. I heard the truck slow and cut its engine. We were back in the Promised Land. I got up as if in a trance and watched the field workers marching in from their long day in the sun, machetes with hoes under their dirt-stained arms. They were heading to the food line, which must already have been about a hundred people deep. Why, I screamed inside my head, why had we been deceived about Lynetta? Feeling betrayed, lied to, used, I stepped down from the flatbed truck, looked around at the prison camp, and wondered when and where I had missed the cues.

Shortly after our entourage returned to Jonestown, Father was on the loudspeaker.

“I understand some counterrevolutionary took a drink of beer at the PNC meeting. I want every one of you to come up to the radio room and tell me why you did it.”

My first reaction was denial but I realized immediately that someone must have already reported me. I knew that I had better confess before I got into worse trouble. I went to the radio room and found Father alone.

“Father, it was me that drank the beer.” I explained what happened
with the young boy and volunteered to put myself on the Learning Crew.

“Thank you for your honesty, darlin’. I am glad that you came forward to confess. But since you have just arrived and have not yet adjusted to our ways here, I will forgive you this time.”

I was relieved Father had understood and been so loving. However, as soon as I had returned to my cabin to change, Father was again on the loudspeaker.

“The counterrevolutionary who drank the beer has still not come forward! I want everybody who went to Port Kaituma to report to the radio room at once.”

I felt anxious, but realized he must be after someone else. I made my way back to the radio room. Jim was already in the midst of a tirade against drinking. He spoke on and on. My legs were sore and I wanted to change my clothes. He began to yell: “Come forward and admit it to the People! Acknowledge your weaknesses and disgrace! You know who you are, this is not the first time …”

I continued to wait, hoping the real counterrevolutionary would show his face. Poor sod, I thought, glad I had been exonerated from any suspicions. The diatribe continued for another five minutes when a sickeningly familiar feeling rose up in me. I was suddenly aware of whom he was talking to. Weak with fear, I stepped forward.

“Good of you to come forward, although you are not the only one who should be standing here. What do you think your punishment should be?” he asked softly.

“I think I should be put on the Learning Crew,” I said sincerely.

“This is only your first day…. It is not an infraction worthy of reeducation. Okay everyone.” Father looked up at the hundreds of people encirling the radio room. “Debbie has learned that there are no secrets in Jonestown. Dismissed…. Eat your dinner and enjoy the rest of your evening. There will be no socialism class tonight. I want all my children to rest.”

I saw people walking away shaking their heads, angry that I had waited so long to come clean. They were hungry and now had to re-cue for the line, having lost their places. I lowered my eyes. Shanda walked past me and gently stepped on my toe in support of my pain. I wanted to cry and knew that it was all a ploy to show me, the outsider, the newcomer, that I was an untrustworthy heathen. I was catching on too slowly, I thought. I would have to prove myself all over again, for I was now wholly despised. When there were no
more onlookers, Father motioned for me to sit next to him on the radio room step. There seemed to be an odd sour odor seeping from his skin. As he lowered his sunglasses I noticed that his once soft and serene eyes were now reddened and looked untamed.

“Darling, it wasn’t you I was trying to bring out. You were only trying to help the child. I know this. I am proud that you were courageous enough to step forward. You have proved once more you are willing to take the heat for your mistakes. Go on along to dinner now and visit with Lisa. You will be pleased to find she is in the nicest cottage here. I arranged for her to use Marceline’s place until we can build her one of her own. One other thing, Sharon tells me the Cuban doctor has made several visits to the house hoping to see you. He even left a letter. You have served us well.”

“Thank you, Father!” I replied respectfully. I was confused by the wildly contradictory tones he was taking with me, but I didn’t want him to see how troubled I felt. He squeezed my shoulder as I left. The long dinner line already reached past the kitchens, the latrine, and down the dusty Jonestown road.

It had been a long day and I hadn’t seen Mama. She was the only person I wanted to be with just then. I knew her cottage was situated behind the kitchen huts and I concentrated on not looking too eager to find her, but my feelings of desperation were taking over my stride. Jonestown was not what I had anticipated. Everyone was looked at with suspicion, as if we ourselves were the enemy. I wanted to crawl into Mama’s lap, feel her arms around me, and have her tell me it was all just a bad dream, I could wake up now.

I skipped up her stairs, opened her screen door, and was thankful that Mama’s house actually had a veranda. Mama was standing at her window when I bolted in.

“Honey, I thought you’d be in the food line.”

I walked over and hugged her, wanting to apologize, wishing I hadn’t been the one to convince her how wonderful Jonestown would be. Her space was just one room made of dark wood. It was small, but roomy in comparison to my cramped quarters.

“Darling, I learned about Lynetta this afternoon.” When she saw in my eyes that I knew, she smiled bravely. “I guess Father believed it was best to keep it a secret. I wonder if it would have altered my decisions in any way.”

I began to tremble, trying in vain not to cry. Mama put her arms around me and held me tight.

“I know, darling … I know …” She held me and patted my
back until I had calmed down. “But we have our own secret.” She smiled and opened a handkerchief, setting a hard-boiled egg on her trunk. “The seniors eat first. And I am to be given an egg a day, because of my weakened condition.” She cracked it with her knuckle and began to peel it. I wiped my eyes and forced myself to smile at her. She took a tiny bite and handed it to me.

“I love you, darling … I’ll be fine.” Then she held up her hand as if she had a wineglass in it. “To our health, and the wine we had in New York will remain our secret, alone.”

When I left Mama’s cottage I walked through our encampment. There were guards, just teenagers, marching around with guns. There were lookout posts with guards on them. Faces of people I had known and joked with now looked frightened. Few made eye contact with me. Everyone seemed to be afraid of everyone else.

I had joined the food line when Father’s voice came over the loudspeaker again.

“I’ve assigned a few of you to act as if they want to leave. Anyone observing their odd behavior or overhearing them speaking disloyally is required to report these conversations to me immediately. This is a test of loyalty. Those who report will be rewarded.”

Mary grimaced at the announcement and deposited a heap of smelly rice on my plate. “Get used to it, baby …” She smiled apologetically. I looked for a spare seat at one of the crowded tables. I spied Mark, his back to me, talking with Lee, but I no longer felt comfortable having an idle chat with someone Father knew I had wanted to live with. I believed it was best to keep my distance for now. I turned, saw Annie finishing up, and sat next to her.

“It’s only hard at first,” she said without glancing up. “Next time remember it’s safer to stand and take the blame rather than wait and hope the fury will pass.”

I looked at her in wonder. “You sound like our tenth-grade hero, Siddartha.”

“I remember you reading that stuff every night. And all your poetry. He’s not been right since Lynetta passed. I’ve been dispensing quite a bit of sedatives to him for his grief.”

I was bewildered that she was talking this way to me. So honest and unencumbered with fear.

“It will get better.” She raised her head and looked at me sadly. “This is the worst he’s been, but things will look up soon. Good to have you with us again. You ought to come down to the house and
visit sometime. The boys would love your headmistress impersonations. They don’t laugh much anymore.” She quickly squeezed my hand under the table. “Time for the night shift. Gotta put Kimo and John-John to bed. I’ve missed you.” She rose up and took her plate to the rinsing station.

When I arrived at my own cabin I was pleased to find no one there. I undressed and climbed into bed. I felt grateful that Shanda and Annie had talked to me. Things were perhaps not all that bad. The overcrowding was just a timing problem. I thought about my illusions of how life would be here and realized I would have to readjust to the reality of it. Although I had dreamed of living with Mark, I now knew that it was out of the question. I would have to sacrifice Mark, who had never really been mine anyway. His loyalties were to Father and to Jonestown, not to me. I thought about Annie’s remarks. She had missed me and wanted me to make the little boys laugh. I had already made Father laugh. And Mama had seemed so strong and brave, bearing the disappointment over the loss of her friend Lynetta. Things would be better … as Annie predicted. This was just a bad phase for Father. I needed to be understanding and concentrate on earning his trust again.

I was weak with exhaustion, but my thoughts raced on. And suddenly I realized why it was that those in the capital had seemed so different from me. They had been initiated. They had lived here first.

It was early when I opened my eyes to a ghastly sound of cries and moans coming from deep inside the jungle. The sad wail came again and as a chorus joined in I realized it was the sound of the howler monkeys. I had heard them screaming out the night before and they had frightened me. I looked around my cramped cabin. It felt as if I had been here forever, and it was only my second full day in the Promised Land. I crawled out of my scratchy wool covers and pulled my fingers through my hair. I was relieved there were no entangled bugs, but my foot felt hot and was throbbing. I was horrified to discover a multitude of swollen bumps on my toes and the side of my foot. Some of the welts were almost an inch across with tiny yellow globules in the center. As I stared at my new Jonestown acquisitions, they began to itch, faintly at first, but as I continued to stare, the sensation became an obsession. I dug my nails into them,
scratching furiously. They itched even more. I tried to scratch past the itch to release the poison from my tissues. My hand was smeared with blood when I looked up to see Father standing at the door.