Promise there'll be at least a Part 2 and Part 3! Currently I'm trying to build myself up to Amazing-esque levels of essay writing, so bear with me, people! Love ya!
The Dub Half
There is a place inside my head where even my demons fear to tread – the Dub half. Over the years, I’ve concealed, battened down, and shushed it into silence, but every time I visit JWD and participate in a discussion, that part of my begins it’s cries for recognition. Even though I’ve never had the opportunity to see a lake covered in ice (I live in sub-tropical Africa), I do feel a bit uncomfortable at times when I see sparrow flying overhead on their migratory paths.
Paradise Lost
Having been little more than about 5 or 6 years old when my parents were assimilated, I don’t remember much about my very early years. What I do remember of my early, carefree days before assimilation was completed is a very glorious thing indeed. Long, lazy afternoons fishing at the pond near my old house in a far-flung, quiet suburb. No particular attention was paid to religion by my parents in those days, little more than lip-service, just to fit in with the other Christian relatives and so forth. In reality my parents were dormant Christians!
Then, one day soon after we moved to a tiny coastal village next to the wild Indian Ocean, filled with crayfish, soles that swam about in knee-deep water, and stinging jellyfish, water warmer than your skin, a mature couple happened upon our little house on the railway tracks facing the beach. They wanted to talk about the condition of the world. My dad, keen on current events, invited these nice-looking people in and they were made comfortable. Over the course of nearly an hour, these people explained to my parents what exactly their mission was. Yes, they were trying to tell people about the Good News – we were all going to live in a Paradise.
“Wouldn’t you like to live in a Paradise?” the man asked me. This I recall quite clearly, even today. Of course, I didn’t truly know what Paradise was then – the man explained something about never having to worry about being sick or getting hurt, and having lots of other kids like me to play with, and I of course answered yes. “Out of the mouths of babes” indeed!
Things changed after that. My parents stopped taking me to the other kids’ houses – apparently they were “bad association”. Forgot not that there were maybe 200 people in this village – and all on the other side of it, not our side. Painfully lonely for nearly a year, my mother watched as my sister and I became more and more reliant on each other than ever. Our neighbours were “worldly” – they weren’t Witnesses. At that point in time I didn’t really know what being a Witness meant – but as was explained to me at great length by the man and woman studying with my parents, it meant we were no longer allowed to have or attend birthday parties, Christmas, or any of the other comfortable Western traditions which so spice up our lives.
Conformity
Soon after the first visit, my parents were making serious “progress” in the Truth, and we moved closer to a slightly larger town on the South Coast called Amanzimtoti. All the towns in that part of South Africa have Zulu names! The village we lived in previously was called Sezela). Today, of course, these places are not as wild and beautiful as they were then – most of the crustaceans have been fished out, the beaches are filthy, and there is almost no “fynbos” (beach shrubbery, very similar to desert plants) left on the coast. Ah, the price of progress is a dear one.
Once we were in this larger town, we were summarily taken to the Kingdom Hall by my parents. Imagine a Kingdom Hall barely three hundred meters away from the crashing surf – that was my first hard experience as a Witness. My memories of that Kingdom Hall aren’t all that good – I can still remember the way it was laid out and so on, of course, purely because I spent so much time there. Unfortunately, more and more people were being converted every day, and the KH was getting too small, so another one was built in the centre of a cheap plot of land which was itself in the centre of a rather large tropical forest-region just outside the coastal town we lived in. To say that there were a lot of insects and stuff, would be an understatement. I remember once an entire wall was covered with beetles, moths and mantises one night at a meeting, and the Elder commented on the “alien invasions”. This was followed by the dutiful laughter that always follows a joke by an Elder.
During this time, I was moved forward by one year at school. Mostly this was because of my amazing reading ability – I could zip through, parse, and read out perfectly any sentence presented to me. Little did the teachers know that I had learnt this cute trick sitting in Watchtower Study after Study, so bored I wanted to scream, but afraid of retribution from my parents if I did! Soon my mother stopped reading books to me (always something I loved for her to do, but my books were getting a bit long when I started reading stuff by Jules Verne and Isaac Asimov, so she gave up and said I had to read them on my own time).
There wasn’t much else for me to do apart from read books. I wasn’t allowed to play with other non-Witness kids, and the block of apartments my folks stayed in didn’t have any Witness kids, so I stayed indoors.
One magical night I will never forget is when my father spotted a small swarm of glow-worms – small worms with glowing tails you can sometimes find in gardens in South Africa, but they are extremely rare. My sister, my father and I all ran down the stairs and played with the tiny, silk-worm like caterpillars for ages. That was one of my last happy memories from that period, a dark, balmy night with little glowing insects that enchanted me.
After that, junior-high began, and I was cast into the whirring social grinder, which does not take lightly to people who have an aversion to society in general, the way I did. My teachers would chuckle at this serious little person who would always have to explain why they couldn’t be in school assemblies every week, or why their beliefs were wrong, or that they were going to die soon. Once, we were given an aptitude test by regional school authorities, and I remember giggling as I easily fitted the little coloured and shaped blocks into the desired patterns in seconds, while my schoolmates struggled and couldn’t find the right combinations. My mother told me that Jehovah loved me, and had made me clever so I could become a good servant of his.
Somehow, I didn’t believe that even then.
Virtual Insanity
My mind is an insanely hungry thing. It will devour personalities, process them, and present them to me as organized maps of people. Even back then I was beginning to distinguish the patterns, habits, and hidden rituals that govern all human activity. I’m extremely sensitive to moods in people, and also in animals. Moving through crowds for me is a dance – a very intricate, consuming dance. Most people who accompany me to nightclubs are amazed at how quickly I can weave through a crowd of people packed so densely that they are rubbing elbows, and even with hardly anyone moving while I walk past.
Eventually, my family was forced to move close to the Kruger Park, one of the largest big-game reserves in South Africa. No, there were no lions or giraffes in the streets, but it was a very rural area. The congregation there was a curious one, but at least now I had some Witness kids in my school to hang out with. We weren’t terribly regular at the meetings – my parents were busy trying to run a business.
Nothing much happened for two years.
Then we moved very close to Johannesburg, and the fit hit the shan, to use a colloquialism I’ve seen on JWD! Shortly after we settled in, we were approached by two very zealous Elders who entreated us to attend meetings and so forth. (A letter detailing our non-attendance had probably been sent to them by the loving Elders of our previous Congregation). These people were very hardcore – and what made it worse was, they were also extremely likeable, and very, very manipulative. My bad “experiences” were just beginning.
This new KH was super-strict, but also super-zealous. It was quite an experience for my family, coming from the laidback rural country, to enter this bustling KH close to city. Immediately we were thrust into the caring hands of the Elders, Book Study conductors, and Ministerial Servants. I was also starting High School.
Part 2 reveals my escapades at the beginning of High School!
They've been digging in the Euphrates Valley and have uncovered a layer of agrarian culture 8,000 years old, and an older caveman culture. Recently, they reached another layer of fused green glass.