Dub Memories Part 4
At the end of the last part, my parents had just arrived back from the Tuesday night meeting after the Theocratic Ministry school with the Elders. Its quite amazing that I still remember the names of all the various Meetings so clearly, considering that Im writing this 4 years after my Disassociation.
One thing that I can never quite fathom, even today, is exactly why I left. My theory is that there were a lot of factors that snowballed together and caused me to basically revolt I simply couldnt stand one more second of being a Dub. Jehovahs Witnesses have a very constricting lifestyle, and my sense of independence and need for freedom is very strong indeed, so naturally this produced a schizm within my mind part of me thought I was going to die at Armageddon if I left, and another part knew it was all a load of hogwash.
The following evening, responding in an unusually rapid fashion for Elders, I was visited by two Elders, whose names I wont repeat here for privacy reasons. Lets just say that the leading Elder, the older of the two, was a very nice guy, up until that point at least. That evening I would see a darker side of him. He had always struck me as being a very fun-loving, easy going type of Elder, and wed gotten along well. In fact, he had been one of the very few Elders to have shown an interest in me at all, unlike most of the others in the Congregation, who appeared to not notice my existence.
Prior to this point, I had been aggressively expanding my circle of friends outside the Organization little did I know that this was actually a pre-emptive action on my part. Oh, if only I knew then what I know now! There is so much Id like to go back and say, so many doctrines Id like to flip over like a turtle onto its back, unable to right itself. Sadly, fate did not afford me this opportunity. Hell, I only got Internet access about a year after the events detailed here, and even then only 2 years later did I discover the international ExJW community in all its glory. If Id known how many of us there are, my journey out of the Organization would surely have been much easier.
Before going into an account of my Disassociation meeting, let me first tell you about the last Get-Together which I attended.
It was held at a farm, just outside Johannesburg. The lands were lush and green, filled with soft, warm grass. Summer air flowed swiftly across acres and acres of it, and the smell of farming and farm animals was everywhere.
Strangely, my memory seems to have been very focused on mundane little details back then they are basically all that I can remember. My mind literally flowered when I left the Organization, due in part to no longer having to be forced into the same ruts of thought it had always plowed in. We got out of the car, and I remember what I was wearing, casual clothes. Immediately we were greeted by a Brother, and my mother and sister headed for the kitchen just like good Sisters should. My father and I were soon embroiled in a game of touch-rugby, which I completely sucked at. Give me a keyboard and I know what Im doing, but a pigskin? Nope!
Other activities were arranged, from hide and seek which was so childish to me that it was almost sickening, to a dance later that evening. We had finished barbecuing our meet, and everyone was feeling a little bit rowdy. About the only mind-altering substance permitted at Witness Get-Togethers is alcohol, since it is mentioned and endorsed in the Bible, and all the Brothers and Sisters were soon quite tipsy. People began dancing to really lame pop music, and I was almost dying of embarrasment, so I slunk off to go sit inside the farmers house.
In there were two of the hottest girls in the entire Circuit, sitting and chatting on a bad. Idiot that I was back then, I meekly enquired if I could hang out with them. They gave me the scorning look of Popular Sisters when confronted with Highly Unpopular, Probably Bad Association Brothers, so I just sat down and looked out of the window while they talked, all the time swooning at being in the presence of such hot, available Dub chiquez.
Eventually I left that place too, walked around a bit more, then it was time to go home. Everybody knows that a respectable Dub Get-Together ends before 9PM.
That was about the most exciting event in my Dub life, and yet it is a pale monochrome event to me, from before I blossomed and began to truly REMEMBER everything that happened to me, from a time when I was a robot for the Society, a cog made of hidden passions, hidden dreams, and a hidden rebellion. What happens to me today, what happens to me tomorrow these events are now recorded in full Technicolour with surround sound, to use an extremely poor analogy.
Leaving the Watchtower spared up lots of time for me in fact, I didnt quite know what to do with myself, so I went to the local Library a lot, and landed up reading just about every book in the Science Fiction section. I also began to teach myself programming languages and graphics programming techniques, both of which are another passion of mine today, and earn me my living now.
1999 was a year of discovery for me, discovering many and varied things, nightclubs, driving, electronics, C++, graphics programming, music, deathmatching and LAN parties, house parties, raving, rock concerts, sex, and a trillion other things too small to mention, and yet not unimportant. All of it meant something to me all of it meant I was finally free.
Now, from the tales of others on the Web, Ive slowly come to realize that the Witnesses in my country, South Africa, are simultaneously more relaxed and far more strict than Witnesses elsewhere. This is probably just a reflection of our culture, viewed through the looking-glass that is Dubbism. For starters, the dress restrictions that others have gone on at great length about simply didnt exist in this form in my Congregation there was no requirement to wear a specific colour of shirt on the stage or anything like that. Of course, the usual Dub rules of women wearing only dresses and men wearing only suits were stringently enforced, but that was about as far as it went. On the other hand, what was far more stressed in our Congregation were the SOCIAL rules the way you spoke to others, respect for Elders, things like that. Wearing an orange shirt on the podium would certainly result in a few half-hearted jokes from the person conducting the evenings meeting, but it was certainly not a counsel point or a reason to change! Disrespecting the words of an Elder, however, carried a heavy penalty.
To put it in a nutshell, the Elders made the rules. They were not to be questioned, because they were envoys of God.
Now that Im a few years older, I can see Elderhood for what it truly was 90% of the men in Elders positions were solely there for the power and status. There was the occasional truly good Elder, a person who desired to sheperd others, teach them, and help them out, and I feel privileged to have known such men, even if their minds were severely warped by a cult. Good Elders were vastly outnumbered by bad Elders.
My Disassociation meeting was not easy sailing it was in fact one of the most excruciating experiences Ive ever been through. Two Elders arrived at my door, both of them people I knew very well, my bookstudy conductor and his sidekick, in fact. First, they started off with a prayer, which was probably made extra-long just to make me sweat some more. Then, the Elders asked me to explain myself, and so I did. I gave them the lowdown:
- I do not want to be a Jehovahs Witness any more.
- I do not want to be associated with my local Congregation or any other Congregation in future.
- I will no longer attend any meetings or go on Field Service.
- I do not believe that Satan or God exist.
After sitting through this somewhat short summary of what I had decided upon, the Elders began paging through Scriptures, but I said I would also like to add that I no longer the Bible to be the inspired word of God. That threw them! One of their primary tools, the Bible, was discounted. The Alpha Elder rumbled about the fulfillment of prophecy and other drivel, but I diverted him by saying that I just wanted to tell them I didnt want to be a Witness any more, and leave it at that. My parents watched the whole procession with wide eyes, not daring to say a thing. Today I actually feel bad for springing that steely, cold part of my personality on them theyd never seen me behaving like this, icy calm and ready to trample on their most heartfelt beliefs.
Very few people who havent been Jehovahs Witnesses can truly understand just what its like to live your live under the duress of a hundred thousand spoken and unspoken rules, of the immense stress such a life can invoke. Every step of the way, you have to think carefully about what you do and say, so as not to stumble someone, or you have to build a secondary life, a double identity, which allows you to truly be YOU, and then you show your Jehovahs Witness side to the Brothers on Meeting nights. Most young people in the Organization are forced into a life of deception, denied the things that they crave the most, their normal desires shuttered and denied.
This causes much heartbreak for young Jehovahs Witnesses especially there is simply no way out, other than leading a double life. I began leading a double life shortly before I exited the Organization, and would probably have begun leading this peculiar existence far sooner had I known the right people, people who liked me for who I was, not for how many magazines I sold every month.
I can proudly say that I never placed a book of any kind, although I did place inummerable magazines, and busloads of pamphlets. Pamphlets dont count when youre working in the Field, and nobody I knew asked for a donation for them but you paid for them at the Hall, that was for sure! Youd get them in little stacks. It was such a privilege in my younger days for my Father to give me a few Rand (our currency) so I could go and buy a few Pamphlets from the Literature Desk. Every Kingdom Hall (well, most) has a Literature Desk. Think of it as the place where the money flows through every Congregation. Indeed, this is the place where the Watchtower collects the most money from. There would be little pigeon-holes containing the various types of pamphlets, and the Brother would always smile and give me a nice assortment. Some of those pamphlets were really crappy and I couldnt stand them, but others were OK, with colourful pictures that would catch the eye of my younger self and look more enticing. It was religion-induced shopping taken to the extreme.
Today, I laugh at the inane illustrations on those pamphlets, depicting an impossible Paradise Earth packed with women in sensible dresses or other outlandish national dress, men always in suits, with the occasional Nigerian Brother in a very fancy mandress and funny cap thrown in by the Watchtower for the sake of political correctness, even though such dress would have prevented you from holding any position in any Kingdom Hall in the world.
My religion was a religion of omission there were so many things that prospective people werent told. We never told the people at the doors about our dress regulations, or how women were not allowed to hold any positions of leadership or teaching no, women were only good enough to sell literature, not teach others. Its strange, because there were so many great ladies in my Congregation, women that the other, younger women would trust with their most intimate problems, and they were always there for them. Of course, I was never told about the secret history of the Watchtower.
Yes, the Watchtower is TRULY a religion of omission nobody bothers to tell you about the 1975 debacle, and if you ask, its brushed over. Nobody talks about the amount of doctrinal swaying, and when 1995 rolled around, every Sheep in my Congregation swallowed the bitter, dead-giveaway pill of the new Generation doctrine whole, hook, line and sinker, without so much as a world of protest. It was in fact quite amusing to see all of the Brothers trying to wrap their heads around this new Doctrine, and try to figure out why the Society, looking at exactly the same writings it had always been looking at, had suddenly changed its mind. Was Jehovahs Organization not infallible? It was implicit in every conversation with every Brother or Sister that this was the case, and yet here was plain evidence that there was a problem. If Id known that the Governing Body VOTED on doctrine, I would surely have left sooner. Is there a God of ballots? If this is so, then truly Jehovah is with the Governing Body.
Soon after I reiterated all my convictions for the fourth time, the Elders appeared to give up, but haraunged me a little while longer, asking for a letter of Disassociation, which I scribbled out and handed to them. They were gone moments later, and my life was changed forever. And that was the last time I spoke to a Dub of any kind.
In conclusion, I want to thank everyone who has spoken to me on this and other websites, all of my newfound friends in strange and exotic places I have never been to yet who understand that bizarre part of my life, and who have made life worth living. You are all my fellow explorers in this great journey we are all part of.
Remember, life is not an exercise, this is the real thing. Kiss that person you love tonight when you get home, tell them you love them, laugh in the faces of the Governing Body, show them what it really means to love others.
At the end of the day, love is all that matters.
It is our meaning.
This essay is dedicated to Amanda.