This month, I will not be sharing “Chapter Seventeen: Set Adrift in Shark-infested Waters” from my work-in-progress. To tell the truth, I’ve not yet completed this chapter. Like Chapter Sixteen, this period of my life has been difficult to revisit. After leaving the convent, I lost purpose and direction in my life. I was set adrift. I floundered. I’m still working on forgiving that younger self for losing her way.

Fifteen months have passed since I read Breaking Together: A Freedom-Loving Response to Collapse by Jem Bendell, released in June 2023. His findings shook my world. Our climate and ecological crises are far more critical than we’ve been led to believe. We’re now living on a planet where every year is hotter than the year before. My work-in-progress, though important in calling attention to women’s issues, became meaningless in the face of the collapse of industrial consumer societies. I lost focus.

How could I share Bendell’s findings? No one wants to hear bad news. Yet, to look away means we will not be prepared when our world as we know it begins to fall apart around us. The recent victory of the minority elite ruling class, under their chosen authoritarian leader, will only serve to accelerate societal collapse. The picks for his cabinet speak volumes of their plans to execute The Heritage Foundation’s Mandate/Project 2025.

While not abandoning my work-in-progress, I will focus more on researching and sharing information about the diverse, interconnected aspects of our climate and ecological crises. To soften our harsh reality (recalling Jamaican poet Tanya Shirley’s view of women as the merchants of feather), I will also share Bendell’s insights and proposals for preparing ourselves for a freedom-loving response to collapse. There are others, too, who are already adapting to living in harmony with Mother Nature. Mind you, early attempts at creating such communities have not all succeeded. Pitfalls exist. Such is the case of the People’s Temple Agricultural Project, known as Jonestown, not far from Port Kaituma in Guyana’s Northwest Region.

In 1978, when I was struggling to re-adjust to living in the secular world, a tragedy was unfolding in Jonestown, initially envisioned as a socialist paradise. This was the same region where my religious life had unraveled a year earlier. Isolated in Guyana’s tropical rainforest, far from scrutiny by the local authorities, the lives of more than 900 American settlers in Jonestown were unraveling. Their founder and “Father,” the Reverend Jim Jones (1931-1978), had descended into paranoia and intent on self-preservation. Their dream of a better life built on tolerance, equality, and justice came to a tragic end on November 18th with Father’s deranged demand for “revolutionary suicide.” The Jonestown mass suicide/mass murder, known as the Jonestown Massacre, shocked the people of Guyana and across the world.

As a newbie immigrant in California, I was frequently reminded of the Jonestown Massacre when I told curious individuals that I was from Guyana. I had long forgotten about California’s link with the People’s Temple in Jonestown. I was also surprised to learn later that there’s an American expression, Drinking the Kool-Aid, when one “strongly believes in and accepts a deadly, deranged, or foolish ideology or concept based only upon the overpowering coaxing of another” (Wikipedia). After years of manipulation and physical abuse, Jim Jones’ loyal followers had succumbed to drinking or being injected with a cyanide-laced Flavor Aid, a brand similar to Kool-Aid.

For readers born after 1978, you can learn more about the People’s Temple on Wikipedia.

Without TV in Guyana at that time, I hadn’t seen the recorded live images of that fatal day until November 2008 when CNN marked the thirtieth anniversary with its presentation, “Escape from Jonestown.” The ghosts of Jonestown returned to haunt me. While taking a shower in January 2009, they compelled me to tell their side of the story. They were good working-class people, brought together with the promise of living and working together in harmony for the betterment of all members.

For the following eight months, I delved into the life of Jim Jones and his People’s Temple. As he descended into madness, I entered a very dark place. Gloom and doom enveloped me. Power, when left unchecked and enabled by a selected privileged few, will self-destruct. With the resurgence of an authoritarian leader, intent this time on surrounding himself with loyal supporters and followers ready to carry out his agenda of self-enrichment and self-preservation, the ghosts of Jonestown have returned to haunt me.

When telling my fictionalized story of the Jonestown Massacre, based on the real events of that day, I decided to focus on the People’s Temple headquarters in Georgetown, the capital, where I resided at the time. I have changed the names of the American cult members involved to protect their identity. All local characters are fictional.

My long short story (8000 words), “Sly Mongoose: Caught in the Jim Jones Web of Deceit,” is told through the POV of Cheryl Collins (36 years), wife of Stanley Collins (same age, not stated), and mother of Dawn (15 years) and Bobby (10 years). The story also offers insights into the rights and liberties lost under the authoritarian, socialist government at the time.

Excerpt from “Sly Mongoose: Caught in the Jim Jones Web of Deceit”

Saturday, November 18, 1978, Georgetown, Guyana

When the American Church group moved into Lamaha Gardens around Easter last year, Cheryl had first viewed them as CIA spies. In a dictatorship socialist country, you could never be too careful when dealing with foreigners.

Waves of newcomers from the United States stuffed the spacious PT [People’s Temple] house. All colors and ages, but mostly black, like a large part of Guyana’s population. The eyes of the older folk danced with hope. The young people bounced with the thrill of adventure. The little ones learned to catch tadpoles in the swampy empty lots.

Newcomers stayed only for short spells in Georgetown before leaving for the People’s Temple Jonestown settlement: a 150-mile trip by boat into Guyana’s jungle. Their leader, Reverend Jim Jones, had created a tropical paradise for them. Cheryl feared for them. Guyana’s Northwest Region was not for those accustomed to the comforts of city life. Walls of dense forest, a sticky furnace, frequent rains and mud, strange noises and creatures, and isolation awaited them.

Shirley had formed part of the PT public relations staff. A fanatic follower of Reverend Jim Jones. Never hesitating to defend him against attack from his enemies. What had she said or done to deserve this? Why the children? Mark was only eight. Christine eleven. A lifetime ahead of them. Diane—

You can read the full story on my Author’s Website at https://www.rosalienebacchus.com/sly-mongoose-caught-in-the-jim-jones-web-of-deceit-by-rosaliene-bacchus.html