Kristina - Not Without My Sister: The True Story of Three Girls Violated and Betrayed

Where are we going to live in Sri Lanka?" I asked.
'You'll see. It's a surprise," Dad said with a twinkle in his eye. "Did you know that it was a Sri Lankan radio station that was the first to play Music with Meaning? It's a beautiful country, and the people are receptive to the Lord's message."
When we stopped over at Karachi International Airport, I knew Pakistan was near India, and I gazed avidly out of the airport windows, through the heat haze across the Arabian Sea. The air smelled vaguely familiar, a mixture of exotic spices and gasoline, as were the intense heat and humidity. I was close but so far from the place where I had last seen my mother. I thought about my sister Kristina. If only we could have stopped off in Bombay to see them. Then it was time to board another plane to Colombo, Sri Lanka's capital city and I was caught up with the excitement of arriving on an island in the Indian Ocean.
After the long trip, we stayed in the capital at a hotel resort for the first two days to rest up before continuing our journey. The air was hot and humid, filled with the fragrance of frangipani, the sacred temple flowers that were used in Buddhist ceremonies. You could see these trees everywhere, their brightly colored flowers hanging down in bunches, the ground beneath them littered with fragrant carpets of yolk yellow, white, purple pink, and red. My first day in this beautiful, exotic land was unforgettable. The first thing I noticed were black birds crowing loudly. They seemed to be everywhere. As I walked under one of the banana palms in the grounds of the resort, I felt something warm hit my head. To my horror,
I discovered a crow had shat on me.
The journey to our new home was exciting. Dad kept saying, "Just wait, you'll see." The anticipation was killing me. We crammed all our belongings into the air-conditioned bus we'd hired to take the three-hour drive into the mountains. It was all so different after the barren rocks and scant vegetation of Greece. Here, palm trees and the rich red soil of fields where black-skinned buffaloes toiled gave way to rounded slopes covered with tea plantations. With so much rainthe island is in the path of tropical monsoons and hundreds of inches of rain fall each yearwe saw many tranquil lakes, which reflected the sky and the encircling high mountains. Everything seemed so peaceful, yet rich. I gazed at it all avidly, absorbing the sights and sounds.
Finally we arrived at the new home that Dad had found for us. It had been a farm, with a large colonial farmhouse anda few other smaller houses nearby. Dad took me round and showed me the large sugarcane field at the far end of the property, and rows of strawberries and green and red chilli bushes.

The main house was large, with a huge, vaulted living room with a white marble floor. Our little family got one of the best rooms, a big, airy bedroom with an en suite bathroom that the five of us shared. In the back garden of the main house we built a swimming pool, and within a few months I learned how to swim the breaststroke and the crawl. Dad established his studio as quickly as possible so his work could continue without interruption.
On our Freeday Dad and I would always do something fun together. Sometimes we walked down the mountain to the local town, which was twenty minutes away by foot. It was easy going down, but quite a haul going back up. All the women dressed in colorful saris and the men in lungis, a kind of long cotton skirt, tied in a knot at the waist. Their chests were bare, and gleamed in the heat and humidity. I tried not to stare, but I was put off by the sight of the women's earlobes, which hung down almost to their shoulders. I whispered to Dad, "What's wrong with their ears?"
"Oh, they're used to wearing really heavy gold earrings for special occasions," he explained. "The weight stretches their lobes. It's quite common in many parts of the world."
I liked being with Dad when we were just alone, because he acted different; he was relaxed and there were no rules to follow. We'd head out on our own to "seek adventure" he would say playfully. We'd pack a little picnic lunch and set off on the mountain trails around us. The sights were breathtaking, with waterfalls tumbling down from sheer cliffs, rocky little rivers, thick undergrowth filled with birds and huge butterflies, and the most incredible ancient trees hundreds of feet high.
The leeches were the only things I dreaded. They would burrow their way into my socks and I would find at least three or four on each leg, sucking my blood. Dad showed me how to get rid of them by putting salt on them and they would melt away. I hated having to come home, because it meant going back to our commune routine. After a shower, we would join everyone in the main living room for Sunday fellowship, led by Paul Peloquin and Marianne. We always ended our fellowships with the Christian tradition of Communion.
One Sunday, Paul read to us a new Mo Letter, called "Come Union." Mo had received a revelation that our fellowship ceremony had a sexual meaning. We were all one, and part of each other, body as well as spirit.
Do we have complete full communion? Come-union? Common-union? All things common Communion in the flesh as well as the spirit? How long has it been since you've given your body to someone, a brother or sister-or even a fish? Jesus gave his body even for the unsaved! Have you? Maybe you need to get liberated from your selfishness and fears-fear of love, fear of sex, fear of pregnancy, fear of disease, fear of commitment, fear of the future, fear of the unknown, fear of flesh!
Paul stopped reading and stripped off his clothes. Everyone, including the children, obediently followed. He broke out into tongues, "Haddeda, Shedebeda, Hadaraba, Shadbrada. Praise the Lord. Thank you Jesus" and the whole room suddenly erupted into loud chants and babbling, praising the Lord with their arms raised in the air.
I looked around in amazement, baffled at the sight of the adults with tears streaming down their faces. I could not understand the sudden outburst of emotion and euphoria.

I was young, but I had a seeking mind. None of it made any sense to me. What had stripping naked to do with showing dedication to Jesus our Savior? Everyone sat together naked, arms around each other, while Paul finished reading the "Come Union" Mo Letter. But worse was to come when Paul went on to demonstrate a new way to pass the wine.
Now we have signified we're all one body, he read, "'the bread, and one in spirit, the wine. That's why I like to drink from one cup, which is what they did. These Protestant churches that have a bunch of little tiny cups, they never get the point. And they've got the bread all broken up before-hand, so they don't get the point of that either, that you've got to be one body. Boy, there's a hot one for our Family! One in the flesh, one body, one spirit! Sexually as well, really one Bride of Christ, One wife, One Body!"'
Everyone partnered up, and the men were instructed to take a sip from the communal cup and pass it on to the mouth of their female partner. When the wine came round, my adult partner took a gulp and then fixed his mouth on mine. The warm, red wine mixed with his saliva tasted awful. For a seven-year-old this was as yuck as yuck gets, and I swallowed as little as possible.
Because Jesus had turned the water into wine in the Book of John, Mo had always said that it was permissible to drink alcohol, and in Greece wine was always served with food or enjoyed in the evenings. Now Mo admitted in a Letter of Confession that he was an alcoholic and had ruined his oesophagus and stomach through heavy drinking. But he blamed his drinking binges on those who had deserted and betrayed him.