Excerpts from the jungle

Guyana, October 1978

I have discovered something new. If you are very frightened all the time it’s hard to hide deep down inside. But if you are very angry then you can develop a layer of skin that no one can see through. That’s where I am five months into this hell that I brought myself to. I am very, very angry and no one see’s that or see’s me at all anymore. I have finally managed to become the invisible man.
I can get up at five am each day and spoon into my mouth the insect infested rice they serve here for breakfast. I can ride out on the back of the truck into the fields and be the only white field worker and stand in the hundred and twelve degree heat breaking stalks or whatever the fuck mindless assignment we are given for the day. And do it without showing any emotion or physical discomfort at all. I can return on the truck in the early dark wet heat with my “brothers and sisters” and sit in the same apparent comfortable utter hopelessness staring at my filthy swollen feet that they do. Then I can stand for two hours in a line letting the stink of my body meld with theirs while we wait for our nightly treat of, you guessed it cold greasy insect infested rice.
Most impressive of all I can spend my two hours of weekly “personal time” with Mattie and watch him in what must seem to others as appreciative contemplation. As he displays to my dead eyes what he has learned in the previous week. I might be feted to a badly recited reading of Lenin’s doctrine as re-written via the vision of Andrew Anderson. Or I might get to enjoy the sight of my five year old son acting out a part as a lynched slave in one the “consciousness raising” plays. Play’s that the children here put on in an endless circle of soul killing “art.”
There are so many minute by minute opportunities here to learn to hide the slightest sign of emotion and I like to think that if there were a contest on this I might win a prize. But as always here at Andersonville just when a guy has a chance to feel that he might be getting the hang of things, really absorbing himself into the “cause” and that cause being to try to stay as far under the fucking radar as humanly possible. They throw a curveball at you. For example last week at one of our forty eight hour suicide rehearsals I was called upon without warning to tell the rest of the flock what living here had brought to me. I gotta say that really caught me off guard, I hadn’t been thinking of anything in particular, I was just doing my usual stay sane mental exercise, which involves counting backward from ten thousand, so when I heard my name all I could think of to say was “sixty seven hundred and twelve.” It just slipped out. Jesus the look on Andrew’s face, I would have laughed, except for the rush of fear and adrenaline. He was high as shit as usual, so fortunately for me, so he chose to interpret that as a lead in to some deep communist thought. I’m a pretty smart guy at times so I rode that train of thought into a quick explanation of how I thought that was how many days the siege of Leningrad went on.
I was nowhere close of course but Andrew liked it that I was concentrating on a lot of people starving to death on the orders of Lenin. It got him off onto another one of his rampages about the great human service contributions of Lenin and I even thought for a minute there that I was going to be rewarded with one of the week old cookies for my answer, but no dice.
So tonight I’m trying not to do my counting thing, but it’s hard because if I don’t count at these “catharsis sessions” I start to think and thinking makes me get scared and getting scared makes me start to shake and that’s something that someone might notice and report. You gotta try to find subversive behavior around here to report or you’re not being a good soldier. Besides reporting is the only way to deflect attention from yourself and in the end that is the only way to keep from being sent to the “E.C.U.” Which is the place where they take people to and then drug them into submission. Or there is always the fucking box, just the thought of which makes me want to scream. I could also end up on the “special crew” that’s just like the regular field crew. Only it’s a fifteen hour day instead of thirteen and you have to run the whole time. So I’m really trying to listen to what Andrew is saying tonight in case I’m called on again.
Andrew is looking really bad and it gives me a little bit of hope that maybe he’ll just keel over and die one of these nights. I’d still have to get past his goddamned “inner circle” of monster zombies but I think I could make it. This whole place would fall into serious disarray for at least an hour if our precious leader fell and an hour is more than enough time for me to run.
I have it all pictured in my head. I will run out the gates and stay on the road because even though you can risk a bullet from the guards that way, it still beats taking your chances in the jungle.
So I’ll stay on the road and just keep going no matter what I hear at my back. I’ll run all the way to Port Kaituma six miles down the road and when I get there I’ll throw myself at the feet of the first person I see and say over and over again “American, help me, help me.” If a chance comes that’s what I’m doing. There won’t be time for me to grab Mattie. I’ll send for him later, he will be okay. No one’s going to hurt the children and anyway Mattie doesn’t seem to hate it here, and we wouldn’t even be in Andersonville if it weren’t for him. So I’ll decide what to do about Mattie’s future when the time comes.
But tonight is not the night for my dream escape. I can tell everyone is more edgy and nervous than usual and that’s saying something around here. The guards, Andrews so called “Human Hands” are stalking around swinging their shotguns like they are just itching for the excuse to shoot someone in the face. No exaggeration there I promise. All of them are looking hungry as hell they must be dying to work off a little aggression. Given the level of hate and jealousy and suspicion, probably anyone of us would be able to kill one of our “brothers or sisters” without a second thought. We wouldn’t even have to be bribed with a cookie.
If I were telling this stuff to Alfie I would ask him not to think harshly of me for saying any of it. You see here in Andersonville your brothers and sisters are just the people watching you all the time. Following your every move with dead eyes and just hoping for any tiny “infraction” that can save them from getting noticed. Even my little boy is a spy now. He saw me trying to write a letter to Alfie last week and told “Mother Angeline.” “Daddy has a letter, daddy has a letter.”
They gave him a cookie and I swallowed the letter. The dry paper cut its way down my throat and that’s why he will never receive a letter from here. They’re all in my head now, but if I make it home, then I’ll put this sore head on his shoulder and tell him all the letters out loud. He’ll listen and nod and it might go away. Sure that could happen couldnt it, it will all just go away?
I have to stop thinking of Alfie and pay attention. Something’s different here tonight. Andrew is asking us to tell him why we are willing to die for him. I have to give some thought to that and figure out what to say if I’m called on. Besides the truthful answer which is that I would rather be dead than to have to stay here. That would go over well wouldn’t it?
One of the men, I don’t know his name, stood up eagerly and began speaking to Andrew, telling of his desire to die.
“My name is John Hollis, and I am a proud member of the Human House, and I have been for some eight years, and now I am real proud to say that I am a communist. Uh, uhm, many years ago I didn’t know what that meant exactly, but now I know what it means, and I am real, real happy to give my life for this good idea. The thi…the thing, uhm, the love and the joy that I have got here these past months, uh, uhm, cause of being a communist in the Human House has made me realize that all those years and years that I was the first, uhm I mean the last person hired and then the first person fired, you know cause they said I was drunk, but it weren’t true, and now that I am a communist I realize it was all worth it, and communism is so good that I don’t have to have a job in the U.S. no more. So I’d like for many many people to realize that there is hope, and the only hope there is, is in communism. So yeah tonight I am able to choose the time that I will give my life. I’m able to choose where I will give my life. I been fired seventeen times, so I just wish I had seventeen lives to give so that I could show all the folks back home how dead I could be.”

Oh God if you even exist, please save me from the dark laughter I feel rushing up from my chest. A speech like that really clarifies things for a person. It makes no sense but it does illustrate that I am surrounded by a pretty bad Darwinian situation here. If I want to face things squarely though it must be admitted that I came here voluntarily. So who’s the stupid monkey now?
Andrew the pastor of our little flock of geniuses is even looking a tad flummoxed at that speech. I don’t know exactly what these speeches are supposed to be for. If they are being recorded to use on one of his radio news broadcasts or if they are for something else, but I can tell from the look on his face that poor old John Hollis’s immortal words are not going to be a part of any planned public presentation. Next.

“My name is Theresa Duke, and I am also voting for revolutionary suicide tonight. I was uhm one of capitalisms casualties. I…uhm… I…When I came here I was a drug addict, and I was a drug addict because I didn’t have anything to live for. But since I’ve been here, love has given me something to live for, and I’ve seen this happen in the lives of everybody here. I…uhm also…uh since I’ve been here, I’ve been able to see that communism uhm, uhm it’s what is… necessary to bring this about. Um, uh before I came here, I could only see what was wrong with this society, but I couldn’t see what was necessary to bring about a change. Uhm so the communal life here has shown me the way. I’ve gotten to really live it here and it has taught me that basically the problem is uhm economic and the only way that we will be able to change anything is through economics and uhm…”
Andrew appears to be no more pleased with this rambling nonsense than he was with sad John. He waves his hands around and re-directs her to stay on point, and that point is.
“Theresa, let’s try to be a bit more clear dear. Could you just tell us why you are choosing revolutionary suicide over say going to uhm, say communist Cuba for example.”
Way to go Andrew, keep us on task I say. The poor girl looks a bit confused can it be that a woman who appears to be all of twenty hasn’t properly thought out her reasons as to why she should do away with herself? Beyond the obvious desire I think we can all share to get the fuck out of here, by hook or by crook, or by a bullet in the head. I’ve got to hand it her she seems to be rallying for the final answer round.
“Uhm, oh yeah okay, uhm I well I feel that uhm in spite of the fact that communism is the answer that we as a group, are uh just, uhm we’re premature. You know here too early. In that what we have found here is so much more advanced and stuff than what other societies have to offer. And I feel that if we went to another society that uhm, we would end up being a…another minority group. And I feel that societies that exist have not dealt with racism and uhm sexism to the uh, to the uhm extent that we have here, and I…I…I don’t think that uhm, well uhm that we would be able to live with it at this point after we have come as far as we have.”
Andrew looks very pleased with this answer. Oh, Oh my he is pleased. She gets motioned up towards the stage by his whore Georgia to receive a cookie. Now that’s what they like to see. Not just a willingness to die but one couched in such complimentary terms. I am really going to have to put my thinking cap on tonight or I will be going to bed cookieless and that seems like a damn shame. Andrew is speaking again.
“Well if you would allow me to disagree, I think that racism as an institution is dead in Cuba. I do agree though that there might be difficulty in coping with some of our children coming out of the ghetto to integrate with their children who have been fortunate enough to be born into a revolutionary society. And to have grown up free of the tensions of the ghetto. I have tried here to override a great many of these problems but there does seem to be some question. The main question is whether or not we could be brought to Cuba as a group, or even if we can be brought there, and if it would be possible to go and not put an undue burden on them. It seems that tonight though I am hearing a consensus. It’s too bad I didn’t get the last speaker on tape, but what I am hearing is that it seems it would be difficult for a transition to take place in another country, and there might be some regression. Uh if our children were just thrown into uhm circumstances where they had to assimilate immediately. We would have a language barrier and all the problems too that come from living in an inner city culture, coming from an entirely different culture, and we have wondered about whether we should even place such an undue burden upon Cuba and our own children. Now I hear from a young woman like yourself and of course I’ve heard the same sentiment over and over from thousands of people that we represent such an advancement over other societies. I have had the great pleasure of visiting Cuba myself for a time and I would not want to cast dispersion on other-other nations in their own struggle and other groups in their fight for liberation. But I just wanted to interject that I really respect what you are saying and your opinion, thank you Theresa. Is there anyone else who wants to say anything else tonight about this before I let all of you get some sleep? You all know I never sleep, but I understand the needs of my people to get a little of it.”
The crowd erupts into sycophantic laughter and shouts of “we love you father.” The poor idiot girl who gave the speech about how advanced we are is just standing by the stage with her cookie hanging out of her mouth shouting, “thank you father” over and over. As for me, I’m just praying that enough morons have chosen to air their thoughts tonight so I can get back to my dirt encrusted sheets and lay there and sweat for three hours before I have to be back in the field. But no, of course not, up goes another hand, pop goes the weasel and we are treated to more insight.
“Thank you father, thank you. My name is Robert Raker. Yes I’m uhm, I’m real glad tonight for the decision that I’ve made to commit revolutionary suicide. I’ve lived in the cities and the ghettoes. I’ve been in the, in the…in the United States and the states were horrible places. I have often wanted to help but I didn’t have any…any…uhm guidance. I had no, no how to reach people. I had joined a lot of other organizations in hoping to do that. It’s why I never got a job, I was too busy trying to you know help people. But I failed everywhere I turned and even got arrested a lot of times. When I have come here though to this wonderful place, uh it was real good. Lots of those who have escaped… uhm…I mean…uhm run away, uh, I mean uhm defected. They have gone out there and been eating lots of hamburgers and trying to destroy what is real good and meaningful and real purposeful in many people’s lives. We got all these real old people here… uhm I mean seniors and they are heavy with years and stuff. All them bad people they want to destroy all the seniors and the little kids who done nothing to hurt them. And so since these bad people who escaped, I mean defected want to destroy us and they have brought us to this real desperate point I would gladly rather be dead than go on. I mean…or uhm I want to give my life in revolutionary suicide so they will feel real bad about this and I hope other groups will all do it too.”
Well, who could possibly follow up that? On my left side I can feel the young woman sitting beside me shaking with emotion, and I just can’t help it, I hit her in the ribs with my elbow. She turned to look at me in shock and then I could see that she hadnt been crying, she was laughing.
She must have seen something on my face that unnerved her because she got serious fast. But I decided to risk it, I have to. Seeing laughter was so unexpected here, so I gave her an exaggerated wink. Andrew was asking all of us to stand and hug our neighbor in fellowship and she abruptly threws her arms around my neck. I tried to pull back a little but she ground her face into the side of mine and in a low harsh whisper said.
“There is a congressman coming here soon, that’s what this is about. It’s a chance, my names Monica.”
I could tell that people were staring at us, even that fucking little dog of Andrews, Barton was eyeballing us from the stage. Thinking on my feet for once I just moved my head and smashed my mouth down onto hers hard. I turned us towards the stage where Andrew was sitting and I yanked her arm up with mine. Hoping that those fuckers would mistake the shaking in my voice for emotion and not the fear it was, I hoarsely shouted at them. “Vive la revolution, vive la revolutionary suicide.”
There was a minute of silence from Andrew and I thought I had had it. But he began grinning.
“Well look at that folks. Even communist faggot is ready. So hey Gabriel, you do know that’s a woman you just kissed right?”
I nodded, grinning back at him like an idiot.
“Okay, well good for you. All of you can go to bed now, and thank me in your prayers for yet another miracle. The faggot has turned.”
I don’t mind their nasty laughter and I don’t mind the heat, or even not getting a cookie tonight. The congressman is coming.