In warm and loving memory of Davida

from moon beam - Thursday, February 09, 2006
accessed 2320 times

To my sister in sorrow:
Too well did I understand
The look in your haunted eyes;
Pain and disallusionment.
You fought a losing battle,
And lost.
And died.
I will shed for you the tears
Of a lifetime you will never live.
The tears you will never more shed.
Madonna of suffering,
Wrapped in the cold shroud of death.
I wept with you.
I weep for you.
For I still can.
The tide of tears has turned.
Sleep, my sister,
And weep no more.

(Written on her tombstone)
-Julianna 2005

Davida, one of my beautiful sisters died last year at the age of 24, in Athens, Greece, from an overdose of heroin. She was in her eyes an only child. She had left the family with her mom, Sotiria during the MWM phase. Dad had made no effort at all to be a father to her, this caused her a great deal of hurt and pain and she finally gave up. She didn't know about all her brothers and sisters and how close by we were.

I am saddened and angry that I only knew of her existence a few years before she died but with no way of finding her, now, it is too late.

TF mock their children when they break the family ties and bonds that could save a person. Having people around who love and care for you gives you a mirror of yourself. She never found her mirror and when there was a chance it told her she wasn't good enough, not worth it. The lords work came first, being out of the family was a sin, feeling hurt, pain and rejection was a weakness of hers rather than the fault of her upbringing and those who were given the responsibility to love and cherish her to make her feel safe and valued. She numbed the pain and began taking heroin. That too was a sin and her a sinner.

Where is the compassion, the love for the real lost and lonely? As she so sadly was. My father still hasn't told us about his daughter himself. We would never have known if it hadn't have been for my sister, Julie.

Julie had met her once when they were both fifteen and last month made her way to visit us via Greece to meet with Davida's mother, Sotiria, to pass on our condolences and regrets, and visit her grave.

I wish she could have known her many half brothers and sisters. I wish she could have known how much she was loved and that she wasn't alone, that I wanted to meet her so much. I am sorry that she struggled and saw no end. It breaks my heart that it didn't have to be this way.........She will be remembered by us
Kristina, Celeste, David, Julie, Jonathan, Kiron, Rosie and Christopher.

Little things make me smile when I think of her, we had the same taste in jewelery and our leather jackets are identical. Those eyes, beautiful big eyes and cheeky smile. I imagine her dancing as she loved to do.

May she rest in peace!

This is a written account of Julie's visit.

"Davida, her life was affected very much by the decisions of my father, who ultimately was influenced by The Family.”
"Who?" Davida's uncle replied.
"The Family..." Sotiria lapsed into a Greek explanation of the group in question. It seemed Nikos was for the most part ignorant of it's existance. And he did not understand the relevance of their involvement with Davida.
"Well, it's like this," I explained. "Within this group The Family, my father was...is...very famous. Like a kind of icon. Because of this, the leaders of The Family wanted him free to work on whatever they wanted him to work on. They wanted him free from other obligations, especially a wife and children. So he was never made to take responsibility for any of his kids. He slept with many women, and had many children, but he never took care of any of them. This is what happened with Davida...with me."
"They make abuse to many children!" Sotiria interrupted me to get in her piece. "I remember one boy I take care of when I was there; only one and a half. He very insecure child. They always spanking him. Some days he would get four, five spankings in one day. I love him very much. I take care of him, and he was very good boy to me. But when I not there, they spank him all the time. Christopher was his name! I told the shepherds one day, I say, 'Why you spank him? It is very wrong. Children should be talked to, explain things to, not to beat all the time.' They don't like me, because I always say what I think. Eventually I just leave."
Nikos listened intently, hearing it all for the first time. "You know what has happened to the child of the leader of this group?" Sotiria was obviously not finished with the subject. I had just told her what happened to Davidito the day before. It affected her deeply. "He kill himself and another woman!" She crossed herself. "God's mercy! Did that not say something to these people? Did it not show them that they are ruining children's lives?"
"No, actually." I laughed; mainly because the alternative was to cry. " They literally demonize the ex-member children who try to speak out against the wrongs committed. They say there's a demon that takes them over and uses them. When Davidito died, they said it showed what happens when you leave God's Family and go out into the System. The devil will take you over and use you like happened with him."
Sotiria crossed herself again and muttered, "God's mercy. I pray every day for these children. For their souls. Poor children! Poor, poor children." She had been smoking incessantly this whole while. She paused here to light another cigarette. "You know, always I tell Davida when she becomes eighteen, I will pay for her ticket to go an see her father if she likes. I never lie to her. Always I tell her her father is busy with his life, and we have ours. But if she want, when she turn eighteen, she can go to see him. But then, Jenny calls one day when Davida is fifteen. She tells her many things about her father, and her father sends her a letter."
I clear my throat. "I...I think I'm responsible for that letter."
"What? You?"
"Well, I was also fifteen, and I heard more from him about my sister, and I told my dad we need to find her. That he needs to get in contact with all his children. So he listens to me, and writes the letter. I didn't know it ever reached you though. We never got any reply. And I left him soon after."
"Yes, she get the letter. And he warms her heart towards him. And Jenny tells her many things about her father also. And it warms her heart to her father. Before this, she was okay. Then, she never again hears anything. So she becomes very depressed. This is when she begin to drink and take drugs."
"And dad knows this?"
"No. When you visit I say nothing to him. But now I understand, he did not come because he want to know her. He come for himself. Just to to make peace with his own conscience. She begin drugs because of him. She unhappy only after he write that letter. I think I am going to call now that she is gone, and tell him what I think. What you think? I should write or call?
"Up to you. Whatever you're more comfortable doing."
"I think I call. I can speak much easier over the phone."
"Yes. I think he needs to hear it."
"You think it will do any good? He will even listen?"
"Maybe. I think if he hears it from enough people, he may wake up to the fact that he has been a negligent father to many of his children."
"You know after you leave, she very angry with him. She say, 'He is no father. Not to me, not to Julie. I never want to see him again. What he want me to come to Uganda for? What I do there? Only to work for him like Julie. No, I don't want to go. I will only fight with him."

In another conversation

"As if hearing my thoughts, Nikos continued. "She was tired of everything. She was not strong enough to fight it a second time. And she could not love anybody. She did not trust anybody to love her. That is why all the men try and nobody can get close. She expect them to leave her in the end. So anybody she start to feel something, she push away and never see again."
I understood then. " It started with our father."
"Yes. She expect all men to be like her father. Even friends. She cannot accept love from anybody."
I sipped my wine. Reverting inwards to my own thoughts again. Were we so similar after all? But her demons had killed her, and I had conquered mine in my own way. Perhaps not unscathed, but at least stronger. What had made the difference?
"And you?" Nikos reached over and patted my head. "You are stronger than her, I think." He had an uncanny way of seeing my silent thoughts. Then in a flash of understanding, an answer came.
"Inoculation!"
"What?"
"I was inoculated."
"I don't understand."
"In the old days of kings and nobles, death by poison was a common method of assassination, yes?"
He nodded to show he understood.
"So the kings and important people of state, used to take a small portion of poison in their meals, so that their bodies would become adjusted to it, so should anyone try to poison them, they would only become sick, not die. The same principal of giving people shots against diseases; they inject a little bit of the disease into them, so they become immune."
"Yes, yes."
"So, I had small portions of poison my whole life, I had the disease many times, so that I became sick from it, yes, but eventually I grew stronger, immune. My sister never had it, so when it hit her once, she never recovered. She could not handle it; eventually, she died."
Nikos contemplated the analogy briefly. "Yes, I think you are right."


Taken from Davida’s Diary

"I am looking at the sky, the trees, the lights and the people. All leaving their smells on this world. I wish to forget all the times of pain and loneliness. I wish that time could stop and I can go back to the center of Athens to see again the people who have broken my heart; to see my fears, inside their sad faces.
They looked into my blue eyes and not the pain that is in my heart. I cry, I sing, and I wait for someone to embrace me."

(written by Davida shortly before her death)


Time is the worst kind of doctor.
It burns and freezes you till you shatter;
But in awhile you won't be here.
Someone else will be fighting the powder

You desperately want to finish again
An endless trip, alone.
But the oldest God awakes under your clothes;
You carry baggage from every road.

Which maps warmed again your mind.
Which oceans dried up in your head.
Which wind carried you away from here
Tell me which fear you loved again?

Which dream awoke you limp and wet;
Which demons haunted your dizzy trips;
Which love pushed you far from here;
Tell me which fear you loved again?

The dream that one day carried you here;
Today burns, rusts and drives you away.
It holds you to earth then spits you into space
The same dream that destroys and saves you.

You desperately want to finish again
An endless trip, alone;
But the oldest God awakes under your clothes;
You carry baggage from every road.

Which threads string you together with another needle's eye;
Which waves drive you away from this port;
Which destiny calls you from the other side;
Tell me which fear you loved again?

Which clouds hover over your parched heart;
Which stars herald your new confusion;
Which lie holds you truly close;
Tell me which fear you loved again?

Which words rot inside that you can't speak;
Which hope drives you to the sweetest delusion;
Which sorrow kicks you further from everything;
Tell me which fear won you again?

by Davida



Abraham was told by god “go kill your only son,”
Your father was told by berg to give you up.
God presented a lamb at the last minute and his son was saved,
Where was your lamb when your father obeyed?
It never came…………It never came!……………………