Massha ofKlah

Review of The Mission of Yahweh

A victim of severe domestic abuse, I visited The M...

A victim of severe domestic abuse, I visited The Mission of Yahweh during the winter of 1993. Shortly after my arrival with a one year old child, I was brought to a dilapitated stucture with holes in the floor and weeds growing through the walls. What I later discovered to be crack was in an ashtray on a small folding table. I was told I would share the space with another young woman who had a young child. I was told she wasn't there at the moment, and she had been gone for several days.

I wasn't allowed to retrieve my belongings from my vehicle before I was hurried to the preacher's home. A big 'to-do' was made of insisting I scrub their toilets as they prepared to go somewhere. Finding it a bit strange, I had no problem doing so. I know how to clean... I cleaned the entire bathroom before (whom I assumed to have been) their children went into the bathroom. I was quickly directed to sweep and mop the entire house. I began doing so. Before I was done, the children were off. I was yanked by my arm to the bathroom and told I did not clean it. (There were feces on the side of the bowl again, and water and dirty clothes were left in the floor.) I cleaned it again. There were dirty clothes all over the house. Gathering the dirty clothes through-out the house in large garbage bags, the petty tyrant who so relished squeezing my arm and dragging me about the house instructed me to stop mopping. She delighted in telling me I'd done a horrible job, and I could look forward to doing a much better job the following day. She acted as-if I had done her some terrible, personal wrong. I'd never seen her before (or since) in my life...

This entire ordeal had taken place in the space of about 4 hours. My son had been dropped off, as I was being hurried to the house, with their version of an in-house daycare; I quickly retrieved him. Their most urgent need for a maid had prevented me from completing the intake papers; she gave me some paperwork to fill-out and a list of rules, leaving me in the tool shed I was to call home.

I phoned an acquaintance to see the place I've described. It was fortunate I'd not brought our things in from my car, for we hoped to be clear of the area before nightfall.