Jonas, who was in charge of the commune, was a tall blond Afrikaner, and he insisted on showing me around the country. I grew to love our excursions out to locations such as Constantia, where I was surprised to see many areas as green and lush as the southwest of England, I particularly loved the stunning coastline to Hout Bay with its sandy beaches; we even took a trip up Table Mountain from where the views of the coast were spectacular and we could see the range of mountains called the Twelve Apostles stretching out before us.
‘Whatever mood you’re in, we have the landscape for it,’ Jonas told me one day as we drove out to Cape Point at the tip of the peninsula, a journey that was interrupted along the way by baboons jumping up on the car bonnet and peering in at us in the hope of some food. ‘We have the rocky untamed beaches on the Atlantic side, the warmer Indian Ocean on the other. There are mountains to climb, pine forests if you fancy that, and the national park to roam in if that’s where appeals – all within a short drive.’
‘What about Stellenbosch?’ I asked.
‘That’s a town in the west of the Cape,’ said Jonas. ‘We can go there if you like. It’s grape-growing country – very lovely; in fact when the Dutch first arrived they claimed it to be paradise, the land of milk and honey, because, with its climate and scenery, it’s about as close to that as you’ll find. I’ll take you.’
True to his word, we made the journey the following week and I fell in love with the place at first sight. In later weeks, we travelled to Durban and Johannesburg. Along the way, we watched sunsets that took my breath away, vivid in purple, gold and scarlet, different and stunning every dusk. The surroundings seemed brighter, more vibrant – the red earth, the endless blue skies, the beauty of creation evident everywhere I looked. As the months went by, I felt the power of Africa, magical and ancient, reach inside and heal my heart.
A letter came from the founders of the Rainbow Children after I’d been in Cape Town just under a year,
Dear Indigo (Michelle),
Pardon the formal nature of this letter, but as there are so many indigos now around the world, we have had to contact everyone by post, giving a telephone number – which you can find at the end of this letter – for you to call if you have any questions.
There are to be a few changes in how we run things. I hope you understand and will be happy with how things are to go forward. We’ve been reviewing everything in the last few months and decided that we have to halt the direction of the movement. Looking at how we appear to the general public, it has been noted that many believe us to be a cult. Being a member of the Rainbow Children, you know that this is not true as we are not a religious group, far from it, but in view of this feedback, we are implementing some changes to make the teachings more user-friendly. We will be dissolving the communes and encouraging all those who live in them to go back to their lives, find jobs, find homes and continue with the teachings in their everyday life.
We are also letting go of the indigo system of spreading the teachings. It has been noted, since their numbers have grown, the message has been diluted, as individuals added their own personal beliefs – some politics here, a sprinkling of a religious belief there. It was inevitable that this might happen but, in order to keep the teachings simple and clear, we are working towards using other methods of spreading the message and we will be creating videos, films and reading material that the public can access when they wish.
We would like to thank you for your efforts, time and energy on our behalf and wish you all the best for your future.
In love and peace John, Robert, Maya and Debra.
Any questions, please call: 00 0786999
Just like that, it was over.
It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over me. I was shocked. Although I’d had times of wavering about the lifestyle back in the UK, I’d been happy in South Africa, and had begun to think my commitment to the Rainbow Children would be for life, like a marriage. Suddenly I’d been informed that, out of the blue, there was to be a divorce.
As the implications hit me, so did a sense of panic. Where would I go? What would I do? I was twenty-three. I had no money, no savings, no job experience to speak of; nothing to put on a CV. The reaction in the commune was mixed. Shock, some relief, some anger. Some left the same day, some the day after; some were anxious about where they were to go. Like me, they had given their time and energy to furthering the teachings.
By the end of the week, besides me, there were three left in the commune. Jonas, Peter and Susan.
‘Talking about rats deserting a sinking ship,’ said Jonas, as we watched another housemate get into a friend’s car and drive away.
‘What will you do, Mitch?’ asked Susan.
‘No idea. Maybe return to the UK. I don’t know. I have to speak to someone back in the UK, see if there is any kind of plan in place.’
‘But what do you want?’ asked Jonas.
I laughed. ‘Me? I’ve no idea any more. Being part of the Rainbow Children has been my life for so long, it’s hard to know what to do or where to go.’
It
