My Story
I was born and raised in the sadistic cult aka THE CHILDREN OF GOD.
Violence, beatings, forced labor, sexual abuse and malnutrition marred my childhood. When I was thirteen I decided enough was enough and told my parents I wanted out.
What followed would become a living nightmare.
My parents declared me rebellious, puke in God's eyes. I was locked in a darkened room with boarded-up windows. I was not even allowed to leave to shower or to go to the toilet. Instead, I was forced to live in that horror day in and day out… for months. Almost daily my step-father Steven would enter the room to commit some atrocity or another on my frail malnourished body. The "Lord" had told him that he was ordered to "drive out the demons of self-righteousness and rebellion."
Sometimes I can still feel his belt across my face, my arms and my naked body to this day.
I was then snuck out in the middle of the night and driven by my sadistic step-father north of Germany… where I was abandoned with my grandparents. I never even got to say goodbye to my friends and siblings.
My grandparents were told that I was violent, rebellious and a difficult teen…
Before I could even open my mouth I was told, "do as you're told, go to school and come straight home." No friends, no life — just school and back at home. Even going into the little town to talk with my schoolmates was forbidden… No wonder I ran away… again.
But soon enough I was fifteen… it was time to figure out life all on my own. No one would hurt me or boss me around against my will ever again… That’s when a life-changing occurrence happened.
It was a warm summer’s day in June 1996. I was leaving the youth hostel in old town of Solothurn. As I crossed the cobblestone road I heard some gentle singing accompanied by a guitar. A man by the name of B.R.Pearce sat on some steps by the edge of water rehearsing.
He was singing a song that rang out to me. “Little black sheep don’t cry, keep your faith, and hold your head high…” I was just fifteen years old when approached the man sitting at the river’s edge and asked him if I could have a go on his guitar. Robert liked my voice and we began talking. That afternoon the two of us busked in the old town of Solothurn. I did not own an instrument of any kind at the time, so we took turns playing Robert’s guitar. We made what to my eyes seemed like a small fortune. It wasn’t quite enough to buy a second guitar but sufficient to buy a pair of bongos. And so I became Robert’s percussionist. By evening it was clear to me that I had found my destiny. After all what did I have to lose? I surely wouldn’t miss my violent, alcoholic stepfather. To spontaneously go travelling with a man I didn’t know, who was twenty four years my senior made perfect sense at the time. Besides, I liked Robert. He showed me respect and gave me dignity. We are close friends to this day.
After months of travelling with Robert, I finally saved up enough money to buy my own guitar, and started to earn a living with music. Robert left back to Antwerp and I decided to have a go at making my own life experiences.
3o years on... all across Europe, the story continues
I REFUSE TO WORK WITH ANYONE WHO WANTS ME TO HIDE MY STORY OR SPEAK OPENLY ABOUT THE HORRORS THAT HAPPENED IN THE CHILDREN OF GOD