Watermelon Punch

Some, hopefully well meaning, white folks came to Korea to evangelize the gospel of Jesus according to their version of christianity.  
Later on, some, hopefully well meaning, Korean folks adapted and adopted Christianity.  That’s where I had my first watermelon.  During the 80s, fruit was a delicacy.  
I’m not sure if it was a tactic or simple benevolence, however, the neighbourhood church drew me in with this fruit.  
I ravenously ate the fruit, drank its punch, well into my 30s.  

As an apostate, I reminisce about my former life.  
Most of my behaviours were dictated by the fear of hell.  I was terrified of hell, and willing to do everything in my power to avoid it, even if it meant repeating the sins of my colonial fathers.  So there I was, in Guyana, hoping to save some souls to guarantee my real estate in heaven. 

I was ignorant of Guayana’s Jonestown massacre when I set foot in the back of that Bedford. 

I was eager to evangelize so I didn’t go to hell.   

I do not know what exactly I accomplished, other than bringing old clothes and imparting a need for unnecessary and unsustainable junk. 

I am ambivalent about my stint as a missionary.  
I am unsure, what the right feelings are.  At best I hope they dismissed our presence as a passing carnival. 

Music Dreamville by Reaktor