Nearly half a century after 918 Americans perished in a remote South American jungle under the spell of cult leader Jim Jones, the infamous Jonestown site is opening its gates — not for salvation, but for tourism.
And not everyone is thrilled.
For $750, visitors can now walk the haunted grounds of Guyana’s most gruesome tragedy — the place where men, women, and hundreds of children died in what remains the largest mass suicide in modern history. Promoted as an “educational and memorial experience,” the tours have already triggered outrage from some survivors who narrowly escaped death in 1978.
“It seems like an abuse,” said Jordan Vilchez, 67, who lost two sisters and two nephews to the poison-laced punch. “People will make money off our trauma.”
‘I Heard the Screams Over the Radio’
Vilchez, who joined the People’s Temple at 12, was in Guyana’s capital when Jim Jones ordered his followers to drink cyanide-laced Flavor-Aid in a twisted act he called “Revolutionary Suicide.”
“I heard it over a CB radio. I knew it was happening,” she said. “It didn’t shock me. Jones had been talking about mass suicide for a long time.”
Now an artist, Vilchez has spent decades unpacking the manipulation that led nearly a thousand Americans — mostly poor and Black — to follow Jones to their deaths.
“Jim was a narcissist. He convinced us that the U.S. was going to become a police state, that our only safety was in Jonestown. We believed we were building a socialist paradise. Instead, we walked into a nightmare.”
A Communist Vision Drenched in Blood
Jones, a self-proclaimed prophet with Communist leanings, began the People’s Temple in 1950s Indiana. He staged fake faith healings to draw in believers and sold his mission as racially inclusive and spiritually progressive. By the 1970s, the church had thousands of members and a stronghold in San Francisco, where Jones rubbed shoulders with local politicians.
But behind the scenes, his paranoia and drug use spiraled. When New West magazine exposed allegations of beatings, sexual abuse, and fraud, Jones fled to Guyana. There, on 3,800 acres of jungle, he promised his followers paradise. What they got was hard labor, starvation, armed guards — and death.
A Flight to Freedom Cut Down in Gunfire
Thom Bogue, now 63 and vice mayor of Dixon, California, was just 17 when he tried to escape with his family. Congressman Leo Ryan had come to investigate abuse allegations and offered anyone the chance to leave. About 18 took him up on it.
But at the airstrip, Temple loyalists opened fire. Ryan was shot dead. So were three journalists and one defector. Bogue was shot in the leg and fled into the jungle.
“I was saved by maggots,” he said. “They ate the infection. I survived three days with no food or water. I was delirious.”
Jones, knowing the game was up, gave the final order. Children were poisoned first. Then the adults followed. Jones himself was found dead with a bullet wound to the head — whether self-inflicted or not is still debated.
Tourism or Exploitation?
The new tours are run by Wanderlust Adventures GY, a local Guyanese company that insists they’re not cashing in on tragedy.
“We present the truth with dignity,” said founder Roselyn Sewcharran. “This isn’t entertainment. It’s education.”
But while some survivors recoil, others embrace the idea.
“I think it’s great,” said Bogue, who’s returned to Jonestown three times. “It’s part of history, and people need to see it. I’d love to be a consultant.”
Echoes of Auschwitz? Or Just Insensitive?
The company claims it wants to create a space akin to Auschwitz or the Cambodian Killing Fields — places where tourists confront atrocities firsthand. But unlike those memorials, Jonestown was the result of American spiritual collapse and psychological warfare, not state-run genocide.
Survivor Mike Touchette, who helped build Jonestown before Jones arrived, said, “Those early years were the best of my life. But it all went to hell. People need to understand how that happens.”
Flavor-Aid and Firearms: A Legacy That Still Haunts
Jonestown was never just about one man. It was about what happens when fear, faith, and power collide.
Today, little remains on site beyond rusted truck parts and a commemorative stone. But the legacy of blind obedience and broken promises still echoes through the jungle.
Whether tourists walk away enlightened or disturbed may depend less on the $750 ticket — and more on what America is willing to remember.
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