The knife games Yani had played on the Salvation with West’s pirate crew were not wasted. His knife glinted in the morning sun as it nailed the man to the wooden box. It went in through the middle of the back of his hand, just below the third finger, and buried itself in the soft pine. At the same time, Yani kicked the man’s feet out from under him and he fell, causing the double-edged knife to slice its way between the knuckles and to freedom. He pulled the knife out of the wood, and jumped back as the big black man screamed in pain. Clutching the bleeding hand to his chest, he scrambled to his feet and ran away toward the village, with just about everyone following.
Dr. McDuff had difficulty believing what he had just seen. Someone could have been killed over a can of food. This was nothing like he pictured establishing a church would be. In its simplest form, his dream was that he would set up a makeshift church using his jungle tent. It would be in a clearing somewhere with benches made from palm logs. He had seen pictures of such churches in National Geographic — but they were in Africa. Obviously, things were different here.
The sight of Yani standing naked on the pier, finishing his can of bully beef without being the least self-conscious was disturbing. These people had no modesty. He was uncomfortable enough that the women were bare breasted, but men going about completely unclothed was too much. Besides, Yani’s bravery deserved some sort of reward. There is no telling what might have happened if he had not been there.
McDuff looked over the crates until he came to one marked “clothing.” It was packed full of castoffs, mostly donated by friends back on Cape Cod, and was intended for situations just like this. He opened the lid and took out two packages.
It was just as well that Yani had ridded himself of the filthy, worn-out shorts he had been wearing. When he first saw the boy, McDuff commented to the Australians that his drawers were more decorative than functional and that they “covered everything and concealed nothing.”
When the Churchboy finished eating the contents of the can in the nude, and had licked his fingers clean, McDuff told him to kneel on the ground and receive his first gift from the true God. He did so without protest.
The minister held a neatly folded white shirt and khaki shorts over Yani’s head and with his eyes closed said, “And Adam and Eve became aware of their nakedness and they hid their shame and took raiment unto them.”
Of course, what Yani had no way of knowing was that not only could Dr. McDuff quote the sacred and magic scripture, he was equally capable of creating it to suit his own purposes.
The American handed the shirt and shorts to Yani and said, “God wants you to cover your nakedness with these clothes.” Yani took the clothing and unfolded the shirt. Here he found the minister’s secret markings that shielded him from danger and the evil spells from other gods. Emblazoned on the back, in bright embroidery was a golden cross and in red, “Massachusetts Youth for Christ Conference — 1934.”
Yani was impressed and very happy. This God was not only generous, but had had an eye for beauty as well. He put the shirt on and then tried the shorts. He was clearly better dressed than any of West’s crew had been, and certainly better than any Blackfella on Chase Island.
Dr. McDuff told him for the first of hundreds of instances to button up his fly. That seemed to be silly since the fly had to be unbuttoned so frequently. However, he allowed that perhaps this buttoning and unbuttoning procedure was one of the sacred hand movements this God required of his followers to insure the magic.
___
McDuff was sufficiently confident in his new assistant to leave him to guard the supplies, and began his trek up the dirt trail to Thompson’s Big House.
In addition to the corned beef, stewed beef, and mutton, the other thing that Yani found fascinating was a bolt of cotton cloth. To him the red and white checkered material was as fine as silk might be to a European. Chase Island had no such luxury. People wore grass skirts because that was as close to fabric as nature made available. Cotton did not grow in the South Seas.
He cut off a length and made himself a headband, and thought how impressed Ooma would be if he could see him now.
___
When McDuff reached the house, his shirt was soaked through with perspiration. Thompson, sitting on a verandah with a drink in one hand and binoculars in the other, wore only shorts and an undershirt.
“That was quite a show your boy put on down there,” he said. “I watched the whole thing through my field glasses. They’ll think twice before trying to steal from you with that yahoo as a watchdog. If I were you, I’d make sure you keep him near you at all times until you learn your way around here.”
Thompson was more friendly than he had been the night before. He decided that an American missionary was better to have around to talk to than no one at all. They spent the next hour or so getting acquainted, and McDuff deposited his bag of hymnals in his assigned room.
“I’ll tell my boys to move your stuff up here, and put it in the storehouse along with the boxes Wembly brought me. Tomorrow we can look about for a place for you to start clearing the brush and set up your tent.”
“What do I do with Yani, my Churchboy? I don’t imagine he is allowed in the house.”
“Of course not. I have a few servants, but they all take care of their own living space outside. I’ll tell Jeeves to show him a place near the house where he can build a lean-to.”
“Jeeves?” said McDuff, raising an eyebrow.
Thompson smiled. “My little joke. I call him my butler, but what he is, of course, is really a houseboy. He affects to the white man’s ways whenever he can. He even has learned a few words of English, believe it or not.”
“I’m glad you mentioned that. I’m in a quandary about this language business. I understand that the natives don’t speak anything but Booga-booga, as you call it. I had expected them to speak Pidgin, and that’s what I have learned,” McDuff said.
“Your boy speaks Pidgin, doesn’t he?”
“To a limited degree. Not as much as the Patrol Officers seemed to think. However, I do manage to make myself understood.”
“Well since he speaks the same language as the natives, and the only link you have in common is Pidgin, the path seems rather clear. Reinforce his Pidgin skills so he can explain the rules and regulations of the church to your would-be congregation.”
“To be quite honest, Mr. Thompson, I had a different approach in mind,” the American said. “I was thinking of teaching Yani to speak English, and it would eliminate a lot of this circumlocution business — which is all Pidgin seems to be.”
Thompson’s posture became somewhat more rigid. “Actually, Reverend, there really are a few things you should know about before you plunge into deep waters and find out you can’t swim.”
“What do you mean?” McDuff asked.
“I have a very strong feeling that you regard these natives as ordinary people who just happen to have dark brown skin.”
“Of course, they’re people. Whatever do you mean?”
“If you think about it, it’s quite obvious that the closer your origins are to the Equator the stupider you are. These people would have to go north to get any dumber,” Thompson said. “Take this cargo cult business that’s been running rampant in the islands the past few years...”
McDuff interrupted him, “Cargo cult? I’m sorry I am not familiar with the term. What’s a cargo cult?”
“Good God, man, you really don’t have any idea of what’s going on in this part of the world, do you?” Thompson said angrily. “They see us as the ‘haves’ and themselves as the ‘have-nots.’ They look at what we call subsistence living here in the islands, and perceive it as vast wealth. They don’t have the foggiest notion of factories or production or any kind of technology. Worst than that, they refuse to learn.”
McDuff looked thoughtful. “I take it this causes some kind of problem.”
“You’re god-damned right it causes a problem. They’re waiting for a messiah and I
don’t mean Jesus Christ. They are waiting for some fella named John Frum to bring all the White man’s cargo to them without working. I can’t get them to work for me on the plantation. They figure if they just wait long enough, we’ll leave and everything we have will be theirs.”
“I was unaware of that. I guess it is up to me to convince them that Jesus is the true messiah,” McDuff said.
Thompson was not listening. He was too wound up with his own rhetoric. “The Cargo Cult couldn’t exist in Sweden, England, or Germany, now could it? Not unless they were overrun with immigrants from some perpetual warm area. Temperate zones, like we have in Australia, or northern climes in Europe produce people that need to plan ahead for their survival. Equatorial climates produce people without a need to plan anything of a practicable nature. It’s almost impossible to starve here and quite impossible to freeze to death. The brain coasts into neutral ... there to remain for centuries.”
“That’s a very interesting theory, Mr. Thompson,” Dr. McDuff said, “but what’s it got to do with teaching Yani to speak English?”
Thompson jumped to his feet. His eyes blazed. “See here, McDuff, I suggest you forget that idea immediately. One of the rules we follow in this part of the world is — Don’t teach the natives English. If you can’t learn their language, teach them Pidgin, but under no circumstances should they be taught the King’s English!”
McDuff was taken aback. He was bewildered. “Why on earth is that?” he asked.
“Quite simply, Reverend McDuff.” He sneered the title. “Because once you teach them English, you will no doubt teach them how to read. If they begin to speak and read English, they are going to start to think. The last thing any of us wants here is a native population that bloody thinks for itself. Just watching most of them trying to think is painful.”
“Surely that’s not true of all of them,” McDuff argued. “My man, Yani, seems quite bright. They can’t all be so stupid that an occasional spark of latent intellect does not bloom forth to produce a marginally effective person.”
“The reason you are here, Dr. McDuff, is to tell them what to think. Once you have finished teaching them what to think, it is my job to tell them what to do. The only thing we want them to do is work on the copra plantations. That’s why we are bloody here! You can save their souls all you want, but their arses belong to me!”
Thompson stormed off the verandah, and headed for the pier. At first, McDuff’s American democratic hackles were up, but as he reflected on what his host had said, he decided to consult his Second Bible. The minister took out Reverend Paton’s book and thumbed through it until he found what he was looking for:
“The Tanese had hosts of stone idols, charms and sacred objects which they abjectly feared, and in which they devoutly believed. They were given up to countless superstitions, and firmly glued to their dark heathen practices. Their worship was entirely a service of fear, its aim being to propitiate this or that Evil Spirit, to prevent calamity or to secure revenge.
“They deified their chiefs, like the Romans of old, so that every village or tribe had some sacred men. They exercised an extraordinary influence of evil, these village or tribal priests, and were believed to have the disposal of life and death, through their sacred ceremonies, not only in their own tribe, but over all the Islands. Sacred men and women, wizards and witches received presents regularly to influence the gods, and to remove sickness, or to cause it.”
McDuff had no idea that his Churchboy was regarded in that light by the local tribesmen. He read on:
“Their whole worship was one of slavish fear; and so far as ever I could learn, they had no idea of a God of mercy or grace.
“The natives, destitute of the knowledge of the true God, are ceaselessly groping after Him. Not finding Him, and not being able to live without some sort of god, they have made idols of almost everything: trees and groves, rocks and stones, springs and streams, insects and other beasts, men and departed spirits...”
He put the book down and looked out over the lagoon. Perhaps it would be best if Yani did not learn Standard English. It would do a lot in the way of putting them on an equal footing. The success of his religious mission depended on his being superior to the natives in every way, intellectually as well as spiritually. Thompson was right; if they could speak his language, they might argue with him, or even develop thoughts of their own. It was important that they accept, not question.
If they were limited to Pidgin, they could construct only mediocre responses and simplifications. The Home Church in Boston had provided him with a few mimeographed church services, prayers and hymns in Pidgin. McDuff made a conscious decision to observe this white man’s taboo. He had enough problems with setting up a church as it was ... He would encourage his Churchboy to see the Truth as he saw it. Anything else would only make things harder.
Chapter 7
A truce was declared between Thompson and McDuff, but there remained a cool gap between the two men. They took their meals together at the Big House where the plantation manager had trained several native women to keep things looking European — or Australian, depending on your point of view.
A suitable clearing was selected and McDuff put up his tropical tent. Yani loved it. By tacit agreement, he slept there and for all practical purposes, it was his home. Yani proved to be a good pupil, and Reverend McDuff was a stern teacher. The boy improved his Pidgin very quickly and McDuff made no conscious effort to teach him English.
It was not difficult for Yani to learn carpentry skills since he regarded the steel tools with awe. He learned to use a handsaw almost with glee. Working palm wood was slow and laborious work with a stone ax, but a steel crosscut saw ripped through a log with hardly any effort at all. The Chase Islander drew a crowd of boys every day as he fashioned benches out of trees. When one of them picked up the saw while Yani was nailing two boards together, he snatched it away from him and cuffed him smartly on the ear. “These are sacred tools,” he told them. “Kilibob gave them to the Witman, and one by one Yani is taking them back. They are not to be touched, except by me.” It was a message the children carried back to the village, raising Yani’s stock even higher.
Hammering nails to join wood was another new experience. The steel hammerhead driving the iron nails truly gave him joy and a feeling of power. Big Man Duff, as he called him, had to stop him from using too many nails. There was only one keg of six-penny nails, and they would have to wait a long time before any new ones would come their way.
The young native man thought constantly about the nature of the things he now saw around him: Steel tools, Nails, Tinkens. He wore his red-checked gingham headband all the time, and wondered if he might not make himself a matching sash. It was said among the natives that the red squares were made from the blood of men Yani had killed in battle back on his own island.
He wondered continually how he would get all of Kilibob’s gifts back to his island. When would Big Man Duff teach him the sacred chants and ceremonies he would need?
When Yani felt he had enough nerve and mastered Pidgin sufficiently to phrase the question, he approached the minister one evening after they were finished working for the day. “How Witman get tinken? How Witman get cloth?”
McDuff had no idea how much time his Churchboy had spent thinking about this subject. He had begun to plan how he would approach the islander’s conversion, and decided this was the time to lay the groundwork. His answer in Pidgin was simplistic. “We worship God. We are his children. We do his will. We believe his son, Jesus Christ, died for our sins and he is gracious unto us. We receive his gifts because we follow his word.”
Yani became an instant convert. Any God who delivered food in tinkens without having to wait long weeks for pigs to mature or the garden to yield vegetables from the dirt was worth following. All Christians needed to do, apparently, was learn the chants, prayers and significant hand movements McDuff used, and God would send him food and cloth ... not to mention the metal tools McDuff
had taught him how to use.
___
On Christ’s Despair, as it had been on Chase Island, it was customary for everyone to arise at first light, and complete most of their obligatory activities well before the sun got too high in the sky. On an equatorial island, the temperature is always near 90 degrees at midday. By what would have been 10 a.m. in the white man’s reckoning, whatever was going to be done was, indeed, done. Everyone returned to the shade of his hut to sleep, eat, drink, enjoy sex or just lounge. If you had planted your garden according to the proper family ritual, with the right chants, there was nothing else for you to do but wait for everything to ripen.
About three in the afternoon the almost daily cloudburst occurred when the rain clouds reached the right altitude. Once the storm was spent, the temperature went down and the humidity went up. At that point, the social life began, women began preparing food. The day usually ended with the men consuming massive quantities of kava that induced a form of docile paralysis.
It was not until sundown that the island’s only white men had dinner. Although he still ate at the Big House, Dr. McDuff now slept at his church-under-construction. He had strung a jungle hammock covered with mosquito netting in the tent. He got up each day at what he called sunrise, but actually, it was a good half hour after everyone else had already been up and around. As soon as he washed his face, he called Yani to the makeshift altar they had built in the church tent. He knelt before the altar, bowed his head, and folded his hands. Yani did the same.
McDuff closed his eyes and brought his folded hands up to his forehead. Yani did the same, but kept one eye slightly open so he could mimic what was going on. Dr. McDuff made a face that made him look as if he were in serious pain. Yani did not master that behavior at first, but he worked on it. It was only after he discovered the minister’s shaving mirror that he could practice looking dismal.
McDuff prayed silently, then recited the Lord’s prayer out loud in English. Yani could not repeat the words, but listened carefully. This was followed by a rather loud recitation of what things - the minister wanted God to do that day, such as send him glass windows for the church and to help him bring the living word of Jesus to the heathen who lived on the island. As time passed, Yani began to recognize some of the words but not the meanings.
When John Frum Came Page 6
