When John Frum Came

by Bill Schroeder

  Ooma was very interested. “What can one do with such magic chants?”

  “One can call Witman ships full of the blessings of Heaven,” Yani boasted.

  Yani had used English words in his response, and the old man wasn’t sure what he meant. In an effort to clarify his meaning he said, “When the Witman says ‘the blessings of Heaven’ he means steel knives, axes, and tinkens. I have learned from the Witman bis how to call ships. I helped him to bring one to the island where we lived. It was full of blessings. The magic chant is more powerful than anything even Kilibob or Manup can do.”

  Negeb bit his lip. His knowledge of the Witman’s world in his persona as Percy was struggling greatly with Yani’s accounts. He knew that there was more to getting manufactured goods than just praying for them. He wanted to argue the point, but did not dare dispute Yani’s perception of the Witman’s power under the circumstances.

  The younger man’s description of his adventures in Brisbane, calling it Heaven, were painful, but Negeb did not want to create any disturbance because he had his own message to deliver to Ooma when it was his turn.

  Finally, Ooma turned to Negeb and asked him for an accounting of his years of absence. His ten years away from Chase Island were full of the usual abuse black islanders experienced virtually everywhere they went. However, through a series of unlikely events, he wound up as the head Policeboy in the Patrol and now had more status with the Witman than any other native.

  Ooma was not sure he was impressed. Negeb’s stories of how he had gained the Witman’s confidence seemed to be through the oppression and betrayal of his black brothers. Ooma knew that while the South Sea Islanders did not see themselves as being united, they did share a common enemy — The Witman.

  “Then if he is our enemy, how can you be so friendly with him?” Ooma questioned. “If he is our enemy, then you must kill him.”

  “I have learned much about the Witman and his ways. If I kill any Witman, I will be killed. It takes planning to defeat an enemy as powerful as the Witman. Like Yani, I can speak his two languages. The Witman will believe almost anything I tell him. He does not believe Negeb can think. He calls me Percy, and thinks I am a fool. In my Patrol uniform I can go anywhere, speak to anyone. I tell my island brothers that a great day is coming, when we will have all things the Witman has and we will have guns, too.”

  Both Yani and Ooma were riveted by his tale. Yani never suspected that there was such a dark side to Negeb’s nature. “I have been saving my message for our father, Ooma,” Negeb said somewhat sternly.

  “And what is that message, my son, Negeb?”

  He leaned toward the fire and said in English in his best conspiratorial tones, “John Frum, he come.”

  Chapter 24

  Wembly, Gale and McDuff watched the pageant unfold on the beach through binoculars. The Patrol Officers recognized the absence of anyone on the beach at first, as a danger sign and were concerned that their emissaries might go down in a shower of spears at any moment. They were fascinated by the construction of the circle, and then the final lighting of the fire by Ooma.

  “It’s amazing,” McDuff said, “that without any written documents or rules, Yani and Percy knew exactly what to do. They must have a very deep understanding of their people’s oral history.”

  “On the other hand they might have made it all up as they went along,” Gale said.

  Wembly smiled and said, “I think Reverend McDuff is probably right. All of which should be a warning to you, Doctor; you are going to be in their territory. Tread lightly. I think you might have learned that from your experience on Christ’s Despair.”

  “Amen to that. One grows up quickly in this part of the world, as I have found out the hard way. You can’t afford to make the same mistake once — much less twice.”

  “You are going to be truly the only white man on this island,” Wembly said. “Before West and his pirates, I don’t think they ever even had a white trader stay longer than it took to transact business. He must have left them wary of anyone with pale skin. Long before West, I believe they have had run-ins with the authorities over the years.”

  “The best thing to do is pay attention to what Yani tells you, Moses,” Gale added. “We don’t want to lose you.”

  McDuff blushed slightly at the implied emotional attachment, “Yes, I’m sure Coast Watchers are not going to be easy to find.” They were quiet for a few minutes as they watched the circle on shore.

  To break the silence, McDuff said, “You know there was one thing that happened just before the natives went on a rampage on Christ’s Despair. If I had known more about their customs I would have left the island with you fellows. Yani explained to me later how he knew trouble was brewing.”

  “Oh, how was that?” Wembly asked.

  “I assume you know what a namba is. You know, those outrageous sheathes made from gourds the natives wear on their sex organs.”

  “You’d have to be blind not to notice,” Gale laughed. “I saw one with a hollow gourd almost two feet long, that needed a vine attached to his shoulders to hold it upright.”

  “Exactly,” McDuff said. “Do you know the reason for wearing them?”

  “I’d guess it was a form of advertising,” Gale chuckled, “but of course delivering the product might be something else entirely.”

  “That’s what I thought. But as it turns out they normally just wear small ones woven out of leaves, more as a sort of athletic protector than anything else. When they start wearing the gourds you had better watch out,” McDuff said with surprising frankness.

  “What happens then?”

  “They get mean. If you think your average headhunter is ill-tempered under normal circumstances, imagine how vicious he could get when his private parts are in pain.”

  “Pain?” said Leslie.

  “They are not smooth on the inside. Yani tells me that for three days prior to a battle or going to war, they put the gourds on to keep them from having erections, or being tempted to dissipate their strength in having intercourse with their women. Any swelling of the male member only makes the warrior more angry. The constant source of irritation puts them in a supremely foul mood.

  “If I had known all this beforehand, I would have warned Thompson that they were getting ready to go on the warpath — or whatever you call it here in the island. Everyone was wearing one of those gourds.”

  Wembly drew heavily on his pipe, thought a bit, then said, “I never knew that, either. Your story is really quite informative. I can’t wait to hear Leslie tell it in more colorful language at the Officer’s Mess after he has had three drinks!”

  ***

  Negeb repeated his statement. “John Frum, he come.”

  “What is jonfrumycum?” Ooma frowned, never having heard the words before, and not understanding any English.

  “It is the name of a Big, Big Man. I have spoken with men from Tanna, an island many days sail from here,” Negeb said. “There a Blackfella can be put in the calaboose for a long time just for saying John Frum’s name in public.”

  Seeing the old man was having trouble with that statement, too, Yani explained that a calaboose was a sort of dark house with no windows — a thoroughly chilling thought to the elder who had spent his whole life outdoors in the sun.

  Negeb went on. “But that does not stop him. John Frum can walk through the walls of the calaboose, and talk to the men inside. He tells them he will come in a big ship. It is filled with cloth, and tinkens, and guns, and wood to build houses like the Witman has.”

  Yani added, “He comes from the same island as my bis, Big Man Duff — America. They know the magic formula for calling ships. If Big Man Duff can do it, maybe John Frum can also. America must be an island full of sorcerers.”

  Novelty and change could not be accepted in the Chase Island culture through personal adventure. It was necessary for new ideas to come through the participants’ dreams or trances. Ooma became aware that these men had been too long in the
Witman’s world. They had forgotten the nature of their people’s reality.

  He held up his hand for his sons to be silent. Looking at the setting sun he said, “It is time for us to drink kava. The spirit of the kava will give us greater understanding of the many strange things you have both told me. I am so full of your experiences I must stop and make my mind better able to receive such wonders.”

  A half dozen coconut shells were brought to the circle, and all the women were told to return to the village. The three shamans each downed two full shells of kava, and settled back while its mind-altering effects seeped into their brains.

  ***

  The white men were still taking turns watching the seaside parley. When Gale saw that the coconuts were brought to the conferees, he said, “Gentlemen, since they have just observed the local equivalent of the sun going down over the yardarm, I suggest we retire to the salon for cocktails. They have just begun the kava portion of their deliberations, which means this is going to be an ‘all-nighter.’”

  “An ‘all-nighter’?” McDuff asked naively. “Do you mean they will sit on the beach all night and get drunk?”

  “You don’t get drunk from drinking kava, Moses. You get peaceful. We don’t have anything quite like it.”

  “I know. I was drugged with it by Thompson at a native feast and I fell asleep. I couldn’t move as I recall,” McDuff said. “But on the other hand, never having been drunk on alcohol until last night, I had nothing to compare it to.”

  “It sounds like we have really led you down a path of dissolution,” Wembly said. “How’s your head?”

  “It’s returned to its normal size, I believe. I’ll pass on the cocktail hour, if you don’t mind.”

  “I find that the first thing you feel with kava is your tongue and your lips getting numb. A silence overtakes you, and you become quite content,” Wembly said. “When your legs don’t respond, it’s a good idea to stay seated or lie down where you are. Trying to walk can cause severe embarrassment.”

  “That’s true. I thought I was suffering from some kind of jungle disease that induced paralysis,” McDuff said.

  “You’re both wrong. Kava is liquid poetry,” Gale suggested. “My own experience was that my thoughts became a hundred birds — each flying off in its own direction. They swooped and soared like a flock of graceful seagulls. I remember ideas rushing forward and rising to mental treetops. Then they tumbled to the ground to nestle in the soft grass.”

  Robert Wembly laughed out loud. “Very poetic, Leslie. So that’s what goes on inside your head ... In case no one has ever told you, on the outside all you do is flap your arms and give weird birdcalls. I hear someone usually has to throw a net over you to quiet you down!”

  The three men laughed heartily and went into the main cabin to prepare for dinner.

  ***

  Food was brought to the men in the circle. They ate yams and a pudding made of taro and coconut milk. They had changed posture so that they were all sitting on their haunches, deep in thought. Ooma stood erect, went to the edge of the circle, facing out toward the sea and gave a loud yodel in a falsetto voice. He was clearing the air of jealous spirits. It was a ritual his predecessors had performed for hundreds, maybe a thousand years.

  The thin veneer of the Witman’s ways was gone from Negeb and Yani. Silence, peace, and the quiet of the jungle settled on them. They were again in the Stone Age, where they belonged.

  Inevitably the conversation came back to John Frum and the Witmen. “John Frum says the Pope in Rome is building an Army to drive out the English-speaking missionaries.”

  “Who is Pope?” Yani asked, thinking it was a personal name.

  “He is the leader of the Catholics. They are white missionaries who do hot have sex with women. They do not like the missionaries who do,” Negeb said.

  Yani considered the description. “Big Man Duff must be a Catholic. He is never interested in women. He will never talk about them. Strange people. How do they have sons?”

  Negeb did not want to talk about that aspect of Catholics. “I don’t know,” he said bluntly. “John Frum says the Pope’s army will give the Blackfella guns. They are friends of the Japfella. The Japfella will free Blackfellas from their Australian masters — like Big Man Tomsin.

  “We talk to John,” said Negeb. “We drink kava and talk to John.” Negeb picked up two cockleshells of nearly the same size from the sand. He placed one inside the other, and said, “This is me and John Frum. We are the same. His spirit is upon me.”

  In a mild trance, he began speaking. “The Witman is killing custom. He sends us churches and schools. The Witman tells us what we do is wrong. They call us ‘heathen’ which is a bad name in English. We use what God gives us on our islands, and they tell us it is wrong.”

  Yani added, “They have a strong God named Jesus. I think he is the same as Kilibob. He gave the Witman food and guns. Jesus will return. Kilibob will come back. I think Kilibob is Jesus.”

  Ooma listened. He tried to absorb what Negeb was telling him, but he reserved judgment. “I will come back, too,” the channeled John Frum spirit said. “There is a big fight coming. Many Witmen cover our island. The Japfella will give the Blackfella guns. Blackfellas will drive the Witman out of islands.

  “Some men think I look like a Witman, but I am a Blackfella like you. I will come back in an iron boat. I will give your people tinkens, guns, clothes, just like the Witman has. No more gardens. No more hunting pigs in the jungle. I will bring everything that the Blackfella needs to live. I will bring canoes like the one my friend Negeb came in.

  “Do not trust the Witman. He wants to take the Blackfella’s island.”

  Yani began to worry about what he should do with Big Man Duff. He was not personally angry with the Witman. Who was this John Frum spirit that wanted to kill the Witmen? Yani had brought home a great prize to his people — a bis who could call ships — but he was white.

  When Negeb seemed finished, Yani spoke. “When will John Frum bring us this ship full of tinkens and guns?”

  “First there will be a big fight,” the spirit of John Frum said. “Then I will come in my ship and give the Blackfella all he needs.”

  Yani argued, “We have a ship outside the reef now that already has tinkens and guns on it. Big Man Duff can call ships with his formula. He has taught me to call ships. We do not need a fight. Big Man Duff will give us tinkens now.”

  Had it not been for the soothing effects of the kava, Negeb would have been moved to strike the younger man. However, one of the peculiar qualities of the beverage was the harmony it produced. The spirit of John Frum left Negeb since it felt it was not wanted, and his host fell over asleep or unconscious as abruptly as if he had been clubbed.

  Ooma mediated the dispute. He joined Yani in sipping another half coconut of kava. “The spirit in Negeb has departed. I think he was my ancestor, Fuma, who is always looking for ways to make trouble. We will bring your Big Man Duff in from the Witman ship when the sun comes up. Now we will enjoy the peace of the kava.” He took another deep draught from the coconut, passed it to Yani, and both shamans stretched out to await the sun’s return.

  Chapter 25

  It was nearly 9:00 a.m. by McDuff’s new waterproof watch by the time Yani and Percy had loaded the radio, military tent, and even a rifle into an oversized lifeboat. In addition, there were enough food and medical supplies to last them at least three months. Both natives wore new Policeboy uniforms, but Percy’s was decorated with various insignia, and military ribbons he had acquired in his travels. This time when they went to the island, they were dressed “to the eyeballs,” as one of the Wombat’s sailors put it, and were even wearing shoes. Their roles had changed.

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t come along with us, to make my position official?” the American said as he climbed over the rail into the small boat.

  “We’d only confuse the issue,” Wembly said. “Besides, with all the stuff you’ve brought along, there’s no ro
om for us in the boat.” Wembly gave him a casual military salute.

  Leslie Gale leaned over the side, and shook his friend’s hand. “Good luck, Moses,” he said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before they disengaged. “I wasn’t kidding about listening to Yani. Do what he tells you, and you’ll stay out of trouble.”

  Percy pushed the boat away from the larger craft and they rowed for the break in the reef.

  ***

  Their arrival on the beach was quite different from the day before. Everyone in the village had come down to see the great wizard that Yani had brought back from the Witman’s island. Whereas the nakedness of the two younger shamans yesterday was regarded as a sign of humility and obeisance to Ooma, today, their Witman’s clothes were now objects of great curiosity and awe. It was their shoes (which, in fact, were only canvas deck shoes) they found the most fascinating. Percy took his off and helped Ooma put them on. The old man would wear them from then until they were torn to tatters by the sharp coral of the island.

  McDuff was somewhat annoyed that he had not become the immediate focus of attention. He had planned to make a small speech of self-introduction until Yani reminded him that none of the residents of Chase Island spoke Pidgin besides him. Also, their memories of West and company were not too pleasant.

  McDuff realized that he had no idea of the protocol involved in meeting the chief of the island’s tribe. He turned to Percy and said, “What should I do? Should I give the chief some kind of gift?”

  Percy’s persona had returned largely to the one known to the Witmen. “It is best to let me introduce you to my father, Ooma.”

  “You are the chief’s son? Good Lord, we never guessed. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  His answer took McDuff by surprise. “Yani is also a son of Ooma, but that means nothing to the Witman. We are Churchboys, Policeboys, or houseboys to the Witman,” Percy said with some satisfaction in his voice. “We are important only to our father.”