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.