When John Frum Came

by Bill Schroeder

  Outside the hut a small band of people had formed, drawn by the smell of the frying Spam as well as plain curiosity. Among them was Poon, whom John had correctly assessed as the oldest man in the village. He had proved his right to the position of tribal wise man by having started climbing the mountain two hours before anyone did to avoid the tidal wave. He was toothless, and his body was shrunken to about two thirds of its original size.

  It did not take much imagination to realize he desperately wanted a piece of the Spam. Saliva was dribbling down his chin. John took pity on him and gave him a slice of the cooked delicacy, served on a large green leaf.

  The old man devoured the piece of strange meat hungrily. The others watched him eat the crispy morsels and savor the taste. They were silent while he gummed the foreign treat. He rolled his eyes and said, "Natum, geko. Natum geko." Some of the villagers made a face of disgust but the older men made questioning noises.

  "Geko?" one warrior asked.

  "Natum geko," the wise man answered.

  John looked at Yani. "What did he say?"

  "Poon say taste like long pig. The other men want to try some."

  John broke the pieces in half and gave them to the outstretched hands. Some turned away, choosing not to try the fried Spam. However, those who took pieces seemed to agree with Poon. "Natum geko," was the prevailing opinion.

  John opened another can and cooked all the pieces that were not eaten uncooked. Yani reported that there was general agreement that Spam tasted like long pig.

  When the economy of the island returned to normal, John was thinking of opening a trading business. Spam could be traded for fish, breadfruit, coconuts, bananas and other jungle fruits — even Marys. Spam was the currency and he would be the banker.

  Yani held the official position of "Spam can-opener." He would never allow anyone to take away a sealed Spam can. He was the only one who was authorized to open them, complete with the invocation of Cin-cin-nati, O-hi-o.

  Chapter 42

  The next great mining discovery were the K-Rations. These were the dehydrated foods combat soldiers were supposed to carry with them into battle. They were so unpalatable, that even the natives were not anxious to have them. The only edible items the two Americans could handle were nicknamed “sawdust biscuits.”

  “I think these are what old time sailors used to call hardtack,” McDuff said, trying to bite down on one,” ... with the emphasis on ‘hard.’ No wonder they mutinied.”

  “Fortunately, they come with these little tins of grape jelly,” John said, picking up a small disk that looked like a shoe polish can. “I think I’ll just eat the jelly and forget the biscuits. There aren’t any dentists around here.”

  What made the K-Rations valuable was what else they found in the packages. They had made a table of one of the crates and had several empty cartons on the deck. Into these John and McDuff tossed certain valuable cultural items money could not buy in this part of the world. They agreed they would be totally wasted on the natives — toilet paper packets, cigarettes, and coffee.

  When the treasures had been removed, Yani carried the boxes to a waiting party of natives and they gratefully received the Big Man's gifts. But they made no movement toward leaving the beach. They were apparently waiting for something.

  "What's the problem?" John called to Yani seeing an animated discussion in progress.

  "No problem. Kanaka greedy fella. Want more."

  "We have plenty. What do they want?"

  One of them shouted to John over Yani's protests. "Tinken geko! Tinken geko!"

  He listened to the words and recognized that the man was saying, "Tin-can geko." Recalling the episode with Poon, geko was long pig.

  "Do they want some cans of Spam?" John called.

  "Yes," Yani answered.

  "Give them two hands Spam cans," meaning ten cases, enough for the whole village. “Hell we’ve got tons of the stuff. But Yani chose to misunderstand and fetched up ten cans of Spam from his treasure trove, instead. When he gave them to the waiting collection party John could not see Yani peel the little keys off the bottoms of each of the odd-shaped cans. He would charge the villagers later to open them.

  ***

  The speed with which the jungle grew back was amazing. Some of the gardens were uncovered from the layer of sand that had been deposited on top of them. Yams and taro seemed to have survived the inundation. The fish returned to the lagoon, and two weeks after the tsunami, it was hard to tell there had been one.

  McDuff preferred the clearing on the mountain, where he continued to work on his generator and radio. John passed the days walking along the beach, smoking his K-Ration cigarettes and reading the books he found among the “Red Tag Specials” as he called the Admiral’s personal possessions. He found a War Department circular and used it for a bookmark. He read it as he stood on the beach:

  “Ironically, the South Pacific with all its beautiful beaches affords little good ocean swimming. Coral reefs are everywhere to gash unwary toes, sharks and barracudas lend doubts to the stoutest hearts, and the tropic sun adds a further hazard. So, on many of the forest-covered islands swimming is centered about shaded streams.”

  “I gotta get Yani to take me and the Marys for a picnic inland at the lake Dr. McDuff mentioned,” and sat with his back leaning against a boulder embedded in the sand to read more comfortably. In a matter of minutes, Yani came running up the beach toward him, carrying something.

  “John Frum!” he yelled, “John Frum!”

  John closed the book and stood up. Apparently, something had happened Yani thought he should know about.

  When he was about ten feet away, he said, “Kanakas hunt for wild pig, find Japanese solider. Him not die in Hevehe water mountain. Him hide on volcano.”

  “What do you have there,” John asked, pointing to the object he was carrying.

  Wrapped in a Japanese officer’s tunic was a Samurai sword. If John were able to read Japanese, he would have found it belonged to Lieutenant Isoroku Shakaru, who had left his men to follow the natives up the mountain.

  “Wow!” John said handling the sword. “This is neat.”

  "Kill last of bad Japfella. Blackfella have own island again. We have big feast ...”

  “Sort of what Americans call an Independence Day Celebration!” John suggested.

  “Yes, Independence Day,” Yani said liking the sound of the word. “Yes, also funeral for Ooma, Blackfellas taken by Hevehe.” Then remembering he had a message, Yani said, “Kanakas say I bring John Frum. We celebration John Frum, he come.”

  “Well, I can’t very well stay away from my own party, now can I,” John smiled. “Will Marys come to the party, or is this a stag affair?”

  “Stag affair?” Yani asked?

  “Is it just men, or do women come, too.”

  Yani frowned in disbelief. “No women. No Marys. Geko feast make women sick.”

  “Oh,” said John, a little disappointed.

  ___

  McDuff and John made a point of having lunch on board the landing craft every day. Today, the Coast Watcher’s excitement was evident in his grinning face. He had a surprise. When John saw him unpack the generator and radio, he knew immediately — he had it working.

  “I know the tubes are broken in the ship’s radio, but the aerial certainly must work,” McDuff said. “Let’s try hooking it up to the mast antenna.”

  John made the connections and began turning the handle on the generator. They were rewarded with a blue spark on the telegraph key. McDuff checked the proper date-code information and tapped out: “Mo/Exodus 14,” three times, and waited for a response. Just when he was about to declare the effort a failure a message came through.

  “Mo. Good to hear from you. Feared Japs had caught you.”

  McDuff tapped back, “Japs all dead from tidal wave. Have American LSM #666 beached here in lagoon. One survivor. American sailor named John Bartlett. Can someone rescue him?”

  “Will contact U.S
. Navy and report back. Any Jap ship activity?”

  “None seen since tidal wave.”

  McDuff sent along a personal message to Leslie Gale, who was out on patrol at present. There was a little more chatter back and forth, and radio contact time was set for the next day.

  Moses McDuff took off his earphones and said, “They’re contacting the Navy and will send us a message tomorrow. I guess you can start packing.”

  “Do you really think they’ll send a ship just to pick up the likes of me?”

  “I should think so,” McDuff said.

  “Yeah, maybe at the end of the war.”

  Chapter 43

  A group of elders waded out to the LSM with Yani acting as interpreter. They were here to see Big Man John who was now clearly the wealthiest man on the island. He was a Big Man among Big Men. He was expected to make a substantial contribution to the community feast.

  Having been burned by this tradition because he did not understand it, Dr. McDuff was now in a position to advise John Frum of his duties. “You’re obliged to be very generous by native custom. Ordinarily an island Big Man would provide at least a couple of pigs for the feast. Most lowland pigs were drowned in the flood, but they know you have pigs in cans — Spam.”

  “How much should I give them?" he asked. “What do they expect?"

  "The Big Man must not ask,” he was told.

  “We give plenty gift for John Frum," Yani said holding up three fingers on his left hand. "I give this many C-Ration.” Then holding up his right hand, "Give one hand K-ration."

  “I think Yani spent too much time with the white man,” John said. “Give them two hands cases C-Rations and one hand cases Spam.”

  Even Yani was impressed with John Frum’s generosity, but he did not think it was necessary to go to such extremes.

  “I don’t know how much longer I’m gonna be here,” John said to McDuff, “But after I leave, they aren’t gonna say John Frum was a cheap bastard.”

  ___

  When the sun went down the Americans could see the brightness behind the palm trees that was obviously the central bonfire. The sound of agitated drumming also filled the air. They could not see Yani, and guessed he had most likely gone ashore to open Spam cans.

  Again McDuff had some words of advice, “Stay on the ship, John. You don’t know what you might run into at the feast since you don’t know their customs.”

  The drums built to a crescendo and stopped dead. The collective silence became collective babble from the site of the feast. John saw a lone figure running down the beach, followed by a group of somewhat eager islanders.

  John saw the movement on the shoreline, and called, "Yani! Is that you out there?"

  "Yani here,” he called out. “Island fella want see John Frum."

  "John Frum happy to see them. In my country we call this celebration Fourth of July.”

  The tide was out and the water was no more than a foot deep in the lagoon. In the bright moonlight, John could see three figures start to wade out toward him. One of them was clearly the ancient one — Poon.

  Yani spoke with the other men as he approached. John listened and tried to make sense out of the exchange. The most he could understand was an occasional "John Frum" and a definite "geko." Geko was mentioned several times and from Poon’s body language, he appeared to be offering a gift of something wrapped in banana leaves.

  "Yani, what is going on? What do they want?" he called into the darkness.

  "Poon fella say he make present John Frum. Him fella, kanaka fella bring long pig for Big Man Frum.”

  John waded out to meet them. "Are you saying that Poon wants to give me some long pig from the feast?"

  "Yes. I say Yani no eat long pig. John Frum no eat long pig."

  John thought, Can it be that some of them know about trichinosis? Has experience taught some of them that pig meat can be dangerous in the tropics?

  Not wanting to offend the old wise man, John said, “Yani, bring long pig to John Frum. I taste."

  Reluctantly, Yani took the banana leaf package from Poon amid a great deal of approving clamor. It sounded like "John Frum pooja, — John Frum pooja." The younger men waded back to the strand, leaving Poon to follow as best he could. When they hit the beach, they broke into a run back toward the bonfire, yelling "Jon Frum pooja!"

  John and Yani sat on the beach. The American unfolded the large green leaves and found a piece of meat inside. It was burned more than roasted; charred on the outside; more raw than rare in the middle. He held it up to Yani and said, "You eat?"

  Yani made a face of disgust and said, "No eat long pig. Only kanaka eat geko."

  John theorized an explanation: Long pig was a description of the skinny pigs that ran wild on the island. Yani had been exposed to civilization too long and had lost his taste for the primitive food of his people.

  He took a knife and sliced into the charcoal covered meat and hit a bone. It ran lengthwise through the meat and he severed it from the mass. The meat around the bone was fairly rare, but he gingerly bit into it. It was sweet to the taste, and he turned to Yani who was watching in morbid fascination.

  "It needs salt, but it’s better than Spam," John said, holding out the meat toward his island friend. Yani grimaced and spat vigorously.

  John laughed and said, "Who would have thought I'd find an Orthodox Jew ten thousand miles from Jerusalem." He gnawed the bone he asked, "Why don’t you eat geko, Yani? Spam is made of pig."

  "All fella eat pig. Only kanaka eat geko."

  There was apparently some fine line of distinction that was escaping him. "You eat pig, but not long pig."

  "Yes," his face brightened. At last, John Frum understood.

  John examined the meat again and tested his knowledge of porcine anatomy. What part of the pig did this come from? Judging from the bone he was holding, it would probably be one of the front legs.

  “This pig’s front leg?" he asked Yani.

  Yani shook his head negatively, and volunteered a piece of information to this very dense American, “Long pig not pig.”

  “So, that’s it. Long pig isn’t a pig, but some other kind of animal.” He didn’t now what else was native to the islands. He asked his friend, “If it isn’t a pig, what kind of animal is it?”

  Yani thought the American was teasing him. He thought the answer was rather obvious. “Long pig Japfella!” he said. While John cautiously considered the revelation, he recognized that the gift in the banana leaf had toes. It was a human foot. In a spasm of anguish, John Frum was violently ill.

  Chapter 44

  John had given Yani some tin snips from the boat’s little workshop, and a long-term project was just beginning. After taking both the tops and bottoms off the C-Ration cans, John showed him how to cut them along the seam, and flatten them out.

  Using wood and nails salvaged from some of the crates, the outline of a small shack was constructed. The flattened cans were used like shingles, and the only tin roof on the island took shape. Sides for the hut were optional due to the heat. Yani finished the roof just in time for the daily downpour, and the three men sat beneath it out of the rain.

  Watching the water cascade off the roof into yet-uncut cans, conversation had drifted off to nothing.

  John had mixed emotions about the radio report from the Coast Watchers in Port Moresby. He had not really thought the Navy would make any effort to take him off the island, but a seaplane was on its way.

  He had not fully recovered from the episode with the long pig the night before. He still gagged occasionally as he talked, although there was nothing left to expel from his stomach. He had the “dry heaves” most of the night.

  “They’ll probably want to reclaim the LCM,” John said. “Yani, I think your people better take everything off the ship they can carry and hide it in the jungle. You never know what kind of a prick you might get for a Navy officer in charge.”

  “I think they already have,” said McDuff. “But I agree, Milit
ary types are liable to throw an armed guard around the landing craft.”

  “Well, so much for The Emperor Jones,” John said sardonically.

  “Who?” said McDuff.

  “The Emperor Jones. He was the chief character in a play by Eugene O’Neil about 20 years ago. I never saw it, but I’ve read it. It’s about a Negro from the United States who takes over a little island — I think in the Caribbean.”

  “Oh, yes. I remember. It caused quite a controversy at the time,” McDuff said. He faltered for a minute and added, “You weren’t thinking of something like that here... were you?”

  In John’s weakened condition, his guard was down. “Why the hell not. The Navy treats me like shit. I’ll always be some kind of servant to guys like Frankie Bartlett and his daddy, the Admiral. I could live like a prince with these people. You said it yourself, I’m almost a god to them.”

  “John, be realistic. Once the food on the boat is gone, what will you do? You don’t have anything in common with these people. Look at what happened last night.”

  While Yani had renounced eating long pig in light of his new-found civilized point of view, he was at a loss to account for John’s severe reaction. “John Frum ask if Mary go to feast. I say no. Women eat get sick from eating geko.”

  “Please!” John exclaimed. “Let’s not talk about it any more. How about you, Dr. McDuff ? Are you going to spend the rest of your life here? Do you think you are going to make these kanakas into Bible-thumpers. Even if they understood English, or you learned to speak Booga-booga do you think you could change them at all?

  “Strange you should say that. I’ve been thinking about the problem off and on for months, but once I contacted Port Moresby and they said they’d call the Navy, I haven’t been able to think of anything else.”

  John said nothing.

  “You know I came out here because in spite of my age, my father treated me like a naughty child. Maybe at the time I was. And if you will forgive a little Bible thumping on my own behalf, Paul says in Corinthians 13, Verse 11: “When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”