Okay, we know that's not strictly true, but it was a question of perspective and from the natives’ perspective, it was true.
The Yanks, of course, had no idea—at least back in WWII—how to treat colonial natives. Instead of putting a bullet in them for stealing food, they'd employ them and give them things and go into their homes and villages and say, ‘Hey man, you can't live like this!’ and come back the next day with a truckload of beds and ice-boxes and gee, they can't work properly because they're not getting enough food, or medical care, so we'll give ‘em food and free medicines from the Red Cross cupboard.
And from such things is worship born.
The New Hebrides was never invaded by the Japanese, never attacked.
Well, there was one attack on Santo by a lost Zero who machine-gunned a cow called Bessie to death, but that's another story.
So for the natives it was a time of plenty, halcyon years surpassing their wildest dreams, all come to pass because of Johnny from America.
Then one sad day it all came to sad end. The Yanks did not pack up; they left it all behind and went home. In come the Froggies and the Poms in their pith helmets and post-war inferiority complex, took one look at what the Yanks had left behind and immediately grabbed the lot. They went into homes and villages and took back all the ice-boxes and beds and closed down the dispensaries and said, ‘Hi everyone, we're back, aren't you glad to see us?'
Well, the indigenous people had always figured that the French President and the British Queen were actually married, but because they didn't get along, lived on the opposite sides of a big river. This, of course, explained the idiocy of Condominium rule because only a domestic squabble of such lofty proportions could possibly result in the Pandemonium that the little group of islands was colloquially known as. And they figured since De Gaul went across to Britain during the war, the Queen and her old man would be sweet again. Sadly, it was not to be.
So the natives down there on Tanna thought there was a simple answer to this. They'd set up black boxes and tie string to them and pray on this direct telephone line to the gods in the USA to come bring the planes with their cargo and make their lives happy again. They worshiped a Red Cross, flew the Confederate flag—some Georgia Yank's idea of a farewell present, no doubt—carved muskets from wood, and made bandoliers of shells and binoculars from bamboo.
And every Friday night they pray and sing hymns (When You're Up, You're Up being number one on the religious hit parade) and ‘dance’ by marching in platoons back and forth and salute the flag and wear Holden and Ford key chain rings on their breast pockets like medals.
They also worshiped the Queen's consort as a god, hoping, perhaps that Prince Phillip would sweeten her up and make life easier for her subjects. And, as with all religions, they adopted certain figures as saints. Somewhere along the way, they predicted that the gods in the USA would land on the moon. They now worship a poster of Neil Armstrong.
The same poster was my pin-up poster when I was a teenager. I really don't want to delve too far into the deep meaning of that, so back to the Jon Frumms.
On the 15th of February every year they hold their annual celebration (well, we have Christmas) and the anthropologists flock in, and, not speaking a word of the language, make up stories that get them further grants for studies elsewhere. They ask the Jon Frummers, ‘How can you believe that Johnny from America will come back after all these years, and why haven't they given up by now?’ ‘Hey,’ they reply, ‘you guys have been waiting for Jesus for 2,000 years and look where that's gotten you?’ Native wisdom—ya can't beat it.
To cap it off, in 1987 the worst recorded super-cyclone known to the Southern Hemisphere hit the islands in early February. The Australian government, in its great role as post-colonial benefactor, then sent to the island of Tanna a great silver plane known as a Hercules with its belly full of cyclone relief cargo, and distributed it freely amongst the natives, now known as ni-Vanuatu. This author was seen to jumping up and down, abusing AusAID through the hallowed halls of the Australian High Commission for choosing to deliver the cargo on February 15th, the Jon Frumm's Holy Day! Needless to say, anyone wavering from the religion was instantly re-converted.
About the same time, back in the land of US, a man named Joe Michael Straczinsky was writing a story that would go to air in a few years. At the end of its fourth year on US television, TV tapes from Australia arrive in Vanuatu. This author was sitting breast-feeding her son, who shall become pivotal to this story, whilst watching this fascinating saga. However, having been left on a cliff-hanger in the most literal sense when the hero leaps off into the depths of Z'ha'dum, this same author went to bed muttering, ‘I've just invested two years of my emotions into this character, could they *really* have killed him off?’ After three sleepless hours and another feed to the baby, this author then reached for her space exploration collateral technology (don't ask) gets on the Internet and learns that the hero has died but will be resurrected when the new television tapes arrive.
The lines of fate were now set on their fatal convergence, and there was no looking back. As a consequence of looking for the fate of the hero from this show, Babylon 5, this author befriended a group of irreverent online wits known as the Warcouncil, whose mascot/landlord/spy/alter ego/ was a Psi Corps Chihuahua named Spiffy (really, just do not ask).
Now it is not the place of this paper to discuss the life, loves, machinations and twisted pathological motivations and actions of this mutt, Spiffy. However this author encountered her first incantation of Spiffy in October 1999. Appearing as a guide dog puppy (no, I am not blind, don't ask) it was, by chance, handed to me—well forced upon me because he sure as hell didn't want it—by the very man who portrayed that very same hero in that same television show that brought me to this time and place.
It is a well-known fact that Spiffy's khatra moves from place to place (hence the brief incarnation as a guide dog), and without warning, the Psi Corps mutt became lost from cyberspace. Still, we on the Warcouncil were somewhat saddened by his demise.
What has this got to do with the Jon Frumms you ask? Ah! The plot now thickens. Come Christmas of that year, a certain member of the Warcouncil who shall remain nameless to protect her from the Society for Prevention of Stuffing Up Religious Cults (don't worry Mary-Lou, I'll never reveal it was you) sent my then almost four year-old son a Christmas present. I nearly fell over when the box popped open and out emerged Spiffy, wishing me a ‘Happy New Year Amigos'.
This same son, who has a fondness for this same television series, has, as is common for a four year-old, directly associated his favourite toy-come-Taco-Bell-merchandising, with the rocket ships and space and men who walk on other planets. He also speaks the same language as the Jon Frummers from Tanna (puleeeze don't ask, although I confess, I do too).
Now it came to pass that this young innocent took his talking dog from the USA, a dog that had a direct connection to space ships, into a village of Tannese Jon Frummer's who'd moved nearby. Suffice to say, the impact was immediate and far ranging. The latest hymn to hit the Jon Frumm religious hit parade is ‘Happy New Year Amigos'.
I cannot predict the long-term impact of Spiffy on this cult, however this author invites experts in the field to consider funding her further exploitation ... eh exploration of the matter.
Cash only please, no credit cards.
Update: March 2005: After his stint working for Taco Bell, in a fit of remorse for his impact on a hapless South Pacific Island culture, Spiffy returned to Mexico to seek his ancestral roots as a guide to the Aztec underworld, Mictlan. Here he jumped the Babylon 5 ship, as it were, met up with the team of SG-1, and played a pivotal role in the novel, STARGATE SG-1: City of the Gods. Spiffy was last seen in the possession of an Aztec girl, Two-water, on the planet that Colonel Jack O'Neill refers to as Yak Skin.
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Disclaimers
Babylon 5 © 2000 names, characters and all related material are the property of J. Michael S
traczinsky, Babylonian Productions, TNT, and Warner Bros, a division of Time Warner Entertainment Company. All rights reserved.
STARGATE SG-1 ™ & © 1997-2006 MGM Television Entertainment Inc./MGM Global Holdings Inc. STARGATE SG-1 is a trademark of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc. All rights reserved.
Spiffy is a product of the warped minds of the Warcouncil and, being a slippery little mutt, belongs to absolutely no one.
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About the authors
Trent Jamieson lives in Brisbane with his wife, Diana. His first story sale was in 1994 and his first collection, Reserved for Travelling Shows is available from Prime Books. Trent's short story Slow & Ache won the 2005 Aurealis Award for best science fiction short. He is currently finishing a post-steampunk, zombie adventure novel called Roil. Blog: www.trentonomicon.blogspot.com
Maxine McArthur is the author of science fiction novels Time Future, Time Past, and Less Than Human. Time Future won the George Turner Award in 1999, and Less Than Human won the 2005 Aurealis Award for Best Science Fiction Novel. Her short stories have appeared in Aurealis Magazine, Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, and various anthologies.
Web: www.maxinemcarthur.com
VC Parv has written fiction and non-fiction, publishing 25 million books in 26 languages including Icelandic, Russian, and a Japanese manga. The story in this anthology takes her back to her speculative fiction roots after a long detour through other forms of fiction. She lives in Canberra, Australia's capital though you'd never know it if you try to book flights from there to anywhere, and volunteers as a guide at the zoo where she finds hand-feeding lions and tigers excellent practice for dealing with editors.
Web: www.valerieparv.com
Damon Cavalchini is too lazy to have a web page or blog (although he has planned to do one for ages). By day, he works for the Australian Red Cross Blood Service coordinating psychosocial research projects and trying to guess what new and emerging diseases will threaten the blood supply. By night, our masked hero (it's actually one of those migraine eye mask thingies) is a fearless creator of rejected novel submissions. He's had better luck with short stories, one of which is reprinted here, and is currently doing a MPhil in psychology from the University of Queensland.
Cat Sparks lives in Wollongong on the south coast of New South Wales, Australia. She works as an editor and graphic designer for an educational publisher, and runs Agog! Press with her partner, author Robert Hood. In 2004 she was a graduate of the inaugural Clarion South Writers’ Workshop and an L Ron Hubbard's Writers of the Future prize winner. Cat has accumulated seven DITMAR awards since 2000 and was awarded the Aurealis Peter McNamara Conveners Award in 2004. Other highlights of her life so far include: winning a trip to Paris in a Bulletin Magazine photography competition; being appointed official photographer for two NSW Premiers, and working as dig photographer on three archaeological expeditions to the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan.
Website: www.catsparks.net
Sabine C Bauer shares her place of birth with Bertold Brecht, which, in the days when she was producing theatre, only strengthened her resolve to produce same in an entertaining fashion. Since then she has taken to writing, published two novels, Stargate SG-1: Trial by Fire and Stargate SG-1: Survival of the Fittest, and—still blissfully unalienated and politically incorrect—is working on an original albatross (when she isn't sealing floorboards with boiled linseed oil).
Web: www.stargatenovels.com
Cory Daniells is the writing name of Rowena Cory Lindquist. Rowena has been involved in speculative fiction since 1976 when she and Paul Collins set up the small press publishing house. Since then Rowena has been a bookshop owner, run a graphic art studio and sold nearly 30 children's books and a fantasy trilogy internationally. Rowena has served on the management committee of the Queensland Writers Centre and the Brisbane Writers Festival. Currently she is VP of Fantastic Queensland which runs Clarion South, the Aurealis Awards (in conjunction with Chimaera Publications), EnVision and ran the national SF convention Conjure in 2006. She is the co-founder of the VISION writers group, and ROR—wRiters On the Rise—a critiquing workshop for Australian professional genre writers. During different periods of her life Rowena has studied each of these martial arts for five years, Tae Kwon Do, Aikido and Iaido, the art of the Samurai sword.
Web: www.corydaniells.com
JC Jones grew up in North Wales and resides in Brisbane with his wife and son. He has a passion for astronomy, science and technology, and as many gadgets as he can get his hands on. His work has appeared in Visions Magazine, Ragged Edge, Writer's Nook and Reader's Corner, AntipodeanSF and Another Realm, and one of his stories, much to his surprise, won an 2003 AntiSF Award. His first novel, Influx, available through Silver Lake Publishing, toppled Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy off top spot on Fictionwise's SF best seller's list. His short story, Interstellar Brothers, appeared in the Cybertales-Live Wire anthology. He is currently writing his second novel, Liquid, an SF action/thriller that promises plenty of espionage, guns, motorbikes, men in black and a game of Scrabble™. In his spare time, he's also working on the sequel to Influx, which in the absence of a decent thesaurus, is imaginatively titled Influx II.
Web: www.breninbooks.com
Sean Williams, New York Times-bestselling author (and occasional DJ), has over 60 published short stories and 20 novels under his belt, plus a sci-fi musical and the odd piece of haiku. Multiple winner of Australia's speculative fiction awards, recipient of the ‘SA Great’ Literature Award and judge of the Writers of the Future Contest, he recently completed a Masters in Creative Writing at Adelaide University.
Web: www.seanwilliams.com
Marianne de Pierres is the author of the Parrish Plessis series: Nylon Angel, Code Noir and Crash Deluxe. Nylon Angel was short-listed for best SF novel in the 2004 Aurealis Awards, and Crash Deluxe was shortlisted in 2005. Her short fiction has appeared in various book anthologies and magazines. She is the co-founder of the VISION writers group, and ROR—wRiters On the Rise—a critiquing workshop for Australian professional genre writers. She is currently working on the first book in The Sentients of Orion series, Dark Space, which will be released by Orbit Books in 2007.
Web: www.mariannedepierres.com
Parrish's Patch: torleys.proboards34.com/index.cgi
Chris McMahon has just been selected as a winning author of the prestigious One Book, Many Brisbanes competition. His work has also appeared in Orb Speculative Fiction, Aurealis magazine, the Fantasy Readers Wanted—Apply Within anthology, Redsine magazine and the Devil in Brisbane anthology, which was launched at last year's Brisbane Writer's Festival. His short story Within Twilight was short-listed for the 2002 Aurealis Award in both the SF and horror categories and he has just recently launched the Fantasy novel, The Calvanni.
Web: www.chris.mcmahon.com
Robert N Stephenson is a writer, published author, editor, agent, publisher and writing tutor, when he'd not busy he creates unusual artwork out of computer parts and animal bones. His fiction has appeared in magazines in Australia, the USA, UK, France, Poland and China, his first published novel appeared in Poland in 2005 Life Light. He has founded two awards for the genre industry, the Peter McNamara Achievement award and the Australian Shadows award. As he says, it was about time there was proper recognition for great works by Australians. He would like to one day be able to earn enough so his wife doesn't have to support his endeavours. With two lovely children, Emma 10 and Josh 7 he has a wealth of children's stories to write. He has also been known to stand nude in his garden with a rose between his teeth—no explanation give.
Web: www.altair-australia.com/altair
Sonny Whitelaw is a photojournalist who writes articles like ‘how to photograph an erupting volcano without getting killed', and other useful household hints. She is also the author of two thrillers and four speculative fiction novels. Sonny compiled this anthology between the publication of Stargate Atlantis The Chosen in May and preparing Stargate Atlan
tis Exogenesis for publication in August, while cramming in and MA in Creative Writing at QUT. Consequently her children are still living on Vegemite sandwiches.
Web: www.sonnywhitelaw.com
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Journeys of the Mind Page 19