Many Tannese were genuinely excited by the prospect of material riches and power to rival the Europeans. Some of the older men wanted to restore certain pagan customs which had been forbidden by missionaries and which required mass participation in order to be effective, and they used the supposed authority of John Frum to achieve this. Some people were disappointed that Christianity had failed in its believed promise to create a society free of jealousy and conflict, and were keen to try something new. A number of John Frum's supporters were true believers. Others were far more scepticaMany Tannese were genuinely excited by the prospect of material riches and power to rival the Europeans. Some of the older men wanted to restore certain pagan customs which had been forbidden by missionaries and which required mass participation in order to be effective, and they used the supposed authority of John Frum to achieve this. Some people were disappointed that Christianity had failed in its believed promise to create a society free of jealousy and conflict, and were keen to try something new. A number of John Frum's supporters were true believers. Others were far more sceptical.
During one research trip to the island in the late 1970s, brought along a book I had found called John Frum, He Come. This had been written by Edward Rice, an American who had visited the island some years earlier, and it was the kind of book that did not resile from the `sacred places', `ancient cultures' and `wicked Europeans' stereotypes. However, it also contained a number of photos of Tannese that I knew.
As it turned out, the photos did not excite much interest. Instead, my friends were fascinated by another photo in the book, that of a World War II American boatswain called Thomas Beatty, but whom they called Tom Navy. He had been responsible for recruiting and looking after the thousand or so Tannese men who had gone to labour at the American base near Port Vila during the war. Recruiting had been easy, because the Tannese were delighted with the opportunity to work for a country to which they believed they had such strong links. I began to hear fabulous stories about Tom Navy, his generosity, and his magical powers, including the ability to be in two very different places at once.
As news of the book spread, I received a request to visit one of the oldest and most respected men in the area, Jake Yahoi. He was a man of great dignity, who was also very ambivalent about Europeans. He remembered the murderous times before colonial authorities took control of the island early this century, and he certainly welcomed their imposed peace and feared that strife would follow their departure. But he was bitter about the colonial appropriation of Tannese land, and he was the only elderly man I knew who had never experimented with Christianity, which he despised.
Yahoi led my wife and me to a seating mat placed under one of the magnificent banyan trees that adorn every Tannese village. He spent a long time looking at Tom Navy's photo in silence. Then his questions began.
`Is there a volcano in America?'
I told him about Mount St Helen's, which had begun erupting some time previously.
`Do they grow yams in America?'
I said that although Americans call their sweet potato 'yam', it was not the same as what he understood by the word. Then he asked whether coconuts grew in America. There were further questions, equally puzzling. Finally I interrupted, and asked him the purpose of this interrogation.
He willingly explained. One day Tom Navy had given the Tannese workers yams in a basket plaited from coconut palm fronds. The basket was of a type commonly made on Tanna, and it also contained some volcanic ash, familiar to the Tannese because of the active volcano on their island. Tom had said, `This is from your home'. l.
During one research trip to the island in the late 1970s, brought along a book I had found called John Frum, He Come. This had been written by Edward Rice, an American who had visited the island some years earlier, and it was the kind of book that did not resile from the `sacred places', `ancient cultures' and `wicked Europeans' stereotypes. However, it also contained a number of photos of Tannese that I knew.
As it turned out, the photos did not excite much interest. Instead, my friends were fascinated by another photo in the book, that of a World War II American boatswain called Thomas Beatty, but whom they called Tom Navy. He had been responsible for recruiting and looking after the thousand or so Tannese men who had gone to labour at the American base near Port Vila during the war. Recruiting had been easy, because the Tannese were delighted with the opportunity to work for a country to which they believed they had such strong links. I began to hear fabulous stories about Tom Navy, his generosity, and his magical powers, including the ability to be in two very different places at once.
As news of the book spread, I received a request to visit one of the oldest and most respected men in the area, Jake Yahoi. He was a man of great dignity, who was also very ambivalent about Europeans. He remembered the murderous times before colonial authorities took control of the island early this century, and he certainly welcomed their imposed peace and feared that strife would follow their departure. But he was bitter about the colonial appropriation of Tannese land, and he was the only elderly man I knew who had never experimented with Christianity, which he despised.
Yahoi led my wife and me to a seating mat placed under one of the magnificent banyan trees that adorn every Tannese village. He spent a long time looking at Tom Navy's photo in silence. Then his questions began.
`Is there a volcano in America?'
I told him about Mount St Helen's, which had begun erupting some time previously.
`Do they grow yams in America?'
I said that although Americans call their sweet potato 'yam', it was not the same as what he understood by the word. Then he asked whether coconuts grew in America. There were further questions, equally puzzling. Finally I interrupted, and asked him the purpose of this interrogation.
He willingly explained. One day Tom Navy had given the Tannese workers yams in a basket plaited from coconut palm fronds. The basket was of a type commonly made on Tanna, and it also contained some volcanic ash, familiar to the Tannese because of the active volcano on their island. Tom had said, `This is from your home'.
During one research trip to the island in the late 1970s, brought along a book I had found called John Frum, He Come. This had been written by Edward Rice, an American who had visited the island some years earlier, and it was the kind of book that did not resile from the `sacred places', `ancient cultures' and `wicked Europeans' stereotypes. However, it also contained a number of photos of Tannese that I knew.
As it turned out, the photos did not excite much interest. Instead, my friends were fascinated by another photo in the book, that of a World War II American boatswain called Thomas Beatty, but whom they called Tom Navy. He had been responsible for recruiting and looking after the thousand or so Tannese men who had gone to labour at the American base near Port Vila during the war. Recruiting had been easy, because the Tannese were delighted with the opportunity to work for a country to which they believed they had such strong links. I began to hear fabulous stories about Tom Navy, his generosity, and his magical powers, including the ability to be in two very different places at once.
As news of the book spread, I received a request to visit one of the oldest and most respected men in the area, Jake Yahoi. He was a man of great dignity, who was also very ambivalent about Europeans. He remembered the murderous times before colonial authorities took control of the island early this century, and he certainly welcomed their imposed peace and feared that strife would follow their departure. But he was bitter about the colonial appropriation of Tannese land, and he was the only elderly man I knew who had never experimented with Christianity, which he despised.
Yahoi led my wife and me to a seating mat placed under one of the magnificent banyan trees that adorn every Tannese village. He spent a long time looking at Tom Navy's photo in silence. Then his questions began.
`Is there a volcano in America?'
I told him about Mount St Helen's, which had begun erupting some time previously.
`Do they grow yams in America?'
I said that although Americans call their sweet potato 'yam', it was not the same as what he understood by the word. Then he asked whether coconuts grew in America. There were further questions, equally puzzling. Finally I interrupted, and asked him the purpose of this interrogation.
He willingly explained. One day Tom Navy had given the Tannese workers yams in a basket plaited from coconut palm fronds. The basket was of a type commonly made on Tanna, and it also contained some volcanic ash, familiar to the Tannese because of the active volcano on their island. Tom had said, `This is from your home'. l.
During one research trip to the island in the late 1970s, brought along a book I had found called John Frum, He Come. This had been written by Edward Rice, an American who had visited the island some years earlier, and it was the kind of book that did not resile from the `sacred places', `ancient cultures' and `wicked Europeans' stereotypes. However, it also contained a number of photos of Tannese that I knew.
As it turned out, the photos did not excite much interest. Instead, my friends were fascinated by another photo in the book, that of a World War II American boatswain called Thomas Beatty, but whom they called Tom Navy. He had been responsible for recruiting and looking after the thousand or so Tannese men who had gone to labour at the American base near Port Vila during the war. Recruiting had been easy, because the Tannese were delighted with the opportunity to work for a country to which they believed they had such strong links. I began to hear fabulous stories about Tom Navy, his generosity, and his magical powers, including the ability to be in two very different places at once.
As news of the book spread, I received a request to visit one of the oldest and most respected men in the area, Jake Yahoi. He was a man of great dignity, who was also very ambivalent about Europeans. He remembered the murderous times before colonial authorities took control of the island early this century, and he certainly welcomed their imposed peace and feared that strife would follow their departure. But he was bitter about the colonial appropriation of Tannese land, and he was the only elderly man I knew who had never experimented with Christianity, which he despised.
Yahoi led my wife and me to a seating mat placed under one of the magnificent banyan trees that adorn every Tannese village. He spent a long time looking at Tom Navy's photo in silence. Then his questions began.
`Is there a volcano in America?'
I told him about Mount St Helen's, which had begun erupting some time previously.
`Do they grow yams in America?'
I said that although Americans call their sweet potato 'yam', it was not the same as what he understood by the word. Then he asked whether coconuts grew in America. There were further questions, equally puzzling. Finally I interrupted, and asked him the purpose of this interrogation.
He willingly explained. One day Tom Navy had given the Tannese workers yams in a basket plaited from coconut palm fronds. The basket was of a type commonly made on Tanna, and it also contained some volcanic ash, familiar to the Tannese because of the active volcano on their island. Tom had said, `This is from your home'.
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