John Frum The Reluctant Messiah

Sam's Teachable Moment

John woke to Sam's face mere inches away from his and sniffing him. Again.

"Geez! Dude! I HATE when you do that! Ooooh, my head!" John cradled his head with his hands.

Sam was grinning ear to ear and offered him more Kava.

"Ugh! Oooh, no thanks, no."

John noticed a crude, hand-carved medallion hanging from Sam's neck. It was of a nautilus shell, a cutaway version of it, and John reached to examine it. Sam quickly recoiled and looked at him suspiciously, his smile suddenly erased.

"Oh, sorry! I saw that last night. On that girl. That incredible, hot, unbelievably sexy girl. The way she moved her assaaaaay!! Good mornin' little sunshine!" John abruptly stopped. He hadn't noticed 10-year-old Heylia who had been standing behind Sam listening to his every word, smiling and wide-eyed. John sheepishly smiled at her.

"Hungry you?" She said as she began pulling out some freshly baked breadfruit fries out of her basket.

"We walk you eat, yes?" Sam insisted.

John quickly pulled himself together all the while thinking he'd give a king's ransom for a double latte right now. He politely accepted the little girls' offering and munched on them as they headed away from the village.

"They're good, Heylia," John said, nodding his approval.

Sam led him to the airfield. They wound their way up a steep mountainous trail to the top of a long ridge where years ago the villagers had carved out a replica of the hastily made WWII airstrip. It was primitive to say the least and if it was once plane-worthy, it certainly wasn't now. There were deep ruts and rivulets in the dirt strip from the daily torrential rains and should any plane have made the mistake of actually trying to land there, it would have been destroyed within seconds of touchdown. 

At the south end of the field there was a three-story tower constructed entirely of bamboo and manned with a villager who continued to scan the skies through his make-believe bamboo binoculars. Leaning against the tower a flagman stood at the ready in the only strip of shade on the entire mountaintop with flags made from someone's cast away Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt.

 Another slept across the hood of a bamboo Jeep that was parked just off the airstrip. A plane sat at the north end of the field, it too made entirely of bamboo and poised for takeoff. They were surprisingly good representations of the real thing.

"Kite koe? He rite hoki koutou hoki matou," Sam excitedly stated. Heylia stepped in to interpret.

"You see? We are ready for the return. Our ancestors in sky will guide here."

John began to understand. They were seeking his approval. By now John had given up trying to convince them that he was NOT John Frum and found it best to simply guide the conversation down a different path.

"I understand you've been here a long time Sam," John said.

"Yes. Yes. Long time. Every night we come, we stay, watch heavens. Sometimes very dangerous."

"How so?" John asked.

"Giants come. Ghosts. Ghost giants. Take our women and disappear into air. Some very 'fraid but they still come," he said.

"They disappear? How?" John asked.

Rather than explaining, Sam pantomimed, drawing his hands back and making a sucking sound. He acted as if he'd been thrown to the ground on his back. It was all too familiar to John, but this faraway? And here?

"Are you afraid Sam?"

Sam smiled and shook his head no. "I use torch." Sam lunged forward as one would in a fencing match, stabbing with his lance. "They no like fire," he said laughing.

"So how does this whole Koontal thing work?"

"For me?" Sam asked.

"Sure, ok."

"Little bit Kava. Not lot. Little. Lot make you huarangi," Sam searched for the word ".... crazy. You born with Koontal. You no need Kava."

"I don't know about that," an unconvinced John said.

Sam walked over to the nearest tree and stripped a switch from it. He found a heavier branch on the ground that formed a Y and handed it to John. He positioned the switch between the two legs of the Y and began tapping each leg.

No can think two thinks at one time," he said. "No can do."

Tapping back and forth between the branch's legs, he would say the word, "Think. Think. Think. Think," with each tap. Sam began to slap each branch very quickly. "Very fast...but no two thinks at same time!"

It struck John that Sam's point was identical to one Professor Wharton had spoken of years ago in one of his first classes.

"People think they can think two things at once- if you ask them, they'll

swear to it," he'd say, but in reality, they're merely toggling between two

thoughts at a high rate of speed. Thinking two thoughts at precisely the

same time is as impossible as two forms of matter occupying the same space

at the same time."

Sam stopped and pointed to the left branch. "This Koontal...believe." Pointing to the right branch, "This

Rangirua... uhh..." Sam looked to his granddaughter searching for the word.

"Feaa," she said, "ummm... doubt!"

"Yes!" Sam proclaimed, "Doubt! Doubt! This doubt," pointing to the right branch leg. He took the Y branch from John and gave him the switch. "Now you do." John slapped the branches using a windshield wiper motion. Sam inserted his hand, preventing the switch from striking the right branch of doubt.

"My hand...is little bit of Kava," Sam continued eyeing John. He then removed it and John stopped.

"No stop! Faster!" Sam shouted, startling John into continuing. John was now breaking a sweat as he tried to go even faster still. Suddenly, almost violently, Sam reached out and grabbed the switch as it struck the left branch of Koontal, the branch of believing, and held it fast against it. He looked at John intensely and uncomfortably long. John wondered, had he done something wrong? Slowly a smile began to form on Sam's face. He was slowly nodding, like a caring teacher watching a new discovery dawn on his pupil.

"You choose your thinks, John Frum. You choose believe - no doubt. You, John Frum... no need Kava." Extending his long, weathered finger, Sam tapped on John's forehead. "Your Kava here."

"It is time, John Frum," bellowed a voice from behind. John abrupty turned to see who was addressing him.