Friday morning Susan and I flew to Tanna Island, one of the more traditional 
places on Vanuatu and home of the mighty Mount Yasur volocano. I had been to Tanna 
before on my previous trip, and had really liked it. The flight was pretty bumpy, and the 
landing a bit iffy. The plane landed on only one wheel, and Susan, who had the window 
seat, reported that the wing almost clipped the ground. On our approach into Aitutaki, 
earlier, the plane landed going quite fast and the guy who picked us up said that we 
almost missed the runway! Still, accidents are very rare here, even if the flights are a bit 
more bumpy than we are used to.

        Tanna has no paved roads that I have seen, and any trip around the island is done 
in a four wheel drive vehicle or at least a powerful car or truck. In contrast to the last time 
I was here, however, when it seemed that all of the vehicle's windshields were cracked, I 
have not seen a damaged windshield yet on this trip. We drove the short distance to our 
hotel, the White Grass Ocean Resort. The place is right on the water only about twenty 
yards from the inner reef. At low tide, lots of volcanic rock juts up between the shore and 
the reef. Beyond the reef, however, the water is free of obstructions and is bright blue. 
The resort is beautifully landscaped, with bright red flowers everywhere. Several "sunset 
vistas", small outcroppings over the water with tables and chairs are at the end of the 
raised land that adjoins the restaurant / lounge / common building. Below the cliff formed 
by this area is the shore. We have a bure back away from the shore. This place has less of 
a "last outpost of civilization" feel to it than the Tanna Beach Resort I stayed in last time 
I was here, but only by a little. At the orientation briefing by our host, Susan asked if 
there was internet access here. I laughed at the idea that it would be available in such a 
remote location. To my surprise, however, we were told that she could, indeed, access the 
net from here, albeit at a very high price.

        Later that day, Susan and I walked down to the "Blue Hole" coral formation. On 
our way, we took a side path through a small volcanic cave to "Kis Kis" beach". The 
Blue Hole itself was inaccessible unless you swam to it at high tide, however. We then 
walked across the street and through the forest to the White Grass Plateau where wild 
horses run free. As we passed through the forest, I was sure I saw a woman gardening, 
but when we got to the spot where I saw her, she was gone. This happened twice more. 
Perhaps she was avoiding the tourists. The White Grass Plateau has little actual white 
grass. It is covered by other grasses and small plants now. There were lots of cattle but no 
horses to be seen, although we saw several on the road at other times.

        Back at the hotel, we met up with the American couple, Frank and Pam, who we 
met at the Rarotonga airports a few days before. Frank is a bird dealer, and is here to see 
some of the birds unique to this area. They joined us that night in our visit to the John 
Frum Village. The John Frum movement is a cargo cult that exists on Tanna island. They 
believe that a man named John Frum visited them during WWII and said that if they gave 
up custom dancing and instead prayed by holding dancing and music ceremonies each 
Friday night that he would return and bring them vast wealth. Some say that John Frum 
was a supply officer during the war who gave them surplus goods, but some say he was a 
missionary. Our host at the hotel said that it was a Christian group, and that John Frum 
had been transformed in the theology to John the Baptist. When we arrived, however, our 
guide Asned from the village said that the John Frum movement was not Christian, and 
indeed it hardly seemed to be in any way Christian to me.

        We arrived at the village well after dark. There were few lights. We were taken to 
a small open walled structure, and were sat down on a bench at the edge of the building. 
Inside, thirty or so people were sitting in an oblong circle. Those at the center - all men - 
had guitars and were playing and singing with great enthusiasm in the local language. 
Woman sat along the periphery clapping their hands to the beat. The area was lit by a few 
kerosene hurricane lamps hanging from the ceiling. Outside the structure behind us, the 
men danced disco-like steps. The woman danced separately beyond the building to our 
right. They wore grass skirts over their normal clothes, and their dance was more of a 
swaying action than the men's. I counted about 60 or 70 villagers there, but it was 
difficult to get an accurate count since it was quite dark. Asned said that almost the entire 
village was there. The four of us and two other travelers were the only westerners there. 
This clearly was not done for us. Rather we were being allowed to witness a ceremony 
done by the John Frum village for themselves. 

        The signing and dancing continued with great energy. Initially, I heard the name 
"John Frum" repeated over and over in the lyrics, but after that I could not make anything 
else. When I asked, Asned said that they were singing about John Frum, but didn't 
translate the lyrics. We were later told by another guide from the hotel who lives in the 
village that they take current events that are happening in America and incorporate them 
into their songs. The idea is that if they pray hard enough through these events, that it will 
help summon John Frum back from America with his great wealth to give to the 
villagers. I had the thought that rarely is a prophesy so easy to fulfill. Someone could visit 
the village from America with some goods and say that he was John Frum. Who is to say 
that the prophesy is not supposed to be fulfilled in that way! The moral consequences of 
doing that - and destroying this unique group's culture - make it far from clear that doing 
so would be a good idea, however.

        As soon as we were seated in the village, I took out my camera to take some 
pictures and found the the LCD screen no longer worked. Instead of seeing an image of 
the picture I wanted to take, the screen only displayed a pastel mosaic. I still was able to 
take pictures if I used the optical viewfinder, but the screen would be useless for the rest 
of the trip.