age of five-score, before dying peacefully in her sleep. Anyway, at the time it became known that Uncle and his family had left the faith of his fathers, he was summoned to attend a meeting of the family and church elders at the hui-house. Old family feuds and tribal dissensions were aired and viewed in a very unkind manner, and only Granny Matire fearlessly stood by Uncle and Aunty, demanding to know by what right did they impose their minds upon anyone who wished to change their faith. It wasn't as if they were turning heathen, like those terrible Hainamana (Chinese) who prayed to big statues and idols. It was only that they were changing names, like they did when they married, while still believing in the same God. ‘Aue! What manner of talk is this? More foolish prattle from this silly old woman,’ scoffed some maliciously. But they underestimated Granny Matire, She asked some of the women to serve out pieces of feathery-light sponge cake, piled high with mouth-watering whipped cream and fruit salad. Each of the men had a slice or two, but this was also breaking tribal protocol, as food was not generally eaten until after the meeting. But then again Matire was an unusual person to say the least. ‘Aha! This is the work of the women. This is where women should be—in the kitchen, not arguing with the men,’ cried Hoani, cramming another piece of Granny's cake into his mouth. ‘Tino reka hoki te kai nei e Kui,’ said Pera, wiping a coating of cream from his lips with his tongue. ‘What has all this got to do with religion?’ his eyes glancing around for the plates of cake. From her kit Granny removed a glass jar of honey, and two packets of tobacco. ‘Pai kare!’ heaha te mahi a te Kuia nei i tenei taima?' laughed Tamati. Matire ignored these remarks. After all, didn't she know men? ‘See this jar of honey,’ she said, holding it up ‘Well, the bees can teach us all a lesson. The honey that fills it comes from not one flower, but from all the flowers in the bush. But it is still honey. And here is a packet of Riverhead Gold. It is my favourite tobacco, but if I run short then I will smoke Silver Fern or some other brand. Two brands but nevertheless, tobacco. Those cakes you ate? Obviously you enjoyed them. Well the cream comes from Hemi's cows. Not just jerseys, but all kinds of breeds.' ‘Ka tika nga korero nei, e Matire’, cried out Hoani, not wishing to be made a fool of by the old woman, seeing that things were turning out in her favour. ‘So seeing that our relation Hemi and his family have left the church, let them go with our blessings, rather than our ill will,’ said the dear old soul, finishing her speech. This realistic approach of hers left them speechless, ashamed that a crazy old hag, as some were known to call her behind her back, had showed them all up, for who could deny such logic and reasoning? Nevertheless, to save losing face, the old shrewdies carried on the discussion and tactfully ended the meeting with the conclusion that all were God's children, and should Aunty and Uncle not be happy in the new church they could always come back into the old faith. During this first visit of mine to Uncle Hemi, another relation came to stay as well, and it was he who showed me things I knew nothing of. Grand-uncle Wiremu took great pains to show me the preparations that went into making a tapapa for kumara plants. Then he showed me how to prepare the earth mounds for the planting of kamokamo, pumpkin and water-melon. All were planted during certain phases of the moon, according to the Maori custom handed on from family to family. With the planting of the melon seeds, I was to see the first of many strange happenings, These were planted during the hours of darkness, on the night of the new moon, after it had risen. One would place the dampened seeds into the prepared earth, stand with one's arms and hands stretching until they formed a big circle over one's head, facing the moon and chanting some lines I can't remember, do an about turn, bend and show one's bare backside to the man in the moon. My young cousins and I always found this a very hilarious act, but to Grand-uncle this was a very serious and dedicated business, that resulted in growing the biggest and sweetest of water-melons. At night if a ruru (an owl) came close to the house while hunting, and settled in any of the nearby trees, screeching and call-