cinal remedies of Maori herbal treatments. I found out the plants that were best for poultices and boils, and those that were suitable, when the bark was boiled, for internal ailments, and also what leaves when boiled were used for bathing the skin, and for washing sores. Flax root when boiled, though very bitter, was the ideal cure for constipation. And if cut in the bush, the remedy was to take a small length of the ake vine, hollow one end, place that end in your cupped palm and blow on the other end by placing it in your mouth. The sap that came out was used as one would use iodine for cleansing and killing germs. The older ake was the best for making wooden mauls. Soon my mind was full with the knowledge of what berries and plants were edible. Tawhara and patangatanga were delicious, provided one beat the hungry bush rats to it. Somehow they instinctively knew when these plants were ready to eat. Some of the people gathered these plants to make a kind of alcoholic drink which was quite palatable and also very potent when drunk in large quantities. Another cure used widely was to urinate on cuts, gashes and wounds on the arms, hands, and lower parts of the body. Lastly, after I could name the trees by sight, and memorized them off by heart, I was allowed to go for long walks in the bush by myself, though sometimes my teacher would purposely leave something behind on one of our trips and send me back miles to fetch it. I loved being in the bush, amongst all the singing of the birds, watching the sunlight peep through the towering treetops, thinking that the handiwork of Tane was as beautiful as the inside of any church I had been into. Here primitive man must have felt a oneness with his gods, just as I was feeling a closeness to mine. Most evenings after our meal I would read something from a book, or if it was mail day, the newspapers, to Grand-uncle. He liked to hear about the war in China, Spain, and what was happening in other parts of the world. If I didn't understand a word, he would explain its meaning to me. Other times I would sit on the floor beside his bed while he enjoyed his kai paipa, and between puffs and clouds of ‘Tasman Dark’, he would tell me of his childhood days, of sailing ships that came to Mangonui harbour, Herekino, Houhora, Whangape, Kohukohu, and of seeing some of these go up the Mangamuka river, whalers, sealers, and men of adventure. The first time I saw a tohunga was at a hakari (feast), and I was surprised to see he was just an ordinary aged man, I was a bit disappointed, as my cousins had spoken of him in terms of awe and fear, and I was expecting to see some impressive character that would be like pictures of evileyed mandarins, with inches-long fingernails, and long pointed whiskers, that stole, plundered and killed, especially little Pakeha kids. This is what my city playmates and I used to think about them. Where we got the idea from, I can't even remember, unless it was from the comics that were popular those days, ones that used to picture evil as ‘the yellow peril’. So steeped were their lives in these traditional beliefs and customary ways that to children reared in Maori settlements at the time, the words tohunga and tapu, were synonymous with life and death. A tohunga was someone held in esteem and reverence, as being gifted with visionary foresight, and possessing extraordinary powers of exorcism. In fact so highly was their mana regarded among the people, that had any of these tohunga cared to use their influences and power for mercenary purposes and personal gain, it would have been quite easy for them to have become rich. The few I came into contact with never abused this gift, but impressed me by the way their knowledge and skill were put to use assisting people in need of help. Waata was one. Old and stooped, he walked with the aid of a carved tokotoko. His skin was wrinkled like fine old parchment, and he was very vain about his gingery moustache which perched under a long hawk nose, flanked by bushy brows that sheltered eyes as black as the night, that amazed me with their youthful zest. His fame for removing wayward spirits that had gatecrashed, uninvited, into the bodies of disillusioned people, was well known. After a tangi at the marae, Waata came to stay with us. at Uncle's invitation. One day, not long after his arrival, while sitting outside under the shade of the fruit trees talking about things in general with the older ones of the family, Waata suddenly without any reason, gave a loud cry of pain and rolled over on the mat. Holding his