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90 FIG. 12 (upper left): Double-headed figure. Tahiti, Society Islands, central Polynesia. Early 19th century. Wood. H: 59 cm. British Museum, London. Photo © The Trustees of the British Museum. All rights reserved. FIG. 13 (upper right): Male ti’i figure. Tahiti, Society Islands, central Polynesia. 18th century or earlier. Wood. H: 58.4 cm. Bishop Museum, Honolulu. Photo: Dave Franzen. cerer’s familiar spirit, anyway? I’m not a sorcerer, so why was it smiling at me? These were troubling but intriguing thoughts. Mahiriki Tangaroa, curator of the National Museum of the Cook Islands, advised me just to accept what was happening and to focus on the places of interaction between the people, the art objects, and the atua. This made sense to me, for it brought me back to the land, to central Polynesia, and to the reality of atua in their natural habitat. When I could get funding, I visited places in Polynesia, meeting people, visiting marae (sacred clearings), and trying to understand what the people were telling me when they were talking about atua. It became clear that two centuries ago Christianity had hijacked a number of atua concepts, including the name atua itself, which had come to refer to the Christian god in many parts of Polynesia. I also found that a large number of Polynesian people thought that atua were evil spirits—another legacy of the early missionaries and their evangelizing. More travel, more people, and a few more interactions though I still did not know what my focus was, I was following my instincts. Taking a break from my work on the files, I went downstairs to see the Tahitian figure again. Around the corner and there he was. He saw me and smiled in recognition. I stood there and felt a bit flustered, for experience told me that wood didn’t smile. After ten minutes or so with the figure I went back upstairs and asked if I could see his file. Kamalu duPreez brought it to me and I could see an article written by Peter Buck (Te Rangi Hiroa) in 1939 in which he mentioned that “The wooden images from Tahiti termed ti’i (tiki) were used by sorcerers as a resting place for their familiar spirits” and he referred to Plate VII, which was a photograph of my Tahitian friend (“Mangarevan Images,” Ethnologica Cranmorensis 4: 1939). I wondered where he got his information and whether my friend had smiled at him as well. This was something I was reticent to acknowledge. Although it was apparent that the figure was smiling and interacting with me, there was also the possibility that I was quietly sliding off the rails of sanity. And what was a sor


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