The Medicine Man was grinding bark in a stone mortar when he heard people shouting from the direction of the main gate of the village. He laid the pestle down and looked toward the commotion. A crowd of the People was gathering near the gate, talking loudly and excitedly, clustering around a group of men who had just walked into the village.

“The trader has returned!” someone called out. The healer smiled, knowing that before the evening was over, his old friend would visit him, bringing the exotic healing plants and materials the Medicine Man had requested—plants and other things of value to the healer that were not found in the territory of the People. Along with the herbs and roots, the trader would also bring goods from other tribes as gifts for the Medicine Man and his wife, as well as sharing welcome news from afar and spinning interesting tales of his latest adventures. The Medicine Man carefully gathered up his things and hurried home to share the news with his wife.

Later that evening, the Medicine Man rubbed his stomach and complimented his wife on a good meal, then leaned forward and lit his pipe with a twig from the fire. The trader did the same; for a while, both men were content to smoke and relax. The trader scratched absently at his hand as he smoked. He began to tell of his latest travels.

“I have been to many places and have visited countless tribes of people in my time,” he said, “but on this trip, I think I have found the poorest, dirtiest people in the world. I was trading near the big water, and my sons and I went further to the south than we had been before. I came to a village of people who all lived in two or three lodges. The village was filthy, with refuse and waste scattered about, and the smell was horrible. The people were dirty, as if they never washed themselves, and so poor that they had almost nothing to trade. I wanted to move on, but heavy rain and storms set in, and I was forced to stay there for three days.” As he spoke, he continued to scratch at his hand.

“Their food was horrible, and the women who cooked it were not too particular with how it was made or what kind of dirt got into it. And I actually think I saw a woman put a skunk into a pot of stew. I ate as little as possible to be polite, you can be sure.

“A skunk?”

“Yes, I saw a boy skinning it that morning. Inside the lodge.” The trader wrinkled his face in disgust and scratched at his hand again.

The Medicine Man refilled his pipe and lit it. He thoughtfully watched his old friend. “Where did you sleep?” he asked.

“That was the worst part!” the trader exclaimed. “There must have been five or six large families sleeping in each lodge. The sleeping skins were as filthy as the rest of the village and were full of bugs and fleas. People were almost lying elbow to elbow asleep throughout the lodge. There were muddy, mangy dogs crawling back and forth over me all night, scratching themselves constantly so that I couldn’t sleep.” As the trader spoke, he again scratched furiously at the skin between his fingers. “My sons and I were very glad when the rain stopped and we could pack the canoes and move on. We were all so tired that we made camp long before dark the next day so that we could sleep in peace.”

“How long ago was this?” the Medicine Man asked.

“About two moon cycles ago,” the trader answered, as he again scratched at his hand.

“And how long has your hand been itching?”

“For a few days now. It’s very annoying. At first I thought I had gotten too near the plant that makes you itch, but this seems different. It itches so that I have to be careful not to scratch the skin away. I wake myself up at night scratching at it.”

The Medicine Man reached for thetrader’s hand and examined it. There was a rash between the fingers, and the skin was red and inflamed. “Do you itch anywhere else?” he asked.

“No,” said the trader, “but one of my sons also has this itching on his hands.” “Did you bring me some of the bush with the waxy berries I asked for?”

“Yes, there is a pack full of it. I left it over there by the door,” the trader said.

“Then, my friend, we have work to do before our village becomes like that one that you stayed in. Go and get your sons immediately and bring them here.”

After the trader left, the Medicine Man opened the pack. When he untied it, a spicy fragrance filled the air. Most of the pack was filled with berries surrounded by a thick, waxy coating, but there were also many twigs with the leaves still attached.

The healer began to pick the leaves from the stems, added some berries, and ground them to a paste in his mortar. He put the paste into a pot with some water and set it on the fire. He opened his tobacco pouch and added a generous amount of the contents to the mixture. By the time the trader returned with his sons, the concoction had boiled down into a thick, brown, fragrant ooze.

The Medicine Man recognized the symptoms of the skin disease, though he hadn’t seen it in many years. He also knew that it was very contagious. If he didn’t act quickly, the whole village would soon be suffering. He made the trader and his sons remove all their clothing. He gathered the clothes and set the bundle outside the house.

“I am sorry,” he said, but we must burn your clothing. You should also burn any other clothing you have worn on your journey, along with the bedding you had with you.”

The healer examined the men. Three of them seemed to show no symptoms. The son who was infected, like the trader, only had the rash between the fingers of one hand. With the concoction from the pot, he bathed the men’s affected hands several times.

“Leave this on overnight,” he said. “You should all stay in one house. Stay away from your wives and other people for a few days. Come back here tomorrow morning, and I will put more of this medicine on you.”

“But,” said the trader,” we have no clothes! We will have to walk back through the village naked!”

The Medicine Man laughed. “That, my old friend, is your problem,” he said. The healer continued to treat the men and keep them apart from the rest of the village. The trader’s other sons never developed the rash. And, thanks to the healing plant, within a few days the trader and his infected son were beginning to heal and showed no further symptoms.

The Medicine Man was relieved. He had seen this disease sweep through a village, affecting almost the whole population with itching sores. It was not hard to treat if it was caught early enough, but once it was firmly established, it was almost impossible to eradicate.

The trader thanked the Medicine Man for his help. “Perhaps,” he said, “you can come over to my house one night, and I will have my wife prepare you a nice pot of skunk stew!”

****************

The healing plant used by the Medicine Man was the wax myrtle or southern bayberry (Morella cerifera, formerly Myrica cerifera). This shrub or small tree of the Myricaceae (Bayberry Family) grows in low, wet soils through the coastal plain and piedmont of eastern North America from New Jersey south to Florida, and westward to Texas,
Arkansas, and Oklahoma. The shiny, leathery leaves are coarsely toothed, very aromatic, and evergreen. The fruits are borne in dense clusters and are covered with a thick layer of an aromatic wax-like substance. A similar species, northern bayberry (Morella pennsylvanica) grows from Quebec and Ontario south to Virginia and the northern coast of North Carolina. Other related species of Morella grow in the southeastern U.S. and along the West Coast.

Medicine:
Wax myrtle and other related species in the genus Morella have a long history of usage as valuable medicinal plants. The plant contains many medicinal chemical compounds and has antibacterial, astringent, diaphoretic, febrifuge, vermifuge, insecticidal, anodyne, subnarcotic, diuretic, anti-inflammatory, and other properties. The medicinal parts are the leaves, berries, and root bark.

A tea made from the root bark and leaves has been used as a treatment for sore throats, sore gums, and as an effective treatment for gastritis, diarrhea, and dysentery. It was also an esteemed remedy for internal hemorrhage and excessive menstruation, jaundice, colds and fevers, influenza and cholera. The pounded root bark used as a poultice is used for the treatment of scrofula and to heal ulcers and sores. Some Native American tribes also used the root bark as a narcotic to deaden the pain of toothaches. A strong wash of the leaves, berries, and root bark has been used to heal rashes, skin diseases, and parasitic skin infections such as scabies. The powdered root bark was sometimes sniffed to cure ailments of the mucous membranes, and a tea was used to treat earaches. A very strong infusion of the leaves has been used as an emetic and narcotic, and to expel intestinal worms.

Food:
The aromatic leaves of wax myrtle can be used as a culinary herb for flavoring foods, soups, and stews* in the same manner as commercial bay leaves. The dried, ground leaves and berries (after the wax has been removed) can be used as a condiment. The leaves can be steeped in hot water to make a beverage tea. Do not boil, as this can release toxins. The leaves have also been used as a substitute for or in addition to hops to flavor beer, liqueurs, and mead.
*Not recommended for skunk stew

Other Uses: The waxy coating of wax myrtle berries has long been used to make aromatic bayberry candles and fragrant soaps. The berries are boiled in water, and the wax rises to the top and is skimmed off. The berry wax was a valuable export at one time, and the manufacture of bayberry candles was once an important cottage industry. Most commercial bayberry candles in modern times are either artificially flavored, or only contain small amounts of bayberry wax.

The leaves and berries are also used in potpourri, and the distilled oil as an ingredient in perfumes. The berries yield a yellow dye. Wax myrtle leaves have been used to repel moths and other insects, and thrown on campfires to repel mosquitoes.

Wax myrtle is a popular ornamental shrub or tree in coastal landscapes, and it also enriches the soil, as wax myrtle plants are nitrogen fixers. They pull nitrogen from the atmosphere and secrete it into the soil by the means of root nodules in the same manner of most legumes.

Our ancestors lived intimately with the land and, over time, accumulated much knowledge of which plants to use for different purposes. Before industrial civilization, this knowledge was widespread and necessary for survival. Now much knowledge has been lost. It is our duty and in our best interests to preserve useful plant knowledge and incorporate it into our lives as well as to preserve our environment and the wild plants that in the future may once again become our very means of survival.