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PrintA Healing Garden Grows: Haskell Indian Nations University
By Carol Crupper. Photos by Diane Guthrie
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Some 50 types of perennials grace the garden. Among them are (from left) beardtongue (Penstemon tuabaeflorus), bee balm (Monarda fistulosa), and blue vervain (Verbena hasta). Bottom row: Spring brings new life to the garden. From left are beardtongue (Penstemon tubaeflorus), spiderwort (Trandescantia ohiensis), and plains yarrow (Achillea millefolium L.).
When students at Haskell Indian Nations University agreed to help develop a healthful garden at their unique intertribal institution in Lawrence, Kansas, plant selection stopped them cold. As they struggled to decide what sort of garden this would be and, later, as they developed their plot, the students rediscovered their roots. They also began to see themselves in the context of their school: some 1,000 scholars representing 150 tribes, 44 states, large towns and small.
Today “a little United Nations for Indians,” as biology professor Chuck Haines says, Haskell Indian Nations University was founded in 1884 as Haskell Institute, an industrial and agricultural trade school for elementary-age Native students. Over the years, it transitioned to a secondary school, then to junior college and finally to four-year university.
After considerable soul-searching, the students decided that this would be a “use” garden for all, built around Great Plains prairie plants. Stones recovered from razed campus buildings would become its backbone, bearing silent witness to the pain suffered by Native children when, as at other federal boarding schools, the 19th-century institute sought to erase their tribal identity and “educate and civilize” them into a European way of life. The garden began a decade ago with the help of a diabetes grant from the Prairie Band Potawatomi Nation, and continues today as a place of healing, centering and learning.
History and Healing
Early on in the garden’s planning process, students confronted the painful beginning of their university, which operated until 1935 as an off-reservation boarding school. Haines, who works with students on the garden, shared documents and photos he had unearthed in the National Archives and the school’s old dairy barn. These artifacts paint a stark picture of overworked children suffering from malnutrition, communicable diseases and inadequate health care. “It was an institution built on the backs of child labor,” Haines says.
As they delved into the documents, students felt the 102 tombstones on the eastern edge of campus come alive. Marc Quetone recalls feeling “shock, a little disbelief…then sorrow” when confronted with details of those early years. He started visiting the cemetery, sketching the gravestones and imagining the lives of the children buried there. As he thought about their legacy, Quetone, a Kiowa from Albuquerque, began to envision a garden for Haskell’s new cultural center that would include plants for each tribe represented on campus. When he approached officials with his idea, he learned that the diabetes grant administrators had something similar in mind: a garden that would highlight the healing nature of plants and honor the early students who had labored at the institute.
A deal was struck: Grant money would help pay for the garden, while students would plan and plant it. The planting did not come easy. Volunteers battled heavy clay and crabgrass to forge a suitable site, then gathered and placed the heavy stones.
Embracing all of Haskell’s current students proved even more difficult, since they arrive from all places and mindsets. “Some come here and suddenly find they have relatives and a rich culture that they’ve never known; others come with their culture, but this is the biggest city they’ve ever been in,” says Haines.
Plus, many plants can’t adapt to Kansas soil and weather. After some lively discussions, and trial and error, Haines recalls students coming to this conclusion: “We certainly can’t mimic all of the tribes represented here. What we can do is to honor the process of healing and honor Indigenous peoples’ traditions brought here over so many years. We also like the idea of bringing good health to people in times of need.” Their garden, which anyone could use, would start with herbs known for healing body, mind and spirit.
Plants for Body and Soul
Ethnobotanist Kelly Kindscher, an expert in prairie medicinal plants at the University of Kansas, helped with the selection process and donated some of his own plants. “We wanted plants that combined interest and attractiveness and that were hardy,” he says.
Topping his list were echinacea, yarrow, calamus, boneset, milkweed and white sage, all medicinal and edible herbs. Calamus, used by the Lakota to fight a variety of ills, is Kindscher’s personal favorite. He also likes the easy-to-grow echinacea, or coneflower, “a flu remedy and a beautiful plant.” Quetone, now studying art in Santa Fe, recalls planting fragrant sweet grass. And for beauty, “Prairie blazing star, with its watermelon-colored flower buds, and lobelia, with a flower that’s diabolically red, like lipstick.”
Other mainstays include rattlesnake master (for fevers and poisonous bites), blue verbena (nervous system), New England aster (pain and fevers), Jerusalem artichoke (skin inflammations) and Culver’s root (a laxative and anti-arthritic). With such standards in place, the garden began to take root. Many contributed, but Quetone was driven, says museum curator Bobbi Rahder. “Marc was here night and day. He babied the plants and they blossomed under his care.”
Putting the Garden to Use
Looking back, Quetone recalls a time of “awesome magic. Culturally, I learned a lot,” he says. “I know lots more about myself, my roots and the importance of preserving culture. I know the history of those plants like the back of my hand, not only for my tribe, but also all others.”
Quetone left the university with hopes that the garden would continue as a place for students to learn about plants and explore their roots. He wanted something aesthetically pleasing for alumni. It has been that and more. But, it’s not the neatly tended garden he left. Today, plants spill into one another with abandon. “It’s not really a manicured garden,” notes Lori Tapahonso, a teacher at Haskell. “We just let it grow as it would.”
People often stop to pluck an herb or two. Milkweed’s a favorite, says Tapahonso, who once noticed a mother applying its sap to her youngster’s scraped knee. Many use sage and sweet grass for prayer and purification. “Elders who come here love it,” notes Haines. “These are plants that people around here use all the time. If they need something, we dig it out for them.”
Haines also uses the garden as a teaching tool. Plants help people reconnect with the world around them, he says. “If you allow it, you can, over time, experience a deep intimate connection with plants. In many ways it’s a friendship.”
Terra Houska, an Oglala Lakota who helped tend the garden, formed such a bond and today works as a wildlife biologist in Sundance, Wyoming. “Up here we have prairie turnips,” she says of her native Black Hills. But Haskell’s sages and echinacea seemed like friendly cousins. Her ancestors knew what they were doing when it came to medicinal plants, Houska says. “I don’t like to take pills. If I chew on yarrow or sage leaves, it makes my headaches go away. Many Native students forget that a lot of today’s prescription drugs came from plants that our ancestors have been using for thousands of years.”
Professor Chuck Haines, right, works with a crew preparing the soil. From left are Willie Ogden (Kickapoo), Gillis Miller Jr. (Comanche/Wichita), John Crow, (Oglala Sioux), and Michael Daugomah (Kiowa). Others joined them to plant corn varieties like Mandan clay red, Navajo blue, Quapaw red, Zuni blue, Delaware (Lenape) white flour, Hopi dark red and mixed red; all seeds obtained from the USDA Seed Bank in Ames, Iowa.
The Garden Branches Out
Over the decade, students have added to the plot in a fairly informal way. Some find it missing plants they’ve known all their lives. “This needs to be here,” they’ll say, and they’ll plant it. Lately, Haskell’s gardeners have been working with plants that produce natural coloring dyes, such as New Jersey tea, bloodroot and indigo. They dig roots, then process and grind them into stunning shades of red, blue and yellow.
Last spring, at the edge of the garden, students added heritage corn varieties from a variety of lands: Mandan Red Clay (North Dakota), Quapaw Red (Oklahoma), Zuni Blue (New Mexico) and Hopi Dark Red (Arizona), among others. Beautifully colored and nutritionally pure, this corn beats anything found in today’s supermarket.
Shereena Baker, Ute/Karuk from northern California, heard about the corn planting and rushed to help. “It’s a taste of our culture,” she says. “Food was a lot healthier back in the day. Our ancestors appreciated and ate corn differently than we do now.” The experience reinforced her intent to spend her life promoting Indigenous ways.
As he dropped kernels of Hopi corn into the school’s welcoming garden, Brian Holona, a Navajo from Crystal, New Mexico, sensed the sweep of history. Around him, the children’s memorial stones stirred his growing sense of purpose. “I don’t think you ever really make peace with it,” Holona says. “You learn from it and heal.” Holona recalled planting the “three sisters” (corn, squash and beans) with his family back home and felt a longing to return and work for his people. “It pretty much centered me again,” he says.
Carol Crupper is a freelance writer from Lawrence, Kansas. She says that visiting with students and their mentors who have loved and tended this special garden has been a joy.
Photographer Diane Guthrie, an avid gardener, is inspired by nature’s bounty. For this story she enjoyed capturing the images while learning about the healing qualities of the plants.
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