by Marc Devitt

Well, APS Sydney's Cactus Day 2022 was something really special. Following on from Tony Davey’s exceptionally received talk last year, this year's event showcased more ‘old school’ expert cactus cultivators, in the form of the oceanic and enigmatic Mark Camo, and forthright and splendorous Liam Engel. These two combined their powers to field scores of questions on the delicate art of cacti cultivation - a master craft that both have dedicated their lives to preserving and propagating for posterity.

I say ‘forthright and splendorous’ of Liam because his talk was just crackling with enthusiasm to spread his knowledge of cacti cultivation to the audience. His presentation was full of light and colour, as he showed slide after slide of a step-by-step guide, what for him was clearly a living passion; the room lit up like a pinball machine as questions, comments and reactions bounced around, and he whipped back answers with the quickdraw of a cactus cultivating pinball wizard. It was great. I hope he’ll forgive me for not going into too much detail here, as his talk was so jammed packed full of practical, specific tips covering all the problems one might encounter growing cacti, more so than I could possibly refer to beyond the overall lasting impressions. Suffice it to say that he stepped up to the plate and launched the info into the crowd, with all the confidence of someone who’s been through it all and wanted to instil in us the courage and the confidence that we can do it too. Keep your eyes on the APS YouTube channel, as his immensely helpful masterclass video will be up there soon!

I say ‘oceanic & enigmatic’ of Mark Camo because his talk was deep and dark from the start and drew us into the mystery; he began briefly recounting a near-death brain aneurysm he thankfully survived five years ago, with the help of plants plus surgery. He mentioned the book that placed him on his path: it was called ‘Plants That Can Kill You’, and in 1985, as a kid, he'd discovered it in his primary school library. Mark set out on a quest, as you do if you’re that kind of kid (and I certainly was), a quest to collect all of the deadly plants in that book; he couldn’t find them all here in Australia but did manage to get his hands on some local Peyote, San Pedro, Salvia, Datura and Belladonna (us ‘pre-internet’ kids of the 80s were a wild bunch like that)! A few years later, as a teenager, he travelled with a friend to Peru, Ecuador and Bolivia and spent some time with indigenous communities, who taught him about the cultural uses, identification and significance of local plants, particularly cacti. One of the Andean Elders, known for his medicine, gifted Mark with a few handfuls of cactus seed to bring back to Australia. It’s beautiful to remember that Mark was only a teenage kid at the time, and (though Mark did not put it this way) it seems likely to me that this Andean Elder recognised the seed-potential for the future that Mark would carry back with him, from their great southern continent to ours.

Thus was a garden conceived that would eventually grow into Urban Tribes, one of the greatest psychedelic cacti collections in the southern hemisphere. Mark planted the first seeds in 1994, along with a cut of Ayahuasca vine, possibly the oldest living Ayahuasca vine in Australia, preceding even the vine cutting brought over by Terence McKenna (Gearin 2015 p 453). After a quarter-century in the ground, Mark’s vine now has a trunk the size of your waist and a colossal spread. The cacti seeds brought over were Bolivian Torch (Trichocereus bridgesii) taken from one particular cactus the Andean Elder had favoured as most robust, as well as San Pedro (Trichocereus pachanoi), and from these seeds have sprung over a hundred of each species, about 220 in total. All of the cacti in Mark’s garden have descended from that original lineage seed source from South America.

There’s no point in trying to recap all the stories and valuable practical skills Mark shared in the talk, because you can watch the whole talk here. What I will say is that there was something special about being there in person. The impact in the room was palpable as he began apologising if he spoke too slowly (due to the aneurysm). He then took us on a journey across the ocean to the roots of the cactus, to the roots of his childhood, and to the roots of Urban Tribes, and like these cacti his talk ended with a flowering of beautiful words, advice on cacti of the same species: ‘They all look different, they’re all unique . . . I have a belief that a cactus, or a plant, will find its owner somehow. . . it’ll come to you, if you deserve it.’ He then relayed a moment, at the start of his search in the 80s: as an 8-year-old boy, when crying for a tree that he loved which was being torn down, a thunderclap impressed upon him that his role was to be a protector of plants. Imagining Mark as an adult, fending off death, tending to the cacti, delicately dressing the Peyote with Neem oil to push back the mites, fending off death from them, spending years acclimatising what we can now assuredly state was the first Aya vine in Australia, protecting it from deadly heat until it grew strong, I was reminded of a song. This is a Quechua song from high up in the Andes, a ground-breaking, earth-tilling song; as Pachamama is injured they sing to apologise for the necessary transgression, they sing to Raywana the Food Goddess who lives in the potato seeds, letting her know that she is being buried, but promising to nurture and protect Her as She grows:

Oh, Raywana dear, now it’s ready.
Where the pickaxe pierces earth, you’re being buried.
Oh, Raywana dear, don’t say no.
Right now you’re being buried
Where the pickaxe pierces earth, as was said,
In front of everyone, big and small. Don’t say no then, little mother.
Don’t say no then, little plant.
As waylapa grass flourishes,
that’s how you’ll dance In your dance, in your year. . .
Oh Raywana dear, oh little storehouse
Like kushuru algae spread [afloat], you’ll spread out
Like waylapa grass growing, you’ll grow out.
A dozen dozens you’ll store away then,
A dozen dozens you’ll put aside safe
Even if the worm comes, even if a freeze comes
Even if the worm comes, even if a freeze comes.
Maybe the kamachikuq, maybe the mayordomo
Will defend [the crop] from the [cold of the] heights;
Yes, he’s the one who’ll defend it from frost.
Yes, it’s kamachikuq who will defend [it],
Defend the crop from worms in the earth
For the sake of feeding his [own] little babies.
Hurray, hurray for the mayordomo
Hurray, hurray for the kamachikuq
For the sake of your babies you’ll defend [the crop],
You’ll defend [it] from the worm.
From the encroaching [ice of the] heights you’ll defend it;
From the stalking freeze you’ll defend it, And also from the frost.

(Saloman 2017 pp 118-119)


At this time of tilling and planting in Andean spiritual traditions, families would carry small stones, carved in the form of potatoes, corn, or other plants to be cultivated, and these small stones in the shape of the plant would be honoured, offered food and drink, as an affirmation of the honour, care and protection families would provide for these plants. These stones were considered living beings – Conopas – as all the Earth – as Pachamama – is Living Being. These plant-shaped stones were a sacred heritage, heirlooms, passed on down the family line, from one generation to the next and so on, as a sign of maintaining the cultivation, respect, care and protection of the plants as a sacred lineage (Mills 1997 pp 93-94). I thought about the great garden grown from a handful of seeds, passed on from an Andean Elder to an Australian youth, to carry back home, across the ocean, from one great southern land to another. In the stories told of their journeys, their struggles, their seeking out the roots of a living tradition, the appreciation, care and protection they’ve held as a sacred duty of care for cacti in this country for decades, Mark and Liam reflect a noble calling that we can all aspire to, and with the skills they’ve shared with us on Cactus Day ’22, what more of an inspiration do we need to get our hands dirty? Let’s learn to cultivate these sacred cacti in our own gardens, to gain the skills, to pass them on to the next generation of entheogenic enthusiasts yet to come, such that a grassroots family heritage is carried, and not just another rootless commodification of sacred soil, seed and song.

References:

Gearin, Alex K. (2015), ‘Whatever You Want to Believe: Kaleidoscopic Individualism and Ayahuasca Healing in Australia’, The Australian Journal of Anthropology, Vol 26, pp. 443-455.

Mills, Kenneth (1997), Idolatry and Its Enemies: Colonial Andean Religion and Extirpation, 1640-1750, Princeton University Press.

Salomon, Frank (2017), At the Mountains' Altar: Anthropology of Religion in an Andean Community, Taylor & Francis.