PLANT CARE IS SELF CARE
What I Learned From One Very Smart Dumb Cane
A story about poisonous tendencies and second chances.
The problem with us, humans, is that we’ve placed ourselves atop the natural hierarchy, above all other animals, above plants and, judging by the current pollution levels, above nature itself. What can a brain-deficient, earth-bound tropical creature like my Dumb Cane possibly teach me, a member of the all-knowing and all-powerful human species?
Actually, a lot.
Lesson 1: Just because you have power doesn’t mean you have to use it
Dumb Cane is poisonous. If its sap comes in contact with your skin or eyes, expect severe pain, inflammation and grossly swollen eyelids. When ingested, it will cause pain, burning and severe swelling of your mouth, tongue and upper digestive tract, reducing you to a drooling, speechless mess in a matter of minutes. Dumb Cane’s calcium oxalate-laden sap is so effective, native inhabitants of the upper Amazon used it to make poison arrows and native Caribbean tribes used it to temporarily sterilize their particularly virile male members. And yet, here we are, still not giving it the respect it deserves by placing it at the bottom of our man-made nature pyramid. Dismiss this if you like, but you have to accept that there once lived a human who stood toe-to-toe with this unassuming plant, ate it, and lost. This prehistoric hunter-gatherer has told the story of his unfortunate encounter to his loin-clothed relatives and now, many millennia later, we routinely warn other members of our species not to fuck with this plant. You may call this winning, but I call it fear. Now, despite having enough calcium oxalate to silence me and my entire family for several days, my beautiful and very dangerous Dumb Cane is peacefully observing me from the corner of my dining room. Wish that some power-wielding members of my own species would behave the same.
Lesson 2: Sometimes you have to leave your roots to start anew
My Dumb Cane came to me about three years ago from my sister-in-law who was troubled by its poor condition. Its stunning variegated leaves routinely wilted, yellowed and fell off, creating a leggy, ghastly creature that lacked the energy to prop itself up much less flourish. After further examination, I’ve identified the problem to be root rot, most likely due to overzealous watering habits of its well-meaning ex-parent. Mind you, I’m not some kind of tropical foliage expert. This was my first encounter with this type of plant and I had to triple-check the internet before doing anything: pull the plant from its pot, check for rotting soft brown roots, and so on. Saving a troubled plant is not easy and, for people like me, can be a highly emotional experience. I do not like to watch plants die.
Luckily for me — and obviously for the plant — it did not die. Following the advice of internet plant gurus, I took the drastic but necessary measure to cut off the top undamaged portion with three healthy leaves and place it in water. In about two weeks, my cutting sprouted a healthy bunch of white, firm new roots, ready for a new life. Amazing, right? This supposedly inferior creature so easily changed course from certain death to completely healthy new plant in two short weeks. How long would it take a human to adjust to a new set of circumstances? As a daughter of immigrants, this story rings particularly true to me.
Lesson 3: Don’t judge a plant by its name
Originally “dumb” meant mute or not being able to speak, an archaic usage that’s no longer appropriate. However, because its poison sap can render you speechless for several days, this explains how Dumb Cane got its common name.
But wait, this gets much darker.
Caribbean slave owners commonly used the plant’s toxic properties to inflict cruel and debilitating punishments. There’s also evidence of Dumb Cane being used to conduct sterility experiments in Nazi concentration camps. Given this nefarious history, should I have let it rot?
No, there’s nothing sinister about my vibrant, tropical plant. It’s done nothing but develop evolutionary defenses against natural predators. The blame lies with the so-called humans that weaponized it against their own kind.
Maybe it’s best to retire the unfortunate Dumb Cane moniker and use its scientific name — Dieffenbachia — instead. If for no other reason that there’s nothing dumb about it.
