When I visited the picturesque Mexican town of Oaxaca (pronounced Wa-ha-ca), the many-hued buildings of it colonial centre were awash in a clear light, illuminating them like sparkling jewels. Walking down one of these streets I found, hidden from view, another of the city’s treasures: the Jardin Ethnobotanique.

The garden’s open gateway invites one to leave behind the richly colourful street scenes and to step inside a rather austere world of magnificent plant specimens that reflect the landscape beyond the town. The collections of indigenous plants housed here have been brought in from all over the state. The genius of this beautifully laid-out garden lies in the illustrative usage of its plant material which successfully conveys a strong sense of Oaxaca’s identity, the region’s biodiversity as well as its culture and history.

The six-acre site was originally part of the grounds of the ornate and richly decorated Templo de Santo Domingo de Guzman, a Spanish church built by the European conquerors in 1529 — a time when the Spaniards started converting the indigenous population to Christianity. The Church was a Dominican Convent from 1608-1857 after which it was converted to army barracks, a function it retained until 1994. Eventually, it fell into disuse and put up for sale for commercial purposes. But a petition by the locals saved it from this fate; the convent was restored and, in 1997, work began to rebuild the botanic garden anew.

A 16th-century church ground converted into a garden celebrates Oaxaca’s exceptional botanical variety

The garden is divided into different parts and is the work of local artists Luis Zarate and Francisco Toledo who designed the layout. The church, with its stone walls and cupola, is visible as one walks through the garden, providing a beautiful backdrop and structure to the garden. The botanic part of the garden contains a myriad of cactus varieties and agricultural plants that further serve to illustrate the culture and traditions of the region in terms of food, medicinal use, farming and historical uses of plants.

In the 18th century, Oaxaca exported cochineal, a red dye made by tiny insects living on the prickly pear cactus. This is grouped together with a multitude of cactus species and blue-grey agaves by a masterly hand that creates surprises and points of interest throughout so that there is never a sense of monotony. This is not a blueprint for a typical garden with its square of green and flowering borders that we are so used to seeing but a creation that belongs specifically to this place and that gives it a raw and inherent beauty that, even if it were replicated, would not ‘work’ out of context in another place.

As we follow our guide and make our way down the paths, we spy a 300-year-old Bisnaga cactus — squat, rounded and prickly, this organic form is extremely slow-growing and for this reason is gradually becoming extinct as it is cut down for its edible heart that is said to taste like candy and is a local delicacy.

But the real stunner amongst these visually exciting forms is a cacti hedge set in a square, its long, ribbed, spikey columns of green towering overhead, some up to 20 feet tall. They form an impenetrable barrier and are used for constructing enclosures by the local peasant population. A black secretion used for dying clothes is also obtained from these cacti. As we see their reflections in the still waters of the central rectangular pool, centuries of history and tradition comes to mind that incorporate sustainable raw materials into a way of life that harks back to the past.

Other plants have medicinal uses, curing skin diseases and reducing fevers, explains the guide pointing to the paper-thin peeling barks of copper-coloured tree trunks. Wood from the mesquite tree, also a local specimen, is prized for its distinctive smell that permeates and enhances the flavour of grilled meats. Chillies are another flavouring commonly used in Mexico and the garden showcases 20 local varieties of different colours and sharpness. There is a variety of agricultural produce — strains of wild maize and corn that were grown hundreds of years ago by the natives and fruit from the cactus that is a rich source of potassium.

The botanic part of the garden merges with the courtyard garden attached to the Santo Domingo church. The huge, indigenous guaje tree takes centre stage here, its leaves casting dappled shadows on the red earth; a reference to the spilt blood of indigenous people by the conquering Spaniards. A line of overhanging gargoyles extending from the towering walls of the church along one side of the courtyard, spout water when it rains, falling onto cobblestones set in squares. Underneath, runs a cistern that carries the water to an underground tank where it is stored to be used in the dry season that extends for six months of the year. The aged stone blocks of the wall on the opposite side are covered in climbing cacti, their flowers blooming briefly for one night a year. It is a stark and spare tableau that moves and captures the imagination with its seeming simplicity.

We exit through an arched opening, brushing against the gargoyle wall as we walk along it, squeezing into its meagre mid-day shade, and re-enter the main garden. Walking along paths that criss-cross the gravelled planting areas we move past shades of green interlacing the different textures all around: smooth, spiny, ribbed and feathery. It is stimulating for the senses, a study in contrasts, from tall cacti hedges to low mounds of ground cover and everything in between.

Artfully placed pools filled with muddy water soothe the senses as they reflect the heat haze from the sky; reflections in the pools dance as they mingle with the red-tiled roof and stone walls of the church. Blooming frangipani trees, with pink and peach blossoms crowning their arthritic limbs, soften the landscape as they take a stand in a row along the outer stone wall, with the rising cupola of the church outlined above.

Casting one last look backwards, I am struck again by how ‘right’ and effortless this garden feels and how it belongs to this place, rooted as it is in its unique history, culture and traditions.

The writer is a garden designer qualified from the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, London

Published in Dawn, EOS, March 18th, 2018