All products featured on Condé Nast Traveler are independently selected by our editors. However, when you buy something through our retail links, we may earn an affiliate commission.
This is part of a collection of stories on slow travel—read more here.
“Every time an Indigenous person plants a seed, that is an act of resistance, an assertion of sovereignty, and a reclamation of identity,” Rebecca Webster tells me as she shimmies her spoon between rows of kernels in shades of lilac, plum, and bone. When hulled correctly, the corn makes a satisfying pop! pop! pop! sound like Orville Redenbacher's. I'm new to this, though, so my kernels go flying all over her kitchen—to the delight of Rebecca's three rambunctious dogs. Her husband, Steve, is armed with a small metal thresher that strips the cobs in seconds flat. “He's just showing off,” she says, rolling her eyes.
The Websters are citizens of the Oneida Nation. They recently transformed their 10-acre homestead on the Oneida Reservation near Green Bay, Wisconsin, into a nonprofit. In addition to growing several varieties of heirloom Haudenosaunee corn, beans, and squash (collectively known as the three sisters), as well as sunflowers, sunchokes, and tobacco, they're on a mission to turn their farm, Ukwakhwa: Tsinu Niyukwayay^thoslu (the name means “Our foods: where we plant things”), into a place where Oneida community members and nontribal people gather to learn the ins and outs of planting, growing, and harvesting Native foods.
The project has been a long time coming. When the Websters acquired this land, in 2017, the soil was in bad shape and littered with plastic barrels and thousands of old tires. Over the next six years, they restored three acres of forest and turned another acre into a pollinator habitat. They built a beautiful house from scratch, reinforcing the basement ceiling so it could handle the weight of the braids of corn above. Most important, they planted seeds.
Corn is central not just to Ukwakhwa's mission but to Oneida life. The first thing the tribe did when it arrived in Wisconsin, after being forcibly removed from New York in the early 1800s, was clear land and plant seeds. “Through all of our trauma—boarding schools, removal, assimilation—corn has remained by our side and been an integral part of our ceremonial and daily life,” Rebecca says. “But there's a lot of embarrassment and shame when Indigenous people don't know how to grow food or speak their native language. They don't know because they weren't taught, because their parents weren't taught. We want to create a safe space for people to learn this stuff.”
Neither Steve nor Rebecca grew up in farming families, but they loved eating Native foods and wanted to eat them more often. Rebecca, who spent 13 years working as an attorney for the Oneida Nation, switched her attention to agriculture, writing (her latest book, Our Precious Corn: Yukwanénste, is due out this spring), and teaching (she's an assistant professor in the American Indian studies department at the University of Minnesota Duluth). Steve quit his all-consuming job as the reservation's records director to homeschool the couple's two daughters and get Ukwakhwa up and running.
Once the shelling is done, we begin the tedious process of seed selection. The plumpest kernels are reserved for planting at the next harvest; all the others go into the bucket for soup and bread. I roll each one around in the palm of my hand, studying its shape and texture. Rebecca reminds me that every kernel has its role: Some are responsible for growing into new plants; others feed family and community. I've never thought this much about corn in my life, which is precisely the point.
Ukwakhwa is open to nontribal people because the Websters believe it's important to have good allies. While some community members are understandably skeptical of outsiders' intentions and prefer to keep their skills and beliefs to themselves, Rebecca would rather “control the narrative.” That's why she and Steve launched a YouTube channel in early 2020 covering everything from seed saving to braiding corn-husk flowers: to share their hard-won knowledge with as many people as possible.
We take a break from seed sorting to make corn-husk dolls (Rebecca's is lean and regal, mine stout and lopsided) and boil a batch of sweet corn kanastohale, a kind of dumpling made with corn flour, berries, and maple syrup. Traditional cooking and crafts are taught at Ukwakhwa, which can now accommodate larger groups thanks to a gleaming commercial kitchen. The commissary abuts a new trading post, where the scent of freshly stained wood lingers in the air, and the shelves are stacked with Tuscarora white corn, speckled beans, blue vervain tea, maitake-laced tinctures, and handwoven baskets. Everything looks incredible, but nothing is for sale. Instead, community members are encouraged to barter their time and skills for goods and services. The Websters have traded corn for elk meat, venison chili, haircuts, honey, singing lessons, foraged medicines, even a vintage Castle Grayskull from Masters of the Universe. (Steve was on a nostalgia trip.)
Future plans for Ukwakhwa include adding a rainwater-catchment system, opening guest cabins, and even launching a rez-centric food business. “You've heard the term food desert before, but we live in a food swamp,” says Steve. His dream is to get nutritious, affordable, locally grown, home-cooked meals to community members with the speed and efficiency of Uber Eats. “What if you could order something made with local wild rice or white corn grown by us? Our next phase is about getting our ingredients right to the people.”
Plan it
Ukwakhwa: Tsinu Niyukwayay^thoslu is located on the Oneida Reservation. While you're there, support additional Oneida businesses, including the Oneida Longhouse, a replica of a traditional Oneida home.
More Indigenous experiences
To gain a better understanding of Aboriginal culture, Lynette Wilson recommends visiting Australia's Northern Territory. The Destination World founder has developed special relationships with Wugularr guides, opening up an otherwise inaccessible area for clients.
French Polynesia's island of Raiatea is considered one of the cradles of civilization, a place to which various Oceania peoples—including the Māori of New Zealand and the Kānaka Maoli of Hawaii—trace their ancestry. Samantha Collum of River Oaks Travel Agency can arrange visits with local families who will share their legends and history.
Clients of Nina Patel, founder of Vacations That Matter, can get one-on-one access to tribal elders in Namibia, who will discuss cultural traditions and the impact of colonialism, tourism, and climate change on their lives.
This article appeared in the April 2023 issue of Condé Nast Traveler. Subscribe to the magazine here.
