The seeds my Mennonite ancestors brought from Russia changed America.
Maybe my ancestor’s seeds will join the corn seeds from the Cherokee nation, or seeds rescued from the Syrian civil war? They’re all stored at the Svalbard Global Seed Vault in Norway. There’s room for 4.5 million seeds. Maybe they have room for my ancestor’s seeds?
Long before my ancestors knew the word biodiversity, they grew crops that were diverse. Their seeds offer more productive crop varieties—and they’re essential to farmers who must grow more on a warming planet.
My ancestors were asked to grow more under difficult conditions. First in Russia, and then in the United States.
When they left Russia for the Great Plains, they carried an insurance policy. In trunks, sewn into the hems of their clothing, and stuffed in their pockets—seeds.
The wheat seeds my Russian ancestors brought with them changed the Midwest. They perfected and cultivated a variety of spring and winter wheat in Russia that grew well on the Great Plains. It grew so well that it turned Kansas into the world’s leading wheat producer.
But it started with a broken promise.
Around 1762, my ancestors living in Germany accepted an invitation from Catherine the Great of Russia. They were asked to teach farming practices and turn poor land into crops to feed her growing masses. In exchange she promised these persecuted and pacifist German Mennonites religious freedom and exemption from military service. The Falk family made the long trek from Germany down to the Dnieper River, not far from the Black Sea in Russia. Disappointment followed. After draining the swamps and perfecting a new variety of wheat that brought record harvests, all promises were revoked.
Not ones to waste time over broken promises, they sent scouts to America to find a new home. And in the 1870s, America sent fliers to Russia to lure these famed farmers to new Midwestern territories. It was a two-way, transcontinental public relations campaign funded by the largest landholders, the railroads. My ancestors-built trunks for their belongs and they left Russia. But only after loading up with seeds of all kinds: mulberry, Russian olive, vegetables and herbs, watermelon, dill, summer savory, sorrel and wheat.
They arrived in planting season ready to plant. After the locals gawked at these “Rooshians,” they gawked at the waves of wheat that covered Kansas, Nebraska, the Dakotas and Minnesota, where my ancestors ultimately settled. These “Rooshians” had turned the Great Plains into the breadbasket. The granary of the world.
Wherever the Russian Mennonites went, they worked and worshiped hard. They were highly literate, peaceful and frugal, and they were known to break into song freely. One local reporter observed, “One of the pleasing features of the Russian presence in our town, is their singing. All have good voices. And none have any hesitancy in displaying their vocal accomplishments.”
And they stayed through droughts, depression, and swarms of grasshoppers.
I was swapping family stories with my uncle, and he told me he rescued a small seed packet from my grandparent’s belongings after they died. He believes this packet came from his Russian grandparents. Written on the outside are three German words: von Kleine Weiss – “from small white.” Are these seeds from a small white melon? Small
My recent family research has introduced me to ancestors I’ve wondered about. Farther north, my Norwegian ancestors were busy too. I have yet to discover what they were doing. Raping and pillaging has been suggested. I’m still working on that branch of the family.
Lately I’ve been conferring with these Russian and Norwegian ancestors I never knew. If my uncle sends those small white seeds to the seed vault, my two-family trees will unite. I wonder what those “little white ones” will become? Juicy little white melons? Maybe the next generation will know, but I can’t stop thinking about them and salvaging seeds of my own.
Hard pressed by the pandemic, pestilence, rising temperatures and sea levels, stronger storms, wars, and world’s largest number of people on the move, what we leave behind and what we save matters.
There are so many seeds to save, and no time to waste.