Deputy Managing Editor
In the early 1980s, visitors to the Royal Botanic Gardens in Port-of-Spain noticed something changing.
The grass was shorter, the pathways cleaner, and trees that had stood silently for generations were suddenly being catalogued, cared for, and, where necessary, replaced.
Bird vine was disappearing from branches, and the ponds in The Hollows were being repaired. There was a sense that one of the country’s most treasured public spaces was waking from a long slumber.
At the centre of that transformation stood a little-known agricultural officer and horticulturalist by the name of Indra Kelly, and she didn’t want the spotlight.
“It’s not me,” she insisted in a Trinidad Guardian interview done back then by the now-late journalist Anne Hilton and published on June 27, 1982. “It’s the whole team. I’m just one small part.”
That response revealed as much about her leadership style as it did about the work taking place behind the scenes.
She was at the centre of the restoration, but she did not believe that the restoration of the Botanic Gardens was the achievement of one person, but of gardeners, labourers, supervisors, maintenance staff, office workers and ministry officials all pulling in the same direction.
Yet history often remembers the people who inspire teams to believe that change is possible, and that is exactly who Indra Kelly was.
The Royal Botanic Gardens, as it was known then before the word ‘Royal’ was dropped sometime later, was already more than 160 years old when Kelly assumed responsibility for the Botanical Station of the Horticultural Division within the Ministry of Agriculture, Lands and Food Production.
Established in 1818 during the governorship of Sir Ralph Woodford, the Gardens were intended both as a place of scientific study and as a public space where residents could enjoy the beauty of the tropical landscape. The site, laid out under the supervision of botanist David Lockhart, became one of the oldest botanical institutions in the Western Hemisphere and eventually home to hundreds of species of trees and plants from Trinidad and Tobago and around the world.
Today, generations of Trinidad and Tobago nationals have memories rooted beneath its great trees, from school excursions, family picnics, wedding photographs and quiet walks under the shade of samaan branches.
But botanical gardens do not preserve themselves, and Kelly’s determination to ensure it did not fall into ruin is a great deal of the reason it is enjoyed the way it is today.
Kelly’s own journey into horticulture had been far from straightforward.
As a student at Bishop Anstey High School, she had initially hoped to pursue medicine.
Instead, she found herself working in banking.
The commercial world, however, offered little satisfaction.
From Hilton’s account of her, she remembered advice given years earlier by a teacher, Miss Shurland, who had encouraged her to consider agriculture as a career, and it was a decision that changed her life.
After joining the Ministry, she was assigned to the Experimental Station at Centeno, where she discovered that agriculture involved far more than planting and weeding.
“It was a revelation,” she recalled in 1982, realising that agriculture was a blend of science, economics and environmental stewardship.
She eventually specialised in horticulture and was sent by the Ministry to Gainesville, Florida, to receive professional training, returning to Trinidad equipped with expertise that was still relatively rare in the country at the time.
Her appointment to lead the Botanical Gardens operation also challenged assumptions.
Some doubted whether a woman could manage such a demanding role in an environment traditionally dominated by men and heavy field work.
Kelly answered those doubts not with speeches but with results.
Within three years, visitors were already witnessing the changes.
Trees across the Gardens and the Queen’s Park Savannah were numbered so maintenance crews could identify and monitor them properly.
New trees were planted to replace specimens lost to storms or old age. Fences were repaired, pathways resurfaced, and overgrown areas reclaimed.
The work combined practical maintenance with scientific planning.
Seeds were collected and stored at Centeno for future planting programmes.
Exotic species were evaluated to determine whether they could thrive locally, while native trees, fruit species, herbs and shrubs were cultivated so citizens could better understand the extraordinary diversity of Trinidad and Tobago’s flora.
The Gardens were becoming not merely a park but an outdoor classroom.
Modern equipment was also introduced to improve safety and efficiency, and hydraulic lifts were acquired to allow workers to prune tall trees and remove bird vine without climbing dangerously into canopies.
Tree trimmings were recycled into compost and mulch using shredders and wood chippers, an early example of sustainable landscape management long before such practices became fashionable.
Kelly and her team were also thinking about the visitor experience.
Plans were developed for an information centre near the entrance, educational material for visitors, picnic facilities in The Hollows and the restoration of historic features, including the fountain near President’s House.
There were dreams of an open-air theatre and perhaps even the return of band concerts in the Gardens.
Many of those ideas reflected the original vision of the space itself as a living institution where science, recreation and civic pride could exist side by side.
And the Gardens had always shared a close relationship with neighbouring landmarks, including the Queen’s Park Savannah and what is now President’s House, creating one of the country’s most important historic landscapes.
Today, the Gardens cover more than 60 acres and contain over 700 species of trees and plants, continuing to serve as both a conservation site and one of Port-of-Spain’s most beloved green spaces.
Fourty-four years later, visitors walking beneath the giant samaans or pausing near The Hollows today may never know the names of the people who swept the leaves, repaired the fences or watered the young trees during those years of renewal.
Unquestionably, Indra Kelly would probably prefer it that way.
After all, she said it herself those four decades ago: “It’s not me, it’s the whole team.”
