Eating weeds

I watched with curiosity as three women wandered through the low brush, gathering what appeared to be weeds  near the ditch.  A couple disappeared behind the stack of split logs, squatting to pull the greenery from the root, then standing again to look for more.  The round, green leaves were lush, and I could see some yellow flowers sticking out between the clutches of shrubs.  I wondered if they were simply pulling weeds, but they were too selective over which was picked and which stayed planted, gathering handfuls into their shirt fronts.

After they had picked all they could find in the area, they carried their findings inside.  When I finally wandered inside, I discovered what all the greenery was for:  dinner.  And this isn't the first time this has happened.  I have watched the children do the exact same thing – scatter around the yard, going as far as the fence, looking for edible greens.  What looks little more than overgrown weeds is turned into nourishment to supplement nearly every meal.  I didn't realize that much of the greens we ate at nearly every meal came from simply going out into the yard and picking them as they grew wild.  Much of the greens also come from the market in town, but whenever we needed more, a quick jaunt outside proved successful and delicious.

  They've even gone into the nearby field to pick Morning Glories – just the flower heads to turn into tea when boiled in water and strained.  A week ago, one of the girls had come running up to me, "P'Lissa! P'Lissa! Take to kitchen please," she said as she shoved a clear plastic bag into my hands.
"Why?  What is this for?" I asked confused.
"The kitchen. The kitchen.  To eat."
"You are going to eat this?"
"No. Drink.  Make into tea.  Very good."  She told me as she caught her breath.
It had taken me some time to figure out her pronunciation of "kitchen" but once I realized what she wanted, I took the full bag to the kitchen with me. They were beautiful flowers, and part of me wanted to put them in a vase if it weren't for the fact that the heads were plucked clean off without the slightest stem.  An hour later I wandered back into the kitchen and out onto the patio where the flowers had been shredded into individual pedals, cleaned, and left to dry in two large, shallow, rattan trays.  I never tried the tea, but the pedals were gone by dinner.  And never seen again…