Is it that eating weeds off the sidewalk, backyards and pavement is associated with poverty in an Africa where lifestyle tends to deny the ghost that lurks within? I mean those hardy mrenda, terere, managu, saka and sucha that have sprung up naturally in your abandoned yards and near the gate pillars. You haven’t foraged for, cooked and eaten that green gold yet, yes?
If I visit you and find edible veggies stranded in your compounds, i’ll play saviour. I’ll whip me out a green paper-bag from nowhere and win me a vast serving of take-aways. Not of your favorite visitors’ dish, but of nature’s generous offering. I told everyone in advance.
Funny lot we are. I’ve just seen a neighbor – hey, go on roll your eyeballs, we all are voyeur – unpack bundles of terere in ‘Uchumi’ plastic bags from her car’s boot, yet some healthy, fat-stemmed, leafy version of the delicacy has invaded the flower garden unpertubed. I can’t feast on all these alone. Hahaha, why spend a dime?