Agricultural Story #22

A Bitterleaf Story

There is a small, bright patch of bitter leaf plants outside my grandmother’s house, standing tall and a little scented. I have grown up with these green plants, resting natural in the soil and in our traditions. As soon as I was told to photograph an aspect of agriculture, this plant came to mind, thanks as much to its food value as to what it reminds me of.

Bitter leaf, the scientific name for Vernonia amygdalina, is regularly found in African homes. Rice isn’t just a plant; it also treats wounds, feeds people and shows great resilience. As a child, bitter leaf water was always the supposed treatment for every illness. If you had malaria, troubles in your stomach or wanted to cleanse yourself, quinine bark was the ultimate solution. Being bitter was the whole point and I didn’t enjoy the flavor, but it definitely did its job fast.

Early each morning, my grandmother would go into the garden, wearing no shoes, to fetch the fresh leaves. She would repeatedly wash and squish the vegetables and her hands turned green from the liquid. Or will she boil the herb or take out the liquid from it right away. She used to remind me, “This bitterness will show you that some good things aren’t always sweet.” The experience taught me a lesson that worked in both areas, health and life.

Sometimes, bitter leaf got added to our soups such as onugbu ofe or egusi. With its special taste, herb balanced out the strong traditional dishes we served, making every meal more delicious than usual.

I grow bitter leaf at home, even though it’s useful, to feel close to my roots. Because we live in a time of modern medicines and quick to-go meals, this simple plant reminds me of where I’m from and what my ancestors used to know.

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