on unidentifiable greens

springtime heralds a wonderful season in morocco, largely because fresh fruits and vegetables become readily available once more, and are truly fresh - not last years remnants posing as youthful, vibrant nutrition. not only do people obtain these foods from local markets, but they gather some from natural resources in the area. one popular food, that has become one of my favorites, is called buqqola. it is a mixture of fresh herbs and greens that are generally grown in gardens or bought at souq (weekly market), steamed over water, and then mixed with a variety of spices, olive oil, garlic, onions, and tomatoes. it is delicious, a healthy meal, and one i look forward to eating when i visit villagers. so i was ecstatic when i visited a family for lunch the other week and they revealed that they had just gone to the river to collect greens for this special meal. i offered to help with the preparations and entered the kitchen to begin my assigned tasks. the plastic bag on the floor was loaded with mixed greens that i viewed in great anticipation. they were carefully washed and handed to me to mince for faster steaming purposes. as i began chopping, i noticed that these greens looked nothing like any i had ever seen used in buqqola before. not only that, but it was quite the menagerie, each plant looking slightly different than the one before. nervousness began its subtle descent into the pit of my stomach, spreading out into my dicing wrists and up into my mind. there it began to grow, proffering questions such as 'what if they didn't really know what they were picking and just selected everything that looked edible?' and 'what if this is poisonous and i'm preparing my own death sentence here?' and further wonderings into 'i'm definitely letting them dive in first as i s l o w l y savor to see if they suffer adverse reactions'. the entire process of chopping and steaming and finally mashing the greens into a pulp took a little over an hour and a half, my brain arguing with itself the entire time. would it be possible to suddenly excuse myself and luncheon by myself with a safe piece of bread in the confines of my house? surely cooking the plants would negate any dangerous side effects they could possess. at least it will be a great last meal to enjoy if it is indeed my last. due to obligation i was forced to stay for lunch, and very persistently convinced to eat more than my fair share of the plate. obviously, it had no adverse reactions and i was able to appreciate the food despite the anxiety flicking through my brain. but it sure does make me value that food safety stamp of approval available to all in american supermarkets.