The Dragons, the Giant, the Women: A Memoir

Greens refer to potato greens, which are the young leaves from sweet potatoes. People in the West African countries of Liberia, Sierra Leone, Guinea, and Mali often consume potato greens. Their frequent mention in the memoir strongly suggests that they’re a staple vegetable. In addition to being a source of nourishment, greens serve as a metonym in the book for Liberian traditions, comfort, and family. 

In the book’s first few pages, Wayetu wants to help the domestic servant, Korkor, wash the greens, as the women do. Korkor jokes that she “will have plenty time to wash greens,” an indicator of the domestic duties that likely await Wayetu (6). Before Mam leaves for New York, Wayetu sees her cutting greens in the kitchen when Gus playfully throws her over his shoulder. Greens are associated, too, with the happy moments before the war when her family was safe and united. Moore writes often about the smells of fresh greens and seasoned greens wafting through the air in the country. When she descends from the plane into Monrovia, she smells “fresh rubber sap” and “fried greens” (151). While the former scent is tied to a legacy of Western exploitation, the latter is connected to a legacy of resilience and survival—hence, the juxtaposition of both the scents of rubber and greens with that of sweat.

On the night that she arrives in Monrovia, Mam makes her favorite dish, which includes warm greens. When Satta rescues the Moores from Lai and takes them to Bo Waterside, she carries greens that Mam paid for to nourish them for their journey. In recalling the strength of her Ol’ Ma, Wayetu thinks of “the way she pounded potato greens in that wooden pot […] the dance of mothers come and gone, to make the harvest softer, easier to digest” (159). Though preparing greens may traditionally be the duty of women, the act is not servile but one that they perform to honor their families, their lineage, and themselves.