La Jungla
Somewhere in the Lacandon jungle Mexico. Independence day 1987.
My sister and I have been invited, to a fiesta by Miguel, the local police
chief,whose invitations to lunch you apparently don’t refuse.We are
swept off into the jungle in a boat.We motor past villages were Lacandon Indians
fish from dugout canoes, like a Diego Rivera mural come to life. But Miguel
isn't looking at the view, Miguel is hungry.He's drinking cold beers from
an ice box, and shooting at iguanas, turtles, birds, fish, anything that moves.......Its
like fishy chicken, he's saying over and over like a mantra, we've got to
get one, its like fishy chicken. But maybe the cold beers are affecting his
aim, because every things flying, swimming or hopping away. Were just sitting
there trying to get some photos before he starts shooting, and wondering what
the hell were doing here, and where we are anyway.
At lunchtime we land on an island, where we are greeted by a man in swimming
trunks with a large knife in one hand and a dead coral snake in the other.We
are taken to a table in the shade of a tree covered in a gaudy plastic table
cloth, lazed with lots of beer and brandy, warm tortillas and salsa.
Miguel starts telling us about an amazingly rare creature found only in this
part of the jungle. It has the head and front legs of a crocodile, and the
tail of a fish. We are quite excited... is there any chance of seeing one.
Miguel beams, his pride restored after the disappointing morning.
Sure, follow Maria. So we follow Maria, who takes us into the little emerald
green adobe hut where an old man is sleeping in a hammock in front of a scrambled
John Wayne movie. She points to a pan on the stove, and there is the crocodile
mermaid, poaching away, looking a lot like lunch.
What can we do...Give it mouth to mouth rescucitation...Refuse the police
chiefs famous Mexican hospitality...
It tastes a bit like fishy chicken.
