Bwenawa brought my attention to two wooden planks raised about four feet above the ground. On the ledges were lagoon fish sliced open and lying in the sun, the carcasses just visible through an enveloping blizzard of flies. “You see, ” said Bwenawa. “The water dries in the sun, leaving the salt. It’s kang-kang [tasty]. We call it salt fish.” “Ah,” I said. “In my country we call it rotten fish.