Project Phongsali 2011: I take a six year old’s approach. “I’ve never eaten a lizard because I know I won’t like it”.

Week Six

Day Forty-One

A lady tried to sell me a lizard. The fact that I knew there were live lizards in the arm-long bamboo tube that she carried, that they were hale and hardy, that they were nutritious and beneficial to health, that they were for sale at a good price, and that the vendor was open to discussion of a quantity discount, testifies to my improving language skills. Well…sign language skills. If I ever spot my newfound friend in a high-stakes game of charades, I’ll bet the bank on her.

I’ve never tasted lizard but…in this case my six year old grandson’s approach to new food makes perfect sense to me: “I’ve never eaten it because I know I won’t like it.” (I’m confident that, in reference to reptilian tidbits, I’ll never have to eat THOSE words.)

Up to a point, the lady tried marketing her lizards sight unseen. When that failed she chose to dump them at my feet optimistic that a good close look would clinch the deal. That rash act brought us to the unfortunate stage at which the lizards attacked people and tried to bite them. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

When the lady dumped the lizards on the ground, I took note of the fact that all the villagers standing near me were, suddenly, no longer standing near me. Soon, I too was observing the lizards from a safe distance. I would have been observing them from a safe height but this village was barren of trees and there wasn’t a man or woman nearby who looked like they could bear my weight.

I digress, but the reader should know that I’ve seen Lao people attack cobras with sticks too flimsy to securely hold a hotdog over a campfire. I’ve seen Lao people grab snarling bamboo rats by the scruff of the neck and yank out their teeth with pliers. (That’ll teach a bamboo rat not to bite, although from that time forward it doesn’t much matter whether the rat tries to bite or not.) All of which I offer as evidence that Lao people are not squeamish, and are not lacking in foolhardy bravery, even when sober.

What was surprising, given their general crankiness, was that the lizards didn’t appear to be well armed for combat with humans. They weren’t particularly muscular, and their claws were tiny. Granted, their mouths looked big. But…from where I was standing, and I had a clear view over the children’s heads, it looked like they lacked much in the way of teeth.

Still, it was obvious that no villager wanted to risk getting bit. When a guy finally came forward to help the lady recapture her lizards, he was armed not with a little flimsy cobra-killing stick but with a stout tree branch. He made repeated attempts to pin a lizard securely to the ground before venturing to grab it by the neck. And…if the pinned lizard twisted its head and looked capable of latching onto a finger, the guy released it, stepped back, and caught his breath before trying again. Eventually, all the lizards were caught and forced back into the bamboo tube: poked and prodded until captivity looked preferable to being chop-sticked to death.

Clearly, I’ve got some reading to do when I get home. I plan to google: lizards, poisonous lizards, lizard bite, lizard recipes, and health benefits of lizard meat. There has to be a reason why villagers, so wary of being bitten, will risk handling them. It cannot be flavor alone. Maybe I should google “Viagra substitutes”. Come to think of it, that would explain some charade gestures that I thought were a wee bit off-topic at the time.