How the author learned
to stop worrying and enjoy forbidden tail
Illustrations by David Fremont
There are some entrees you should not eat because they might eat you. At least this is my opinion.
The first time I was offered crocodile tail, I was tempted. It was at the Ilala Lodge in Victoria Falls, on the Zimbabwe side of the Zambezi River, and the Ilala is one of my favorite restaurants in the world. Chefs are creative; service is always interesting; spray from the falls blows over the outside tables when the river is full; there are usually a few warthogs rooting about on the lawn below, for ambience. Croc was listed on the menu as Nile Crocodile, "Casseroled in White Wine with Mushrooms, Tomato and Cream." I was famished, having survived on airline food for two and a half days from Southwestern Montana via Los Angeles, London and Harare.
But the next morning I was supposed to raft the Zambezi: six days through the Batoka George, biggest white water in the world. I was scared, and scared people are superstitious. Crocodile tail reminded me of shark. I spend a lot of time in Hawaii, and there is a feeling among surfers and watermen that it is bad luck to eat shark. I would never think of taking the longboard out to the break beyond Kahaluhu at dawn after enjoying a previous evening's meal of mako.
You eat them -- they will eat you. That's the fear among primitives and neo-primitives alike. There is a scientific explanation. We exude what we eat. Other creatures can smell that. You eat crocodile, and that crocodile's brother-in-law may believe the flailing swimmer in Stairway-to-Heaven Rapids to be another crocodile. He dines upon you as a cold starter. Crocs, like sharks, are opportunistic feeders. This is not revenge, in the scientific view. It's...lunch. Eat and be eaten.
Next page: Breaking the croc barrier
