Dolphins and other lovers

Inside, his wife Rosa and I shot hungry looks at his empty hands. Once again, the Caquetá River surrendered no fish. I was only two weeks into my fieldwork with the Andoque people in southern Colombia, and my eyes zigzagged in confusion between the two septuagenarian spouses.

What did a dolphin have to do with anything? Rosa explained: ‘Derode had left baits by the river, and it seems a dolphin had stolen the fish that had gotten hooked in them.’ The fishing had been poor ever since my arrival, and as Rosa cooked lunch from the rice and lentils I had brought from the city – the ‘White People’s Food’ – she reminisced with her husband about times when the river had been generous. She recalled how her grandfather had once hauled in an almost legendary catch by throwing poisonous plants into the shallow stream and asphyxiating the fish in great numbers.

Among this enormous catch was a dolphin. Of course, she added, as if it needed no explanation, her grandfather did not eat it. The Andoque were accomplished hunters and fishermen, and there was almost no walking, swimming, crawling or flying creature that they wouldn’t relish, if they could catch it.

Her father had once warned her never to accept the advances of unknown men while bathing at the river. As handsome as they may seem, he had said, they may be dolphins in disguise. Those reckless enough to fall for their charms would soon grow feverish, drift into madness and hallucinations, and ultimately die.

Look what happened upriver, Rosa said. She then told a story about a strikingly handsome man and a stunning woman who walked into a riverside bar in some village one night. Both were impeccably dressed in white clothes, with fancy accessories, such as a belt, a watch and a hat.

The man ordered drink after drink, while the woman remained quiet and abstained. The bar owner sensed something strange about them, though he couldn’t say what. The other clients were enchanted: the men drawn to the woman’s grace, the women to the man’s charm.