May 5, 1999, Vientiene, Laos--The Mekong River is just down some walking distance from here. But one needs not fish there for walking catfish.
That's not because they are sold here. It's because the southern puddle of this Early Morning Market actually had a live one living there.
Of course, by now, it's too late for anyone to catch it. The last one or, perhaps the only giant catfish the size of a typical land domesticated cat, was netted out of this puddle just this afternoon. However the netter first had the idea to net there or why people had never netted there before today is questionable. I could not speak Laotian to the netter, so I did not ask him about it. Nor did any of the bystanders--I didn't ask, they didn't ask, they didn't tell.
And how did a catfish get raised there without an owner? The puddle belongs to no one. There is no law against going into it or even dumping trash into it. So, obviously, either a baby or an egg must have fallen off of the nearby fish vendors and secretly grew up in the puddle. It would not have had any problem getting foods there, since all trashes empty into the puddle.
With a simple one cast, the netter stretched the bait-cast net, covering the entire dirty-looking brown pond. In only shorts and completely topless under this tropical heat, he jumped in. His feet were swallowed down by the mud but he managed to pull them off as he made his way across the pond around the edges of the net. His hands feeling as he bent down towards the water--now and then raising his head again as he moved to another spot.
Suddenly, the netter's arms shook and his head was almost tossed out of its place like a tail wagging a dog.
Bystanders surrounding the puddle cheered in unison!! "Whoa!!"
One didn't need to know Laotian to understand that expression.
"Yai," said the netter.
"Bo?" someone asked.
Those mean "big" and "really?"--in that order.
Manipulating around the net, the netter slowly brought the fish onto the surface under the net. The fish was now clear in view!
Another cheer!
Cat-sized, slippery and slimy looking much like a typical American bullhead but darker in pigmentation and larger whiskers.
Then the netter removed the fish from the net, lifted it, and walked up the side of the puddle. He tossed it onto the drier ground up here.
More cheers, of course!
The catfish struggled back and forth on its belly like a baby nagging and rolling on the ground for candies, probably forgetting to walk or even run. After all, this one has got no legs.
The netter returned to the mud to pull out his net.