Why I ate rotten fish
by Ethar El-Katatney
I ate some rotten fish yesterday.
It wasn’t by mistake.
It wasn’t a dare.
It wasn’t a prank.
I’m still recuperating. Spent half the night in the bathroom. Couldn’t sleep for the other half. And my face and legs got all itchy for some reason.
You see, this is what Egyptians do for Easter.
Egypt vs. The World (We win):
We eat a type of fish that’s been salted and left for a month or two or three steeped in vinegar sitting on a counter somewhere.
And we mix it up by chomping on green onions, roots and all. Red onions. Cucumbers. Lettuce. Sesame paste.
Seriously. It’s intense:
It’s a tradition that harkens back to the pharaohs. The theory being that the Nile tide would recede when spring began, leaving dead rotten fish behind that was of course, eaten.
And for some reason the tradition has remained. Families pack their rotten fish (called fesikh) and head out to parks to picnic. Ehem.
The Ministry of Health warns Egyptians every year of the dangers of eating fesikh, saying “it could lead to paralysis and death.”
Though to be fair, no one has died since… 2010 😳
The last major death outbreak was 18 people in 1991.
Only six people were hospitalized this year.
Totally worth it, supposedly.
So …. back to my experience.
I hadn’t ever actually tried fesikh until this year, at least as far as I can remember. But I hadn’t been home in a while, and when some Egyptians invited me over for it (“you must be missing having it at home with family!”), I decided to give it a try.
I could smell it before I’d even entered the house.
Deep breaths. On second thought, maybe not.
(Ironically the day is known as Sham El-Neseem, “smell the breeze,” which I totally don’t advise anyone to do in Egypt on that day).
With trepidation I approached the table:
I tried. I honestly did.
I rolled up my sleeves as advised and used my hands to strip a piece of flesh.
I tentatively poked my tongue at it. It felt slimy and squishy and raw.
I tried to tell myself it was no different than sashimi.
I swallowed a bit.
I gagged a little.
I ate bread and cucumber to try and mask the taste. No go.
I paused.
I watched the others attack the fish. Egyptians love it.
Check out this girl at 0:41:
I persevered some more: Wouldn’t want to insult my hostess by not eating. And look like a non-real Egyptian.
I got all flushed.
I drank some coke.
I ate more bread.
Then I was advised to put the fish in my mouth and use my teeth to scrape the skin to get all the meat out. And then to fold up the skin and chew it to “get all the juices.”
At that point, I got up. Khalas (I’ve had enough).
I squeezed lemon juice over my hands.
I washed them three times.
I went home and brushed my teeth.
I showered.
And I still stank.
So I called my mom and asked what to do to get the smell out.
She said: “You chew some mint, of course!”
Of course. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
