The panga lies nearly hidden by the overhanging branches of a tree. Is it floating alone in the middle of the stream? Bubbles break the surface of the water and a young boy’s head pops up. He tosses a fish into the dugout canoe. His father surfaces, too. He grasps a tree branch with one hand and waves with the other. Then he ducks below the surface again for twenty seconds or more. The boy ascends again and proudly shows off his catch, a two-pound maguro that struggles for air. The boy tosses him in the panga and goes
underwater. I puzzle over why they’re working so hard when the fishing net in the water can do all the work for them. Then I realize that the father and son are cherry-picking the biggest and best fish for themselves and freeing the small fry for another day.