I remember the bushmeat vendors from the Lagos marketplace. Little skewers of this or that (usually identifiable!) critter for sale.
I was a little kid and thought they were toys or something. My parents didn’t clear up my misconception until I was a bit older.
The roaches stirfried in peanut oil in those frying pans made from oil drums were another story however.
That is a great story.
When we got to Panama (the Army always flies one overnight) we drew our gear, had breakfast, and then assembled for the course briefing.
We then broke for lunch.
It was quite the ‘al fresco’ affair. We took our six compartment Army issue trays and went through the chow line. Trays of food awaited us. Thought it little odd that each tray had a card with a number and we were told to write these down.
Good grub.
At the end of lunch a senior NCO took stage and asked us if we enjoyed our meal. There was a hearty round of cheers.
Then he asked, for instance, who had some of #33? Many of us raised our hands and he went on to inform us that we had eaten newt eyeballs, or some such.
Got us all over any squeamishness about offal parts.