Fishermen here go out at night and use lamps to attract their catch. When the moon is bright their lamps can't compete, and restaurants in town only serve Tilapia trucked in from Lake Victoria. Which I never order. I wait for the moon to wane so I can eat mgebuka again.
Mgebuka is a medium sized fish, the length of your plate, that comes fried whole next to a big pile of rice or fries, and perhaps a spoonful of boiled greens. I soon became used to staring into its milky white eyeball and its mouth hanging open, permanently fried into place. When I don't get a whole fish I start to distrust the restaurant. Gotta see the head.
I do love mgebuka. You must savor the first rip into the white meat--with that first bite you'll find out if you got a good one, if it hasn't been fried too long. When cooked right, you can indulge in the texture of the meat itself and the pleasure of separating it from the bones, peeling it off like the flesh of a fruit.
