The Amazonian giant arrived in the country almost half a century ago and today threatens to devastate native fish in several rivers. Indigenous communities and artisanal fishermen now sell its meat to Brazil, Peru and, on a smaller scale, in major Bolivian cities, which may help control its expansion. Big chefs are also including it in their menus.

Por: Rocío Lloret Céspedes (La Región)

The paiche fillet is firm, long-fibered, and pearly white. No fat, no bones. Thick texture, always moist. Sticky to the touch. Soft odor. Taste of… nothing? 

It is almost noon in April in La Paz and a dark sky threatens rain. In the colonial mansion where the restaurant “Popular Cocina Boliviana” is located -two floors, balconies, an internal patio- a line of diners is slowly forming, waiting to try this week’s menu, which includes an exotic fish brought to a city 3600 meters above sea level all the way from the Amazon, more than 530 kilometers away.

“It’s the second time I’ve been here,” says Julio Cartagena: no more than 40 years old, big-boned, coppery skin. The man looks at the door insistently, as if trying to make it open faster. Finally, with the chimes of noon that can be heard half a kilometer from the Metropolitan Cathedral, the hostess describes the three-course menu that will be served this day: a starter, a main course and a dessert. It is 99 bolivianos or around 15 dollars at the official exchange rate; a price that for the average Bolivian, nowadays, is not so accessible given that the scarcity of foreign currency, among other factors such as high food prices and lack of fuel, which have plunged the country into deep economic crisis. In spite of this, the restaurant is full every day. At 2.30 p.m. there will be another timeslot to enter the restaurant. Once again, there will be a line of diners anxious for the people in the first shift to leave soon. But for now, let’s enjoy the experience.

Popular’s head chef, Juan Pablo Reyes, has been working with paiche meat for more than seven years, when he opened the restaurant. Back then, at the end of 2017, few people knew about it. Bolivia has one of the lowest fish consumption levels in the region, according to the FAO; just 2.1 kg per capita per year. As it has no coastline on any sea, its access to fish and other marine species is limited. Bolivians in the main cities prefer what they know: pacú, surubí and sábalo, from the lowlands; and trout and pejerrey, from Titicaca, considered the highest navigable lake in the world. 

Every five days, Reyes changes the menu; his is a signature cuisine. The three options he offers never lack a fish, which can be trout or, in this case, paiche.  “A fish that when cooked becomes soft and is easy to add flavor to it because it doesn’t have as much intensity as others,” Reyes describes.

42 out of the 95 meals sold at Popular Every day are paiche. On this occasion, the fish has been prepared in subtle rolls bathed in a reddish sauce. When serving them, the waiter details the ingredients – Amazonian fruits such as passion fruit – and describes the sensations it will produce on the palate. Since the flavor of paiche is not as intense as that of pacu, for example, it can be perfectly adapted to what its author is looking for in each creation: be it sweet and sour, or only a touch sour, or perhaps stronger by using garlic. 

This is Bolivian food with a main ingredient that is not only foreign, but invasive. 

The colonizer of the Amazon

The paiche (Arapaima gigas) entered Bolivia “by accident”. Different biologists agree that it was in the 1970s (possibly 1976), when several specimens escaped from a hatchery on the Madre de Dios River in Peru, where it is native. It was during a flood. They reached the Beni River, which receives its waters and is one of the main rivers of the Bolivian Amazon. 

“By the 2000s the species consolidated and, apparently, in 2014, when there was a very strong flood in the Beni, it entered the Iténez River,” says Paul Van Damme, a Belgian biologist who arrived in Bolivia in 1995 and is executive director of Faunagua. The organization works with fishermen in the conservation of species such as the river dolphin (Inia boliviensis), endemic to the Madera River basin, the largest population of which is found in Bolivia. 

Based on testimonies from fishermen, the scientist also believes that there may have been another reintroduction from Brazil, through the Iténez river basin, bordering the neighboring country, where there are also breeding sites and where it is called pirarucú. Upon arrival in the Iténez, it adapted easily and advanced into the basin of one of its tributaries, the Paraguá River. “It is a river with clear waters, the ideal habitat for the paiche,” says Van Damme.

This aquatic giant does not like cold or turbid waters, which is why it did not reach the headwaters of rivers in higher areas of Bolivia. On the other hand, in the lower and warmer areas of the Amazon basin, it is at ease. Moreover, there is a record of its presence in the Cuenca del Plata and fry or young fish have been seen in ornamental aquariums in Santa Cruz, the capital of eastern Bolivia, adjacent to Beni, says Lila Sainz, coordinator of the Iténez-Mamoré corridor of the environmental organization WWF Bolivia.

“There is a record in Pantanal at the moment (Cuenca del Plata, Santa Cruz). There are also clear water rivers and clear water lagoons. Practically, it has colonized almost 90 percent of the available rivers, only the upper basin of the Mamoré River (Puerto Villarroel, Cochabamba) is missing, because the temperatures are cold,” reveals biologist Van Damme.

A stranger at home

Arapaima gigas is not the only invasive or exotic species in Bolivia. A study on its presence in the country reveals that there are eight other species of fish, which “apparently adapted well to local conditions”. In the altiplano area, the trout (Oncorhynchus mykiss) and the silverside (Odontesthes regia), for example, are considered local species, when in fact they were introduced to Lake Titicaca. They have been blamed for reducing populations of native species such as the boga (Orestias cuvieri or Orestias pentlandii), a small native fish that is rarely found in its habitat.

“The most worrisome aspect of biological invasions is a process called naturalization. This occurs when people assume (the species) as if it had always been local,” explains Guido Miranda, a biologist with the Wildlife Conservation Society (WCS), which works with fishermen to reduce paiche populations. In restaurants and street food stalls in La Paz, trout and silverside are already presented as part of the traditional local cuisine. Paiche, however, is still seen as exotic.

Testimonies from fishermen in the Bolivian Amazon report the reduction of native Bolivian fish populations after the arrival of the paiche. Although to date there are no scientific studies to corroborate their observations, the Bolivian Amazon basins have the greatest diversity of native fish in the country, especially in the Madera, Mamoré and Beni rivers, according to data collected by Luana Costa, João Miguel Moreira, Iago Simões and Marina Méga, who are part of the quantitative ecology training program at the Serrapilheira Institute.

This report is the result of a collaboration promoted by this institute, together with the Latin American Center for Investigative Journalism (CLIP), for journalists and scientists to explore together how damage to the Amazon’s biodiversity disrupts the various environmental services it provides to the continent.

Along these lines, it is clear that an animal with the voracity and size of the paiche – up to three meters long and weighing more than 200 kilos – practically feeds on whatever it finds in its path. 

Fernando Carvajal-Vallejos, biologist, published several studies on this subject together with Van Damme and other scientists. Three of them help to understand what the country is facing with the presence of the so-called “king of the Amazon”. One is related to genetics, the other to its diet and the third, not yet published, on artisanal fishing.

In the first case, Carvajal-Vallejos and the team of experts set out to find whether a single paiche species or several had been introduced into Bolivia. After studying specimens from three different areas – Rio Orton, Madre de Dios and Rio Beni – they established that “they are more or less part of the same species, but there are genetic populations within”. Regarding diet, they observed that it is an omnivorous species, not only carnivorous as it was said in Brazil. This may have influenced the success of its establishment and dispersal because, in the words of Carvajal-Vallejos, “it eats everything: fish, plants, even other animals”.

In the third case, the biologist and his team asked fishermen to monitor the fish with cell phones, appealing to citizen science, to know the fishing yield, the size of the fish caught and other details that would help in sustainable regulation. Although the results of this last study have not yet been published and are ten years old, he believes that the numbers have not changed much and knowing them will be very helpful in defining strategies to follow.

Swimming in rivers, not yet in palates

In the menus of signature cuisine and avant-garde restaurants in the main cities of Bolivia, paiche is already part of the Amazonian offer. It is also in the culinary offerings of Peruvian restaurants, presented mainly in ceviches and chicharrones. But the “king” has not yet colonized the palate of popular Bolivian cuisine. In general, people do not know it and, therefore, do not know how to prepare it. 

As a way to encourage consumption, organizations such as WWF Bolivia and WCS promote projects that include training in fishing techniques, dressing and the best way to preserve the meat. Also, culinary training in tourism fairs for street food vendors to offer dishes prepared with this meat. “We hope that its consumption will be encouraged. For example, people living in coastal communities that always eat fish do not want to eat paiche because they do not like its meat. They prefer the species they are used to,” says Lila Sainz of WWF Bolivia.

Something similar happens in cities. 

“I have sea bass fillet”, announces a vendor sheathed in a neat apron, in the Florida market in Santa Cruz, while she scares away the flies with a piece of wood with plastic bags hanging from it like a duster. It is possible that this lean, pearl-colored fillet is actually paiche, because that is one of the ways it is sold, say fishermen from Beni, who explain that the same thing happens in their region’s markets. “As it is filleted, it is not easy to identify what it is,” says Leandro Cadima, a fisherman from Trinidad. 

It is the eve of Easter Friday, and the Catholic tradition says that you have to eat fish. In the Florida market and despite the intense heat of the plains, people crowd in front of the stalls selling this white meat to get tarpon and pacu. I ask the “casera”, as they call the vendors here, if she has paiche. 

“I don’t, but you might find one there,” she replies and points to the end of an aisle full of men and women carrying bags and looking for a good price during a galloping economic crisis which has not been able to wipe out the Good Friday tradition. 

I head down the aisle and find paiche steak at the casera at the end. She offers it for 60 bolivianos a kilo (about six dollars). “The good thing is that you can take advantage of everything. It’s also good if you have children or grandparents in the family,” she says. Since it is fillet, you don’t have to throw away the bones. Today it is more expensive than usual; last year it was 45 bolivianos.

There is a bigger market for this species in La Paz than in Santa Cruz. This is according to Roger Yarari Cartagena, an indigenous Tacana from the Carmen de Lemero community, Ixiamas, in the northern Amazon region of La Paz. 

Five years ago, this 38-year-old man left farming and now fishes paiche. He says that his catch is easy, thanks to large nets that leave small native fish behind and only catch large ones. “The species reproduces quickly,” he says, but it is not consumed in his village. 

For Guido Miranda, of WCS, the control strategy through fishing began late, when the fish had already advanced too far. “We realized that in all the lakes it was the most abundant species, the same as in the Beni River. In the last few years it began to proliferate even more and that is where we began to coordinate with fishermen’s associations and promote alliances with restaurants (to buy from them),” says the biologist.

Despite this, trade is still on a very small scale compared to the magnitude of the invasion. There are large individuals that continue to reproduce and provide thousands of fry. “In Brazil, these big ones are fished with harpoons and that has been one reason why their natural distribution has been almost exterminated, something that does not happen here”, regrets Miranda.

Between versatility and environmental awareness

Marsia Taha, chosen as the best cook in Latin America in 2024, is one of the chefs with whom WCS made an alliance to buy paiche directly from communities such as that of fisherman Roger Yarari. Eight years ago she began using this ingredient in her culinary creations, among other things, because she likes the versatility of the meat, but also because she learned that it was a species that “was wiping out other smaller native species”.

At Arami, her restaurant located in the exclusive southern area of La Paz, there are always paiche dishes on the menu. So far, she has created more than a hundred, including ham, charcuterie, marinades and has even tried Japanese fish fermentation techniques. She is one of the few chefs who also uses other parts, such as the scales, to make cutlery and dishes. 

Due to her busy schedule, Taha explains over the phone that she works with Tacana fishermen, although sometimes she has had to buy from other suppliers, as the meat does not always arrive on time.

“There are situations like the weather that are uncontrollable,” she says. The same happens when there are roadblocks due to social protests or the flooding of rivers as a result of rains, both of which are very frequent in Bolivia. In addition, buying from communities is always more expensive. “You are supposed to save when you jump to tertiary, but in reality it is much more expensive,” says Taha.

In the markets where prices were consulted, a kilo of fillet currently costs 60 bolivianos (just under ten dollars at the official exchange rate). While at the origin it is 10 or 12 bolivianos; at the best time, 20 bolivianos (two to three dollars). The big problem lies in the transfer: 540 kilometers from Ixiamas to La Paz, or from the Amazon to the Altiplano, on very difficult roads. As a dish in restaurants such as Arami, it exceeds 200 bolivianos per person (about 30 dollars), although there are lower-priced options, from 10 dollars and up in Peruvian restaurants and others that promote Amazonian food.

Although Santa Cruz is much closer to Beni, 387 km, the largest market is still La Paz, because the “capitals” of paiche -Riberalta and Bellavista (Beni)- are closer to that department. In the city of Santa Cruz, paiche is found in more popular restaurants, although its price is not lower: it is between 10 and 15 dollars at the official exchange rate.

The other element that makes the fillet more expensive in the cities is that fishing this species requires additional investment. Biologist Van Damme details that it requires about USD1,500 to buy other types of nets for the size of the fish, other boats, other ice boxes. “It is a huge investment,” he says.

A market without a State

The fact that a single fish can yield several kilos of meat fillets makes paiche fishing a good business. However, if this activity is carried out without specific government regulation, beyond helping to reduce populations, it can generate other environmental problems, experts agree. For example, the large nets drag plants, sediments, make noise and impact the ecosystem in other ways, says Van Damme.

Currently, there is only one control plan in the country in the Manuripi National Reserve in Pando, the smallest and most Amazonian department in Bolivia, where the species is present. “Right now we are working with the Governor of Beni (the country’s main paiche producer), but there are no funds because it is expensive,” laments Van Damme.

Given this reality, the market has become a de facto regulator of paiche fishing. One of the main distribution centers for this meat is in Bellavista (Beni). According to testimonies of fishermen in contact with the biologist, a private trader subsidizes fishing to acquire these fish. 

According to the same testimonies, the paiche market is currently distributed as follows: 80% is sold to Brazil, 10% to Peru and the remaining 10% is distributed within Bolivia. 

La Región requested information from both the Ministry of Environment and Water and the Ministry of Productive Development on policies to regulate and encourage the consumption of this meat, but by the time this report went to press there had been no response. Although this fish appears on the list of subsidized products provided by the State to pregnant women and mothers of children up to two years of age, a visit to one supermarket chain that distributes this social benefit showed that it does not arrive frequently or never arrived.

Its consumption is also encouraged through the publication of scientific studies, as one of the few strategies to control populations. The potential of other parts of the fish, such as the skin and bones, which are also highly sought after in neighboring countries such as Brazil, has yet to be seen.

“I know a trader from Cochabamba who buys paiche with leather and bone. That already implies a more favorable price, he already has a market for those products, because they use them for handicrafts and I think they make flour from the bones,” says Vicent Vos, a Dutch biologist who has lived in Riberalta, Beni, the other major distribution center for the meat, since 2001.

Far from this reality, more than 1,300 kilometers away between Beni and Manaus (Brazil), we find Joao Campos-Silva. Winner of awards for involving indigenous communities in the conservation of the paiche or pirarucu, threatened in his country, he thinks that as long as the size of the problem (of the invasion) is not known and the perception of the indigenous peoples, artisanal fishermen and the government itself is not understood, it will be very difficult to talk about population control. 

“In Brazil, the pirarucu (paiche) is a hardy species, well adapted to environments with little oxygen and hot environments. So in its area of occurrence (habitat), it is recovering and doing so in an impressive way, because along with ecological recovery, the pirarucu brings many benefits to traditional communities,” says Campos-Silva, on the importance of regulation, both for recovery and for the reduction of populations, as is the case in Bolivia.

Betting on paiche

Artisanal fishing for paiche meat has grown in recent years. In the farmer’s market in Trinidad, the capital of Beni, there was not much paiche to be found. Today it is common to see it, although native fish such as pacu, surubi or buchere are still the favorites in Beni. The same happens in the popular food sector of the market, where in one visit it was difficult to find chicharrón de paiche, the most common form of preparation. Its cost? 30 bolivianos or almost five dollars, almost a dollar more than the rest of the special dishes prepared with it.

This has motivated more and more researchers, such as veterinarian Luis Torres, from the Centro de Investigación de Recursos Acuáticos (CIRA) of the Universidad Autónoma de Beni (UAB), to seek resources to continue studies on the current diet of the species. 

Meanwhile, in the cities, haute cuisine chefs like Marsia Taha say that, although she knows that in Bolivian palates it is not yet a major player, there are more and more people looking for this fish. In fact, she found it in a market in her neighborhood, Achumani, south of La Paz. 

“I believe that the restaurants in La Paz have done a great job of putting together a cuisine that is not necessarily traditional. A more innovative and transgressive cuisine, but with Bolivian identity”, she assures. 

The success of Arami, as well as that of Popular Cocina Boliviana and other avant-garde cuisine restaurants, proves it. Despite the economic and social crisis hitting the country, the culinary offer including Amazonian food is present and, little by little, is expanding in traditionalist regions such as Cochabamba and Chuquisaca. There is an audience for it.

In addition, the market is also a good way to measure its popularity, and as long as the State does not take the lead, the direct actors themselves will do it: fishermen, indigenous peoples, scientists, consumers and non-governmental organizations. It may not be enough, but it is a natural barrier to the advancement if this invasive king.

This story is the result of a collaboration between Latin American journalists and scientists, fostered by Instituto Serrapilheira of Brazil and the Latin American Center for Investigative Journalism (CLIP), exploring together how damage to the Amazon’s biodiversity disrupts the various environmental services it provides to the continent.