When I was little, my dad used to tell me several stories about my grandpa’s time in the Army, but one stuck with me the most. Sometime in the 1940s, he was helping two tribes negotiate peace in the mountain ranges of Oaxaca. After a few weeks of negotiations, the two factions reached an agreement and planned a celebratory banquet. My grandfather, as negotiator, was the guest of honor and received the first plate of food. Much to his surprise, the main course he was offered turned out to be cooked monkey brains and other assorted organs.