The Jaguar Cichlid (Parachromis managuensis) is native to Central America, specifically Nicaragua, where it is also known as guapote (roughly translating to ‘Big Handsome Guy’). Its yellow skin with black spots, its large size for a fish (it can grow up to 65 centimetres long ¹ and weigh up to 7kg ²), and its well-known aggressive demeanour make it a jaguar of the lakes, ponds, and rivers it inhabits. Much like a jaguar, this fish is known to be a top predator in whichever environment it enters. The Jaguar Cichlid is big, territorial, eats other fish—as well as insects, shrimp, and frogs— and can lay up to 5,000 eggs at once.³ And, if the newly hatched jaguar fry are not removed from the tank after two weeks, they will likely be eaten by their very own parents.⁴ This fish has a lifespan of up to 15 years⁵ and females can be distinguished from males as “females are smaller and more rounded” whereas “males have pointed dorsal, anal fins, and generally more colour”.⁶ Even though it is “not recommended for beginners” and it has the reputation of being a “tank buster”, its beauty is hard to miss, making it a highly-prized species amongst aquarium keepers.⁷

In Singapore, Jaguar Cichlids can be found in aquarium shops as well as in the wild, mostly in canals and other freshwater water bodies. Local fishermen run into them on occasion.⁸ It has specifically been reported in the Pandan Canal, Lake Jurong, and the Yishun Stormwater Collection Pond.⁹ The Jaguar Cichlid was first reported in the wild in Singapore in 2003¹⁰ and has also been found in China, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, Australia, several countries in Central America, and some parts of the United States since, where it has found warm waters similar to the tropical climate to which it is native.¹¹ Although the Jaguar Cichlid is in some contexts also known as the ‘Aztec Cichlid’, it is important to not confuse it with the Mayan Cichlid (Cichlasoma urophthalmus) or the Quetzal Cichlid (Vieja melanurus). These two species can also be found in Singapore¹² and are native to Central America,¹³ but they are smaller and their appearance is very different to the iconic spotted pattern of the Jaguar Cichlid. All these species are suspected to have arrived in Singapore via the aquarium trade and then released into water reservoirs when they were no longer wanted.¹⁴ The basis for this hypothesis is that the aquarium trade accounts for the introduction of approximately 65% of the 123 non-native fish species found in Singapore, of which 24% are Cichlids.¹⁵Recent biodiversity surveys of local reservoirs also support this result, with Cichlids being the most abundant family of fishes.¹⁶

The history of the aquarium trade in Singapore is deeply entangled with Singapore’s political, cultural, and economic history. The aquarium trade in Singapore began during the colonial era with British administrators who imported fish as a hobby or as a side business, and also bred ornamental fish to control mosquito populations.¹⁷ Since then, the aquarium industry has become part of Singapore’s broader political ambition to become a ‘world-class’ cosmopolitan city. This vision has required Singapore and Singaporeans to develop their own “economic and cultural aspirations of the nation [with]in a globalised age”,¹⁸ in which imaginations of ‘the global’—and its products—are present in all aspects of everyday life. The aquarium trade has grown in step with Singapore’s global ambitions, increasingly exponentially since 1996;¹⁹ by 2014 Singapore was already considered the ‘ornamental fish capital of the world’.²⁰ Singapore became a regional trading hub and the world’s #1 ornamental fish exporter, although Japan has now overtaken Singapore in that regard.²¹ Today, there are 125 ornamental fish farms in operation in Singapore,²² and acquiring a rare species is rather easy. To get a Jaguar Cichlid in Singapore, for example, one can simply search for it on Facebook, Carousell, or go to any of the many fish stores that are located all over the island.

The aquarium trade, of course, does not only have economic implications. It is enmeshed with cultural trends as well. For aquarium keepers in Singapore today, rearing and displaying fish is a way of building community and expressing themselves. An example of this is the ‘Singapore Cichlid Keepers’ society, a Facebook group that has over 1,700 “Cichlid lovers and aquarium enthusiast” members.²³ In this group, members share videos of their cichlids and meaningful information about particular species, and recommend products to each other to improve their aquarium tanks. New members are routinely welcomed in posts by the group administrator, and they are also invited to join the Telegram group chat, where over 40 community members ask questions related to aquarium maintenance and/or buy and sell different Cichlid species.

This is an example of a niche community, a concept which anthropologist Margot Weiss argues is emblematic of the neoliberal times we are living in.²⁴ According to her, “the last few decades have seen a proliferation of ever-more-specialized niche markets”.²⁵ This has created the conditions for “a form of social belonging facilitated—even produced—by contemporary capitalism, especially consumerism and commodity exchange”.²⁶ Singapore’s Cichlid community is no different: membership is all about showing off one’s fishes (which can be expensive, especially for species like the Jaguar that can live for up to 15 years!) and entails being involved in the niche Cichlid market, by trading species or trying out new aquarium products. The consumption does not end at the fish itself: Kenny Yap, Singapore’s ‘Mr. Fish’, reminds us that “for every dollar spent on fish, someone would usually spend one to five dollars on aquarium accessories and fish feed”.²⁷ Weiss also invites us to notice “the increased importance of consumption in identity formation” in a historical context where “community and sociality [are] dependent on, but not defined exclusively by, commodity exchange”.²⁸ Singapore’s Cichlid community is niche and makes its members feel welcome and involved, but belonging is at its core rooted in a consumption-based lifestyle that may not be accessible to all. This phenomenon reflects a broader social landscape in which niche markets are ever more present in the ways Singaporeans build communities of any kind.

The international dimension of local ornamental fish communities reflects Singapore’s position in today’s globalised world. Cichlid enthusiasts get to care and build relationships with species hailing from Central America, like the Jaguar Cichlid, or even Africa, like the Mozambique Tilapia (Oreochromis mossambicus) which has also been imported to Singapore in the last few decades.²⁹ Singaporean non-native biodiversity cannot be reduced to the label of “invasive”. These species also tell a broader story about Singapore and the Singaporean identity, a story that can be found in local freshwater ecologies.

The Jaguar Cichlid, for example, reminds us that Singapore is part of a global tropical zone beyond Southeast Asia. Its adaptation to Singapore’s water bodies has only been possible due to its suitability for the warm water also found in the Central American tropics. Likewise, its name, the jaguar, reminds us of Singapore’s tropical and pre-colonial identity too. Predators at the top of the rainforest food chain loom large in tropical cultures. The jaguar, in the Central American case, and the tiger, in the case of Singapore, have historically earned prominent roles in the cultural imaginations of these two places. In cultures all over Central America, the jaguar has historically been a symbol of power and divinity.³⁰ These species have historically been respected and feared—they are aggressive and will dominate whatever environment they are put in. In Singapore, for example, the tiger was a major preoccupation of colonial control, given it posed a threat to settler communities and plantation labour.³¹ The tiger and the jaguar alike express that something about the tropics which cannot be tamed; as Wong Zi Hao reflects on in the context of Tanjong Rimau (‘Tiger Cape’ in Malay). The reference to the tiger in this island’s name is an expression that the “landscape that is out-of-bounds”.³² Although there are no wild tigers in Singapore anymore, the Jaguar Cichlid reminds us they were once here, and the place was theirs.

The image of an untameable predator roaming the tropical rainforest may not align with the controlled beauty of a Jaguar Cichlid swimming within the glass walls of an aquarium tank, but the cichlid reminds us that even cultivated species can escape beyond human control. Much like the jaguar, this fish can be both beautiful and destructive. When released, it can throw local ecologies off balance, displacing local species from their ecological niches and changing the food web altogether.³³ As Singapore goes global, its cultural identity and natural environment have changed and will continue to do so—but neither form of change is a straightforward story of loss. Through globalisation, we get to place our identities in a larger world, connecting with parts of ourselves we see elsewhere. The Jaguar Cichlid, in the same sense, may originally come from Central America, but it is now an established part of multiple ecosystems in Singapore, and it has made a place for itself in the cultural life of the city-state as well.

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