Those were the days when the
emergence of a successful polio vaccine held hope for millions of children and
their parents; when the ugly cylindrical contraption known as an ‘iron lung’
kept people alive long after the disease itself had gone, breathing for those
whose paralysed lungs could no longer function. It literally made the
difference between life and death for thousands of children. Today, by
contrast, St Thomas’ Hospital in London has only five of the machines with only
one used for its original purpose.
The Australian writer Alan
Marshall, in his book I Can Jump Puddles,
described his life before and after his own sickness, in those days more often
known as infantile paralysis than as polio. "I was the only victim in
Turalla, and the people for miles around heard of my illness with a feeling of
dread. They associated the word 'Paralysis' with idiocy, and the query 'Have
you heard if his mind is affected?' was asked from many a halted buggy". Alan’s
father attempted to explain to the local baker just how his son contracted the
disease. “They say you breathe the germ in,” he said. “It's just floating about
in the air – everywhere. You never know where it is. It must have been just
floating past his nose when he breathed in and that was the end of him. He went
down like a pole-axed steer. If he'd been breathing out when that germ passed
he'd 've been right.”
Thanks to a monumental global
effort to eradicate polio, the number of reported cases has fallen from 350,000
in 1988 to 222 in 2012. Today there are just three countries where the disease
is still endemic - Pakistan, Afghanistan and Nigeria – which “face a range of
challenges such as insecurity, weak health systems and poor sanitation. Polio
can spread from these 'endemic' countries to infect children in other countries
with less-than-adequate vaccination.”
The world owes a huge debt of
gratitude to Rotary International which, in 1985, launched its campaign to
vaccinate every child in the world against polio and to consign the disease to
history. Enlisting the help of others, they have almost succeeded in achieving a
goal which has involved raising many millions of pounds and travelling to the
most remote places on earth. In some conflict areas the immunisation of
children has been regarded as so important, even to combatants, that the warring
factions have declared a temporary ceasefire and allowed safe passage to women
and children heading towards some previously agreed central vaccination point.
The anti-polio campaign is not
straightforward. As far as humanly possible, a whole country is mobilised in a
single day and perhaps a group of neighbouring countries makes one united and
simultaneous effort so that children living in border areas are not missed out.
In addition to administering the polio vaccine, vitamin A is also given to
every child. It is a massive operation.
During my time in Zambia, we
catered, not only for the smallest and most isolated villages on land, but also
for fishing camps in the vast expanse of the Bangweulu swamps. As the ‘Bye-bye
Polio’ day drew near, advance messages would go out, advising women to bring
their children to wherever they normally assembled for the Under-5 clinics.
Hospital staff would travel out on bicycles, motor bikes, canoes and with the
Land Rover which acted as our ambulance. The vaccine came from the District
Medical Officer’s headquarters about 40 miles away from our mission hospital,
but its timely arrival depended on many factors, the condition of the dirt
roads being the least important consideration. Far more significant was whether
or not the electricity supply (always precarious) had kept fridges cold and
whether or not the vaccines would be delivered on the right day and at
approximately the right time. Hundreds of baby-carrying women and toddlers
would be walking for many miles in the hot sun: if the vaccines did not come
punctually, there was no way of telling them not to come until the following
day.
Those women were amazing.
Regardless of the distance they had walked and their own tiredness, before
presenting themselves with their little ones, the babies were bathed – even in
the nearby lake – and dressed in the finest clothes the family could afford.
Each baby literally shone, its tiny black curls glistening in the sunshine as
each mother proudly showed off her son or daughter to others. The women stood
patiently in line, waiting for registration and the few seconds it took to
place a few drops of vaccine on the tongue of the (often protesting) baby and
then began the long walk home. If ever anybody needed a concrete example of the
heroic dedication of a mother, it is supplied by the effectiveness of the ‘Bye-bye
Polio’ campaign.
Sadly, one of the possible
reasons why polio has not already been eliminated in Pakistan is because of the
alleged CIA abuse of the system: a vaccination day was apparently used in order
to discover the whereabouts of Osama Bin Laden. Now, rumours that the campaign
is accompanied by American spies have severely limited its effectiveness in
Pakistan, where the Taliban banned vaccinations in some areas. The UN said in
March that some 240,000 children had missed vaccinations since July 2012 in
parts of the country's tribal belt, the main sanctuary for Islamic militants.
Several health workers have been murdered because, instead of being seen as
dedicated health workers trying to eliminate polio, they were regarded as CIA
collaborators. In Afghanistan, security risks and the Taliban also limit the
effectiveness of the anti-polio campaign. Nigeria? The rumour went around the
villages that the vaccination programme was intended to sterilise babies and
thereby eliminate Muslims. In areas of high illiteracy, such whispers easily
gain importance and spread like wildfire.
13 January 2012 marked the last
report of a child in India with polio, whereas, in 2009, there were 741 reports
or almost half of the entire global incidence. Hopefully the disease has now been
eradicated from India. It has taken time, commitment, energy, generosity, faith
and love. If polio could be eliminated, what else might unite the world? In a
new era, with a Pope who daily challenges us to care for the ‘little ones’ of
this world, could people come together more effectively against hunger or poor
drinking water? With polio out of the way, could malnutrition be the next
‘public enemy’ to go? As well as saying, “Bye-bye polio”, might we also say,
“Bye-bye hunger”?
