So, in addition to all the other problems that Zimbabwe faces, which are too many, too varied and far too well-documented to even think about listing here, and following hot on the heels of the recent cholera outbreaks, anthrax has now reared its ugly head.
Anthrax can kill when infected meat is touched, or eaten or when infected spores are inhaled. A quarantine zone has been declared in the affected areas of Matebeleland North, but because of the desperate hunger in the region some families are still eating infected meat. Traders have also been seen taking potentially infected carcasses out of the restricted zones to trade in Victoria Falls, which risks the disease spreading across Zimbabwe and even over the border into neighbouring Zambia.
An emergency assessment by the Save the Children and the Ministry of Health found 32 cases of human anthrax in Binga district. Anthrax infections have also killed 160 livestock, as well as two elephants, 70 hippo and 50 buffalo. But with symptoms lying dormant for up to 21 days or more and no communications in the region, the death toll could already be higher.
In all likelihood, this outbreak is due to the breakdown in veterinary services and the routine vaccination of livestock – a similar effect was seen with diphtheria in the independent states formed when the Soviet Union fell apart in the early 1990′s. And while the lack of vaccination is probably the main reason behind this new threat to Zim and its people, it is ably assisted by a general lack of medical resources including antibiotics, a shortage of food and no decent communication network throughout the country.
This isn’t Zimbabwe’s first anthrax outbreak. In fact, the country holds the dubious record of the largest ever human anthrax outbreak, which occurred during the civil war in 1979/80, with close on 11,000 human cases and 182 deaths. The spores of Bacillus anthracis from that episode almost 30 years ago are the little buggers responsible for this new outbreak. What I didn’t know until recently was that there is evidence, albeit nothing concrete, that the 79/80 outbreak was probably caused by deliberate release (i.e. biowarfare) as part of the bitter conflict which was taking place at that time.
Much like landmines once the war is over, the spores don’t just disappear once the epidemic has passed. Vaccination of livestock has kept the disease at bay since independence, but the spores have just been hanging around, waiting for their moment in the spotlight.
Thanks to Mr Mugabe, it’s now turned into a talent contest for bugs. Pop Die-dol. Strictly Come Dying. Whatever. I’m not sure Zimbabwe can take any more. Microbiologically, it’s pretty interesting though.
UPDATE: Nice piece by Rowan Philp in the Sunday Times on what life is actually like in Zim right now.
Scorchio!
Cape Town seems a bit knackered after this weekend. And who can blame it?
The hottest weekend of the year sapped the energy and forced people across the city onto beaches and into swimming pools. And they were still too hot. Some of us (me) were additionally “forced” into the pub on Saturday night and onto the cricket field on Sunday morning.
The pub was an interesting experience. Suddenly, from a quick draught Windhoek and a chat about holiday plans, I found myself surrounded by a quorum* of good-looking women who were discussing boobs, underwear and girls kissing other girls. Staying quiet, not wanting to give the game away in case I had somehow become invisible; pinching myself occasionally to ensure that I wasn’t actually dreaming, I listened. Well, you would, wouldn’t you?
I’m a man of simple pleasures – the beer and the holiday chat were enough to make it a pleasant evening, so the additional er… let’s say ”enlightening”… entertainment came as something of a bonus.
WPCC: If the match is dull, there’s always the view
Determined not to wake up with a hangover, I woke up with a hangover and headed out to Western Province Cricket Club to take part in the annual Rondebosch Old Boys versus Bishops Old Boys cricket match. Since I wasn’t even educated in South Africa**, let alone at either of those fine halls of learning, you can see that the rules governing who was eligible to take part weren’t ever so tight. And with me not having even touched a cricket bat or ball for seven years, it was evident that there was something of a paucity of potential talent available for the Rondebosch side. Given the obvious gravitas of the match between these two old foes, together with the soaring temperatures and a banging head, I was slightly apprehensive about the whole experience.
I needn’t have been. Good humour and good sportsmanship prevailed and despite my hardly troubling the scorers with my batting, I was at least able to contribute a little with the ball towards a thumping win for our side in the blistering heat. Heat so hot, in fact, that hardly anyone stayed around for the post-match braai and beers.
I stopped around for one (just to celebrate, you understand) and then headed gratefully home to our pool and merciful relief from the sun. Today, I’m wondering when the train hit me. Every last muscle aches, even the ones I use regularly for football and drinking. Head to toe, literally. I’m all broken.
Never again. Until next year, perhaps.
* no idea of the correct collective noun, sorry.
** well, I was a bit on Saturday night, believe me…