Some weeks ago, I read a piece in The Economist that has stayed with me. It was about the efforts of Sierra Leone, among the world’s poorest countries, to combat “neglected tropical diseases” (NTD), a family of 17 diverse communicable diseases that afflict over 1.5 billion in tropical and subtropical areas worldwide.
It featured one victim named Hannah Taylor, who woke up one day with a fever, followed by her legs swelling up to four times their normal size. The physical damage was irreversible, and the subsequent appearance and putrid smell led to her being ostracized by her community. She was a victim of lymphatic filariasis (a.k.a. elephantiasis), a mosquito-borne infection that could have been treated safely with a pill costing no more than fifty cents before it progressed.
But instead, the microscopic worms infested her body, debilitating her. For years she thought she had been a victim of evil witchcraft and was deeply depressed.
Eventually, Taylor put on a brave face and campaigned to raise awareness about the disease, its causes, and why victims shouldn’t be stigmatized. She passed away some weeks prior to the publishing of the article; she was quoted as expressing happiness that her children would not suffer the way she would, thanks to Sierra Leone’s remarkable progress in fighting the disease.
Progress or not, it is incredible to think that billions of lives are negatively impacted by something as mundane to most of us as a mosquito bite. It is even more incredible that a mere fifty cents – spare change we’d throw in a tip jar without a thought – is all that stands between someone and a debilitating disease. It is utterly senseless that in a world with so much wealth and resources sloshing around that we have not been able to address this vast disparity in health outcomes and quality of life.