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Essays > Malaria (October 19, 1999 by Pat Heyman)
All excerpts are taken from James Clavell's excellent book Tai-Pan.
And as civilization flourished on the island, refuse began to collect. With the refuse came the flies. Water began to stagnate in discarded barrels, in the broken pots and pans. It was cupped in bamboo scaffoldings, in the beginnings of gardens, and in the thin marsh of the valley basin. These small putrid waters began to seethe with life: larvae, which became mosquitoes. They were tiny, fragile and very special—and so delicate that they flew only when the sun was down: the Anopheles…
And the people in Happy Valley began to die.
"Uncle Robb says it’s malaria. What’s the cure for Malaria?"
"There is na one that I know. I’m no doctor. ‘Malaria’ is Latin for ‘bad air.’ That’s all I know—anyone knows. Mother of God! If the air of Happy Valley’s bad, we’re ruined." He prayed that the fever wasn’t malaria. If it was, the plague could touch anyone who slept in Happy Valley. It was common knowledge that the earth in certain areas in the world were malaria poisoned and for some reason gave off lethal gases by night.
According to Robb, the fever had begun mysteriously four weeks ago. First it had struck Chinese laborers. Then it had afflicted others—a European trader here, a child there. But only in Happy Valley. Nowhere else in Hong Kong. Now four or five hundred Chinese were infected, and twenty or thirty Europeans. The Chinese were superstitiously afraid, certain that the gods were punishing them for working on Hong Kong against the emperor’s decree. Only increased wages had persuaded them to return. –Tai-Pan, James Clavell (1966)
Robb had ended the letter: Now little Karen is smitten. Sarah and I are desperate. The course of the sickness is insidious. First a ghastly fever for half a day, then a recovery, then a more severe recurrence of the fever in two or three days. The cycle is repeated again and again, each attack worse than before. They’ve bled the child but we don’t hope for much. The coolies are dying after the third attack. And Karen is so very weak. God help us, I think Karen’s lost. –Tai-Pan, James Clavell (1966)
"It canna be malaria. Something else."
"The island’s accursed."
"Now you’re talking like a woman, Culum."
"The fever wasn’t here before the coolies. Get rid of the coolies and you’ll be rid of the plague. They’re carrying it with them. They’re doing it."
"How do we know that? I’ll admit it started in the coolie lines. And I’ll agree they live in the low-lying parts. And I’ll agree that as far as we know you can only get malaria by breathing the poisoned night air. But why is there only fever in the valley? Is it only Happy Valley that’s got bad air? Air’s air, for the love of Christ, and there’s a fine breeze blowing there most of the day and night. It does na make sense."
"It makes very good sense. It’s the will of God."
"A pox on that for an answer."
"I’ll thank you not to blaspheme."
"And I’ll thank you to remember that not so many years ago men were burned at the stake just for saying the earth went round the sun! It’s na the will of God!"
By midsummer Happy Valley was in complete despair. The malaria had continued to spread but there was no pattern to the epidemic. Not everyone in the same house was infected. Not every house in the same area was touched.
Coolies would not come into Happy Valley until the sun was high in the sky, and they returned to Tai Ping Shan before dark. Struan and Brock and all the traders were at their wits’ end. There was nothing they could do—except move, and moving meant disaster. Staying could mean worse than disaster. And though there were those who insisted it could not be poisoned soil and polluted night air that brought malaria, only those who slept in the valley were afflicted. The God-fearing believed as Culum had believed, that the fever was the will of God, and they redoubled their petitions to the almighty to protect them; the godless shrugged though equally frightened and said, "Joss." The trickle of families back to ships developed into a flood, and Queen’s Town became a ghost town.
The army doctors had paid him a visit in the afternoon; there was now no doubt. The Happy Valley fever was malaria. That night Struan lay awake in the four-poster beside May-may. The windows were open to the moon and to the breeze that carried a bracing salt tang. Outside the vast net which enclosed the bed a few mosquitoes relentlessly sought an entrance to the food within. Unlike most of the Europeans, Struan had always used a mosquito net. Jin-Qua had advised it as good for health, years upon years ago.
Struan was brooding about the malarial night gases, afraid that he and May-may were breathing them right now.
The twilight was pleasant. A few mosquitoes whined about them. One settled on May-may’s ankle but she did not notice it. The mosquito drank its fill, then flew away.
The doctor was an elderly man, his queue long and well oiled, his ancient black robes threadbare. His eyes were clear and a few long hairs grew from a wart in his cheek. He had long thin fingers and the backs of his slender hands were blue-veined. "Tai-Pan, this is the best doctor in Tai Ping Shan. We came as fast as we could… He says Mother’s very sick, Tai Pan. That a poison has entered her bloodstream through her lower limbs. This poison has centered in her liver, and the liver is now—maladjusted. Soon there will be fever, bad fever. Then three or four days of time and again fever. And again."
"Malaria? Happy Valley Fever?"
"He says yes."
"Everyone knows it’s the night gases—na poison through the skin, by God. She’s na been there for weeks!"
"I only tell you what he says, Tai-Pan. I’m no doctor. But this doctor I would trust—I think you should trust."
"What’s his cure?"
"He says, Tai-Pan: ‘I have treated some of those who suffered the Happy Valley poison. The successful recoveries were all strong men who took a certain medicine before the third fever attack. But this is a woman, and though in her twenty-first year and strong with a fire spirit, all her strength is going into the child that is six months in her womb. He fears for the Lady and the child."
May-may lay fragile and helpless as a baby under the weight of a dozen blankets. Her face was gray, her eyes ghastly. For four hours her teeth chattered. Then abruptly the chills changed to fever. Struan bathed her face with iced water but this brought no relief. May-may grew delirious. She thrashed in the bed, muttering and screaming an incoherent mixture of English and Chinese, consumed by the terrible fire. Struan held her and tried to comfort her, but she didn’t recognize him.
The fever disappeared as suddenly as it had come. Sweat gushed from May-may, drenching her clothes and the sheets. Her lips parted slightly and she uttered an ecstatic moan of relief. Her eyes opened and gradually began to focus. –Tai-Pan, James Clavell (1966)
Etiology
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