FLIGHT TO AGUILAS

Nearly half a century has passed since my assignment to the island of Tavira in the Caribbean. Im not especially proud of the part I played in what happened there. I should have distanced myself emotionally from the undercurrent of political confusion that surfaced soon after I arrived.

I was sent to Tavira by the Parasitic Diseases Section (PDS) of the World Health Organization to advise the government with a problem of disease control, but, progressively, in order to achieve certain of my goals, I allowed myself to take sides on a matter that had nothing to do with my assignment.

The year was 1958. As a young field biologist, thirty-six and single, I had just completed a fantastically exciting two-year assignment in tropical Africa, and I had just begun a two-year hitch in Puerto Rico, when George Barlow at PDS headquarters in Geneva suddenly pulled me out of Puerto Rico and reassigned me to the island of Tavira to replace a biologist that the Tavirans had abruptly deported.

On the flight from San Juan, Puerto Rico to Aguilas, Tavira, I penned the following letter to Sam Tyler back at the Tropical Disease Field Research Station in San Juan:

In flight, 12 June 1958

Sam,

Ill make this quick since were only about twenty minutes out from Aguilas. Ive spent most of the flight reviewing correspondence between George Barlow, my supervisor at the Parasitic Diseases Section (PDS) in Geneva, and Harlan Palma, head of the Taviran Department of Health. I worked briefly with George in Africa two years ago before he was promoted to assistant chief of the PDS. I suppose that contact explains why I was picked for Tavira. Ill be working directly with Harlan Palma and his staff doing necessary background research, evaluating their control program, and making suggestions for improvements.

Several of the letters George forwarded to me are almost scandalous. Apparently, the PDS consultant Im replacing, Ota Homma, was summarily kicked outdeported. Judging from bits and pieces here and there in the letters, the Tavirans found Homma rude and officious, especially towards two field hands assigned to do the driving, help load and unload equipment, collect water samples, etc. Homma took to ordering them about so ruthlessly, they soon began, as a little joke, to call him Ta Ota (Aunt Ota) behind his back. Trouble is, Homma couldnt take a joke. About the third time he overheard them, he explodedsort of went berserkbroke a dip-net over the back of one of them, cursed the other, left them standing there dumbfounded, drove the truck back alone to Aguilas, and holed up in his hotel room for two days. Of course, Harlan Palma was incensed and George was terribly embarrassed. However, at least Palma requested a replacement. That suggests to me that hes either a forgiving soul or desperately needs the help. Ill have to watch it, though! No doubt, it falls to me to try to overcome Hommas negative legacy. Im sure Palma will have me in his sights from the instant this plane touches down.

Homma did manage to write two excellent papers about studies he did in villages close to Aguilas and along the seacoast, but he never did get out into the boondocks. George sent me drafts of those papers and asked that I comment on them. Like you and me, Homma was opposed to treating the streams with chemicals to kill the snails. He would have agreed with us that this approach is too destructive to the delicate ecosystem of these small tropical creeks and streams. In that connection, working with you in Puerto Rico has convinced me that the biggest secrets to transmission of [snail fever] are hiding high in the mountain watersheds of these islands. Thats going to be my first approachto study the high-country creeks and streams and the villages that crowd along their banks. On Tavira, those sites seem to have been pretty much ignored.

Just now I caught a beautiful birds-eye view of Tavira, stem to stern. The island is shaped like a life raft heading north: high mountains forward; flat as Kansas, aft. Well, my seat partner says well be landing in a few minutes. I must stop. Take care!

Harvey

P.S. - My new address: Harvey Shoals, Hotel Mar Chiquita, Calle Castaos, Aguilas, Tavira


Ive bracketed the words snail fever in the . . . letter above. In the actual letter, I referred to snail fever as schisto, a nickname for schistosomiasis, one of the correct names for this deadly disease. In the 1950s, schisto killed well over a million people a year and destroyed the economy of a dozen nations. The death rate is still way up there. Of all the infectious tropical diseases, only malaria kills more humans each year. . . .