Over the last few weeks, with face masks flying off the shelves and alcohol in all forms being sold at DIY auctions, the coronavirus panic has caused a boom in overblown prevention methods, not barring questionable ones.
With public service announcements time and again reminding us that the most vulnerable amongst us are the elderly and immunocompromised, many have taken upon themselves to share, at best, harmless tips on how to “boost” the immune system.
Know those clickbait ads that crop up promising magical weight loss too good to be true? Imagine that, but with a pandemic that has devastated many countries. And yes, doctors hate these too.
It’s only natural that many of us turn to fan-favourites, like paracetamols and Vitamin C supplements (which, if you were unaware, does not prevent or cure even the common cold), as placebo band-aids to slap on in these trying times. Hand sanitizers promising to get rid of 99% bacteria also sound great, until health professionals lose out to the mass public over the last half-litre of Hexisol in store.
Home remedies such as herbal teas, certain vegetables like garlic, and other astringents have been cropping up like mushrooms all over social media (unless that too is said to be a cure), and religious clerics selling healing charms have been around since the first human crisis that could be profited on.
Now, wanting to have hope is no crime, and some will even say that for many, this is it in a bottle. But the truth is, while many of us might be taking the recommended precautions with only these alternative and holistic methods as a bright-eyed “what if ...,” many more are not.
With almost 24% of Bangladesh’s population under the poverty line and most living from hand to mouth, paycheck to paycheck, the anxieties of a global health crisis are just on par with the thought of unemployment. Why stay home and forego a day’s meal when roadside herbs can heal them?
Government crackdowns of alcohol wholesalers overpricing their goods might make it seem like the problem is solvable, but that is only one part of a larger puzzle. Can we stop the Viber chain letters instructing us to wash our hands with laundry detergent and bleach? Or the numerous schemes propagating that carbohydrates and meat increase viral infections?
With Ramadan just around the corner, the authorities will soon be hard-pressed to stop mass gatherings around a cleric promoting the optimistic “It won’t be us ... if you all come again tomorrow. Same time, same place.”
Infectious outbreaks sweeping the nation is nothing new in Bangladesh, and many of us even remember the little jingles from the AIDs and tuberculosis PSAs. The awareness programs for tuberculosis had actually come in two parts: The first had been when a cure was not yet feasible and prevention was the only way out.
The second part contradicted the previous message, when a cure had been discovered, possibly drowning out any scam treatments that might have gone around in the interim period.
Today, the public health sector of Bangladesh, and anywhere really, are up against a larger, faster opponent than the word of mouth of yesteryears: Social media. With quackery reaching the people faster than health professionals, rallies, prayer circles, and unethical alternative medication are easier to dole out than ever.
We are all in this together but we are not in this equally. Folks who need the most socioeconomic support in these times are also the ones willing to believe anyone with a remedy and for them, the scientific community is just not cutting it at the current moment.
Gate-keeping words such as “quarantine” and “isolation” are alienating people who are already ingrained with ideas of outbreaks and social distancing, as with patients of TB and leprosy (which do have cures).
If we are unable to provide satisfactory solutions yet, at least maybe we can stop the spread of dangerous hoaxes.
Noor E Tahsin is a student of English literature, with an interest in book illustration and animation.