First it was loupgaroo from Madagascar (allegedly), which, visited, taunted and humiliated us in the mid 1990s, then the proliferation of malaria from (probably) our servile Indian mates and now ?le Chikungunya? (evidently) from Comoros. One cannot help but wonder what Seychelles, Reunion or for that matter the whole world have gift-wrapped for us.

The name Chikungunya, per se, implores one to carve it on a pencil box for memory sake. It creates a vision of a remote fishing village in the south coast of India where fishermen in their dhotis are discussing their day?s tough grind by smoking their roll ups filled with ganja. Albeit, this dismissive name of the current pandemic has frightfully shown us how little individual control we have over our environment.

Whilst it is still crucial for us to have a backbone knowledge of the disease, the Ministry of Health (MOH), with its usual tremendous inertia, has conveniently crushed and dusted it under the table like a nagging parasite, which it has termed ?virus?. Their delayed fit of conscience had nudged them to broach the word virus with a vagueness matched only by the fervour with which it is invoked.

We, as citizens, need to understand the outbreak of Chikungunya because the near-alchemy of modern science has subjugated us to a situation where adaptation has occurred in some people but not in others. How did the donors of Chikungunya adapt? Who are more receptive to the virus?

Young, old and even the hypochondriacs had been affected and the observable effects of the ?virus? range in severity from lethal to the merely dull aches and pains. Yet, the MOH has furtively tried to reassure us that it is not serious, enough to warrant an explanation of the origin and cures of the disease.

Defensive attitude

Our society desperately needs to adopt a defensive and nationalistic attitude on environmental issues, as indeed Chikungunya is an environmental stress, which, has increased the rate of hospital admissions, and inadvertedly affect the labour turnover and hence, the economy. The MOH communiqué was by no means an apology nor enlightenment of the virus, for Chikungunya presents an exceedingly significant set of social and economic disruptions associated with foreigners. The government is lackadaisical about informing us of the real medical risks imported from visitors. The meningitis case in India has been kept under wrap and would either not be divulged in case we insult our Indian co-workers or because the government is blatantly disinterested in our welfare. Gone are the days when health visitors used to religiously come around for a drop of blood upon one?s return from India. In a recent edition of Lancet, a much-revered medical paper, malaria was cited as the most rampant disease, which is on the increase in our continent. Yet, we are all oblivious of that fact and neither has the forthcoming World Malaria Report 2005 induced the government to educate us about the precautionary measures in place to combat the illness.

Instead, we are busy opening our already ajar door to visitors and at the same time, the government has opened the Pandora box by allowing ?aliens? to arrive in our island without medical checks. We all need to recognise that our environment is at an important crossroads where the dichotomy between private and social benefits associated with financial liberalisation has to be meticulously considered.

Chikungunya should be a wake-up call for the government. A more rigorous monitoring of our immigration policy should be in place. We need to buffer ourselves from the pain and agony of imported viruses. The government needs to have a candid debate on the social costs of economic and financial liberalisation. Let us not lose our pride of being The Star and the Key of the Indian Ocean and make of ?le Chikungunya? the demarcation point in addressing our health concerns.

Rubina DOOBORY