Dengue isn’t here by coincidence – and neither, increasingly, is chikungunya. Both are scheduled. Every February, just like clockwork, Mauritius gets overrun by mosquitoes at precisely the moment we’ve trained ourselves to expect it, every bit as predictable as the same old speech from whichever minister is overseeing the emergency fogging. They assure us it’s contained. We panic for a few weeks, then wait silently until February rolls around again next year. We’ve turned two preventable diseases into a seasonal ritual.

Climate change has loaded the dice. Rising temperatures halve the Aedes mosquito’s life cycle and double the rate at which the dengue and chikungunya viruses replicate inside it. Rainfall arrives in heavy bursts rather than gentle showers, creating pools of stagnant water for mosquitoes to breed in. That stagnation may never fully recede in low-lying flood zones with poor drainage, such as Roche-Bois – blocked drains, forgotten containers, construction debris, and irregular waste collection allow mosquito populations to breed unchecked for months before “mosquito season” is officially declared.

Add a single cyclone or flash flood, and we’re back to square one – the same surveillance systems we rely on for early detection are often the first to go offline, exactly when we need them most. Dengue isn’t just seasonal anymore, and neither is chikungunya. Both are becoming unpredictable – and that’s far more dangerous. Nor is Mauritius lacking solutions. The government has emergency laboratories, mosquito surveillance networks, international partners, and sufficient institutional capacity to break this cycle.

What we lack is the commitment to mobilise those resources before the next dengue or chikungunya outbreak sweeps the shore. Three pointed questions from the floor to the Ministry of Health and Wellness:

1: What’s the status of action on the National Master Plan for vector control?

Mapping mosquito hotspots using rainfall data, river proximity, built-up density, and known mosquito-breeding zones such as Roche Bois isn’t exactly innovative science – we have the means to do it today and should already be doing so. Because dengue and chikungunya share the same vector, this single mapping exercise would let us get ahead of both at once. More importantly, we don’t need to look to our Indian Ocean neighbours to know that alternative solutions can work: we’re running our own experiment with sterile insect technique (SIT) pilots in Port Louis right now, having already seen mosquito populations reduce by 70% across a 20-hectare trial zone. SIT is a promising, low-toxicity alternative to reactive fogging campaigns – and a 70% reduction in a single trial zone is a strong enough signal to justify properly costing and prioritising what scaled-up deployment would look like, rather than letting the domestic trial data we already have sit unused.

2: Beyond the document itself, what concrete changes in practice have resulted from the National Adaptation Plan for Health, validated last March?

Linking meteorological forecasts with mosquitotrapping data and previous outbreak geography gives us a true early-warning system for anticipating the next dengue or chikungunya hotspot. If that data can identify where resources are needed before they’re needed, will we pre-position our personnel, diagnostic kits, rehydration solutions and budgetary bandwidth before February 2027?

3: Who’s responsible for community engagement, and what does success look like?

Ask anyone who lives in a neighbourhood prone to mosquito outbreaks what slogan the government told them years ago, and they’ll say: “Eliminate standing water.” Years of the same awareness campaign breed inertia, not action. What if we closed the loop? A simple app for residents to photo-report suspected breeding sites, together with a transparent, publicly visible district-level dashboard of response times and outcomes, would let families see the impact of their reports. More importantly, it would highlight to health officials which districts are struggling to comply with directives and why. Has anyone considered such a platform against the economic losses from even one severe dengue or chikungunya outbreak?

Put vector control aside for a moment. Here are three areas where investing in prevention pays off more than any reactive fogging exercise ever could:

Health system readiness: Adaptation planning should begin with ground-level medical staff trained in climate-sensitive case definitions and standard operating procedures for dengue and/or chikungunya; outbreak districts pre-stocked with diagnostic kits, essential medicines, and oral rehydration solutions; and the integration of mental health support for vulnerable communities coping with repeated outbreak-related stress.

Complementary infrastructure: Pre-emptive upgrades to drainage capacity and solid waste management infrastructure in hard-hit zones would knock mosquito breeding sites offline and limit flooding and urban heat swamp risks at the same time. These aren’t one-off costs, either. Hotels, large employers, and the tourism industry have too much at stake to avoid investing in these programmes.

Regional collaboration: Mauritius sits at the heart of the Indian Ocean Commission and works with WHO and UNDP partners. The same mosquitoes that carry both dengue and chikungunya thrive in the warming waters across neighbouring islands, and the data on suppressing them doesn’t need to be relearned in every capital. Genuine pooling of real-time surveillance and lessons learned would mean not reinventing what islands two hours away have already tested.

None of this requires reinventing the wheel. The Climate Change Act and Mauritius’ international climate commitments already identify health as a priority sector. Plans, pilot data from neighbouring islands, and partnerships already exist. What is missing is a published implementation timeline, dedicated budget lines, and a minister whose name is attached to a deadline – whoever holds the portfolio when the next dengue or chikungunya season arrives. That is the real test behind the phrase “same mosquito, different minister.” Not another slogan, but whether the next administration inherits a functioning, proactive system rather than yet another postoutbreak diagnosis.