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57

A n a i s d o I HM T

son!... Oh I could never drink that. It was for fever;

but oh it was so, so bitter! But it had to be bitter things

to combat (sic.) the seizures. And lupine beans soaked;

and then we drank that water that was also very bitter.

You name it…

(Maria, 2006).

Here we made a tea of

marcela

and

erva-férrea

. Our moth-

ers made it and then they put it outside in a bowl on top

of a pot to catch the night dew.And then they would seep

it and in the morning we would drink it, that

marcela

wa-

ter, before eating. It was very, very bitter!

(Bárbara, 2006).

Other mixtures that stimulated perspiration were

also prepared using garlic, spirit, sugar, vinegar and

even gunpowder. But, according to some interview-

ees’ childhood and youth memories, definite cures of

malaria sometimes followed the simple satisfaction of

unusual appetites. Many of them reported such uncom-

mon cravings for food as a malaria effect.They did not

crave for “exotic” foods but for those that they could

not have as often as they would like or that they would

only have in very small portions.Thus, appetites meant

feeling like eating a whole box of sardines; grilled or

fried cod instead of bread soup; oranges; bread with

sausage; or drinking wine directly from the cask. As if

these longings were a pretext to dodge food scarcity

and monotonous diets perceived as markers of their

destitute condition; the only transgression that would

not incur in violent repression.

Hence curing malaria meant resorting to a variety of

therapeutic means deeply embedded in local social

structures and habits.This pluralism matched immedi-

ate practical needs and did not stem from rejection of

or suspicion towards medical therapeutics, which were

rather one among the many choices presented to the

rural workers.

Final remarks

Looking at malaria history in Portugal from the stand-

point of former rural workers’ memories evinces how

local ecological, political and social factors influence

the disease’s epidemiological trajectory and dictate gra-

dients of its social relevance, as well as the range of re-

sponses that it triggers.

Malaria’s medical recognition as a health issue need-

ing attention changed over time and was not the same

for every doctor. All in all, and despite not very trust-

worthy statistics, malaria was not a life threatening

disease though it did cause some deaths. Although ma-

laria could reach significant numbers in its worst years

(as was the case during the Second World War due to

shortages of medication, of labour and food) it did not

weigh on national morbidity numbers as much as other

diseases, especially children’s diseases; moreover ma-

laria was confined to well defined regions of the coun-

try. It could result in loss of hours of work, but so could

other diseases prevalent all year round, while malaria

was seasonal. So was it really a national issue, a public

health problem?

At least for some Portuguese doctors it was; maybe due

to its cyclical upsurges that brought it to their atten-

tion, maybe due to these doctors humanistic principles

and everyday experience on the ground in particularly

afflicted regions. For others, malaria was a means of

stimulating governmental investment in health, follow-

ing the social medicine model that had been adopted

for sexually transmitted diseases and tuberculosis. It

was also a means of attaining international support for

their attempt at enhancing and reframing state health

services especially in rural areas.Yet for other doctors,

like the Portuguese malariologist Francisco Cambour-

nac, it was also a means of developing skills, building

professional networks and promoting their careers –

Cambournac became the director of theWorld Health

Organisation Regional Office for Africa in 1954.

But, for Portuguese rural workers malaria was one

among a collection of predicaments, losing impact due

to its transitory passage in their lives and the persis-

tence of other daily troubles.Thus, malaria came up in

their recollections of the past as part of personal and

communitarian histories – tinted by the present – of

hard working conditions and unequal relations, poor

housing, exploitation and hunger. Doctors wrote about

the need to install windows and doors screens and to

use bed nets to prevent malaria; former rural workers

described their shacks and how they slept in the fields,

disturbed by mosquitoes and scorpions, as symbols of

their deprivation. Doctors counted mosquitoes larvae

at rice fields, destroyed them with chemicals and ex-

perimented with irrigation techniques to reduce mos-

quitoes breeding. Rural workers described rice fields as

sites of hard work under extreme climatic conditions,

tormented by many sorts of aquatic creatures; but also

as a fundamental means of making a living and of joyful

comradeship.

Such different perspectives and various ways of deal-

ing with malaria never clashed, unlike in Mexico, dur-

ing the last years of the malaria eradication programme

(Cueto 2007); in Portugal they coexisted peacefully,

overlapping, ignoring one another or creatively com-

bining. In the end all went well and malaria was con-

quered (around 1960) just like in Italy, Greece or Spain,

although quietly, with much less national or interna-

tional stir. It would take over 10 years before theWHO