It is not every day that a rural Tanzanian government official goes around the village with a loudspeaker to make announcements. And it is even rarer when the announcement called for all eateries in the area to shut down until further notice. But the government officials went around this time to sound the alarm for a massive cholera outbreak, people obliged quickly. When they heard that 80-some victims of the outbreak are already lying in the hospital, having a proper sit-down lunch, no matter how simple, becomes much less important.
Unfortunately, small epidemics of this sort happen too easily given the conditions on the ground. In the villages, animals raised for food live out their entire lives knee-deep in pools of their own excrement, sleeping, eating, and hanging out in confined spaces of putrid smells and unimaginable varieties of bacteria. Village bars where farmers while away their non-cultivation time in simple alcohol-filled joy, use still well-water to distill the drinks and wash utensils that are shared by dozens of patrons every day. These are perfect conditions for epidemics to spread.
Yet, facing the frequent threat of epidemics claiming a large number of fatalities, people in Tanzanian villages have not become jaded or cynical. Every death in the village call for socially mandatory attendance in the funeral and monetary contribution by its every family. While this means the village is frequently shut down by the whole village going to "another funeral of some neighbor," it probably also means fear of death is deeply ingrained in the psyche of every person living in the village, to the point that any obvious warning signs are taken seriously.
Rather admirably, local governments have leveraged this culturally established fear to change behaviors of the local people, at least for short periods in time. The governments do so with unrelenting provision of what some may consider extremely grim pieces of information. Utter transparency on how many are dead and dying from some disease in which parts of the country spur people to obey any subsequent instructions given. The logic is simple: "either obey the government's instructions or the possibility of death will become very real very fast."
What is most admirable about this rather straightforward process is that the government is willing to put aside any fear of accusation from the populace for not containing the epidemic in the first place. After all, when the government mentions that half of the country is suffering from some epidemic, it opens itself up to public shaming on why more was not done earlier to prevent its spread or nip it in the bud. If it were in Asia, an alternative sense of ethics would have easily pushed governments to censor sensitive information, like death tolls and geographic extent, to boost credibility.
Indeed, African governments' willingness to admit their vulnerability in the face of nature (in this case, epidemic diseases) likely contribute to strong efforts to contain them. Whether it be something small like cholera in a few villages or Ebola across several countries, assistance in stopping the disease is sourced from foreign governments, NGOs, and the grassroots organizational power of the local populace. The governments know their limits and are willing to take a backseat to those with strong technical knowledge and understanding of local conditions.
Of course, this is not to say that local authorities are without fault in handling of the epidemics. The authorities' ability to instruct locals to weaken the spread of disease still belies its aloofness in governing the everyday lives of the people in question. To be more specific, its laissez-faire approach to how people keep their animals and distill their alcohol, and by extension, failure to change how people behave even when there is no epidemic, illustrates just how little real control and presence the authorities have in the villages.
And increased control and presence are necessary as countries like Tanzania move into the next stages of development. As more and more people leave their home villages to work as migrant laborers in non-agricultural positions, the cohesiveness of the rural community can no longer be depended upon to enforce epidemic-defeating mechanisms. When the fear-mongering loudspeaker announcements of the village officials can no longer spur locals into action, the government and its partners must be adept and skillful enough to fill that disease-fighting vacuum.
Unfortunately, small epidemics of this sort happen too easily given the conditions on the ground. In the villages, animals raised for food live out their entire lives knee-deep in pools of their own excrement, sleeping, eating, and hanging out in confined spaces of putrid smells and unimaginable varieties of bacteria. Village bars where farmers while away their non-cultivation time in simple alcohol-filled joy, use still well-water to distill the drinks and wash utensils that are shared by dozens of patrons every day. These are perfect conditions for epidemics to spread.
Yet, facing the frequent threat of epidemics claiming a large number of fatalities, people in Tanzanian villages have not become jaded or cynical. Every death in the village call for socially mandatory attendance in the funeral and monetary contribution by its every family. While this means the village is frequently shut down by the whole village going to "another funeral of some neighbor," it probably also means fear of death is deeply ingrained in the psyche of every person living in the village, to the point that any obvious warning signs are taken seriously.
Rather admirably, local governments have leveraged this culturally established fear to change behaviors of the local people, at least for short periods in time. The governments do so with unrelenting provision of what some may consider extremely grim pieces of information. Utter transparency on how many are dead and dying from some disease in which parts of the country spur people to obey any subsequent instructions given. The logic is simple: "either obey the government's instructions or the possibility of death will become very real very fast."
What is most admirable about this rather straightforward process is that the government is willing to put aside any fear of accusation from the populace for not containing the epidemic in the first place. After all, when the government mentions that half of the country is suffering from some epidemic, it opens itself up to public shaming on why more was not done earlier to prevent its spread or nip it in the bud. If it were in Asia, an alternative sense of ethics would have easily pushed governments to censor sensitive information, like death tolls and geographic extent, to boost credibility.
Indeed, African governments' willingness to admit their vulnerability in the face of nature (in this case, epidemic diseases) likely contribute to strong efforts to contain them. Whether it be something small like cholera in a few villages or Ebola across several countries, assistance in stopping the disease is sourced from foreign governments, NGOs, and the grassroots organizational power of the local populace. The governments know their limits and are willing to take a backseat to those with strong technical knowledge and understanding of local conditions.
Of course, this is not to say that local authorities are without fault in handling of the epidemics. The authorities' ability to instruct locals to weaken the spread of disease still belies its aloofness in governing the everyday lives of the people in question. To be more specific, its laissez-faire approach to how people keep their animals and distill their alcohol, and by extension, failure to change how people behave even when there is no epidemic, illustrates just how little real control and presence the authorities have in the villages.
And increased control and presence are necessary as countries like Tanzania move into the next stages of development. As more and more people leave their home villages to work as migrant laborers in non-agricultural positions, the cohesiveness of the rural community can no longer be depended upon to enforce epidemic-defeating mechanisms. When the fear-mongering loudspeaker announcements of the village officials can no longer spur locals into action, the government and its partners must be adept and skillful enough to fill that disease-fighting vacuum.
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