Wash your hands!

By Christian George Acevedo

At the height of the cholera outbreak at the turn of the 20^th century, hundreds of thousands of lives were lost due to mixed reasons, including contaminated water supplies and sanitation problems.  One solution colonial official implemented was preventive measures, which highlighted the need for handwashing, disinfection, and quarantine to stop the disease from spreading.

Mary Helen Fee, a Thomasite who was assigned to teach in Capiz in the early years of American rule, maintained a diary where she documented her fear and anxiety when cholera spread in the province. She was vacationing in Manila – by then severely battered by the outbreak – and she had to endure a five-day quarantine in the most discomfiting manner (at least by American standards) before she made her slow progress back to Capiz.

While she did not provide the year this diary was written, her notes, although not on a daily basis, spanned from September until November, and up to a paragraph’s length only. On some days, she entered a line or two, but each entry focused on her experience as the pandemic hit the province. In fact, she lamented the death of one American civil servant who also died from cholera.

Interestingly, in her more detailed entries, she described the preventive measures taken to ensure one does not catch cholera. Just like the anxiety, stress, and sleeplessness that we feel now, the cholera outbreak also meant many sleepless nights for Fee. Her anxiety was compounded by the anti-American sentiments over a rumor that an American health inspector assigned in Capiz poisoned the natives’ wells. “Slept wretchedly, being, it must be confessed, about as much afraid of the guard as of the possible anti-Americanos,” Fee wrote.

Among the hygiene and food handling measures Fee observed included putting “lime over the stone flagging below, with a large heap at the foot of the stairs, so that everybody coming in must walk through it,” “washing off all the furniture with agua finecada (diluted carbolic acid),” “boiling the drinking-water” and tea towels, [September 16] washing vegetables in diluted carbolic acid and rinsing in boiled rainwater afterwards [September 18]. Servants were told to wash their hands in bichloride solution, while cucumber slices were soaked in vinegar till mealtime [September 18].

After arriving from the market, servants were told to soak all the change in agua finecada [September 19]. One American wife was so weary of contracting cholera that she baked her own bread and forbade her cook from leaving her premises to the point that she had to lock her up at night “for fear he may escape and visit among his kindred” [September 19].

While today we are forbidden to receive guests in our home, let alone leave our home, if necessary, in those days, one who visits the home of another was “requested to scrape his feet in the chloride of lime at the foot of the stairs, and, on arriving at the top, is presented with a bowl of agua finecada, wherein to wash his hands.” [September 19] A clean towel was then provided.

As days passed, Fee’s entries grew morbid. One time she wrote about a man she was on the streets as he lay dying helplessly from the malady. “The deaths have now swelled to more than a hundred a day, though the disease remains largely among the poor. Yesterday I saw a man stricken in the street. He lay on his back quite still, but breathing in a horrible way. The bearers came at last and carried him away on.” [October 15]

Apparently, cholera was a disease of the poor, Fee observed. “So far, the sickness has not touched the principales. Only the poor people are dying.” [October 3] As it is today, the rich will always have their way out; the poor will always have to endure the pitiful fate when death comes knocking. A health outbreak isn’t an equalizer. It is an eye-opener that strips society naked of the malady that is inequality.

Hocus FOLKus explores our fascinating folklore – a product of generations of observations, of stories passed down in the community across generations. Each column begins with a familiar belief, tale, or cultural tradition and explores how communities have long interpreted our world through observation, experience, and storytelling. Rather than choosing between myth and science, Hocus FOLKus celebrates both as meaningful ways of understanding our world, inviting readers to appreciate the wisdom embedded in our cultural heritage while discovering the scientific truths behind everyday wonders.