18 months of flu 100 years after global pandemic BY NICHOLAS HALTER THIS year is the centenary of the global outbreak of the Spanish flu. This influenza pandemic lasted 18 months and is estimated to have killed 3-6 per cent of the world’s population (50-100 million people). In Fiji, approximately 9000 people (5 per cent of the population) were killed between November 1918 and April 1919. The epidemic was one of the deadliest in Fiji’s history, second only to the measles epidemic of 1875. Other neighbouring islands fared much worse with the disease claiming the lives of 6 per cent of Tongans, 16 per cent of Nauruans and a staggering 22 per cent of Western Samoans. One hundred years later, how do Fijians remember this significant event? The disease is believed to have arrived in Fiji on November 14, 1918, carried aboard the New Zealand ship Talune which had departed Auckland on October 31, for Western Samoa and Tonga. Fijian labourers working aboard the ship were infected first and when they disembarked at Suva and Levuka the disease quickly spread out of control. The flu strain was airborne, highly infectious and lethal — it had an estimated morbidity rate over 90 per cent and an estimated mortality rate of 20 per cent (the rate for other strains of influenza is usually 0.1 per cent). Death was usually within three to four days of developing symptoms, and the disease tended to kill healthy young adults (aged 20-40) and pregnant women. In some villages there were few able bodies left who could bury the dead. One report from Viria published in The Fiji Times on December 17 was typical of the time: “A voluntary helper writes us: There have been 59 deaths in Viria and surrounding districts from influenza and pneumonia to the 14th inst. There were only three deaths in Viria itself last week, and the town is improving, for the simple reason that 97 per cent have been or are ‘down’. We are faced with the difficulty of burying the dead, as there were only two old Fijians we could rely on, and one of those is now ill ... Provisions and benzene are very short. We hope to pull through all right, but it is all a sea of misery and suffering.” It is unclear where the Spanish flu originated. The name was attributed to Spain because it was one of the few neutral nations during WWI which openly reported its influenza troubles. WWI exacerbated the spread and lethality of the disease globally, and in Fiji’s case, the war had taken a third of the country’s medical personnel away at a crucial time. For example, there was no doctor available and only three native medical practitioners for the entire Lau Group according to The Fiji Times on December 23. Schools were hastily converted into make-shift hospitals and the colonial government requested medical aid from New Zealand but it arrived after the epidemic had finished because of shipping
delays. In the aftermath of the disease, New Zealand was harshly criticised for the failure of its quarantine system to protect its Pacific colonies. Colonial rule ensured an administrative record of the influenza was maintained and it is these records that have helped historians understand the progression of the disease. Officials attempted to record the number of infected people, where and when they were infected, and what symptoms they presented. They are valuable sources today for understanding the regional variations of the disease’s impact in Fiji. More isolated provinces such as Colo were impacted less than the smaller islands such as Ovalau and Taveuni, and dense urban centres like Suva. Those employed on plantations as indentured labourers also fared better because they had access to plantation hospitals. Administrative lists may point to an organised and competent colonial order, but in reality the diagnosis and treatment of disease was much more problematic. European medicine was believed to be neutral and value-free at the time and indigenous practices were disregarded as “backward” and superstitious. As a result it’s not clear from archival sources what alternative remedies were employed by iTaukei or Fijians of Indian descent. One FT article on December 31 reported the use of dabi bark and lemon leaves, but it was likely there were many more strategies being used at the time. Instead the colonial authorities preferred methods sanctioned by the New Zealand Board of Health. On December 3 The Fiji Times printed a list of recommendations ranging from bed rest, hot drinks and quinine, to gargling a mix of boric acid, baking soda and salt in hot water. It also warned readers, “Don’t depress yourself by looking at the bad side.” Many colonial authorities emphasised quarantine and isolation as key techniques to prevent the spread of disease. Although they had medical justifications, such measures also intentionally protected the ruling class. Efforts to develop public health policies in Fiji were complicated by a tension between prioritising collective wellbeing and defending individual rights. Indeed, cultural differences in how to treat the disease meant that there were frequent misunderstandings and criticism from all three ethnic groups, and these have yet to be sufficiently explored by historians. The trauma created by the disease aggravated preexisting tensions between Europeans, iTaukei and Fijians of Indian descent. Some responses reflected deep racial prejudices rather than fact, such as European claims on December 17 in The Fiji Times that “the natives are most ungrateful for any sacrifice on the white men’s part”.
Other claims that particular villages or groups were neglected during the epidemic may have had a grain of truth, and require closer historical analysis to test their veracity. Much more needs to be done to understand the experiences of ordinary Fijians during the Spanish flu epidemic. This year is a timely opportunity to ask one another how Fijians responded to the disease in their communities and to engage in an open and honest discussion about this period of history. Many of the answers lie in the oral testimonies of survivors and their descendants which can tell a different side of history to the official record — one of confusion and rumour exacerbated by the topography and isolation of communities; of panic and trauma at the sudden and inexplicable loss of life; and of anger and frustration as people blamed one another for actions (or lack of action). A thorough understanding of this event and its impact on the people of Fiji cannot be reached by consulting the colonial record alone. It is time to draw on the collective memory of Fijians to recall and record this tragic moment in Fiji’s history. • The views expressed are not of this newspaper. This research was made possible with the help of the National Archives of Fiji. Nicholas Halter is a lecturer in history at USP. If you know someone who is interested in sharing or recording their stories or memories of this period, please email nicholas.halter@usp.ac.fj or call 323 2136.