A Nation In Paralysis
WORDS BY Vic Bell | Kāi Tahu | she/her
It was the summer of 1947 when a sign was hung in the window of a corner store in Rowallan. No more ice cream will be served in cones. Neon coloured TT2 ice blocks were now the only choice for sweet-toothed children, and they just weren’t as nice.
The polio epidemics of the 1930s, 40s, and 50s hung over the heads of New Zealanders like a thunderstorm. You never knew when lightning would strike. The nature of the virus was a mystery. One theory was it was caused by exposure to sunlight. Another cause was over-exertion. When a house on the block had a case of infant paralysis the entire family were treated like lepers.'
Eileen Kiffin remembers when her parents became outwardly fearful. They were no longer allowed outside without a hat and something covering their necks to protect them from the sun. Born in 1943, Eileen’s childhood was punctured with the polio epidemics of 1947-49, 1952-53, and 1955-56. I asked if she picked up on the gravity of the situation as a child.
“I was definitely aware of the situation in the 1953 epidemic when I was ten. We knew that Mum and Dad were very anxious. But we just had the strong belief that Mum and Dad would save us.” The epidemics came in waves every few years, spoiling the summer. Everything you looked forward to all school or university year was unceremoniously cancelled: swims at the beach or pool, the sports day in Tuatapere, visits to the picture theatre, and hanging out with friends.
Poliomyelitis is an infectious disease caused by the poliovirus. The virus can live for days at room temperature. It was transmitted person to person through droplets, i.e. sneezing, coughing, sharing cups, or if faecal matter (poo) contaminated the food or water supply. Although most people affected had few symptoms or experienced nothing worse than the seasonal flu, others suffered paralysis and some died. In just the period of 1947-48 over 1000 people were infected with Polio and about 70 died. 173 people died in New Zealand’s worst outbreak of 1925.
I asked her whether many people were found breaking their bubble for a quick dip in the sea or a nice plate of mutton at the next door neighbour’s. “No one would dare think of it! We were a ‘do as your told’ generation.” Off the back of the second world war, the government was viewed as a protector. Everyone was used to having to make sacrifices, restrict their movements, ration their food, so were naturally more compliant with restrictions. “But there are some very pig-headed old people,” Eileen sighed. Some people have shorter memories than others.
Whatever small joy that was felt by students at the prospect of a never-ending summer holiday was quickly replaced by boredom. Unable to venture beyond the letterbox, card games with your siblings, and re-reading the same books would grow old fast. I’ve only been able to keep my sanity in quarantine by writing for an online publication and devoting much of my time to tending my livestock in Stardew Valley. The thought of having to throw my laptop out the window and practice a vampiric aversion to sunlight doesn’t bear thinking about. No television, no internet, no computers, no video games. No virtual sex or cat videos or watching yourself cry to your therapist over Zoom.
But it wasn’t just a question of entertainment. Polio put life on hold for scores of young adults; their five year plans completely derailed. Although termed infant paralysis, the effects of polio actually worsen with age, so young adults were much more at risk of severe cases.
June Opie was 23 when she fell ill with a fever. All the muscles in her body stiffened, starting with her neck and spreading out to every limb until she could only blink one eye. The next couple of months were spent in an iron lung. The iron lung was straight out of science fiction—a large cylinder of wood and metal that encased your entire body from the neck down. Like a hamster sticking its head out of a toilet roll. It was essentially a mechanical respirator that breathed for you. Children’s wards took on an eerie silence, save for the clicks and muffled thuds of the machines expanding and contracting.
June was advised to spend the rest of her life in a medical institution. She gave the middle finger to that idea, writing a memoir aptly titled Over My Dead Body. She learnt how to walk on crutches, then ride a tricycle and drive a car. She fought tooth and nail to attend university and work as a clinical psychologist. Her second career was as a broadcaster and travel writer, driving around Europe and the Middle East alone and sleeping in her car. She championed equal education and employment opportunities for the disabled and I have no choice but to stan.
Another aspect of isolation is how to maintain connection with the outside world. In an age where media is constantly whizzing at you from all directions at all hours of the day, it can be tempting to be a Luddite and idolise the past. I assumed that having less media at the time would be a good thing—the only source of information was from the government and doctors. There was no misinformation from middle-aged women on Facebook with Karen haircuts. There were no rappers on Twitter blaming a virus on 5G.
But Eileen disagrees. “Today’s technology not only allows us to conduct most of our day to day business. Having up to date information provides a sense of hope that we’re going to get through it. Back then we had no idea what was happening”. With a lack of information came constant fear
of what was going on beyond the front gate. For all they knew, the whole of Southland could have turned into The Quiet Earth.
Four weeks of lockdown have shuttered businesses. Serious cuts have been dished out to many people’s salaries and some have simply been fired. But the economic hardship of the current situation pales in comparison to the situation families found themselves in in the 1940s. Boys of 15 and 16 were considered men. Many families relied on the income their teenage sons earnt in factories and sawmills and on neighbouring farms. Despite the moniker infantile paralysis, the likelihood of paralysis actually increased with age, making teenagers especially at risk. But if you didn’t work you didn’t eat.
Looking to the past may give us some idea of what happens after the storm.
A sweeping overhaul of hygiene practices was one positive outcome to the viral epidemics of the 1940s. Water quality was managed with much more care, to everyone’s benefit. Bread previously sold fresh out the oven now passed the counter wrapped in paper. Washing your fruit before you ate it became common practice. Gaps in the standards of certain buildings were highlighted. At the time of the last epidemic, one school in rural Southland had only 8 sinks to 800 students. With no bogeyman waiting around the corner to snatch your child if they forget to wash their hands, we’ve become pretty lax on hygiene in the last few decades. Apparently, there are lines in men’s bathrooms for the first time in my Dad’s living memory as everyone is actually washing their damn hands. I know I’m going through hand cream at twice the rate. Everything that crosses the threshold into our house is thoroughly wiped down with paper towels and disinfectant.
Eileen hopes experiencing an epidemic first hand will change the attitudes of anti-vaxxers. Her generation grew up witnessing first hand how illnesses such as TB, polio, and measles devastated people they knew. Lining up at high school on vaccination day was never questioned. Even when the TB vaccination left massive scarring on her arms, her parents wouldn’t dream of not protecting their child. But once the memory of what those diseases left the collective consciousness, it became very difficult for doctors to cajole parents to vaccinate their children. No one wants to see their baby in pain, and without much knowledge of biomedical science injecting your infant with antigens to protect them feels counterintuitive.
Quarantine has driven home that the uptake of technology is no longer optional. Eileen works in digital literacy and has been fielding bizarre phone calls from some older
New Zealanders. “One person asked if they gave me their phone number could I charge their phone.” Employers reluctant to allow employees to work flexibly are being shown just how efficiently their office can run without everyone needing to be in the same room for eight and a half hours a day. Grouchy lecturers have been strong armed into recording their lectures and educators working with
children on the autism spectrum have been delighted at how well their students respond to an online delivery.
June Opie and the other ‘polios’ ushered in a movement of disability rights in New Zealand. For the first half of the 20th century, the disabled community in New Zealand were written off as ‘defectives’, usually removed from their families and placed in boys and girls homes. The separation of the sexes was intentional to ‘prevent breeding’. But coming into the 1950s, after the world wars and debilitating epidemics of polio, every person now knew someone affected by a physical disability. Segregating and ignoring the disabled was no longer going to cut it. This was a generation that refused to be silenced. J.B. Munro was another disability activist that suffered polio as a baby and was subsequently fostered out by his parents and made a ward of the state. He had a key role at IHC New Zealand Paraplegic Trust Appeal, and was key in driving the Disabled Persons’ Community Welfare Act through Parliament in the 1970s.
During my conversation with Eileen, she brings up the topic of ongoing grief. Isolation completely shifts the landscape for how we grieve and how we celebrate. Without mass gatherings, families cannot say goodbye to their loved ones using the traditions that help them process their grief. Both then and now patients are not allowed visitors in hospital. I couldn’t find any accounts of the parents of those who died of polio, and they have long since passed, but some families were not able to be with their children when they died. Eileen knows of two deaths on her block in the last month where the family were unable to hold a tangi. The urupa is nearby but they can only visit it one at a time, unable to comfort each other in person or meet to share stories about the person they’ve lost.
The butterfly effect dictates that every event has unexpected consequences. A butterfly flaps its wings and a tornado forms on the other side of the world. An electrical storm cut the power in New York City and hip hop was born. Tip Top established themselves as New Zealand’s ice cream giant after cornering the market all summer in 1947-48 with their TT2 ice blocks. Who would have thought COVID-19 would inspire an instant coffee renaissance. Korean YouTubers have introduced us to Dalgona coffee, and we have slurped it up—two tablespoons of coffee, sugar, and hot water at a time. At an excessive six teaspoons of instant coffee, every cup has left me visibly shaking, but still, I keep going back for more. Who will be the next Tip Top and emerge victorious? Will it be the local Greggs, the unassuming Nescafé , or the bougie Moccona. My money’s on Nescafé . There are too many Otago alumni violently sick at the smell of Greggs.
“Don’t waste a good crisis” is a common saying in the Nordic mental health system. Difficult times can be the most transformative. Both the polio epidemics of the past and the current COVID-19 pandemic. Any large scale event highlights the massive inequalities that bubble away under the surface. Transmission may not discriminate but the impacts of lockdown have hit hard.
How will this time be remembered seven decades from now?