Special to the Advance
June 2003
Okay, I’ll admit
it. My previous article was a bit premature in stating that the SARS virus
scare was over in Taiwan. In fact, it had just begun and it blew wide open just
a few days after the article was published.
By Mother’s Day
weekend, every public meeting place had an ‘entry with mask only’ policy. Bars
and pubs are still mask free, but clients must have their temperatures taken at
the door. It is quite disconcerting, if you aren’t expecting it, to have a
thermometer inserted rather abruptly into your ear while you are digging
through your purse for your passport (in order to prove that you haven’t
traveled to any high-risk SARS areas recently, like Toronto).
Some of my
friends were joking that it could become quite messy if bars decide to go
‘masks only’, with clients sloshing their beverage of choice all over
themselves, forgetting that their mouths are covered.
People in this
country are quite accustomed to wearing masks, as the air pollution
necessitates such equipment any time you are on a scooter, stuck behind a city
bus in traffic. But the masks we are required to wear now are specifically
designed to ward off viral infection, and most foreigners aren’t used to
wearing them at all.
You can imagine,
with a population in Taipei of 4 million and 23 million across the island of
Taiwan, stores have run out of masks in some areas. In Tainan to the south, the
news coverage included photos of women cutting their bras in half to make face
masks. Hey! You and your friend could have a matching, colourful, lacy set! It
doesn’t surprise me, in this fashion-conscious country, that some people have
found a way to make facial masks attractive. Some clever entrepreneur has taken
advantage of the situation, selling specially designed masks with slogans and
familiar cartoon characters on them.
In Chiayi, on the
south-west coast of Taiwan, a friend writes that teachers in kindergartens are
required to wear masks at all times. Teaching ‘from behind the iron mask’
(actually, it is charcoal but equally stifling) is quite a challenge. Teaching
English as a second language is difficult enough, even when the students have
full view of the instructor’s mouth. With just muffled noises instead of words,
you might as well give up.
Give up is
exactly what some foreign teachers have decided to do, taking to the extreme
the possibility that their home country may not let them back in if this virus
spreads much further throughout Taiwan. Instead of waiting for summer vacation
at the end of June, they are planning to go home early.
At Kimberly
American School where I teach, the risk is taken very seriously but no one is
panicking. We have a full-time nurse on staff who takes our temperatures twice
a day, and we have our hands sanitized with a special solution regularly. Each
classroom is “zapped” with a disinfecting ultraviolet light daily, and the
floors and walls are scrubbed down throughout the day.
This virus isn’t
supposed to be airborne, but we aren’t taking any chances. Being one of the few
schools catering to the city’s elite in this suburb of Taipei, we have a few
students whose parents are doctors. If any risk of contact is suspected, the
student must stay home in quarantine for fourteen days. Any students that have
close relatives traveling to high risk areas such as Hong Kong or Singapore are
also quarantined.
Our school is
part of a publishing company that produces the bulk of the educational
materials on the island. One of their latest masterpieces is a poster alerting
students and their families to the dangers of SARS and how to protect
themselves against it. The banner depicts a sinister-looking character in a
skirt and hood (a la Little Red Riding Hood), scattering handfuls of ‘bugs’
from her basket into the air. She has a pointed tail and horns as well.
The children are
so obsessed with this disease that it is beginning to infiltrate their creative
thinking. One teacher reported that his best four-year-old student actually
wrote “SARS” on a piece of his artwork, during the lesson on emotions. Another
student in the three-year-old class calls Dustin “Teacher SARS”, like he’s some
sort of super-villain.
Soon their free
play may begin to take on the appearance of a battle against the unseen enemy,
with masks and gloves and disinfectant squirt bottles as their play gear. Much
like children growing up in war torn areas, they must think that this battle is
just part of normal life, and will remember it as part of their childhood.
I felt like I was
in the Middle East myself one day earlier this month when I forgot for a moment
and absentmindedly removed my mask on the subway. Within seconds, a security
guard was blowing his whistle and heading in my direction at quite a clip. The
other passengers gawked at me, horrified. It took me just a few seconds to
realize that I was the focus of the attention and not someone stuck in the
train door. I fumbled with the mask to secure it over my mouth and nose, and
muttered a muffled “doy boo chee” (sorry; excuse me).
Well, charcoal
makes my nose itch. Just stick your head in a barbeque and breathe in and
you’ll get the idea.
Don’t worry too
much about me, folks. I am from hearty Canadian stock and I have been sick for
only a couple of weeks out of my first four months here, less than any other
teacher I have met.
My immune system
is strong. It must be all of those Centrum Forte vitamins I am taking. Thank
goodness I brought them from home; they are about $40 CDN per bottle here!
Experts say that
this disease will have run its course long before the hot weather hits and if
it is still looming, the smothering heat will no doubt kill it off. That is the
only positive thing that I have heard about the coming summer in Taiwan,
however.
The thermometer
is expected to rise to 35 degrees Celsius for a few months, with the humidity
bringing it close to 40. So when you are uttering that all too common phrase -
“it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity!” – in Canada
this summer, think of me, sweating it out on Isla Formosa
(Beautiful Island ).
-30-
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