The mouldy fruit that saved millions
Plus, mucus and your stomach. Zika and Luis Suárez. Anthrax and shaving brushes.
Hello! How are you?
Sometimes, you read a book and come across an unbelievable fact. Sometimes, you stumble across a fact and then search out for a book that covers the entire story. What I am about to recount is an example of the latter.
It is about a mouldy fruit that was picked up in a market in Peoria, Illinois, U.S. that helped change the course of modern history. And this fascinating story is the subject of my column in Hindustan Times this week.
Most people know that antibiotics have saved millions of lives and have added years to life expectancy across the world. In fact, they’re arguably one of the most significant scientific discoveries of the previous century. The story of how Alexander Fleming stumbled across a mould (or “mold” in American English) that made penicillin after he returned from vacation is reasonably well know, even if people can’t remember the details. If you’re a microbiologist, it is the stuff of legend.
But like most legends, there’s more to it. Fleming is well known for the discovery of penicillin, not simply because of his contributions but because he had a good story and great backers. There were others that did a lot more to convert a fungus into a drug. The significant contribution of Howard Florey, Ernst Chain, and Normal Heatley towards making penicillin a practical antibiotic is virtually unknown to the public today. And hardly anyone knows that most of the penicillin in the world comes from a mouldy fruit in a market.
After you’ve read my column, I’d suggest picking up Eric Lax’s The Mold In Dr. Florey’s Coat. Lax has taken a keen interest in correcting the historical record on penicillin.
What lessons can we draw from the penicillin miracle?
First, whether it is the discovery of the structure of DNA, the CRISPR-Cas system for gene editing, the transformation of penicillin into a wonder-drug, or the creation of mRNA vaccines for COVID-19, it always takes a scientific village. Only a few people get credit, but there are many others who make vital contributions to the effort.
Second, science is conducted by scientists who are people too. And like in other human endeavors, those who are photogenic, have a good story, a loud mouth, or a good PR machine often get a large portion of credit. (Another example that immediately comes to mind is Kary Mullis and PCR, for which he won the Nobel Prize after staking a claim to be its inventor).
In praise of mucus
You may think that mucus is gross, but it keeps you alive. In fact, your body produces over a liter of it everyday.
Why do you need mucus? I thought you’d never ask. ;-)
Mucus traps bad germs and foreign particles in your respiratory tract and it helps good germs grow in your gut. Mucus is crucially part of of the largest component of the immune system. It also filters smell in your nose and a lot of what you sense as flavors. And last, but certainly not least, mucus keeps your stomach from eating itself.
From single-celled organisms to fungi to giant trees to blue whales— every kind of life on this planet worth mentioning makes slimy stuff.
A supply-chain tale from a century ago that involves anthrax
So you think you have a good supply-chain failure story during the pandemic?
Let me raise the stakes and tell you one that is from a century ago and involves anthrax. It truly is a series of unfortunate events leading up to a "mini-epidemic". Our villain is the shaving brush.
In the era of globalization, finished products are manufactured in one country with components often derived from others. Shortages of raw materials to finished products along with an increase in demand can cause unintended problems. But this is nothing new. Only the scale is.
In the first part of the 20th century, shaving brushes contained hair of badgers, horses, or boars. Badger-hair brushes (which are hipster-fashionable again now) were favored because they could hold more water. Shaving cream didn't get invented until 1925.
Anthrax is rarely diagnosed in the United States or in England these days. Most anthrax research today deals with its potential as a bioterror weapon. But a century ago, during the World War I cases of anthrax were on the rise in the U.S. and in Europe.
All war is horrible, but World War I was horrible to an inconceivable extent. Weapons were more sophisticated than tactics. Men died in the trenches. Battle lines hardly moved. And there was chemical warfare. Chlorine gas in 1915. Mustard gas in 1917.
Gas masks were issued to soldiers to deal with chemicals. And in 1918, safety razors were provided as part of khaki kits because it was believed that gas masks fit clean-shaven faces better. This is something we’ve faced with surgical masks during this pandemic too.
Shaving brushes used to be made with badger hair from Russia. But badger hair became scarce during the Great War and so imitation shaving brushes took off. These were made from horsehair obtained from Russia, China, or Japan.
A large number of horsehair brushes were tainted with anthrax. Prior to the war, brushes were cleaned in France or Germany before being shipped off to the U.S. But during World War I, this step was omitted. Horsehair brushes with anthrax shipped directly to the U.S., causing an anthrax outbreak.
Zika: From Uganda to Uttar Pradesh.
What connects a match in which Luis Suárez became Uruguay’s leading goal scorer and towns in Uttar Pradesh? Zika.
A few weeks ago before Omicron became the talk-of-the-town, I wrote an article tracing the Zika virus from Uganda to Uttar Pradesh.
Here’s a story that hardly anyone knows—
It is 2013. A Confederations Cup match is underway in Recife, Brazil between Tahiti (where there an ongoing Zika outbreak) and Uruguay. Uruguay scores 8 goals. Luis Suárez becomes their all-time leading scorer.
Scientists have calculated that Zika arrives in Brazil at the same time as that match. We don’t know for certain if anyone with Zika was at that Confederations Cup match, but it certainly is possible.
Wouldn’t that make a great movie, now?
That’s it for now. I've kept this newsletter Omicron-free after writing nearly 5000 words on the topic last week. :-)
I’m taking a break from social media through the end of the year— and perhaps for much longer. I do like hearing from you, so please drop me a note.
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