Aedes aegypti. It carries dengue, zika, & chikungunya.
Mosquito born viruses did not cross my mind when considering what my daily life would be like in Brazil, but it turns out that repellent is right up there with sunscreen as a daily necessity.
I certainly never lost sleep over a mosquito in the U.S., but here in Brazil, more than once we’ve turned the lights on in the middle of the night at the whine of a mosquito. Some people might think mosquito hunting at 2am is overreacting, but my husband has had dengue. The steely-eyed commitment with which he stalks every mosquito in our home makes me think the experience has stayed with him.
Public health officials in Brazil take mosquitoes seriously too. They’ve been battling dengue for decades. Chikungunya and Zika became common place in the last few years, and this year, Espirito Santo and its neighbor, Minas Gerais, are combating the spread of yellow fever. My family and I got our yellow fever vaccines last week, and it was an impressive operation.
Vaccine distribution is one public service Brazil has mastered. At the end of February, the city government confirmed a monkey found dead in Vitoria in January had died from yellow fever. This one dead monkey kicked public health services into Defcon 5. The city closed 11 parks in the metro area. The federal government sent 1 million more doses of yellow fever vaccine to Espirito Santo. Public Health posts’ hours and days of operation were expanded. Churches have been converted to vaccination centers. Firefighters and nurses from public hospitals have been enlisted to distribute and administer the vaccines. This past Saturday 98,904 people were vaccinated in the metro area bringing the total vaccinated to over 800,000 in a little over two weeks.
This is public health at it’s most efficient and most militarized. I know from personal experience. We were assigned a specific vaccination center and time when my husband reserved our vaccines online. When we got to the church, we had to present IDs for everyone, including my daughter, before we could enter the building where people waited in rows of white plastic chairs. We’d been assigned numbers at the entrance, and in what has to be one of the shortest waits in the history of line waiting in Brazil, a woman in a white lab coat, clipboard in hand, called our numbers, and we entered the heart of the operation.
Along one wall was a row of nurses and firefighters taking down people’s names, ID numbers, and stamping vaccine cards. Firefighters are militarized in Brazil, and their khaki green uniforms with ranks sewn on their shirts made the whole scene feel like something out of Contagion. Along the adjacent wall, was another group readying vaccines before passing them in a ceaseless stream to the one woman who administered vaccines. Needle in. Needle out. Hands off the old needle. Accepts freshly opened vaccine. Needle in. Needle out.
It wasn’t frantic, but it was efficient. People were moved around the room and back out the door with a lack of pleasantries I have never witnessed in Brazil.
My daughter did not like it. She’d been totally chill about it until we got inside the vaccination room. The tension and focus that permeated the air had her clinging to her dad and begging to go. And these people were not waiting for her to calm down. I don’t blame them. They’re trying to vaccinate a few million people. My husband and I went first, trying to teach by example. It had no effect. She just got more hysterical with every second, so my husband held her in his arms. I held her arm straight, and the vaccine lady jabbed the needle in.
For the rest of the day, my daughter showed off the tiny, nearly invisible red dot left behind like the scars of a near-death shark attack.
As of Friday, there were 20 confirmed yellow fever deaths in our state. That’s 20 deaths out of 80 confirmed cases. The math is simple. That’s a 25% fatality rate. In neighboring Minas Gerais, there have been 109 deaths out 288 confirmed cases. I’m getting my calculator…37.8%. Wow, I hadn’t realized until writing this how bad this outbreak is.
So if you’re planning on visiting Brazil anytime soon, I’d check if you’re ecolodge is smack in the middle of a high risk zone, and then I’d pack lots and lots of repellent regardless.
Our Walk to School A one act play inspired by true events with a 5-year-old.
Mom: Oh, ok. One day Mario was walking through the forest on his way to Princess Peach’s castle for tea when he heard a noise and Yoshi appeared.
Last week my family and I were waiting in the citizens service area of the US Consulate in Rio de Janeiro, and I overhead a young man pouring out a pretty tragic story to the consulate staff standing opposite the bullet proof glass. He’d been robbed and had lost every single form of id, all his credit cards, and all his cash. He was left with no proof of identity whatsoever.
Because I have been a recently arrived foreigner in Rio without a word of Portuguese other than Obrigada and with the Rio Olympics opening in less than week, I’ve written down some tips to help visitors 
This is the most depressing list of travel advice. I realize that. But before angry Cariocas start posting in the comment stream about the foreigner who doesn’t appreciate their magnificent city, I’m going to do a second post on all the great experiences in Rio. Now that everyone knows how to stay safe, I can recommend awesome things to do with the free time not being used up with emergency trips to the consulate or hospital. Come back on Wednesday for 
