The coronavirus slayer! How Kerala's rock star health minister helped save it from Covid-19
KK Shailaja has been hailed as the reason a state of 35 million people has only lost four to the virus. Here’s how the former teacher did it‘Our clinics for respiratory disease meant we could look out for community transmission’: KK Shailaja, health minister.
Thu 14 May 2020 08.00 BST
On 20 January, KK Shailaja phoned one of her medically trained deputies. She had read online about a dangerous new virus spreading in China. “Will it come to us?” she asked. “Definitely, Madam,” he replied. And so the health minister of the Indian state of Kerala began her preparations.
Four months later, Kerala has reported only 524 cases of Covid-19, four
deaths and – according to Shailaja – no community transmission. The
state has a population of about 35 million and a GDP per capita of only £2,200. By contrast, the UK (double the population, GDP per capita of £33,100) has reported more than 40,000 deaths, while the US (10 times the population, GDP per capita of £51,000) has reported more than 82,000 deaths; both countries have rampant community transmission.
As such, Shailaja Teacher, as the 63-year-old minister is affectionately
known, has attracted some new nicknames in recent weeks – Coronavirus Slayer and
Rockstar Health Minister among them. The names sit oddly with the
merry, bespectacled former secondary school science teacher, but they
reflect the widespread admiration she has drawn for demonstrating that
effective disease containment is possible not only in a democracy, but
in a poor one.
How has this been achieved? Three days after reading about the new virus
in China, and before Kerala had its first case of Covid-19, Shailaja
held the first meeting of her rapid response team. The next day, 24
January, the team set up a control room and instructed the medical
officers in Kerala’s 14 districts to do the same at their level. By the
time the first case arrived, on 27 January, via a plane from Wuhan, the
state had already adopted the World Health Organization’s protocol of test, trace, isolate and support.
As the passengers filed off the Chinese flight, they had their
temperatures checked. Three who were found to be running a fever were
isolated in a nearby hospital. The remaining passengers were placed in
home quarantine – sent there with information pamphlets about Covid-19
that had already been printed in the local language, Malayalam. The
hospitalised patients tested positive for Covid-19, but the disease had
been contained. “The first part was a victory,” says Shailaja. “But the
virus continued to spread beyond China and soon it was everywhere.”
In late February, encountering one of Shailaja’s surveillance teams at
the airport, a Malayali family returning from Venice was evasive about
its travel history and went home without submitting to the now-standard
controls. By the time medical personnel detected a case of Covid-19 and
traced it back to them, their contacts were in the hundreds. Contact
tracers tracked them all down, with the help of advertisements and
social media, and they were placed in quarantine. Six developed
Covid-19.
Another cluster had been contained, but by now large numbers of overseas
workers were heading home to Kerala from infected Gulf states, some of
them carrying the virus. On 23 March, all flights into the state’s four
international airports were stopped. Two days later, India entered a nationwide lockdown.
Indian citizens arriving from the Gulf states are bussed to a quarantine centre. Photograph: Arunchandra Bose/AFP via Getty Images
At the height of the virus in Kerala, 170,000 people were quarantined
and placed under strict surveillance by visiting health workers, with
those who lacked an inside bathroom housed in improvised isolation units
at the state government’s expense. That number has shrunk to 21,000.
“We have also been accommodating and feeding 150,000 migrant workers
from neighbouring states who were trapped here by the lockdown,” she
says. “We fed them properly – three meals a day for six weeks.” Those
workers are now being sent home on charter trains.
Shailaja was already a celebrity of sorts in India before Covid-19. Last year, a movie called Virus was released, inspired by her handling of an outbreak of an even deadlier viral disease, Nipah, in 2018. (She found the character who played her a little too worried-looking; in reality, she has said,
she couldn’t afford to show fear.) She was praised not only for her
proactive response, but also for visiting the village at the centre of
the outbreak.
The villagers were terrified and ready to flee, because they did not
understand how the disease was spreading. “I rushed there with my
doctors, we organised a meeting in the panchayat [village council]
office and I explained that there was no need to leave, because the
virus could only spread through direct contact,” she says. “If you kept
at least a metre from a coughing person, it couldn’t travel. When we
explained that, they became calm – and stayed.”
Nipah prepared Shailaja for Covid-19, she says, because it taught her
that a highly contagious disease for which there is no treatment or
vaccine should be taken seriously. In a way, though, she had been
preparing for both outbreaks all her life.
The Communist Party of India (Marxist), of which she is a member, has
been prominent in Kerala’s governments since 1957, the year after her
birth. (It was part of the Communist Party of India until 1964, when it
broke away.) Born into a family of activists and freedom fighters – her
grandmother campaigned against untouchability – she watched the
so-called “Kerala model” be assembled from the ground up; when we speak,
this is what she wants to talk about.
The foundations of the model are land reform – enacted via legislation
that capped how much land a family could own and increased land
ownership among tenant farmers – a decentralised public health system
and investment in public education. Every village has a primary health
centre and there are hospitals at each level of its administration, as
well as 10 medical colleges.
This is true of other states, too, says MP Cariappa, a public health
expert based in Pune, Maharashtra state, but nowhere else are people so
invested in their primary health system. Kerala enjoys the highest life expectancy and the lowest infant mortality of any state in India; it is also the most literate state.
“With widespread access to education, there is a definite understanding
of health being important to the wellbeing of people,” says Cariappa.
A walk-in test centre in Ernakulam, Kerala. Photograph: Reuters
That said, the state’s primary health centres had started to show signs
of age. When Shailaja’s party came to power in 2016, it undertook a
modernisation programme. One pre-pandemic innovation was to create
clinics and a registry for respiratory disease – a big problem in India.
“That meant we could spot conversion to Covid-19 and look out for
community transmission,” Shailaja says. “It helped us very much.”
When the outbreak started, each district was asked to dedicate two
hospitals to Covid-19, while each medical college set aside 500 beds.
Separate entrances and exits were designated. Diagnostic tests were in
short supply, especially after the disease reached wealthier western
countries, so they were reserved for patients with symptoms and their
close contacts, as well as for random sampling of asymptomatic people
and those in the most exposed groups: health workers, police and
volunteers.
Shailaja says a test in Kerala produces a result within 48 hours. “In
the Gulf, as in the US and UK – all technologically fit countries – they
are having to wait seven days,” she says. “What is happening there?”
She doesn’t want to judge, she says, but she has been mystified by the
large death tolls in those countries: “I think testing is very important
– also quarantining and hospital surveillance – and people in those
countries are not getting that.” She knows, because Malayalis living in
those countries have phoned her to say so.
Places of worship were closed under the rules of lockdown, resulting in protests in some Indian states,
but resistance has been noticeably absent in Kerala – in part, perhaps,
because its chief minister, Pinarayi Vijayan, consulted with local
faith leaders about the closures. Shailaja says Kerala’s high literacy
level is another factor: “People understand why they must stay at home.
You can explain it to them.”
The Indian government plans to lift the lockdown on 17 May (the date has
been extended twice). After that, she predicts, there will be a huge
influx of Malayalis to Kerala from the heavily infected Gulf region. “It
will be a great challenge, but we are preparing for it,” she says.
There are plans A, B and C, with plan C – the worst-case scenario –
involving the requisitioning of hotels, hostels and conference centres
to provide 165,000 beds. If they need more than 5,000 ventilators, they
will struggle – although more are on order – but the real limiting
factor will be manpower, especially when it comes to contact tracing.
“We are training up schoolteachers,” Shailaja says.
Once the second wave has passed – if, indeed, there is a second wave –
these teachers will return to schools. She hopes to do the same,
eventually, because her ministerial term will finish with the state
elections a year from now. Since she does not think the threat of
Covid-19 will subside any time soon, what secret would she like to pass
on to her successor? She laughs her infectious laugh, because the secret
is no secret: “Proper planning.”
• This article was amended on 14 May 2020 to correct the figure for the
UK’s GDP per capita. It was originally given as £40,400, but this is the
figure in US dollars.
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