Latin America: Apostles at Work

In 50-man teams “the Legion of Apostles” last week preached vaccination against deadly aftosa (foot & mouth disease). Across central Mexico, the missionaries of science marched ahead to prepare the way for the nine vaccinating brigades of the joint U.S.-Mexican anti-aftosa commission.

To buck the stubborn peasant suspicion that wrecked last year’s campaign to wipe out aftosa by mass slaughter of exposed herds (TIME, Dec. 8), the Apostles had their missionary line well worked out. The first step was usually to persuade the local governor, general or presidente municipal to put his seal of approval on vaccination by putting his cattle through the process first. Next move was to persuade the parish priest to give a little sermon. Sample: “God has brought a terrible scourge upon us sinners. But God is merciful. He has also brought the anti-aftosa commission.”

Pedro’s Cow. In the more advanced villages, the Apostles had no great problem. In others, a week of education usually did the trick. Everyone was invited to a free movie, comic books were passed out to all children, telling the absorbing story of Pedro, Ambrosia, their little daughter and their cow. First the cow gave buckets of milk, and the little girl had dolls and shoes. Then the cow got aftosa: Pedro’s daughter became sad, skinny and barefoot. Finally came vaccination and the happy ending.

Toughest of all were the backwoods villages, where farmers suspected a gringo plot to poison their animals, and priests preached against interference with God’s will. There the Apostles used any methods they could think of, giving more movie shows, bringing friends of local farmers from other villages to argue for them. In the village of Tula, Jalisco, when all else failed, the Apostles hauled in a load of pulque and set up free drinks. Next morning the villagers awoke with roaring hangovers, found that all their cattle had been vaccinated.

Year to Go. Best estimate is that there are 7,500,000 infected animals in Mexico. The overall plan for stamping out aftosa by vaccination runs through 1949 and will cost about $50 million, most of it put up by the U.S. taxpayer. Last week a committee of U.S. Senators was in Mexico to see how things were going. They inspected vaccination teams, toured the laboratories, got reports from the directors.

No one could tell them yet whether the drive was winning; the next six to eight months will give that answer. If vaccination fails to wipe out the plague, then Mexico must probably resign herself to living more or less permanently with aftosa, controlling it as best she can. And the threat of disastrous infection from across the border will hang heavy over the $11 billion U.S. livestock industry.