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The creation of an African ‘bloodstream’: Malaria control during the Hitler War, 1942–1945 (Part 2)
[This piece is culled from a book
authored by Jonathan Roberts, titled:
Sharing the burden of sickness: A history
of healing and medicine in Accra]
Cleansing Korle: The Allied Antimalaria Campaign of 1942–45
As the war in Europe began, the small garrison in Accra scrambled to secure the colony from an incursion from Cote D’Ivoire, Togo, or amphibious assault by sea. A curfew was imposed on the colony, with lights off at night and car headlights shuttered. As the Allied armies suffered defeat after defeat in Europe and Asia, fear of an aerial or naval bombardment of Accra grew. Rumours flew of German submarines shooting at fishermen. In the early months of the war, it became obvious that no new troops were coming to protect the Gold Coast, and only a small number of Royal Air Force planes were available to patrol the seas. Admitting that the home islands could do little to help the colonies, the British Secretary of State called on their subjects abroad to create their own Home Guards and to retreat according to a scorched-earth policy in case of invasion. Fear was in the air.
Fortunately for the residents of Accra, the Gold Coast never became a battleground during the war. However, Accra did become a hub of wartime activity when the British War Office chose the city as the Headquarters of the British West African Command. General Giffard was placed in command of the West African forces and turned Accra into a marshalling yard for goods and personnel departing for India. The arrival of thousands of soldiers from Nigeria, Sierra Leone, and the Gambia should have created a major health concern for the city, in terms of clean housing, a healthy food supply, and adequate medicines, but since the soldiers were shipped out to India so quickly, the city required no sanitary changes to accommodate their numbers.
In addition to housing the West Africa Command, the city became an aerial transshipment point for North Africa. In 1941, the German Army had cut off British troops in North Africa from their Mediterranean supply routes, forcing the Allies to send supplies across the Sahara Desert by air. Accra suddenly became home to a major Allied airbase. During the peak years of 1942–43, between two and three hundred aircraft landed daily at the airport for refuelling and maintenance, and thousands of airmen and airport crew were stationed in the city. To treat sick personnel, the British built the first military hospital near the airport, known officially as the 37th General Hospital of the British Empire, a segregated facility with 200 European beds and 800 African beds. The hospital was badly needed because by 1942 malaria rates among soldiers and airmen in Accra were startlingly high. British, American, and African soldiers all suffered, but the illness was particularly bad among White soldiers who had never been exposed to the disease. In 1942, morbidity rates exceeded 50 per cent per year, and an epidemic flare-up during that rainy season sent 62 per cent of Allied soldiers to the hospital for treatment. Worse still, Allied commanders feared the disease would spread from West Africa to the rest of the world. In the 1930s, 16,000 people in Brazil had died as a result of the introduction of Anopheles gambiae and its malaria parasites by ship from Dakar. Fearing another outbreak, the Brazilian government pressured the Americans to ensure that transport planes on the Atlantic routes did not harbour any mosquitoes. The British and American armed forces, who had not anticipated being so heavily invested in operations in West Africa, felt obliged to take steps to control malaria in Accra.
Part of the Allied concern about illness among personnel was a fear of losing valuable war matériel. By 1942, 25 per cent of the pilots flying from Accra to Egypt were landing in Cairo with malarial symptoms. Trained pilots were in short supply, and to ensure the safety of both the airmen and airplanes, it was crucial that the British keep them healthy during their short stay in Accra.
The Royal Air Force argued strongly for the case of a mosquito vector control scheme around the airport, claiming that “malaria control of an airfield (especially in the case of an essential airfield) shows a large credit, for the loss of only two or more heavy bombers, resulting from a poor landing by a pilot with malaria attack during the flight (a thing very liable to happen in high altitudes of flying when the pilot has parasites in his blood), more than pays for the cost of the scheme. The cost of a Superfortress is in the region of $600,000.” When stated in such plain logistical and financial terms, the need to stop the spread of malaria in Accra became obvious to the Allies.
Not surprisingly, American medical officials added a racial component to the discourse about malaria, expressing concern that Africans might infect White soldiers. For the US Army, segregation between the so-called races was a well-established protocol, so it was not surprising that they used the fear of disease to justify the separation of their soldiers from the African population of the Gold Coast. The British were less convinced that segregation was an appropriate strategy to fight malaria. They had already attempted to dismantle institutional segregation in the colony, and since quinine was widely available in pill form at colonial post offices or by injection at Korle Bu, they did not see the need to further divide the races. However, the rapid influx of troops and a dramatic increase in construction near the airport led to rates of malaria that the British had never seen before in Accra. The fear of epidemic malaria was further amplified when the Japanese invaded Java in the Dutch East Indies, cutting off the world’s largest source of natural quinine. By 1942, Allied malariologists were in agreement that they desperately needed a new strategy for controlling malaria in Accra, even if it required segregation.
To coordinate antimalaria efforts, the British Army brought Major O. J. S. Macdonald of the Indian Medical Services to Accra to serve as an official area malariologist. Macdonald was a specialist in wastewater treatment, and when he arrived in Accra he echoed Selwyn-Clarke’s belief that the Korle Lagoon was to blame, declaring it to be “swarming with Anopheline larvae” and he proposed that the two armies fund an antimalaria initiative along the Korle watershed. The Americans were receptive to the idea, but before they would sign on to a joint drainage programme, they brought their own specialist to the city to investigate the situation. Captain Lowell T. Coggeshall, a specialist in tropical medicine at the University of Michigan, joined forces with Macdonald in 1942, and the pair drew up a comprehensive plan that included changes to soldiers’ housing, alterations to their attire, and the excavation of 45 kilometres of viaducts and ditches around the city. Coggeshall and Macdonald brought together many other British and American physicians and scientists to create the Inter-Allied Malaria Control Group, and both the US Army and the British Colonial Office agreed to pay for the scheme. For the first time in the history of Accra, the personnel, equipment, and funding were in place to eliminate mosquito borne illnesses from the city.
The Allies’ first step was to restructure the living quarters of their troops. Following a pattern of segregation that had led to the development of suburbs like Victoriaborg and the Ridge, the Malaria Control Group set to work building an army residential area to the northeast of the city, next to the airport. The camp that housed the White soldiers was specifically located a mosquito flight away, judged to be one-quarter of a mile, from the nearby villages of Nima and Kanda. A change in attire soon followed the change in location, as the Allies adapted military apparel to better suit the disease climate. White British and American soldiers had arrived in Accra wearing their cold-weather uniforms, including greatcoats that had to be aired weekly to prevent mold. They were issued wool pajamas, which were unbearably hot, especially under a mosquito net. The soldiers soon abandoned these for cotton pajamas or for nothing at all. The Malaria Control Group remedied the problem by distributing warm-weather clothing, but they still required soldiers to wear long sleeves, trousers, and boots to prevent mosquito bites. Any leftover bare skin was to be covered with mosquito repellent. The Allies also changed the soldiers’ dormitories, installing screened windows and requiring soldiers to sleep under bed nets. To emphasise the need for vigilance, Allied film crew projected slides of cartoons onto screens at the barracks to exhibit the dangers of mosquito exposure. These images depicted the mosquito vector as a “fifth column” that, in collusion with the lazy soldier who neglected to mend his netting, would attack the troops in their sleep. In Accra, where there were no Axis soldiers to fight, the mosquito was the enemy.
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The silent strength of a single father: Augustine Donzuo’s story
The a world that often overlooks the silent burdens men carry, the story of Augustine Santiero Donzuo stands as a powerful reminder of resilience, sacrifice and unspoken struggles of single fatherhood.
As the world celebrates Father’s Day, it’s easy to focus on the traditional image of fatherhood which is provider, protector and a stern loving figure, but beyond these are silent struggles fathers go through especially single fathers.
For the past five years, Augustine has navigated life as a single parent of two children-a boy and a girl on his own while juggling the demands of work, education and emotional survival.
The story of Augustine is not just about parenting, it is about endurance, heartbreak, and an unwavering commitment to his children in the face of overwhelming odds.
He lives and works in Tarkwa in the Western Region, juggling life as a Fire officer, caretaker, and sole emotional support for his children.
His quiet strength is a reminder that fatherhood is not always loud. Sometimes, it’s found in the simple act of staying-when walking away would have been easier.
Augustine’s journey began in January 2010, when he married the woman he loved. Unknown to him at the time, she was already pregnant. Not long after their marriage, he was posted to the Upper West Region following his enlistment into the Ghana National Fire Service.
The distance tested their relationship early on. He tried his best to visit, and eventually brought her to join him. But subtle signs of strain began to show—mostly from his wife’s family. What began as minor disagreements cracked the foundation of their union.
By 2016, after six years of marriage, their relationship collapsed. Augustine was devastated. He had tried to reconcile, visiting her family, calling, sending money, but her responses became cold, distant, and final. “One day she told me, ‘I will never come today, I will never come tomorrow. I am not even bringing your children,” he recalls.
Despite the pain, he continued sending money for their upkeep. “I did it for my children,” he says. “Even when love is gone, responsibility remains.”
In 2017, Augustine’s ex-wife filed a complaint at Legal Aid, claiming neglect. But when questioned, her story shifted, first to abandonment, then to demanding more money. The panel quickly sensed the inconsistencies. Augustine explained how he had continued to support her, even buying food and supplies for her business which included loans he was still paying.
“What hurt me most was the dishonesty,” he says. “She told her family things I never said. At some point, I realised she didn’t want reconciliation, she wanted to cut ties, but with benefits.”
She requested GH¢700 monthly in support, a sum he said was impossible given his salary and loans. “Even after separation, I was paying school fees, buying clothes, sending money. If I wanted to walk away, I wouldn’t have spent a dime.”
Then, in 2018, came a moment that would change everything. One evening, his ex-wife returned the children, unexpectedly and without agreement. Accompanied by her father, she dropped them off, leaving Augustine to become a full-time single parent overnight.
“The girl was nine, the boy six. They didn’t say much. They just stood there, confused. I had to become everything for them, father, mother, friend, protector,” Augustine said.
What followed were years of sacrifice and solitude. Without nearby relatives or a strong support system, he had to rely entirely on himself.
He would leave work and rush home to cook, help with homework, do laundry, and nurse fevers. “I lost a lot,” he admits. “Friends, freedom, even parts of myself.” And yet, he never gave up.
Raising children is never easy, but doing it alone, while still carrying the weight of betrayal and financial hardship which left scars. Augustine recounts the long nights, praying his children would grow up healthy and happy despite the absence of their mother.
His daughter, now 15 and in SHS, has grown quieter. “There are days I just sit and cry,” he says. “When my daughter asks, I say ‘nothing.’ then she says, I see tears flowing, I will still say it’s nothing.
Augustine said there were moments he had considered giving up. “I had thoughts,” he confesses. “When life felt too heavy. When no one checked on me. “I understood why some people commit suicide,” he said.
But then I remembered I have two lives depending on me, if I am gone, who will take care of them?” That question has kept him going, one day at a time.
Today, Augustine’s children are thriving. His daughter is doing well in school, and his son has grown into a thoughtful, cheerful boy. But their success has come at a cost, paid for with sleepless nights, missed opportunities, and invisible emotional wounds.
“I don’t want pity,” he says. “I just want people to understand what fathers feel too. We cry, we break, but we don’t always show it,” he added.
This Father’s Day, Augustine’s journey reminds the world of the quiet fathers, who are often unseen and seldom celebrated.
They are the ones redefining fatherhood in Ghana and beyond, embodying responsibility, patience, and love in the most demanding circumstances.
For Augustine, he would not wish this life for his worst enemy,” but for him, there is purpose, “I will keep going because they need me, and that’s enough.”
Currently in Ghana, Father’s Day is gradually evolving with traditions often marked by cards, media tributes, and public applause, which reflects a growing appreciation of paternal sacrifice.
By Esinam Jemima Kuatsinu
News
Be role models to your children – Fathers told
As Ghana prepares to join the rest of the world to celebrate Father’s Day tomorrow, A Minister in charge of the Gateway Temple Assemblies of God (A/G), Sowutuom, Rev. Benjamin I. K. Adaletey, has urged men to embrace fatherhood not just as a biological role, but as a divine and sacred calling.
Speaking in an exclusive interview with The Spectator in Accra on Tuesday, Rev. Adaletey explained that fatherhood was deeply spiritual and essential to the moral and emotional foundation of families and communities.
“Fatherhood is more than biology; it is a divine function,” he said.
According to him, men who may not have their own children can still serve as spiritual fathers, mentors, and protectors to other children in the community.
Drawing from traditional African values, Rev. Adaletey highlighted the long-standing culture of communal parenting.
“In the African context, we have always valued communal responsibility. A real man steps up to guide, correct, affirm, and protect the younger generation. Whether through mentorship, teaching, counseling, or simply being present; these men embody fatherhood in action,” he emphasised.
He stated that the church especially needs such men, not just teachers, but fathers.
He admonished fathers who feels they have missed the mark that, grace was still available. He said God is the restorer of broken years and fractured relationships.
Moreover, Rev. Adaletey noted that fatherhood was a journey, not a destination and that even great men in Scripture made mistakes, citing David in Bible story for instance who made a mistake and yet was still called a man after God’s heart.
Rev Adaletey, who is also a renowned actor, urged such men not to give up but rather apologise where needed, rebuild where possible and start again in God’s strength.
“Your children don’t need a perfect father, they need a present and repentant one,” he said.
He again urged fathers to reflect God’s nature in their leadership at home, saying “we reflect God’s character when we lead with love, patience, integrity, and truth.”
“As fathers, we must model grace and discipline, mercy and justice. We must listen like God listens, forgive like God forgives, and protect like God protects. In doing so, our children begin to understand who God is, not just from sermons, but from how we live and love daily,” he added.
For those who grew up without a father, Rev. Adaletey said “you may have missed a father’s presence, but you are not fatherless. God Himself steps in as Father to the fatherless (Psalm 68:5). Your past does not define your future. You can rise, you can heal, and you can be the beginning of a new legacy.”
Encouraging practical leadership in the home, Rev. Adaletey indicated that fathers should be role models, especially to their children.
He further underlined that, “let them see you pray, how you treat their mother, hear you admit your wrongs and seek God’s help.
Rev. Adaletey also called on fathers to teach their children to work hard, love God, respect others, and take responsibility, adding that the father’s lifestyle was his greatest lesson to his children.
He also warned about the need for balance between love and discipline, explaining that love without discipline creates chaos; discipline without love breeds resentment.
He stated that a Godly father should discipline with tenderness and love with firmness, saying “just as God disciplines us for our growth, fathers must correct their children in a way that builds them, not breaks them.”
By Esinam Jemima Kuatsinu
