Contaminated Lunches Kill 22 Children in
India
Krishna Murari
Kishan/Reuters
Asha Devi sat with her
daughter, Savita, right, who was sickened by tainted food at her school in the
eastern state of Bihar.
By GARDINER
HARRIS and HARI KUMAR
Published: July 17, 2013
NEW DELHI — The children
complained that the free lunch at their state school — rice, beans, potato
curry and soy balls — tasted odd. The cook gave it a taste, too. Within half an
hour they all began to suffer severe stomach pains followed by vomiting and
diarrhea, and within hours at least 22 of the children were dead and dozens of
others remained hospitalized, said officials in the northeastern state of
Bihar.
By nightfall on
Wednesday, as angry protests broke out, officials said they believed they had
found the cause: cooking oil stored in a container formerly used for
insecticides.
School lunch programs became
universal in India after a 2001 order by the country’s Supreme Court, and free
meals are now served to 120 million children — by far the largest such program
in the world. It has been credited with improving school attendance, sometimes
substantially. With some surveys suggesting that nearly half of Indian children
suffer some form of malnutrition, it also serves a vital health purpose.
But like so many
government programs in India, it is plagued by corruption and mismanagement,
and cases of tainted food are fairly routine, although usually nothing like
Wednesday’s tragedy.
Also Wednesday, for
example, 50 children in a school in the nearby Madhubani District reported
falling ill after eating a school lunch that some complained contained a dead
lizard, though all were sent home from a nearby clinic after a few hours of
observation, said Lokesh Kumar Singh, the chief civil servant of the district.
While it is still not
entirely clear what happened in the village of Dahrmasati Gandawan in Bihar’s
Saran District, some element of cronyism may have been involved. As news of the
tragedy spread, the school’s principal, who had bought the cooking oil from a
store owned by her husband, disappeared and has not been seen since, officials
said.
But it also laid bare the
almost complete failure of the state medical system to deal effectively with
the crisis. Parents recounted nightmarish tales of sickness and desperate
efforts to find medical care in facilities that were rapidly overwhelmed by the
sheer numbers of children affected.
Akilanand Mishra, the
father of Ashish Kumar Mishra, 5, said he raced to the school after a neighbor
told him something was wrong there.
“I saw my son walking
towards home, and I brought him back home quickly and took my bike and rushed
him to the health center,” Mr. Mishra said in a telephone interview.
During the trip, Ashish
started throwing up, Mr. Mishra said. They arrived at the nearby primary health
center and found it mobbed with children and families. There was only one
doctor, and he began pleading with parents to take their children to the
district government hospital.
Mr. Mishra instead took
his son to a nearby private clinic, which was similarly overrun with patients
and panicked parents. By then, Ashish was suffering near-constant vomiting and
diarrhea and was beginning to lose consciousness, Mr. Mishra said. The doctor
(the vast majority of health care practitioners in India have no formal
training whatsoever) injected the boy with something and insisted that he be
taken to the government hospital.
Instead, Mr. Mishra
rushed to another nearby private clinic, which was also overrun. A government
ambulance appeared, but there was no room for Ashish. So Mr. Mishra flagged
down a private vehicle. They set off for the hospital, but after a few miles
Ashish died in Mr. Mishra’s arms.
“My son died around 4
p.m., and he was the second child to die,” said a weeping Mr. Mishra. “It was
poison that the children ate, not food. Food contamination doesn’t happen that
fast. It was poison.”
Bacterial contamination,
a common problem in India, generally takes at least a day to cause serious
illness. Caroline Smith DeWaal, director of food safety for the Center for Science in the Public Interest in
Washington, said such episodes tend to happen in places where few things are
thrown away, including containers.
“Insecticide containers
need to be marked that they should never be used again for food,” she said.
“These kind of incidents are rare, and they are tragic when they happen.”
By Wednesday, enraged
residents of Gadgaon village began throwing rocks and sticks at government
buildings, and burned four police vehicles. No one was hurt, said Shashi Singh,
the village head.
Officials said it was
extremely difficult to maintain tight control of such a sprawling food program,
one administered by so many people at the local level.
“It is a very daunting
task to provide freshly cooked quality meals in 73,000 schools,” said
P. K. Shahi, minister of human resource development in Bihar. Many are
involved in managing the food programs, including teachers, village elders and
state officials, he said.
“All these people look
for easy money, and there is very little scope of making money without
compromising the quality and quantity,” Mr. Shahi said. “It is just not
possible to taste meals in all the 73,000 schools before children eat the
food.”
Mohan Gupta of the Iskcon Food Relief Foundation, a nonprofit
organization that serves meals to more than 500,000 children in schools across
central India but not in Bihar or neighboring Uttar Pradesh, said the food
programs in Bihar and Uttar Pradesh had long been among the worst in India.
The episode also
demonstrates the appalling state of food safety and medical care in India.
Since nearly all municipal water supplies are contaminated, food poisoning is
routine. Government hospital and clinics are almost universally inadequate and
in disrepair.
Mr. Mishra complained
bitterly about the runaround he got from government doctors. Dr. Shambhu Nath
Singh, deputy superintendent of the government hospital in the Saran District,
said many of the children who eventually found their way to his hospital were transferred
to a hospital in the state capital of Patna, after parents complained that
their children failed to improve. But he said the care he and his team
delivered was top-notch.
“We were fully prepared
to treat them, and we did so,” Dr. Singh said. “The patients were improving,
but after some time they started deteriorating. That’s a standard pattern to
these kind of poisonings, but some local politicians started shouting and
provoked the people so we had to transfer them.”
Two children died during
the trip to Patna, Dr. Singh said.
The local police opened
an investigation into the incident and were continuing the search for the
school’s principal, Abhijit Sinha, the district’s chief civil servant, said in
a phone interview.
The episode could have
national political repercussions. Bihar’s chief minister, Nitish Kumar,
recently ended an alliance with the Bharatiya Janata Party in an acrimonious
parting of ways. He is now being wooed as a potential ally by the ruling Indian
National Congress Party in advance of elections next year. Mr. Kumar has long
been viewed as bringing fairly good governance to Bihar after decades of
colossal mismanagement. This poisoning could tarnish that reputation.
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