During conversations with friends and acquaintances working in Mauritian public hospitals, a similar anecdote has come up a few times. It goes something like this: The doctor sees a patient who suffers from diabetes, or hypertension, or endometriosis. As part of the post-diagnosis conversation, the doctor stresses the importance of a healthy diet that prioritizes whole foods, lean protein, fruits and vegetables. The patient – or, more often, one of the patient’s parents or family members – responds along the following lines: “Be pou aste tousala, fode ena kass, dokter!” Sometimes, this assertion is made with a resignation that breaks one’s heart; at others, it erupts with the explosive anger borne out of helplessness. Faced with the latter case, a young doctor confided that her patient seemed so furious that she feared he might turn violent. She does not speak to her patients about potential dietary changes anymore.

The above anecdote is reflective of an entanglement of various issues at the heart of contemporary society: the rising cost of living, the difficulty of nourishing our bodies well, and the deep-seated anger that, in the absence of hope or possibility of change, ends up seeking easy targets. While by no means restricted to Mauritius, these issues do make themselves felt on the island in a particular way.

At the center of this issue is the rising cost of living, which makes it increasingly difficult for many Mauritians to feed themselves and their family, let alone feed them well. An Afrobarometer survey last year cited the rising cost of living as a top preoccupation for Mauritians. Almost three years ago, already, the Secretary-General of the Association des Consommateurs de l’Ile Maurice (ACIM) stated, “Maurice est devenu un pays extrêmement cher. J’ai des parents venant de l’étranger qui sont surpris par les prix affichés ici.” And indeed: for Mauritians who travel abroad, it is astounding to note that weekly grocery bills in Trianon can be similar to certain parts of Europe, the United States or Canada – places where salaries are much higher, and the quality of food items often superior.

On an island where we import so much of what we consume, a commonly evoked antidote to high grocery prices is to prioritize local consumption and production. If such a move may indeed lower financial stakes, it enhances other kinds of worries. For example, with regard to fish and seafood, the “varying enforcement of best practices” leads to instances where products consumed locally are subject to less rigorous quality control measures than those sent for export to regions such as the European Union. Such situations remind us that for profit-making industries operating in an unequal world, the health of human beings is only as important as the financial gain one stands to make from them.

Over-exposure to pesticides

Additionally, data from both local and international investigations support what those of us living here have long known to be true: pesticide overuse is an urgent issue in Mauritius. While more local studies are desperately required, the global scientific community has established that over-exposure to pesticides can entail a wide range of health issues, from asthma to Parkinson’s disease and cancer. In its characteristically ingenious and resilient way, the Mauritian population is rising to the challenge. More and more people are now growing their own fruits and vegetables, and creating – or perhaps reviving – a barter system within their communities.

Those who cook remind each other to soak their vegetables before cooking them. And if one is willing to pay the price, in terms of both money and time, it is indeed possible to find businesses that are selling “responsibly cultivated” or organic produce. These attempts to curb the nefarious effects of pesticides are admirable and can be effective on individual or small scales. However, by their very nature, they remain fragmented attempts to solve an issue that is, fundamentally, nationwide. And unfortunately, the greatest burden often falls, once again, on ceux au bas de l’échelle – those who are simply struggling to put food on the table, let alone worry that this food might be slowly poisoning them.

The sense of powerlessness that comes from not being able to make ends meet, despite working ceaselessly, often leads to feelings of deep-seated anger, which lacks a clear outlet or target. On a wider societal scale – and considered in conjunction with the rampant availability of drugs across the country – such desperate frustration does not make for happy and safe homes, streets, schools or hospitals. I think here of the man who verbally abuses the doctor in front of him, who sees her as the physical embodiment of an amorphous societal phenomenon, who possibly resents her for being able to afford the kind of grocery basket that he cannot. This patient’s outburst is not warranted. His feelings of anger, however, are justified.

The question that we face as a society, then, is the following: How can we collectively channel such feelings towards real change?