There’s no such thing as a friendly fire
On Tuesday, my father escaped what could have been a serious fire accident in his kitchen. When he recounted what had happened, I had just had news of our trekking guide in Nepal losing his mother to third degree burns she received cooking on their open hearth stove. A few days before, the granddaughter of a well-known Indian politician succumbed to burns from Diwali firecrackers. And before that, the mother of a close childhood friend passed after battling burns sustained while doing puja at home. Each one of these events is so recent and raw that I realise how callous we are about keeping our homes safe.
Each of these events has also taken place with the most vulnerable groups in families – old age persons and children. With the exception of my father, all victims of fire hazards were women. NCRB data for the year 2018, shows that women account for 57 percent of the total fire deaths. These groups have (of course) disproportionately suffered due to the pandemic – people over 60 have had to restrict their movement and social contact much more than younger age groups and children have seen prolonged school closures and have therefore been cut off from their peer groups. Women spend a disproportionate amount of time in the kitchen (which possibly explains why many homes have such hazardous kitchens as that corresponds to their status within the family).
This study by the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation has quantified for the first time, the totality of injuries resulting from fire, heat, and hot substances, not just burns (every instance I provided in my first para qualifies). The analysis provides comparable estimates of mortality and morbidity across 195 countries and territories. Not surprisingly, one in every five burn fatality is Indian. When I was researching for this blog piece, I saw a comment that expressed a lack of surprise as every fifth person in the world is Indian. In response to this simplistic and perhaps spontaneous reaction, this finding stands out:
Eight countries, seven of which are low- or middle-income, accounted for half of all heat-related deaths in 2017. They include India (27,027 deaths), China (10,836), Russia (7,063), United States (5,505), Nigeria (4,085), Pakistan (2,603), Democratic Republic of the Congo (2,093), and Ethiopia (2,013).
Yes, India surpasses all countries, including China, when it comes to heat-related deaths. Yes, studies conducted in India also point to a disproportionate burden of fire-related deaths on women.
So to keep the vulnerable in our families safe, we must secure our homes. Had it not been for the pandemic, I would not have reflected so deeply on fire hazards. And had I not been confined to the home, I would not have obsessed so much on how to keep my home safe. The only way to cope with fire injuries is to prevent them from happening. So, fireproof your home – secure your kitchens, use safe fuel, service your stove, avoid matchsticks, invest in a fire extinguisher, be mindful of the clothes you wear while handling hot objects, and as far as possible, try to stay away from fire. Check your electrical outlets and appliances (gosh, these can be so dodgy) and because our elderly are spending so much time on their own, see how their exposure to fire can be limited. Yes, accidents may still happen, but there is no such thing as a friendly fire.
The writer, and the other stuff.
Hello. I’m Gitanjali — development practitioner, sometime author, full-time mother, and very part-time golfer. I’ve spent the last two decades working across South Asia, West Africa, and bits of the world in between, mostly on polio eradication, regional integration, global health, and gender.
This site is a collection of essays I started writing during the pandemic and never quite stopped. Some are field notes. Some are rants. Some are about the strange things you notice on a video call when you’re on your thousandth one. They are written from Switzerland, where I now live with my husband and our daughter.
Writing is how I figure out what I actually think. I publish in case any of it is useful — or, at minimum, mildly entertaining — to you.
If you’d like to get in touch, you can find me through the usual channels. Otherwise, thank you for reading.
Gitanjali
The writer, and the other stuff. Hello. I'm Gitanjali — development practitioner, sometime author, full-time mother, and very part-time golfer. I've spent the last two decades working across South Asia, West Africa, and bits of the world in between, mostly on polio eradication, regional integration, global health, and gender. This site is a collection of essays I started writing during the pandemic and never quite stopped. Some are field notes. Some are rants. Some are about the strange things you notice on a video call when you're on your thousandth one. They are written from Switzerland, where I now live with my husband and our daughter.
Writing is how I figure out what I actually think. I publish in case any of it is useful — or, at minimum, mildly entertaining — to you.If you'd like to get in touch, you can find me through the usual channels. Otherwise, thank you for reading.