Quack Syndrome

Feeling unwell, while growing up, always left me feeling confused. Unless we were dealing with an obviously serious spell of illness, my parents took matters into their own hands. My father’s universal remedy was ‘take a hot shower’. My mother, on the other hand, would quickly confess over me, ‘it’s all in your mind, get it out of your mind’. Maybe this was their silent scheme to confuse me out of my maladies. And for the most part, they did.

While a scorching shower and mind power remain my parent’s #1 course of treatment, they each take pride in their own special brand of home cures – certified quacks.

My mum is very studied in her approach to treating a condition. She is constantly reading up on naturopathy/herbal medicine. Or learning stuff off the older people or Indian village folk – both sets of people are brimming with all sorts of knowledge. Though some of her remedies come across as seriously crazy, they do work!

Mamma treats and prevents colds and coughs with various combinations of pepper, cloves, garlic, honey, turmeric, milk and brandy. Reduce the proportion of brandy if you are administering any such life saving concoction to a toddler.

Mamma once cured me of a very severe head cold by tying warm paw-paw (papaya) leaves on my head. This coupled with breathing turmeric fumes straight off a hot iron pan (standing alongside the stove top) was nothing short of divine healing. And no, my mamma’s not a witch doctor!

While growing up, onion was more than just a base for cooking. Mamma often used onions to cure nose bleeds, insect bites, chest congestion and even heat stroke. You can actually dodge a heat stroke by simply carrying a cut onion somewhere on your body. My dear mother used to make me wear a cut onion under my hat every summer. True story.

Cures for insomnia come straight out of mum’s spice box – brews made from fennel, aniseed, etc.

I was bathed with antiseptic green water made by boiling neem leaves. For this, you are forced to employ a bucket and a mug. In western countries, finding a bucket and a mug would be a lot harder than finding neem leaves or a similar leaf with antiseptic properties. And having a maid to bring you the leaves, as we do in India, would be just as hard.

I’m so used to seeing my mother practicing some of her remedies on herself. Apparently, rubbing your finger nails vigorously together, for ten minutes a day, everyday,  significantly reduces hair loss and better still, stimulates the scalp to produce more hair. What does it matter if you look like a crazy person? After the prescribed ten minutes, you simply go back to being a normal person with, hopefully, better hair.

But the ultimate home remedy, mum learned off her naturopath uncle, is supposed to be the elixir for long life and prolonged youth – earthworms soaked in water overnight. They must be consumed early in the morning, on an empty stomach – water and all. Unlike all the other remedies, we have never tested the authenticity of this ourselves. Her uncle, however, probably did. He passed away in Aug 2013, just a few months shy of turning 103 years old.

Mum’s name is preceded by the title ‘Doctor’, thanks to her PhD in Jewish Literature. Over the years, though, she has started to consider the title as being associated with prowess in medicine. She truly has an endless list of remedies, for a myriad of complaints. Though I find this fascinating, I’m not truly amused. Her remedies work. Success is never fully amusing. My father, on the other hand, is another story entirely.

Daddy whole heartedly has faith in his set of treatments, despite many of them being highly questionable. Unlike the tested nature of mum’s remedies, daddy’s arsenal is full of his own concocted ideas. And even if he employs a known remedy, he often puts his own spin on it which renders it useless. This has been an unending source of laughs for me.

Most of daddy’s remedies are aggressive in nature. Almost like a bid to torment and scare away the malady. He advocates supernatural amounts of chilli for a healthy digestive system. As they say, attack is the best form of defence. Attack your liver everyday to make sure it stays on it’s toes. He also believes that germs can’t tolerate chilli and therefore chilli consumed in large amounts is mass murder for the ‘germs’. He ups his intake of chilli and grease during a stomach upset. This, according to him, shows the stomach who’s boss.

And as I mentioned before, he swears by a hot shower. And when I say hot, I mean, HOT! I have come very close to blackouts simply by being the next in line to shower. He manages his mildly cracked vertebras and creaky joints by burning them into fluidity. Even a fracture can be healed quickly by immersing the fractured ‘whatever’ in hot water and flexing it slowly and deliberately – I don’t know how the doctors could have missed this one.

‘Very hot’ extends, also, to his cup of coffee/ tea. The heat washes the inner throat and keeps it grease free! And true enough, he never falls victim to a sore throat – unlike mamma and I.

Heat also hastens healing of cuts, scrapes, boils, etc. Not the traditional sterile cauterization as you probably think – just a casually dab with a lighted cigarette.

Daddy once had a cold. I distinctly remember sitting on the kitchen workbench and watching him prepare the healing brew suggested by a friend. He poured himself a stiff shot of strong rum, added 2 teaspoons of pepper and half a glass of boiling hot water (which he had carefully boiled on the stove top). The ingredients looked promising until daddy added his own special touch. He topped up the brew with ice cold Coke! I was doubled up with laughter at this outrageous addition. He wasn’t amused at my reaction and proceeded to knock down the contents with complete conviction. Apparently, cold coke did not enhance the medicinal properties of this wonder brew. His cold was at it’s very worst next day and for the whole week that followed!

Then there’s the time daddy treated our dog, Spark, for a cold and cough. With my mum as his assistant, he gave Spark some cough syrup, meant for humans, and followed it up with a tiny dash of rum to help his cold. Spark was acting rather strange after this course of treatment. We rushed him off to the vet only to be told that daddy had gotten the dog drunk!

Most recently, I visited my parents and daddy greeted me with red patches all over his face. I was concerned that he had got into a fight with someone and therefore, the bruised look. My concern quickly turned into uncontrollable laughter. He informed me that he had scrubbed his face with detergent soap to clear some badly tanned areas. Regular soap, I believe, is not aggressive enough to tackle a nasty patch of tan.

My father is certainly special. He tackled his dental problems by extracting one troublesome tooth after another – often on his own. He is 63 and has no teeth left. Not even one. And he has lost his dentures twice – they fell out of his pocket. Rather than endure the uncomfortable adjustment phase, he chooses to carry them in his pocket and put them on only at mealtime.

I could go on, but you get the general idea?!

My mum’s methods obviously warrant better results. But here’s the damning part, my father is the one who maintains the best general health! Daddy is obviously the more radical and successful quack of the two. I will just add this to the long lists of ‘unexplainables’ in the world. Some things, that are unexplainable, can be given a try. But most of them are best viewed from a safe distance. Thank God for my parents and thank God for the treatments they used to raise me but mostly, thank God for giving me the discretion to know how much ‘natural’ is ‘natural’!