A visit to a clinic in a small town in rural Ghana presented the opportunity to take a look at the incident log book. This documented what could now be described as the clinic’s accident and emergency activity. It was interesting to note that most of the patients appeared to be farmers and the two most frequent incidents that brought them to the clinic were stab wounds, mostly accidentally self-inflicted, and snake bites. This sparked a brief investigation into how rural Ghanaians have tried to deal with the ever-present danger of venomous snakes.

The medical workers at the clinic were quite clear about the standard approved procedure for anyone bitten by a snake to follow: try to kill the snake and bring it to the clinic so it can be identified and appropriate action can be taken. Easier said than done, but it was hoped that a farmer armed with a hoe or machete would have a chance to exact revenge on his aggressor. Those who did not report with a carcass were expected to submit an accurate description that would allow the offending reptile to be identified. Then, in this best of all possible worlds, the corresponding antivenom would be administered and the farmer would return to his crop.

Even rural Ghana is not the best of all possible worlds and, in practice, things do not always go according to plan. Since non-venomous snake species are reported to outnumber venomous species by a ratio of four to one, relatively harmless bites are quite common. Farmers frequently arrive at the clinic with the mortal remains of a non-poisonous species. Experience has shown that death can still occur if no treatment is given, so the availability of a placebo is essential. Then, in cases where a genuine antidote is required, it is not always available because all medical supplies are in short supply, especially in remote rural areas. It is in such cases that it becomes necessary to resort to traditional methods.

The doctor in charge of the clinic had great faith in his time-honored antidote to snakebite, which he reluctantly showed to the favorite inquirer. Opening the top right drawer of his desk, he briefly glimpsed the root of a plant that resembled ginger tubers. Although he claimed that it was as effective as government-provided drugs, he was unable to provide supporting statistics and did not disclose details of the method of administration. More convincing was the prophylactic treatment described by Ernest Bentil, despite the fact that Ernest had no medical qualifications.

On a bush walk in the 1970s, it became necessary for someone to leave the relative safety of the beaten path and plunge into head-high elephant grass. Without hesitation, Ernest volunteered for the task and announced that he was immune to snake bites. Upon his safe return, he was asked how he acquired immunity from him. ‘He was my grandfather,’ he began, ‘He used to treat our whole family when we were little kids. He would catch a poisonous snake and squeeze out the poison. He then boiled the poison, and when it had cooled down he injected us with a snake fang.

Ernest’s grandfather’s method seems believable because it resembles a primitive form of the antiviral immunization process now widely practiced in modern medicine. However, it is not possible here to provide a full scientific analysis of the many questions it raises. Suffice it to say that it endowed Ernest with a belief in his immunity as strong as the belief of many farmers that all untreated snake bites are fatal.