“Opening a can of worms” is an expression that I’ve found confusing ever since I was a kid learning English. Child Anny’s strange mind wondered about things like: Why did somebody put the worms there in the first place? And given that there’s not supposed to be air in the can, the worms would be dead and wouldn’t cause too many problems when the can is opened? Surely as the opener of the can, you’d check first before you assume that you had tinned spaghetti?

But anyway, apparently that’s what I did when I started talking about some of the race-related stuff in my last blog post. Don’t get me wrong, the overwhelming response I received was one of validation, support and indignation on my behalf. But there were a small handful of people who expressed their genuine surprise that racism still existed in multicultural Australia. I was possibly even more surprised by this reaction. I didn’t think that I was actually reporting anything new in my post. Anyhow, I’m glad I was able to give people an opportunity to reflect. And in case you’re wondering, yes, even in this multicultural country, I am acutely aware of the colour of my skin every single day.

Race hasn’t been the only thing that I’ve been mulling over in my mind recently. I’ve also been thinking of the planet. (OK, don’t get a Messiah complex already, Anny.) In my defence, as you probably already know, planetary health is a legitimate discipline in its own right. But also, I’ve had a few experiences recently that were really quite thought-provoking. The most profound of these involved a work-related excursion to Sydney Olympic Park.

Long before anyone decided to use this part of Sydney to corral international athletes and their entourages of support staff, paparazzi and gastroenteritis outbreaks, this was Wangal land. We were told by the medical entomologist babysitting us that back in those days, this used to be an area of mudflats, full of fish and shellfish. They were definitely resources prized by the Wangal people, and cared for. Then the displacement of pretty much everything came along, in the form of white settlers. Their farming practices allowed these productive mudflats to be overtaken by mangroves.

Things took an even worse turn in 1907, when the State Abattoir was set up here. There’s something quite horrible about reading the history of an abattoir. It gets described in terms of its “killing capacity” (apparently 25,000 animals per week in the 1920s). This was associated with further environmental neglect and degradation in the surrounding area. The mangroves proliferated initially, but then became brackish, foul and mosquito-ridden. The whole place just seemed bleak and depressing.

The mosquitoes were the reason why my colleagues and I visited earlier in the year. I’ve been helping out with the NSW surveillance program for mosquito-borne diseases. For those of you who are not familiar with this aspect of Australia, we have our own lineup of these infections to worry about, with the most well-known being Ross River virus, Barmah Forest virus and Murray River encephalitis*. Part of the program involves monitoring the numbers of mosquitoes at a few dozen places across the state. We came to the Sydney Olympic Park to watch and learn about mosquito trap set up. We arrived with our long sleeved attire and our cans of Australian-strength insect repellent (good old Bushman). To our horror, we were told that we were discouraged from using repellent, because it might interfere with the mosquitoes visiting the traps. But it was OK, because there weren’t that many mosquitoes around in this area anymore … because of the next chapter in the story.

So, after the abattoir closed down in the late 1980s, people toyed with the idea of turning this area into a business and technology park. But no businesses wanted to base themselves in this horrible place. Miraculously, somehow excellent marketing prevailed, and we managed to sell an image of hope to the International Olympic Committee. The 2000 Sydney Olympics was the financial investment that saved the place. People have always dreamed about international sporting events having this effect, but I didn’t think it actually came true in real life.

The event organisers had to think of a way to prevent all these high-profile athletes from being eaten alive by mosquitoes. They thought about different methods of bringing insecticide to the mangroves. Would they spray it from the air, or from the ground, or both? Fortunately, they consulted some environmental experts, who advised them that actually, the mosquito numbers were fundamentally linked to the health of the mangrove itself. And so began a major environmental clean up project. By the end of it, the rampant overgrowth was controlled, and channels were cut into the brackish water to allow drainage into the Parramatta River. This meant that fish came back into the area, and ate the mosquito larvae floating in the water. People also came back to the area, with the introduction of new (and well-marked) walking trails, bicycle paths and birdwatching facilities. All of these improvements have persisted until today. Many of the sporting facilities remain from the Olympics, but this area is now mostly residential, with many newly developed apartments. I wonder how many residents here are aware of the full story of this transformation.

There’s another mosquito trapping site in our surveillance program not far from Sydney Olympic Park. We were cautioned against going there. That was because it was surrounded by unkempt mangrove. Unfortunately, because of local politics, no environmental facelift has been possible. Many a weekend morning, residents in nearby areas wake up to the early morning drone of helicopters spraying insecticide. Our mosquito traps here have yielded some of the highest numbers recorded in Sydney this season. It’s a reminder that even in built-up, urban surroundings, how we look after the environment is a big deal when it comes to our health.

*There’s also Kunjin, which isn’t that well known. But it’s our local version of the West Nile virus. The reason why I decided to mention it here, despite the fact that it’s rare, because I really want to get the name changed. You see, Kunjin was named after an Aboriginal clan in Queensland. So it’s even worse than calling COVID-19 the “Wuhan virus”. It’s like calling COVID-19 “the Chinese”. It’s pretty disrespectful. Let’s do something about it.