Down and dirty to ward off Covid

FAR be it for this column to be questioning the rights and wrongs of health authorities – but … Remember Covid-19 – it was in all the papers. Remember how we were incessantly told to wash our hands every 90 seconds (well, not exactly) but to wash our hands regularly with soap and water and to safely distance ourselves from others?

Well, I’ve got two words for that medical advice – “Amou Haji”.

No, it’s not Iranian for “wash your hands”, according to media reports this week Amou Haji tragically passed away at the age of 94 – or 87 depending on which news service you follow – and not of Covid-19.

Either way, Iranian villager Amou Haji claimed he hadn’t washed, showered or bathed for 67 years – and, by all reports, he never had Covid.

When his fellow villagers asked him why he didn’t bathe, Haji simply said he was worried about becoming sick and dying.

And, he was right.

Just a couple of months ago some of his fellow villagers talked him into eventually having a wash and what happened? Haji got sick and died.

According to the news report I read regarding Haji’s sad demise this week, he not only avoided bathing as if his life depended on it, as he believed, but he drank water from dirty puddles and ate roadkill.

Now, I’m not too keen on sipping water from puddles, but I can attest that it’s not just the likes of Haji who find the odd bit of roadkill appetising.

Back in 1984/85 when my mate Murph and I played a season of Rugby a XIII (rugby league) in France, we played for a First Division club that was owned by a multi millionaire who owned a transport company.

We’ll just call him “Go Go” because that is how Murph and I referred to him, much to his delight, figuring it was some cute Aussie nickname and not realising it stemmed from the cartoon character Go Go Gomez (our club president’s surname).

Anyway, when on occasion the team had to play away from home, Go Go would lead a convoy of vehicles (all owned by him) and he, obviously, would be in the lead car (a Mercedes as I recall) and I would have to travel upfront with him.

On more than one occasion on our return trip Go Go would pull over to the side of the road, open his door and from the driver’s seat inspect the condition of a rabbit which had fallen victim to a passing vehicle.

“Bon a manger”, he used to say (roughly translated into Aus Speak as “not bad tucker”).

I must admit I never saw him actually select roadkill from the side of the highway, but I suspected he wasn’t doing it just for my benefit so there might just be something in the late Haji’s dietary preferences.

Another of Haji’s vices was to smoke animal dung and, again, I think there might be something in that.

I’ve smelt some of the stuff my mates smoke outside the pub and I must say, though I have no idea what burning camel dung actually smells like, I reckon it will do until they get some.

And, the thing is my mates – despite all odds and the camel dung cigarettes of their choice – still appear healthy.

Now, the media reports I read of Haji’s demise didn’t elaborate on if he had any close friends; I suspect having not bathed for more than 60 years he probably didn’t have too many friends who were that close that often.

And, that’s another thing I could take from Haji.

If not bathing keeps my mates and their smelly smokes at arms length from me, well, maybe it’s worth going grubby!