Here, Piggy, Piggy.

As some of you already know, I bought my own home recently, and moved in this weekend. I am at the moment still so in love with it that my head is good for very little else, and I spend an inordinate amount of time staring at my brandspankingnew sundeck, gaping and drooling.

But even in this lovesick state, I’m able to see that since I named my blog after that ole pig virus, I might as well add my two cents’ worth on the subject. Especially since at least two of the messages I received this weekend were not rhyming odes to the beauty of my flat (I mean really!), but warnings to “be careful” of swine flu.

Now, this annoys me on a number of levels. Firstly, because if it is not a love sonnet to my north-facing slice of perfection, I don’t want to hear it.

Secondly, what the heck is “be careful” supposed to mean? Don’t get flu? (Because, you know, most of those twerps went out and got it on purpose.) Pack up my H1N1 in an old kit bag? Forbid random passers-by to spit on me or sneeze into my hand? I mean, how exactly does “be careful” help me? There are many situations in life where one can reasonably be careful, and it might make a difference: don’t cross the road without looking; don’t sit on high ledges if you are prone to talking with your hands; make sure your bikini straps are properly fastened; if you’re planning on reheating your lunch, smell the chicken first; don’t trust a corner-café pie in the wee hours of the morning; don’t trust a boy in a Haile Selassie T-shirt at all*. But honestly, how is one supposed to modify your behaviour to prevent the flu germs from finding you? It’s not like you can put up signs on your front door forbidding them to enter (though I’m told there are plans in place to teach them to read before 2010).

Sure, you can go to the doctor once you already have flu symptoms, but by then it’s too late, isn’t it? And in any case, it’s not a good idea to accept Tamiflu unless you are on death’s door, since the biggest danger associated with swine flu is not the virus as it stands now, but the virus as it will evolve if Tamiflu is overused and the bugs develop an immunity to it. Then we’ll really be in trouble. So really, the only way to “be careful” when you have swine flu is for the sake of others; i.e. stay put, keep your sneezes to yourself, and don’t overuse flu drugs. But, I’m sorry to say, there’s not much you can do to “be careful” for your own sake. Unless you count postponing that brisk hike you had planned to take up Table Mountain, but I am pretty sure that if you had swine flu, you would not be chomping at the bit for it anyway. This “be careful” business is certainly no use to those already suffering from the virus; if the gong’s going to bang for you, it’s going to bang for you and there’s nothing you can do about it. Except bedrest, and that’s what you should do for ordinary flu anyway.

There’s another level on which this swine flu hysteria is bugging me (excuse pun). And that’s the feeling that it’s all so terribly out of perspective. Now, I’m not saying I’m not sorry about the chaps who have died, because that’s awful for them, really not very nice at all, and I’m very grateful it’s not me. But so far, one person has died of swine flu in South Africa (the other, the Dept of Health was quick to point out, died of other complications unrelated to H1N1) relative to, um, how many of HIV/Aids? HIV has been galloping across the globe since the New Kids on the Block were actually new, and in all the intervening years I have not once received an email or SMS from a friend warning me to “be careful” of HIV. Which is rather a shame, since that’s the kind of SMS one probably should send your friend at four o’clock in the morning when she is having drinks with some silver-tongued, statuesque creature whom she doesn’t really know, but who has all sorts of opinions about her cleavage.

The point is, a message warning your friend to “be careful” of HIV/Aids is not only more to the point (since it is a far worse pandemic, meaning it is more widespread, and death is a sure thing rather than an occasional possibility); it is also more useful, since HIV/Aids is mostly sexually transmitted, and being careful might reasonably have some impact on your chances of contracting it.

And even if you take HIV out of the equation, swine flu is still not the most dangerous thing out there right now - not by a long shot. Poor nutrition is a global killer, as are aggression and stupidity: people take drugs and get into bar brawls and blow each other up left, right and centre. Car crashes are one of the single biggest causes of death in cities all over the world, and the number of first-time car buyers increases every year; yet I notice that nobody is messaging me to say MILLIONS OF YOUTHS ON THE LOOSE IN THREE-TON KILLING MACHINES; FREQUENTING URBAN AREAS! BE CAREFUL! FORWARD THIS TO 20 FRIENDS AND SAVE A LIFE!

If you really are that keen on saving your friends’ lives, there are a million messages I can think of that you might reasonably send instead, assuming you really care and are not forwarding random rubbish just because you are a hysteric with nothing to do. Call me if you have been drinking; I will fetch you, for example, or Are you sure about that hotel in Hillbrow? I know a great backpackers in Dunkeld West. Or Don’t go out with that guy; he has shifty eyebrows.

But people (and I use this word in a very general way, I know) seem to have the bizarre idea that warnings are more fun if they are more pointless**; or maybe they are too lazy to think up a personalised warning to suit a particular friend’s lifestyle, but want to look like they care, so send out mass messages instead. Or maybe chain messages make them feel informed and important, as though they are privy to cutting-edge information spreading through the underworld; specialised knowledge not even the officials have their grubby paws on yet. Or, in the case of the HIV warnings that never come, it might be that because HIV is often sexually transmitted, it is considered impolite to warn your friends about it, for fear that it would make them sound nasty or make you sound like a killjoy. But if you’re worried about sounding nasty, I’d venture to point out the suggestive nature of the word “swine”; and if you’re worried about being a killjoy, I’d say that stampeding people at parties booming “BE CAREFUL OF SWINE FLU!” is just as likely a conversation stopper.

So, I suppose, barring genuine and personal concern, what’s left is paranoia. But for what it’s worth, I’m sick of pointless warnings about things that are beyond my control. I’m sick of people bombarding me with horrible stories of germs that are out to get me, serial killers that have their heart set on changing my tyres at shopping malls, or rapists leaving tape recordings of babies on my doorstep. I’m sick of the completely superstitious belief that if you only follow instructions, somehow you will be immune to life’s unpredictable catastrophes (and the accompanying implication that if tragedy does befall someone, it must in some way be their fault for not BEING CAREFUL.) If you think memorising a million poorly-spelled chain mails is going to make you immortal, I’ve got news for you. Terrible things happen to people every day, at random, through no fault of their own, and that’s part of life: if you are one of the lucky ones, it is nothing to be righteous about. So stop warning me about all the ways I could die, since that’s a given, whether it’s swine flu or a car crash or HIV or a tumble down Table Mountain. When it’s my time to go it will be my time to go, and the only way to cheat myself of my rightful, joyful time on earth will be to waste it pondering all the ways I could trip the light switch on my way out.

*Thanks to the ever-pithy Judi Stewart for this

** See previous post on proportional relationship between pointlessness and fun