Episode 286: Lazarus

This is the story of the one.

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and this animal

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In August of 1945, the language of power changed forever.

No longer did the largest army mean the strongest nation.

It wasn't about tanks or strategy or even money.

No, power forevermore would be about one thing and one thing only.

Who had access to an atomic bomb.

And ever since, that bomb has become more than just a weapon.

It's now a symbol showing who has influence and who does not.

Of course, back in the days before atomic power, nations had to rely on more creative status symbols to prove their might.

For example, in the 1820s, that symbol happened to be giraffes.

Yes, you heard me right.

You see, the viceroy of Egypt at the time, Mehmed Ali Pasha, was on a bit of a giraffe gifting spree.

Paris, Constantinople, and London had all received one of the animals as a diplomatic gift, and in 1828, it was Vienna's turn.

And the Austrians were honestly pretty stoked about it.

Having a giraffe in your city had become a marker of political alliance, and they didn't want to be left out.

The giraffe in question, a young male, made the voyage by sea along with a caretaker and two cows to provide it plenty of milk to drink on its long trip.

Finally, the ship arrived, but the journey wasn't over yet.

Before the giraffe was allowed to set hoof on the mainland, it was required to quarantine on a nearby island called Poveglia, which had long been an isolation station for plague-carrying soldiers.

After all, who knew what diseases this foreign animal might be carrying?

Forget the the Trojan horse.

What about the Egyptian giraffe?

For a full 40 days and 40 nights, the long-necked visitor waited and waited.

It was probably pretty confusing for the poor young calf, not to mention the fact that Poveglia is said to be extremely haunted by sailors who never made it off the island.

But whether the giraffe ever saw a ghost, I can't say.

I've never had the chance to ask him.

But finally, the giraffe officially arrived in Austria and the people went wild.

A massive fad for giraffe-themed everything took hold from dance moves and perfumes to a women's hairstyle that mimicked the animal's pokey little horns.

It's a fun snapshot from history, and honestly, I figured that you deserved a little something light as an appetizer today.

Because the truth is, most patients don't receive so warm a welcome when they're released from quarantine.

In fact, many are never released at all.

I'm Aaron Mankey, and this is lore.

It has been more than five years since we first heard the term COVID-19, and in that time, a whole slew of strange new phrases have made their way into our daily speech.

Things like lockdown, social distancing, flattening the curve, and work from home, all of which have become shockingly normal to hear in casual conversation.

But of course, the practice of quarantine is far, far older than the buzzwords of 2020.

In fact, almost 700 years older.

The first recorded quarantine in history took place way back in the year 1377 in what is now the city of Dubrovnik, Croatia.

You see, plague had begun to ravage other parts of Europe.

And so, in an attempt to protect itself, Dubrovnik required any incoming ships from outbreak zones to spend 30 days in isolation before being let in.

And it must have worked because we've continued the same strategy ever since.

Now, eventually the 30-day standard was lengthened to 40 days, which is where quarantine gets its name, by the way.

It comes from the Italian quarantina, which literally translates as 40 days.

And this extra week and a half wasn't just to give potential illness time to run its course.

No, it was actually a religious addition.

You see, there was someone else who'd been rumored to spend 40 days in isolation, wandering alone in the desert, Jesus Christ.

And the biblical significance didn't stop there.

The story of Noah and his ark uses a 40-day timetable.

Moses awaited atop Mount Sinai for 40 days before descending with the Ten Commandments.

Even Lent, the Christian period of penitence, lasts 40 days.

In short, by adopting the number 40, quarantine became not only about physical purification, but spiritual purification as well.

And this is important because during the age of the Black Death, disease wasn't believed to be germ-related.

Heck, they didn't even know that germs existed.

But what did exist to the people of the Middle Ages were evil spirits.

In their minds, if the plague had come for you, it wasn't about science.

It was an act of divine will.

Demonic forces, or even God himself, had made you sick as a test or a punishment.

And a holy 40 days of spiritual cleansing might be just the ticket to get that soul of yours squeaky clean and disease-free.

Think about the iconic plague doctor mask that we all know and love from Hollywood films.

The design of that mask has something to do with evil spirits.

Yes, the mask's shape had its practical uses.

The hooked nose, for example, could be filled with herbs, garlic, and vinegar-soaked sponges to filter foul air, but the appearance of the thing wasn't exactly soothing for patients to gaze upon in their final moments.

And that may have been on purpose, because according to one theory, the mask was deliberately terrifying with the hopes that it might scare away those evil plague-bearing spirits.

Now, back then, there were many theological explanations for what actually caused the plague.

And oddly enough, the most common scapegoats of all were the stars.

That's right, astrology is good for more than just determining whether you are comfortable with your crush.

Medieval astrologers were able to look skyward and allegedly report when the plague was on its way.

Several outbreaks in Europe were blamed on the conjunction of Mars and Jupiter, Mars and Saturn, or Saturn and Jupiter.

There was even a London astrologer who gained quite a bit of acclaim for predicting the 1665 outbreak based on a series of planets, comets, and constellations.

Today, this perspective on disease may seem like it belongs in a fantasy novel more than the real world, but you may be surprised at how much of a mark these early quarantines left on our modern society.

Sometimes, even on the literal borders between nations.

Here, I'll give you an example.

There is a tiny stretch of land, only about two football fields worth on the border between Germany and Belgium.

And looking at it on the map, you would logically think that it belonged to Belgium.

But here's the thing.

It doesn't.

Because way back in the Middle Ages, that spot was a quarantine zone where the chronically ill were banished to live and often die as well.

Even after the camp was gone, the area still wigged people out.

And so neither country wanted it, both playing a game of land ownership hot potato until Germany ended up getting stuck with it for good.

Then there's the border between Austria and the Ottoman Empire.

In 1710, Austria established a sort of disease checkpoint between themselves and their southern neighbors in the Balkans.

At first, it wasn't anything crazy, just a request for existing border guards to start keeping an eye out for suspicious symptoms before letting folks through.

But by the late 1700s, it had become something else entirely.

The once-friendly border had become pocked with a chain of watchtowers, each within musket shot range of the next.

Roving patrols of guards constantly manned the line with orders to shoot unauthorized traffic on site.

Now there were official crossing points, but anyone trying to pass through them had to undergo 21 days of quarantine, or in times of plague outbreaks, 48, before being allowed in.

Disobey, and you would be arrested, subject to trial, and often put to death.

Eventually, the quarantine border dissolved, as did the Austrian Empire.

But ghosts of history have a way of holding on, and in 2019, a team of researchers made a startling discovery.

To this day, modern inhabitants of what was once the quarantine zone remained financially poorer and more distrustful than their neighbors to either side.

There's also more of a cultural practice of bribery, which surely would have been commonplace on the border all those centuries ago.

Oh, and I should probably mention one more thing.

That very same militarized zone is the exact spot where modern vampire lore is believed to have been born way back in the early 1700s.

Which makes sense if you think about it.

Vampirism was always thought of as a contagious thing.

It's passed through biting blood or skin contact with someone who has already been infected.

And if you caught it, you were doomed to spread death wherever you went.

Heck, it sounds a lot like the plague to me.

It's fair to say that the age of the Black Death was a time of terror and uncertainty.

People scrambled to pull answers close and push the plague far, far away.

And yet, when we think of exiling the sick, the plague isn't the first disease that comes to mind.

No, that prize goes to another illness, known as one of the oldest and most infectious in human history.

Today, it's known as Hansen's disease, but for thousands of years, it had a different name, one that, when spoken out loud, induced fear and revulsion for much of human history.

And that name, of course, was leprosy.

Under the right circumstances, the island might have been beautiful.

A vacation spot even.

One of numerous picturesque locales dotting the Adriatic Sea off the Venetian coast.

Heckett might make for a nice honeymoon destination.

If it weren't for all the screaming, that is.

In the words of one Venetian notary from the time, the island resembled nothing less than, and I quote, hell itself.

There were buildings and living quarters on it, but despite being designed to accommodate 100 residents, the island had been crammed full with over 10,000 human beings.

Without room to breathe or sleep, they wriggled against each other in the unbearable heat of summer.

Those residents who couldn't fit on land were squeezed onto one of the many boats circling the island like vultures.

Mosquitoes swarmed in dark clouds, and all around rose the stench of death.

The year is 1400, and you have just set foot on the first of Venice's Lazaretti, named for Lazarus, the patron saint of leprosy.

In other words, welcome to a leper colony.

Get cozy.

You're going to be here for a long, long time.

Now, before we continue, I better clear a few things up.

When most people hear the word leprosy, they imagine gauze-wrapped faces with missing noses, fingertips plopping off, and living people rotting away like corpses.

But that's actually completely inaccurate.

The idea that leprosy causes your body parts to fall off is straight-up myth.

In reality, it's a chronic disease that affects the skin and nerves, as well as mucous membranes in the eyes, nose, and throat.

And symptoms are a lot less severe than than we've been led to believe.

Patients develop red, scaly skin, which is where the name leprosy comes from.

In fact, lepra is the ancient Greek word for scaly.

The nerve damage can then cause numbness, so often lesions, burns, and cuts would go unnoticed, which leads to infection.

And it's probably those infections that are what earned the afflicted their zombie-like reputation.

Also, despite the rampant terror surrounding it, leprosy is pretty difficult to pass from person to person.

It's wild that after all this time, there are still so many misconceptions about the disease, especially since leprosy is one of the world's oldest illnesses.

In India, for example, archaeologists even found evidence of leprosy on a 4,000-year-old skeleton.

And yet, it's hard to think of a people more stigmatized and mistreated than those who have been labeled as lepers.

Even the word itself has become shorthand for an outcast.

But amazingly, that wasn't always the case.

In fact, before all of that judgment, people with leprosy were actually revered.

You see, some 12th century leprosariums, such as London's St.

Giles in the Fields, viewed their patients as modern-day Jobs from the Bible.

They had been hand-selected by God to suffer on earth and, in exchange, should be an automatic shoe-in for salvation.

In other words, if you had leprosy, you supposedly would go straight to heaven when you died.

And because of this, they were treated kind of great.

St.

Giles in the Fields was basically the equivalent of a medieval health spa.

Patients received medicinal care, yes, but spiritual care as well.

The institution was sitting pretty on massive charitable donations, but don't assume that this generosity was selfless.

You see, if you made a big enough donation, the patients might pray for you.

And a prayer from someone with leprosy was said to have more spiritual currency, so to speak, than a normal prayer.

In other words, get on a leprosy patient's good side and you could ride shotgun all the way to heaven.

But in the mid-1300s, all of those warm, fuzzy feelings disappeared.

The Black Death was tearing through Europe and suddenly contagion was on everyone's mind.

Just like plague victims, those with leprosy were no longer seen with sympathy, but with fear.

By the late Middle Ages, people with leprosy were forced to wear distinctive clothing to identify themselves at all times and even ring a bell to announce their presence.

There were even events called leper masses that were held by the church in which ill people, very much alive ill people mind you, were declared dead to the church and society alike.

Why go through the hassle you might ask?

Well for one, this living death allowed relatives to steal all of the victims money and property in the name of inheritance.

And as you'd imagine, the more the church punished the sick, the more people with leprosy were stigmatized and abused.

And it wasn't only in Christianity either.

In the Japanese religion of Shintoism, the word used for leprosy is the same word for sin.

In ancient Persia, they believed a person was given leprosy as a punishment for, to quote Herodotus, sinning against the sun.

Soon though, Europe decided that bells and uniforms weren't enough.

No, it was time to get rid of these threats to public health altogether.

And thus the colonies and Lazaretti were born.

Now, these places weren't just for those with leprosy.

Plague victims were also sent there.

But here's the difference.

If you survived your bouts of plague, you would be allowed to go home.

But if you suffered from leprosy, you would be imprisoned on that island of nightmares for the rest of your life.

And if the ghost stories are true, maybe

even longer.

Once upon a time, there grew a a beautiful tree.

It was called the mancaniel and it had wide swaying branches that reached toward the sun like arms lifted up in prayer.

Hanging from these branches were thousands of emerald green leaves and nestled among those leaves were clusters of plump, ripe fruits.

But this tree, you see, had a secret.

It was twice as deadly as it was beautiful.

When weary visitors took shelter beneath the mancaniel during a storm, toxic milky white sap poured down on them, blistering and burning their skin.

When hungry travelers devoured its jewel-like fruits, they writhed in agony for hours.

Some never recovered.

Spanish explorers referred to this fruit as the little apple of death.

And it was on that very island that this tree grew, that thousands of human souls were about to be imprisoned forever.

But to understand why, it's helpful for us to back up and cover some of the context first.

In 1845, the British government opened a leprosarium in the coastal Trinidadian town of Coquorita, not far from Venezuela.

This leprosy outbreak, by the way, was their fault.

You see, Britain had enticed a vast number of Indian immigrants to move to Trinidad for menial labor jobs, the kind of jobs that they would never force on white workers.

They promised those laborers land if they signed up, and so Indian migrants came in droves, and they brought a little something with them.

That's right, leprosy.

The Cocorita Leprosarium held around 300 patients, Indians and locals alike.

I'm sure it wasn't a party in there, but its urban location meant that the patients could still be part of city life.

They wouldn't have to abandon their families or the land they had come to call home.

In other words, they were allowed to be human.

But in the 1910s, all of that changed.

According to new international regulations, it was announced that merely tucking patients away in a special facility wouldn't be enough.

No, they had to be as far from the the other people as possible.

And so, just like the Venetian government centuries before, Cokorita decided to banish everyone with leprosy to an island.

This island was called Shakashikare, and yes, it was indeed home to the world's most poisonous tree.

Now, they knew that the patients would never willingly move so far from the city, and so authorities figured out a plan to keep the peace.

They simply wouldn't tell the patients that this was happening at all.

Construction of the new facility was done in secret.

Healthier patients were snuck over to labor on the project while the rest were still kept in the dark.

That is, until the kidnapping started.

Between 1922 and 1926, patients would go to sleep in their own beds, only to be roused at 6 a.m.

and herded like cattle into the waiting arms of the police.

And then they'd be shoved onto boats and shipped out to the island.

And then finally, once the last patient was moved, they burned the facility to the ground.

And imagine for a moment how terrifying this all must have been.

Already you are weak with illness when guards rip you from your home and, with no explanation, abandon you on an island in the middle of nowhere.

An island, might I remind you, that is populated with some of the most poisonous, deadly species of plant life in existence.

And I would like to say that the patients were warned about the manconeal trees, but honestly, I haven't found record of that.

I'm willing to bet that some had to learn the hard way.

If things weren't already dismal enough though, men and women were held separately, never permitted to interact, and this lasted for decades.

During the 1940s, the sexes were at last allowed to mingle, but rather than improve life, it became even more devastating because any children born from these newly allowed unions were immediately stolen from their parents and placed in orphanages.

The families would never see each other again.

To be fair, some administrators on the island were kind.

One, a man named Dr.

Koros, even allowed some residents to sneak back to the mainland for visits.

But in 1955, he was fired and the patients were not pleased.

So displeased, in fact, that they staged a full-on revolt.

And while it worked to drive away the nuns currently running the facility, new ones simply came in to take their place and the cycle continued.

From its opening in the 1920s until the time it finally closed years later, roughly 2,000 people were imprisoned on the island.

Some for over 40 years.

Today, the Shakashikare Leprosarium lies in ruins.

But although the island has been abandoned by the living, I can't say the same about the dead.

It's no surprise that ghost stories about the former leper colony are plentiful.

People have reported seeing shadow figures and apparitions.

They've heard footsteps and voices floating through the old living quarters and the former convent.

Despite being a tropical island, cold spots hover in the air and visitors have even been shoved by unseen unseen hands.

One ghost story in particular claims that the island is haunted by an American nun named Sister Mary Luigi, who died by suicide in 1946.

Versions of the tale vary.

In some, she took her life after falling in love with a Venezuelan sailor.

In others, she had a tryst with a local fisherman, and in yet more, a priest.

In another version still, there was no lover at all, but rather a sister Mary was ordered to leave Chakashikare for another mission, and not wanting to go, she drowned herself in the sea.

Is there any evidence that even a scrap of these stories are true?

Not at all.

But that doesn't stop Mary Luigi's story from being a popular local legend.

And I can't help but notice how, even in folklore, it's a healthy white nun who gets to be the protagonist of the island's most told tale, rather than thousands of chronically ill locals who were forced to spend their lives and deaths imprisoned on Shakashikare.

It seems they have been exiled even in memory.

Now look, I get it.

It's easy to scoff at this kind of ghost story as nothing but tall tales and superstition.

But do you know who didn't scoff?

The Trinidadian Coast Guard.

In fact, many of these ghost reports actually come directly from members of the Coast Guard.

A few years after the Lepresarium closed, the Guard converted some of the old facility buildings into administrative offices and housing.

But pretty soon, they found the island entirely uninhabitable.

Why?

Well, because of the hauntings.

To quote one Coast Guard squadron commander describing a particular moment during his tenure on the island: These were four big men, well-trained men, and they had high-powered rifles sitting in the chapel back to back with rifles at the ready.

I said, Okay, you look like unsettled little boys who have seen a ghost.

And they said, Sir, there is a ghost.

Only six months later, the Coast Guard abandoned the island and they never returned.

You can tell a lot about a culture by how it treats its most vulnerable members.

How do we care for our elderly, our sick, our injured?

Do we band together to ensure every single life is equally valued?

Or, like so many did in the wake of these leprosy outbreaks, do we abandon those who need inclusion the most?

Don't get me wrong, in the world of infectious disease, there are clearly some types that can only be stopped by separating sick patients from their healthy neighbors.

The plague, tuberculosis, and COVID are all good examples of outbreaks where infection management saved lives.

But leprosy, science has proven that Hansen's disease is basically treatable with antibiotics.

And because of that, I wish I could say that leper colony stories are a thing of the past, relics of the world before modern healthcare and contemporary ethics had fully developed.

Except, well, that's not exactly true.

Shakashikare, for example, remained open until 1984, the same year that Ghostbusters and the Karate Kid came out.

We aren't talking about medieval history here.

These patients were contemporaries of Madonna and Cindy Lauper.

And multiple leper colonies still exist today.

Yes, in the year 2025, chronically ill people continued to be held at arm's length by fear and misinformation.

One of the most abusive leprosariums of all, however, closed its doors in 1990.

It was called Carville, and when it opened in 1894, the first patients, five men and two women, were forced into it at gunpoint.

Now, when I say patients, I'm being a little ahistorical here, because the administration actually referred to its residents not as patients, but inmates, and their treatment showed it.

They were prevented from voting until 1940.

They weren't allowed to marry until 1950.

One former inmate recalled being transferred to the institution 750 miles from his home in the back of a hearse.

He later said that it was, and I quote, viewed by my family as a trip to my grave.

In fact, the admission of patients to the facility there didn't switch to being voluntary until the all too recent year of 1970.

And if this feels like it hits a little too close to home, you're you're not exactly wrong.

Because you see, Carville wasn't just the name of the hospital.

It was also the name of the place where it was located.

A little town called Carville, Louisiana.

These stories are horrendous, it's true.

But the truth is all these quarantines were enacted in an attempt to prevent illness from spreading.

Disease is a terrifying foe.

It's invisible and mysterious and can travel from person to person, nation to nation, at alarming speeds.

And I have one more story for you that takes that threat to a whole new level.

Because the only thing more frightening than a disease traveling the world is a disease traveling between worlds.

Stick around through this brief sponsor break to hear all about it.

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So what do this animal

and this animal

and this animal

have in common?

They all live on on an organic valley farm.

Organic valley dairy comes from small organic family farms that protect the land and the plants and animals that live on it from toxic pesticides, which leads to a thriving ecosystem and delicious, nutritious milk and cheese.

Learn more at ov.coop and taste the difference.

On July 20th, 1969, astronauts set foot on the surface of the moon for the first time.

Since then, the event has gone down as one of the most momentous achievements in human history, the start of a new age of exploration and advancement.

Which is lucky, because for a while there, some wondered if that moon walk would mark a very different turning point, the extinction of life on Earth.

All because of two little words, moon germs.

You see, no one had ever gone to the moon and back before, so scientists had no idea if the astronauts would bring back some kind of horrible moon disease when they returned to Earth.

There was no data then about what tiny organisms might inhabit the moon, or whether they might be dangerous to humans.

And it wasn't just scientists who were freaked out.

Coincidentally, a Michael Crichton novel called The Andromeda Strain had been a bestseller that summer, a book about an infectious disease from outer space that threatens to wipe out humanity.

Not the best timing as far as NASA was concerned.

They actually received thousands of letters from concerned citizens begging them to be careful of these potentially deadly moon germs.

It was clear that something had to be done for scientific safety and public appeasement alike.

And so while Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins splashed down in the Pacific just four days after their historic walk, it would be another two and a half weeks before they were allowed to rejoin society.

That's right, it was time for a moon germ quarantine.

Here's how it all went down.

First, Navy swimmers greeted them right there in the ocean, handing over isolation garments complete with gas masks, which they quickly donned.

After being scrubbed down with a topical antiseptic, they were then ushered into what NASA had dubbed a mobile quarantine facility, which was, I kid you not, a tricked-out airstream trailer aboard the Navy's USS Hornet.

The trailer had been outfitted with everything from air filtration systems to air pressurization and more, not the least of which included a fancy microwave oven.

There, they were joined by a doctor named William Carpentier and NASA engineer John Hirosaki before the Airstream was loaded onto a plane and flown to Houston's lunar receiving lab, which boasted more spacious facilities and a larger staff to quarantine with.

So, what was life like in lunar quarantine?

Honestly, it sounded kind of cushy.

It was way way more luxurious than the cramped life that they lived aboard the spacecraft, that much was for sure.

And there was a lot more to do.

They spent their time playing ping pong, chatting on the phone with their families, watching TV, reading books, and of course, undergoing medical testing.

Neil Armstrong even celebrated his 39th birthday while in quarantine and was thrown a surprise party complete with a cake.

Oh, and he also had brought along a ukulele, which he happily strummed among his compatriots.

As Michael Collins later recalled, it was a happy little home.

We had gin on board, we had steaks, I could have stayed in there a lot longer.

Eventually though, Armstrong, Collins, and Aldrin emerged from quarantine totally healthy, and at once they embarked on a whirlwind of ticker-tape parades and state dinners, infecting no one with moon germs in the process.

But what a lot of people don't know is that this story could have had a very different ending, because if testing had revealed contamination, well, NASA had a plan to bury every single person in that laboratory alive.

Here's how it all would have gone down.

First, the facility would have been sealed up by armed guards.

Then the entire laboratory would have been buried under a mountain of dirt and concrete with the infected crew still inside.

And everyone involved knew this, mind you.

Lab technicians had already signed an agreement that they would not attempt to flee and that their next of kin would not be allowed to claim their bodies if they died.

Which might sound extreme, but the alternative would have seemed even worse.

the extinction of the entire human race.

So, the next time you look up at the moon, think of those brave astronauts and laboratory workers who were willing to sacrifice themselves for the good of our species, buried alive with no comfort but the haunting sound of a ukulele.

This episode of lore was produced by me, Aaron Mankey, with writing by Jenna Rose Nethercott, research by Cassandra DeAlba, and music by Chad Lawson.

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Of course, lore is much more than just a podcast.

There is the three-volume World of Lore book series available in bookstores and online and two seasons of the television adaptation on Amazon Prime.

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And as always, thanks for listening.

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