You pop a paracetemol for a headache, an Anadin for a muscle cramp or a small antihistamine for your hay fever. Tiny pills for usually tiny, mild ailments. To prevent malaria, it’s almost the same procedure: to ward against the disease you simply swish a daily regime of minuscule tablets down with a glass of water. And most people are familiar with the unwelcome but necessary rigmarole of getting jabs before they travel to protect them against dangerous diseases. But don’t be fooled; malaria is no minor sickness. “Don’t ever think that just because you have to take just a tablet for it, it can’t be too bad,” warns Jo Yirrel. It’s advice she has learned the hard way.

Her son Harry, 20, returned from his excursions in Africa aglow with the sense of discovery and fulfilment only a gap year immersed in a different culture can induce. Scarcely a fortnight later he died, a victim of malaria.

Harry had been on a four-month excursion from Morocco to Ghana bringing school supplies to destitute Ghanaian villages. He spent the months helping out in their schools, working on building projects and falling in love with the local children. “When he came back, he looked brilliant,” says Mrs. Yirrel. “I picked him up at the airport and he had hardly even got into the car and said: ‘I’ve got to go back.’”

On his trip however, Harry neglected to take the regime of anti-malarial pills prescribed to him by his doctor. This was not because he was lazy, or forgetful, but because he underestimated the risk the disease posed to himself. Yet he knew it was a devastating and potentially lethal affliction; he saw it first-hand as it ravaged the local children he worked with. So selflessly, he gave them his pills. “He felt sorry for them,” says his mother. “They needed the tablets more than him, he wanted to make their bouts better.” That nobility of spirit cost him his life.

What is malaria?

Before 1880 malaria was presumed to come from the air of stagnant swamps, which is how it got the name “mal aria” (“bad air” in Latin). The early diagnosis had the location for contracting the disease correct, but not its cause. Murky bogs are prime breeding ground for mosquitoes whose larvae begin life as aquatic creepy crawlies - the actual cause is not marsh air, but the sting of the adult bugs. They pass the microorganism that causes the disease into your bloodstream when they nip you.

What are the symptoms?

If you get bitten by a mosquito that carries the parasite you won’t feel the effects of the infection for at shortest a week or even up to several months. Initially it feels similar to flu with symptoms like headaches, fever and vomiting. These will last for several hours in regularly occurring attacks that then subside. The malaria microbes infect red blood cells causing them to rupture. In about 12 per cent of cases this becomes life threatening. The brain or other major organs become infected, like in Harry’s case, and become unable to operate.

How high is the risk?

Everyone travelling in a malarial region is at risk, even if it is just for a short amount of time. Think about it; it takes about one tenth of a second for a hungry mosquito to jab you. Malaria is responsible for 300 to 500 million acute bouts of the illness and approximately one million deaths annually. Of those infected, 30,000 cases are visitors on their travels. Even if you’ve lived in a malaria zone before and are returning, don’t presume you have built up an immunity. Studies show that any immunity gets lost in a very short amount of time spent away from the area.

What can I do about it?

Catching the disease early can lead to its treatment. When Harry first fell ill, his GP advised him to wait and see how things developed assuming that he probably had a bad flu or virus. It was Mrs. Yirrel who researched the symptoms on the Internet and insisted that he be tested for the parasite. She doesn’t blame the doctors for not diagnosing what was truly wrong with Harry earlier, explaining that it’s not a disease normally seen in the UK, with only a handful of places equipped to treat tropical illnesses. Because of this, Mrs Yirrel now spends a large part of her life travelling the UK speaking to people and medical professionals advising them about the real risk malaria poses.

From her experience, Harry’s mother says that knowing that your GP could be unfamiliar with malaria and other tropical maladies is information that a prospective gap year traveller must take to heart and be proactive about. Read up before you leave on where you are going and what diseases you may be exposed to, then take that information to your doctor. “What I have learned,” she says, “is that you have the right to go to your GP and say ‘I am going to this country, they have this, this and this [disease], what do I need to take to be safe?’”

Mrs Yirrel is not against gap year journeys even after the tragedy of her son’s death. “Don’t not be excited to travel,” she says, “but investigate where you are going. If you can afford to travel you can afford to take money out of that budget to take care of your health.” Many big-brand prescription drugs can be costly but there are many generic anti-malarials are available, so comparison-shop for the most affordable.

Even after her heartbreaking experience, Mrs Yirrel is still eager for her three other sons, Bert, 20, Berry, 16, and Buster, 15, to travel. They too want to go to Ghana to see the land that their older brother loved. “I saw the benefits [of the gap year for Harry]. Before he left he was a bit, ‘Oh god, what do I do now?’ But when he got to Ghana he knew.”

Find out if your travels will be taking you into a malaria zone here.

Then talk to your doctor and find out what precautions are necessary

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