Snakebite victim taken to faith healer first, dies after four and a half hours — van driver Azahar could not be saved

Azahar Howladar, a van driver, was bitten by a snake while cutting grass for his cow. The 38-year-old from Muladi in Barisal was not taken to a hospital after the bite; instead, family members first called a faith healer, an ojha, to perform jharfuk. About four and a half hours passed this way.

Only when his condition worsened was he taken to the Muladi Upazila Health Complex. Doctors there advised referring him to Barisal Sher-e-Bangla Medical College Hospital for better treatment. But by then it was already too late.

Azahar died before reaching the hospital. Sad as it is, the incident is a stark reflection of ignorance, superstition and neglect of medical care in our society.

In the case of a snakebite, getting to a hospital quickly and receiving antivenom when needed is the key to saving a life. Yet because of superstition and ignorance, people are losing precious treatment time.

At a time when science and technology are transforming people's lives, and when most people's time is spent on YouTube Shorts and Facebook Reels, the question arises: why do we still depend on ojhas for snakebite treatment?

It would be wrong to dismiss the Muladi incident as merely one family's ignorance. Behind it lie limited health services in remote areas, a lack of awareness about treatment, and a shortage of state initiatives to remove superstition. We must find the answer to why people turn to an ojha instead of a doctor in a moment of danger.

Azahar Howladar's death has also been described as bearing a strange resemblance to the country's overall situation. Whenever the country faces a crisis, instead of identifying the real cause and taking a scientific, effective path, we often resort to showy measures like jharfuk.

When the economy is in crisis, we hear mantras of assurance instead of structural reform; when corruption grows, formal investigations instead of accountability; when law and order deteriorates, seminars and statements instead of uprooting the roots of crime. In education, health, administration and the judiciary alike, attempts at solutions stay on the surface without going to the depth of the problem.

Azahar Howladar's death is a warning for us. Awareness must be raised at the village level to remove superstition, snakebite treatment must be made easily available, and emergency health services must be ensured. At the same time, in running the state too, the culture of jharfuk must be abandoned in favour of evidence-based decisions, accountability and effective reform.

Just as snake venom does not come out with jharfuk, a country's crisis does not pass with mantras of assurance. The ojha's jharfuk could not save Azahar — and that reality is now driving the demand to ensure awareness and medical care.