The Poison Chronicles: Calabar Bean – A Life-Saving Ordeal

Another of my posts on the Manchester Museum Herbarium blog, on when an ordeal can become a remedy.

Herbology Manchester

calabar-bean-1 Calabar beans and seed cases from the collection of the Manchester Museum Herbarium. 

Guest Post by Laura Cooper

For much of human history, people have sought to find a way to prove or disprove a person’s guilt. Today, we hope evidence and a fair trial will do this, but people have always wanted a quick and definitive way of doing this. This is where the idea of the trial by ordeal came in. Most people are familiar with the practice of dunking suspected witches in bodies of water in parts of 17th century Europe; if they floated they were guilty and if they sunk they were innocent. But in what was then called the Calabar region (now North-East Nigeria) in the 19th century, a particularly poisonous seed was used in these trials by ordeal. This plant, known as the Calabar bean, Physostigma venenosum, became notorious as a…

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The Poison Chronicles: Cyanide -Cassava’s Built in Pesticide

Another post on the Manchester Museum’s Herbarium blog, on cyanide and cassava.

Herbology Manchester

Guest Post by Laura Cooper

wp_20170109_11_56_21_proManihot esculenta leaf sewn onto this Herbarium sheet.

I remember hearing as a small child the rumour that swallowing a single apple seed would kill you. Whilst I later learnt that this was false, it is true that the cyanide in apple seeds means that theoretically, chewing a large number could cause poisoning.

Cyanide is a simple chemical produced by many organisms, often as an unwanted by-product. But cyanide is found in relatively high levels in many plant species, including the seeds of many common food plants, such as peaches, almonds, and legumes.

cassava Manihot esculenta tubers, sold as cassava or yuca. Source.

The cyanogenic plant I will focus on here is cassava, Manihot esculenta, also known as yucca. It’s tubers are a major carbohydrate source throughout the tropics due to its drought tolerance and ability to thrive in poor soil. It is probably most…

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The Poison Chronicles: Hemlock

I wrote a post about Hemlock for the Manchester Museum Herbarium Blog.

Herbology Manchester

wp_20170123_15_44_17_pro Herbarium Sheet of Conium maculatum from the Manchester Museum Herbarium

Guest Post by Laura Cooper

Poison hemlock (Conium maculatum) is one of the most notorious of poisonous plants. It’s best known as the poison that killed the philosopher Socrates, and may even be indirectly responsible for the deaths of quail eaters, but even this species has been used as a medicine.

wp_20170123_15_44_31_proConium maculatum achenes from the Manchester Museum Herbarium

Conium maculatum is in the family Apiaceae. Many species in this family resemble hemlock as they possess white flowers in umbels, branches of the stem which form a flat surface, and pinnate leaves, resemble parsely (Petroselinum crispum) and wild carrot (Daucus carota). This has lead to foragers accidentally poisoning themselves, but most are put off by the “mousy” or foetid odour and bitter taste. This and red spots that appear on the base of the plant in spring…

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The Poison Chronicles: Deadly Nightshade — Herbology Manchester

Guest Post by Laura Cooper Binomials can be a pain to learn, but they often have a hidden poetry. Deadly nightshade’s common name stresses its notoriety as a poison. But it’s binomial, Atropa belladonna, is far more beautiful and apt. The genus name is derived from Atropus, one of the three Fates of Greek Mythology, […]

via The Poison Chronicles: Deadly Nightshade — Herbology Manchester

Book Review: How To Survive a Plague by David France

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My generation are some of the first to grow up with HIV infection as a treatable condition. We only know a world where combination HAART can give those newly infected an undetectable viral load and a nearly normal lifespan, so we largely lack the fear and stigma which surrounded AIDS from its beginning. It is easy for us to think, yes, HIV/AIDS was and is tragic, but the modern treatments are as good as a cure, so it’s no real problem now. But such complacency is wrong.

David France opens How to Survive a Plague with the funeral of Spencer Cox, a member of the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP) who suggested that HIV researchers test  the drug Crixivan in large simple trials to produce data fast and get the drug on the market. This scene is not at the height of the plague but in 2013. The drug combinations he and many others were saved by in 1996 became ineffective, as his HIV strain mutated to snake past all available HIV drugs. What it is vital for those born after the plague years to know is that treatability does not entail dismissal. And France’s book details the struggle and stubbornness, as well as plenty of setbacks and self-aggrandizement, it took to get to where AIDS is today.

France runs a history of the science of HIV/AIDS alongside and intertwining with the history of activism. His writing is less pacy when writing on the research compared to when writing about the high drama of drug trials, but forgivable given his background. France is an AIDS activism insider. He is among the crowds of plague survivors at Cox’s funeral and is connected to the story’s main players. Though the scope and tone of the book somewhat resembles Siddhartha Mukherjee’s “Big Book of Cancer”, it does not attempt to magisterial objectivity. This means the book is How to Survive a Plague (as a gay male activist and journalist in New York, 1981-96). At the books heart is a small world of New York activists. San Francisco is a distant oasis separated by the dry sands of prejudice, to say nothing of the rest of the world. But narrowness is key to the intimacy France creates by following key figures like characters in a novel through what would otherwise be a fog of names, dates and acronymns.

Some of his stars include the musician Michael Callen, Richard Berkowitz and their physician Joseph Sonnabend, who together authored a 1982 book advising on safe sex. There is Larry Kramer, the mercurial playwright crucial in ACT UP’s founding and Peter Staley, the ex-Wall Street trader who protested against the high price of the drug AZT at the New York Stock Exchange. The book is rich in the tales of these and others fighting have AIDS taken seriously by scientists and law-makers.

What was new about the AIDS epidemic was how activists engaged with research. Theatre major and high school dropouts were reading the scientific literature on HIV/AIDS and presenting their own illnesses at conferences so they could challenge drug companies and government officials on funding and clinical trials. ACT UP’s famous mantra was “drugs into bodies”, they intended to get as many people on the best drugs quickly. This was strikingly at odds with a government and medical establishment characterized by it’s neglect, greed and indifference.

Successes finally emerged when researchers and activists worked together. AIDS activists suggested the parallel track method of clinical trials, which generated good data from a carefully controlled clinical trial, but those who aren’t the ‘perfect patient’ trials need can get the drugs. The drug Crixivan appeared promising in the early 1990s, so was rapid rushed from test tube to human trials via the substitution of animal trials for a ‘big chimp trial’, a scientist heroically took the drug themselves. But the manufacturer Merck faced was slow in producing enough of the drug for the Phase II trials, so driven by love and despair activist Tom Blout on Merck’s community advisory board was getting the drug bootlegged for lover Jim Straley, who died after his supply ran out.

Such a personal history of an emotive topic runs the risk of whiggish hagiography, but France’s acknowledgement of the failures and successes of activist groups keeps it balanced. The pitfalls of activist-driven medicine as shown in the case of AZT. Pressure from activists to value hast came at the cost of efficacy, when the good outcomes early in the Phase II clinical trial of the drug meant the trial was stopped prematurely and the drug approved in record time. But AZT was ultimately found to have no effect on lifespan, not captured in the short trial. But the scientists have plenty of flaws as well. There was a narrow focus by the NIH on trials of drugs which targeted the HIV virus, at the expense of developing treatment for the opportunistic infections which actually kill AIDS patients. But by the end of the plague, activists and scientists largely collaborated to temper each others’ faults. There is comedy in some of ACT UP’s stunts, such as the unfurling of a giant condom over the house of anti-AIDS research Senator Jesse Helms. But throughout the book runs a sense of the great, howling injustice of the willful ignorance of the AIDS crisis by those in power.

The book ends in 1996, the end of the plague years, the survivors dissipated. But the plague still shuffles on, wreaking havoc for those lacking access to treatment and bruised by previous treatments. AIDS casts a long shadow over the LGBTQ community, but the grief and anger spurred activists into becoming more vocal in demanding their own humanity be respected. The consequences of their actions reverberate in every pride march and every newly-out teenager today.

Burned Up Beech

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In the park behind my parents’ house, there is a beech tree with a burnt out heart.

This park is really two suburban parks established in the 19th century by munificent local mill owners as a place for their workers to go other than the pub on weekend afternoons. Over the years the parks have fused. Together they grade into the surrounding woodland, these remnants of an older place from which the parks were carved and held in a suspended state, all else shorn and shrouded under houses.

Paths are threaded through the wood; heavy rain causes the clay to shift under the soil and the path occasionally slumps into the river. Trees are pulled in as well, swept away or up turned with their great roots to the sky. An Anthropocene Scene; the trees have plastic bags tangled into them like trapped ghosts. And little bags of dog poo decorate the trees like Christmas decorations, left by those without the patience to find a bin. But the growth-stretched skulls carved 15ft up a tree trunk hint at a deeper history.

This beech tree is situated behind a running track. It is a subliminal space; amateur athletics to the back, to the front the uncanny knocks of woodpeckers. Wild and illicit, but mundane and suburban as well. Beside the beech is a fallen brethren. Someone decided this trunk should have been planed into a seat, to this the woods have sent hyphae and added shelves of bracket fungi. There is a little clearing in front of my tree, a perfect setting for a ritual.

I walk these woods alone at strange and secret times, tapping out the same route year after year so that I do not really travel through space but instead through time, seeing each tree change its face for a new season. My ritual is ecological and personal, I move through time as it changes nature and changes myself.

Others have other rituals in this place, events I do not see but find evidence of. In cucumber-cool summer mornings I find crushed cans, little plastic baggies and the charred remains of a fire in the clearing. It is a natural place to congregate. A wild tamed no place to loosen your mind with drink and drugs.

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I’ve always known the tree as having a gaping black wound from its roots stretching two metres up the tree and through the bark, pith and heartwood. All that the fire has left is a centimetres thick crescent at its back. I do not know when it happened, when the heartwood burned. It must have been quite a scene, flames licking up the trunk; fire ascending. I don’t blame who did it, I know the tempting itch of fire on wood is one sometimes not easily overcome. When the ash settled, what remained was a top heavy tree. Above a mostly intact stumpy trunk and branches, but below supported by the fragile inches of tissue that link the rest to the roots.

But this does not mean the tree is dead.

Trees are resilient in a very different way to animals. Lacking the choice of a quick escape all plants are hardy, but trees’ bulk prevents them from taking the cowardly annual option. They must retain their trunks all year, feeding the living tissue stored sugars and minerals. Whilst leafless, the tree starves until spring budding. Unlike vertebrates who tuck stem cell deep into the bone marrow, plants keep their stem cells under the bark throughout the tree. This means the idea of the individual blurs when we considered plants. For many plants, a part can break off and use its stem cells to form a new, cloned whole. These stem cells allowed my beech, horrifically mauled, to still put out leaves for another spring and nuts for another autumn. Though the heartwood is burnt, the name is deceptive. For a tree is not run by the heart, or anyone part. If the xylem and phloem course through the remaining tissue, the plant can endure, adapt and bloom once more.

The beech’s cavity is large enough for me to stand inside. The air changes, gone is the fury and wet-cold of the winter wind. Where the heartwood once is still and warm. The sounds of the woods are muffled.

I think of Ariel imprisoned and tormented in the pine and how different this is. I would have the tissues knit over me and take me in and we will grow together, a full canopy.

But chimerism is no solution. I meet this tree so often as it is a thing living despite unspeakable damage done to it and I want to learn from it, not join it. I want to know endurance in a harsh world where harsh things are done; I want to know how to have been burned and keep living.

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The Poison Chronicles: Deadly Doping with Strychnos nux-vomica

I wrote a blog post for the Manchester Herbarium on the many roles of strychnine.

Herbology Manchester

dsc_0805Strychnos nux-vomica‘s bumpy nuts

Guest post by Laura Cooper

Strychnine is an infamous poison. It is most well-known by its appearance in the novels of Agatha Christie as an effective but unsubtle method of murder. It was widely available in the 19th century from chemists as a rat poison, but this was taken advantage of by a number of real life serial killers including Dr Thomas Cream who gave disguised as a medicine and in alcohol. But strychnine had another side to it. Its caffeine- like stimulating effects means it has been used as a performance enhancing drug in competitive sports.

wp_20161220_15_08_17_pro Herbarium sheet of Strychnos nux-vomica

Strychnine, along with the toxin brucine, is present in the seeds of Strychnos nux-vomica. Though its name is lurid, it does not have anything to do with vomiting, “nux vomica” translates as ‘bumpy nut’. S. nux-vomica is in the family Loganiaceae and…

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