ON an evening visit once toMalate, in downtown Manila, I saw a man slumped against the wall of a bank. Under the unforgivinglybright neon strip-light of the ATM sign, I saw that his face, neck, the palms of his hands, even the soles of his bare feet,though blackened with grime and dirt, were covered in ghastly sores and angry red rashes. Around the corners of his mouth were warty pustules. It was a terrible sight. As someone who has read more than enough lavishly illustrated nineteenth century medical texts on infectious diseases,Ihad a horrible suspicion what the man’s illness might be. My immediate thoughtwas syphilis. If my hunch was right, the man was in the secondary stage of the disease. The characteristic features were clearly visible and he was highly contagious.