Sleeping Sickness Parasite Susceptible to Extinction Because It Hasn't Had Sex in 10,000 Years

Evolution is a good thing, even for parasites.

sleeping sickness parasite

Photo: Zephyris. CC BY-SA 3.0

Join Our Community of Science Lovers!

This article was published in Scientific American’s former blog network and reflects the views of the author, not necessarily those of Scientific American


Like a lot of people, I make sure to get a flu shot every year. That’s because the viruses that cause influenza mutate all the time, creating new strains that require new treatments.

That’s not the case with the disease known as African sleeping sickness, which kills thousands of people a year. Sleeping sickness is caused by a parasite called Trypanosoma brucei gambiense, which can be transmitted to humans by the bite of tsetse flies (species from the genus Glossina). Symptoms of the disease start with fevers and pain but can eventually include lack of coordination, mental confusion, numbness, and (despite the name) inability to sleep. Left untreated, it can lead to organ failure, coma and death.

Luckily, sleeping sickness treatment has a phenomenal success rate when drugs are available. It’s a long process that requires up to two years of post-infection monitoring, and the treatment can cause its own damage and side effects, but it works.


On supporting science journalism

If you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.


Treatment also doesn’t require the development new drugs every year because the protozoan parasite doesn’t mutate like viruses. It’s always the same. In fact, according to a paper published this week in the journal eLife, T. b. gambiense has stayed exactly the same for something like 10,000 years.

That’s because the parasite doesn’t reproduce sexually. Every individual is basically a clone of every other individual. Not only that, every T. b. gambiense parasite on the planet is apparently a clone of the very first T. b. gambiense parasite, which mutated into existence many millennia ago.

The parasite does still mutate, but researchers found that it rejects any new mutations on the chromosomal level by repairing inferior or mutated genes by “copying and pasting” genes from other chromosomes.

As the paper mentions, asexual organisms have a high risk of extinction because they don’t evolve. That, the researchers write, may eventually be the fate of T. b. gambiense. In fact, the paper suggests that one variation of the parasite, which had previously been detected in Côte d’Ivoire and Burkina Faso, may actually already be extinct as it hasn’t been seen since the 1990s.

In a statement to the media, lead author Willie Weir of the University of Glasgow said this paper could help researchers to develop new treatments for sleeping sickness. That, in turn, could theoretically eventually even lead to the extinction of the parasite. It’s not all that different a scenario than what’s going on today with the Guinea worm (Dracunculus medinensis), a parasitic nematode that is near extinction thanks to the efforts President Jimmy Carter’s foundation, or the cattle disease rinderpest, which was declared extinct in 2011.

The threat of human-caused extinction is the very reason this column exists, and it’s usually a terrible thing, but every once in a rare moon an extinction is something worth celebrating. Maybe one day in the future we’ll be doing just that after the last T. b. gambiense parasite has seen its time on Earth draw to a close.

John R. Platt is the editor of The Revelator. An award-winning environmental journalist, his work has appeared in Scientific American, Audubon, Motherboard, and numerous other magazines and publications. His "Extinction Countdown" column has run continuously since 2004 and has covered news and science related to more than 1,000 endangered species. John lives on the outskirts of Portland, Ore., where he finds himself surrounded by animals and cartoonists.

More by John R. Platt

Subscribe to Support Independent Journalism

Great science journalism requires human expertise, time, effort and creativity. And it costs money. That’s why I and the journalists here at Scientific American hope you’ll join our community.

When you subscribe, you are supporting staff and freelance journalists who are passionate about telling science stories that are true, important and compelling. Our editors and reporters are often experts in their fields, which means they understand the nuances of big discoveries and can untangle the breakthroughs from the hype. With a subscription, you are also supporting rigorous fact-checking to ensure the words we publish are precise and accurate. And you’re supporting original illustrations, graphics and photos that bring you closer to an advanced laboratory, an ice sheet in Antarctica or a space mission in orbit. You’re helping us craft other types of high-quality journalism as well: Our newsletters are carefully written, edited and curated by staffers you have or will come to know and love. Our Science Quickly podcast is based on original reporting, collaboration with editors and scientists and exacting production.

Subscriptions keep this engine running so we can continue to deliver thoughtful, rigorous and independent science journalism to you. In an era of viral misinformation, this work is crucial. If you value what we do, I hope you’ll consider joining us as a subscriber

Thank you,

Jeanna Bryner, Editor in Chief, Scientific American

Subscribe