The stage for corruption is often set when the itchy occasion arises where “you scratch my back, I scratch yours”. This might be the cure – I scratch my back, you scratch yours. Well, just kidding.
When I was still much younger, I used to wonder why Grandma always carried with her an 18-inch long bamboo piece with a funny miniature hand at the end. Before long, as my once-supple body stiffened up, and my limbs became as flexible as the legs of a stool, and every joint creaked and moaned as I moved, the back scratcher has come to occupy its very own niche in my survival kit. I think there are 3 in my home now.
Oh, do carry one with you when you travel – Don’t Leave Home Without It !