‘George you have got a letter,’ Camara stopped me at the entrance to my office.
‘Looks like from outside’ while I was opening the letter, he tried to peep into it which was one of his bad habits that Dr. Harris always screamed at him for.
‘Dear George,
Be the grace of God with you!
It has already been a long time since you left Conakry. Hope you are happy and successful in the home country. How is your job? Do you still work with the Non-Governmental organisation which you were attached to when you were in Conakry?
Our lives have become more complicated than it used to be. Ebola has stolen many lives in Guinea. It has stolen Mothers from infants who were not even weaned, Breadwinners from poor families, husbands from wives, sisters from brothers, and left nothing but hopelessness and horror at the horizon.
Many selfless health workers have already sacrificed their lives. It had created a huge vacuum in the health system in the country, leading to a far more deteriorating situation as far as the epidemic is concerned.
Besides all of that, the people in rural villages do not accept the existence of the disease and they think that it was a western conspiracy to eradicate African population from the world. No white person can go to the most prevalent remote villages where the people believe that the white man mixed some poison to polio-vaccination campaign in rural Guinea. Unfortunately, that outbreak coincided with the vaccination campaign, and it has become nearly impossible to convince those illiterate people of the fact that there was no co-relation between Ebola and Polio vaccination campaign.
We have something called ETU−Ebola treatment unit where the patients are kept isolated and treated to minimise further spread of the disease, but a couple of times the villagers attacked ETUs assuming that white men take body parts of their relatives while they are alive and then announce their loved ones are dead. Rumour-driven nature of these societies has hampered the impact of the international efforts in controlling the transmission. The myths about the disease, cultural practices, especially, burial practices and the reluctance in accepting the existence of Ebola have become challenges in containing the epidemic.
Besides all the negatives, there are youth volunteers and some tribal leaders who are trying their best to spread the message on how to prevent, but, to be honest, it is scary that the disease spreads faster than the little progress that everyone who fight the epidemic has made.
Lack of experts, skilled workers and the health infrastructure to address such a virulently spreading epidemic have resulted in cascading effects in Guinea. For example, many companies and organisations have left increasing the unemployment and poverty levels to sky high, more than a half of health workers have died leaving less and fewer people to take care of the sick increasing the death toll. Shops and markets are closed and communal activities such as gathering including our mass, are banned. The whole country is in a death-trap.
We pray every single hour, but nothing seems to be heard. Ebola looks like a real curse coming from the bush.
And I heard that there were cases in Liberia too, and the day it would penetrate the territory of Sierra-Leone will not be far. Trust me. It`s a curse of the demon that forced us to question our faith sometimes. But it is important to believe in God. Be safe and keep praying!
However, I would love to hear news about you. And I hope it is high time for people like you had come to the forefront of the battle against this demonic force that has just entered your motherland.
May God bless you for every single initiative you take in serving the people in need!
May God bless you!
Pastor Jean-Paul.’
A sudden thought of guilt hit the deepest place in my heart when I saw it was the Pastor Jean-Paul. It looked like I had forgotten my roots of success while I was busy succeeding. Then my thoughts shifted to the content of the letter which gave me an exact picture of what Liberia would be like in coming few months’ time. It was a picture of horror and woe that one would never want to imagine of. I tore a piece of paper from a notebook and wrote a reply to the Pastor Jean-Paul apologising for not having been able to write to him for a long time and in which I did not forget to explain the deteriorating situation in Liberia as well.
‘And I hope that it is high time for people like you had come to the forefront of the battle against this demonic force that has just entered your motherland.’ It was the response to what Dr. Harris asked me a few days ago. ‘But sooner or later, we all have to respond the Ebola epidemic which seems to be approaching us. What will be your position?’ But my childhood trauma, witnessing the Bush-curse in Kissi village, pulled my heroic and humanitarian thoughts miles back. And my children and Aminatta added more weight to the strength of the traumatic memories. I found myself on a horn of dilemma when Dr. Harris asked me to go with him to Lofa on a field visit with him. That evening I went home not knowing how to tell Aminatta that I was supposed to go to Lofa with Dr. Harris to visit a place where the patients were being treated.
‘Tomorrow I will go in the field with Dr. Harris,’ I said. But Aminatta had noticed the fictitiousness in my voice and asked whether it was an area affected by Ebola.
I said, ‘No.’ It was the first lie I uttered consciously but not with an idea of cheating her but just to avoid her panicking after hearing that I was going to Lofa.
The Following day, Dr. Harris and I visited a local hospital where a temporary ward for Ebola had been opened. Before entering the ward, we were given special gears to wear. A multi-layered dress that covered the full body to avoid contacts with anything that was contagious. After putting on the first layer, I already started sweating. After dressing up, I looked at myself. I was just like an astronaut.
‘This is called PPE—Personal protection equipment. These are vital for protecting the life of those who care for the patients,’ one doctor in the ward told me.
‘But, unfortunately, we do not have sufficient equipment and workforce to address the epidemic as it spreads faster than we thought.’ He sighed.
‘We are trained by one organisation that operated in Guinea, but many health workers do not want to join as they have already heard what happened in there. Who would like to risk their lives?’ He continued.
‘Samuel,’ When Dr. Harris called his first name, I noticed that they knew each other before.
‘We have got some funds, but we are still wondering where we should deploy them? We would either start an ETU or support an ongoing hospital. Still, It is not clear to me as yet; the epidemic is limited to Lofa, and it looks that it can be contained in case the health system works properly.’ Dr. Harris verbalised his opinion without hiding as he always used to do.
‘Dr. Harris, the problem is more serious than we think. You and I know about the cases that are reported to be assumably the minority. In Lofa, there are many isolated villages that no one pays attention to. On top of that, there are no passable roads during the rainy seasons. Many people who contract Ebola die in the bush without being added to the count that we take. They do not know what Ebola is; probably they might call it a witchcraft or a curse as it always happens in rural villages, whenever there is an epidemic that eradicates several hundreds of human lives at a time. Also, they are not aware of preventive measures. Their primary food source is bush meat. Their traditions involve close contacts with the sick and the dead, and they believe in traditional healers than the allopathic doctor. So what can you expect in such situations? People die one after the other in remote tropical jungles. Dr. Harris, this is a dangerous thing. We need immediate attention before the same thing that happened in Guinea breaks out here.’ Dr. Samuel paused.
‘Well, understand the issue, and this is not my first African country. What have you identified as immediate needs?’ Dr. Harris asked.
‘We need to separate this place from standard wards as soon as possible. Here we do not have separate toilets; we do not have sufficient space, no adequate beds, and human resources. In reality, we risk not only our lives but also the lives of other patients. This is not how Ebola patients should be treated. The circumstances have compelled us to break ethical standards of treatments. While handling a few confirmed cases, we keep the suspected cases in an environment where they may contract the virus from the ward, and the same risk is there for the patients in other wards and the health workers who are in this small regional hospital. If you can, provide us with a few tents, a dozen of beds and few safe plastic toilets. At the same time, we do not have nurses who have proper education and will.’ Dr. Samuel looked like a red beetle caught in a cobweb.
‘Well, I think you may get a positive response from our headquarters. In fact, it should not be unreasonable. Do you have an approximate budget for this in case it is done using the labour in Lofa?’ Dr. Harris asked walking towards the empty land next to the hospital compound.
‘Here it looks ideal’ He added.
‘I will send it to you tomorrow itself. Probably before you go back to Monrovia, I will meet you,’ Dr. Samuel said hopefully with an enthusiastic air.
‘That will be great Samuel. I will look forward to it.’
Next day morning before we left Vonjama, Dr. Samuel had come to meet Dr. Harris. They discussed for some time and greeted each other, but the usual handshake of Dr. Harris was not there to be seen.
‘Well, we might come again. See you then,’ he said getting into the Jeep. I noticed Dr. Samuel waiting at the gate of the hospital looking at the passing vehicle. After a few minutes, at the terminus of the straight gravel road he disappeared into the horizon. He reminded me of how I kept looking at the shore of the river while I was leaving for Monrovia. I would never forget the inexplicability of the complexity of the feeling that was a blend of hopefulness and uncertainty.