35
It was a usual busy Monday morning in Monrovia. I was in one of the few public buses running in the city, heading towards Elwa in Gray-town where the newly opened ETU was. After passing the famous Elwa junction in Paynesville which was one of the highly affected areas by the ongoing Ebola crisis, I got down the bus. In less than 50 meters, one could notice the white flag that was flapping in the humid air with the emblem of my organisation. No one could go unnoticed the Red colour ‘Danger!’ the board that had been fixed tightly to the grilled metal gate, white colour temporary shelters and red plastic fences that demarcated the safe zone from the danger zone that was a feature unique to ETUs.
‘Why you here?’ The security officer, who was holding the thermometer as if he was holding a nine-millimetre pistol, asked me in an authoritative intonation.
‘My man, where you go?’ Even before I prepared to say why I was there, he threw the same question at me in a different way which gave me a good clue that he was well aware of the purpose of him being posted there. Relatives of many Ebola victims were longing to see their loved ones even though they were not allowed beyond the red fence. Most often, after the admission apart from those who survived; relatives would not often see patients except for a few telephone calls they made and a few visits until the Red-fence till they saw the casket at the burial ground. Upon the confirmation of the death, they went to the burial ground and wept laying over a pile of soil on which there was a cross with the name of the dead one. They had a very slim chance to see the face of their loved ones who had left them silently. And they did not know if it was their father, mother, son, daughter, husband or wife if not for the name written on the cross with birth and death days.
For us Africans, who used to keep the dead bodies of our loved ones for a couple of weeks and grieve together in communities, burying the loved ones even without seeing their faces or practising proper funeral rituals was hard to imagine. Therefore, it was not surprising to see extremely emotional reactions when they were denied access to give the last drop of water to their loved ones, who were about to release the last bit of air held in their lungs. When preclude them from being buried following the traditional funeral rituals that were believed to be vital, not only for the dead one to join their ancestors but also for the surviving family members to have a dignified life among their tribesmen as traditions dictated everything in African societies, people reacted with violence. The failure to perform such traditional practices unique to each event of life was considered to be disgraceful as well as a violation of traditional rules.
‘Here my official identity card,’ I showed him my official identity card of my organisation. I had not been in this ETU before; therefore he could not have seen me.
‘Oh ok ok,’ you are new?
‘No. I work in the office in Congo town,’ I told him with a smile noticing that he was becoming tamed.
‘Wash your hands, Sir,’ he said and took my temperature like anywhere else before entering the building.
‘Today on I am a nurse here, take me to the office please.’
‘What your name? I asked in Liberian way.
‘Robert,’ He replied.
‘I security here. Long time.’ He said.
‘Long time?’ I asked since I knew the ETU was a newly built one.
‘Ya, Oh, One month. The day brought first brick, I here,’ he said pompously making me laugh.
‘Office,’ he showed me a tent outside the red plastic fence.
‘Hi,’ noticing that I was there Dr. Harris came out. I did not know that he was there.
‘How the body Sir?’
‘Good George,’
‘How are you?’
‘This is Dr. Annabelle, she is an Ebola expert who first worked in Uganda, then Gekeloulou, Guinea. Now she is here. She is your immediate boss this point on.’ Dr. Harris introduced his colleague to me.
‘This is George; he is a qualified and committed nurse who worked with me for a couple of years. As I told you on the other day, he is the best person I can deploy for this position. Get the best out of him!’ He told Dr. Annabelle who was observing me from head to toe.
‘George, you can learn a lot from Annabelle. She is one of the most experienced doctors we have with us.’
‘George, I will give you a detailed orientation about the ETU since you have never worked in an ETU before, and then you will be starting the work tomorrow onward. But before all, I need to tell you that this is a risky job, and you need to be constantly conscious throughout the work.’
After the briefing and practical sessions on how to wear the PPE and Do`s and Don’t`s in the ETU, I was sent to another room for the training on taking care of Ebola patients and self-care as well. For the first time in my life, I saw a capsule in which the Ebola patients were evacuated, and it was standby day and night for medical evacuation to the treatment units abroad in case any VIP contracted Ebola. An unusual transparent plastic coffin-like thing with tubes and nozzles nearly stole my breath for a while.
‘These nozzles are used to remove any solid to liquid waste of the person, and tubes are for feeding and giving medication,’ my trainer, Dr. Michael who was an expatriate doctor specialised in Ebola, Marburg, and other haemorrhagic fevers, told me.
‘Now we will put our PPEs on and visit wards’ Dr. Michael said.
Infants with lactating mothers who barely breathed; in some wards entire families and old people who had already given up the fight and waiting until their breath was taken away. Some infected mothers and fathers were grieving over the death of their children and also women who had no energy left to wipe the tears coming for the death of their husbands. Men who had already surrendered to the demon yet worrying about how their families were doing and everyone was looking tired fighting an impossible battle, waiting to give up but someone on the earth seemed to be keeping them still alive was all that I witnessed which was hard to believe to exist on this earth. Before, I had never seen such an intense physical and psychological suffering. Unlike the time of the Bush-Curse which I experienced in the villages where people fell sick one after the other, here witnessing hundreds of people whose eyes said nothing but the warrant for death, was deeply shocking.
Under the PPE a stream of sweat was oozing along my body and had accumulated in my boots which made me feel like walking in warm water. And I realised why Dr. Michael asked not to stay in a PPE for more than ninety minutes.
Ward-rounds drained my psychic and physical energy to the extent that I felt faintish when I reached the office where Dr. Annabelle had been. I was still sweating, and all my clothes were completely wet as if I had walked under a heavy shower.
‘It is tiring, especially when you are new to the PPE,’ Dr. Annabelle said having noticed me sweating.
‘How do you like working in the ETU?’
‘Dr. I like it even though it looks hard,’ I allowed my true feelings to come out.
‘Ok, we need people with willingness and right attitude with skills. Skills alone would do nothing,’ she said and looked at me with a smile enveloped in her lips which were tightly closed as if she did not want a single more word to come out.
‘Well, see you tomorrow morning by seven. Tomorrow I will assign you in the roster,’ Dr. Annabelle said.
36
I reached home with a snippet of culpability in my mind because I was not able to disclose my family members about my job for fear that they would act rather emotionally. Since I was not coming from a safe environment, I could not bear to come home thus where my three little children and loving wife lived. I would be able to hide the truth for some time, but sooner or later the truth ought to be revealed in the name of the love to my family and God whom I believed to want to confess. My inner-voice had already started putting pressure on me since the time I exited the gates of the ETU.
‘Papa got a new job, he is a wealthy man now,�
�� Gorge II, who was playing in the compound, came running towards me noticing me open the gate. When he clang on my trousers, I froze with fear and guilt.
‘George, on the way, I stepped on dog poo. Wait till I change!’ I could not but scream which was a sudden reaction of fear. I did not want my little child to be like one of those children whom I saw a couple of hours ago. I simply did not want to lose my junior.
‘Why you yell at children? You drank with friends to celebrate your new job?’ Aminatta sounded furious. She had thought I was drunk.
‘No, no, boy was hanging on my dirty trousers’ I said over her voice.
‘How is the first day?’ Aminatta asked me when I came to sleep which left me answerless.
‘Are you happy with the job?’ She did not want to give up knowing more.
‘It’s usual job but with a good salary,’ I wanted to escape from her potential questionnaire which I usually failed to answer. But one part of mine was constantly pushing me to disclose what I did. On the one hand, Aminatta had gone through enough in her life, and I did not want to panic her, but on the contrary, she should know about the kind of job I was doing and the risk that involved.
‘I will have to go to the field often. Almost every week,’ I said
I thought of telling her about my job after a few weeks. So, she would not panic, and I decided to tell her that I might have to go to the field very often covering all the counties in the country. I also thought of renting a single room near the ETU to go home on and off. Even though I had to concoct lie after lie, all of them were to protect my family from the dangers that were a part of my job.
‘You drive?’ She looked surprised because I never liked driving in remote Liberia.
‘No, drivers are there; I will go with another doctor called Dr. Annabelle who is my new boss.’
‘Dr. Harris? Not your boss?’ Her questions were sharp and direct.
‘He is the boss of everyone, but my immediate boss is Dr. Annabelle,’ my answer sounded convincing.
‘Aminatta’ I looked at the woman who had been with me since the time I moved back to Conakry from Ivory Coast and still battling with life with me until today, but I was not sure how long I would be able to see these big round eyes that shone at night.
‘Ah?’ She responded to me.
‘You heard me,’
‘Yes, I did,’
‘Children sleeping?’
‘Princess studying,’ she whispered.
I knew that I would not see her often, but I could not verbalise it. I said good night to her the way I used to do every single night before closing my eyes to call it a day.
‘God bless you and children!’ I said immediately after my usual ‘Good night.’
‘God bless you too!’ I heard for the first time in our marital life.
37
Early morning, I walked out of the house with a heavy head, laden with a mixture of feelings that was like milk with pepper. I was determined to find a single room somewhere near the ETU which would prevent the risk of transmitting the disease to my family in case I contracted. Simultaneously, I was guilty that I was continuously lying to my family which I had never done before.
‘My man, no rooms to rent in this community?’ I asked one of the scratch-card sellers at Elwa junction.
‘No strangers here, Ebola, Ebola!’ He focused on his clients expressing no interest in continuing the conversation.
‘What you want? Lonestar here,’ the scratch-card seller next to him, asked.
‘I am looking for a room to stay,’ I briefly responded.
‘If you give me small, I may find one for you,’ he was interested in helping me on one condition. He expected me to pay him a commission which was typical of Liberians as we said in Liberia,’Everyone needs to chop.’
‘Give me a Celcom five dollars,’ I wanted to buy a scratch card to reload my phone.
‘One room is there, 50 dollars per month,’ the seller said leaving a five dollars Celom card on the little glass top of his mobile shop which was nothing more than a wooden box.
‘Where you work?’ He asked me while I was caught between two minds. I was trying to pull out money to pay him while my mind was busy thinking if 50 dollars per month was worth enough for a room near Elwa.
‘In ETU Elwa’ I said giving him a note of 20 dollars.
Instantly, the man dropped my money on the ground. ‘Ebola. Go away my man no rooms no cards!’ He yelled with fear.
‘Take your money!’ I did not have time to realise what happened.
‘Take your 20 dollars; I do not need money!’ He ran to a boutique which was nearby and washed his hands over and over again with chlorine water.
‘Go, my man, go, I do not want your money!’ He yelled again while washing the hands.
‘He says… you go man!’ The other seller told me.
I rushed to the office to start my first day with a bit of disappointment and anger towards myself and also towards the others. It was the first day I felt how Ebola-related stigma had been induced by the unrealistic fear for the disease, but at the same time, I felt that it was better than denial and ignorance.
‘Good morning George! How are you doing today?’ Dr. Annabelle welcomed me at the office.
‘All set to start?’ She asked with a pleasant smile and a thumbs up which I felt like a gesture of encouragement.
‘Yes, doctor.’
‘You will be assigned to the ward reserved for suspected cases under observation for one week on morning shift then we will see what we can do next week. Dr. Micheal is waiting for you. Go and meet him!’
‘Ok doctor. Have a nice day!’ I headed to the changing room, put my PPE on and walked towards the observation ward where all suspected cases had been.
‘Morning George, welcome onboard!’ It was Dr. Michael`s cheerful voice.
‘Good morning doctor. How did you recognise me?’ I asked even before asking how he was doing because I was surprised how he recognised me when I was fully covered.
‘Look at me’ He showed his name on the outer layer of his PPE which I did not notice.
‘The number of suspected cases admitted to our ETU is rising day by day. We have got nine today.’ Dr. Michael added while he was getting ready for the morning ward round.
‘We have to do rounds often here as the conditions of the patients can quickly escalate, sometimes, it is easier to diagnose and do timely interventions till the lab report comes.’ Dr. Michael added.
‘George, join me for the rounds first, then you can go to your section of ward.’
‘Ok doctor,’ I joined him for rounds.
A frail looking woman was already clinically diagnosed for Ebola with her three children: the eldest was not more than six years, second one was around three and the youngest was less than one year, had already clinically been diagnosed with Ebola.
‘The father of these kids was here, and he could not make it.’ Dr. Michael said empathically.
The youngest child was playing with pieces of stones, and some papers left with him, just like any other healthy kid without knowing that his turn on this earth would be over sooner than later. His brothers looked weaker than him as the elder one, who was around six was looking at us as if he was pleading for life. The helpless mother, who had already witnessed the death of her husband remained completely withdrawn from communication with anyone around. She seemed to be awaiting the final call from God, Allah or the Creator for returning ahead of the kids as if she did not want to witness the mercilessness of whom she believed merciful to call her offspring before her. She was looking at the canvas roof as if she had lost faith in everything except the one who was believed to be in the skies or else she had already lost faith in him as well.
She reminded the time when I had been in Guinea with the clergy. When the refugee movements were heightened, the
church used to be full. When desperateness reigned the lives of people, they either clang on to the faith or simply withdrew. But when everyone in a community encountered the same calamity, they sought the spiritual support to stabilise their fluctuating emotions that relayed between negative and positive poles throughout their battle for establishing the sense of place. However, those who had a tendency of giving up quickly, quietly withdrew from everything and chose to suffer in silence. The mother of the kids looked like she was merely waiting to leave them behind. One could come to a quick judgement that she was trying to escape from her responsibility as a mother, but it was not possible to see the real depth of a ditch till you fall in it. Even though I interacted with many other patients on my first day, I could not take the mother of the children out of my mind. She kept on invading my mind whenever there was a slight space to creep in just like a millipede.
And I could not resist the thoughts raided my mind that brought a vivid visualisation of Aminatta. I felt a sudden current of fright along my spine.
‘I got to find a room soon,’ I said.
‘Did you say anything?’ It was Dr. Michael.
‘No doctor. I did not,’ I said with shame.
In the evening, I went to several places to find a room where I could stay as I did not want my family to undergo the same risk that I took. I decided not to disclose where I was working. I stopped a Moto-boy and asked him whether he could take me to a place where I would find a room to rent.
Behind the Eclipse Page 22
