The shop security guys, clad in plastic gloves, call out,
“wash, wash”, outside the electronics shop on Siaka Stevens Street in central
Freetown. They’re standing beside a bucket with a mixture of chlorine bleach
and water encouraging passers-by to dip their hands in the mixture. Fatmata,
who’s standing next to the shop, is selling plastic gloves and chlorine tablets
from a small tray – 2,000 Leones per pair (about 50 cents). Business is brisk
in front of the bucket and for Fatmata. Business is very slow inside the shop. I
dipped my hands but passed on the gloves. Washing one’s hands is an important
part of staying healthy, as we all know, and in this environment where Ebola dominates
the news and almost every discussion, it’s even more important.
Sierra Leone is a friendly place where hand shaking and
holding hands is part of the culture. Wherever I go, meetings, shops or street
corners, I’m usually greeted with smiles and handshakes. I’ve had some of the
most interesting conversations while walking hand-in-hand with my friend
Sullivan. Now, under the umbrella of Ebola, most people are keeping their hands
in their pockets or folded across their chests instead of reaching forward to
greet friends and family. Nods and salutes have replaced the familiar, friendly,
three-step, hand-grasp-thumb-lock-and-grip greeting.
A group of photographers, with whom I sometimes work, shares
space along the sidewalk of Siaka Stevens Street with a group of women selling
bananas, cold water in plastic bags and cheap costume jewelry. I bought a
banana from Kadija, who fumbled with my change in her gloved hands. As we stood
along the street, a green SUV topped with a loud speaker and decorated with
about a dozen UNICEF-sponsored Ebola posters inches along in traffic. I hear a
distorted, discordant, electronic tune… something about “Ebola ea dae” (Ebola
is here). Then, there’s a recorded message in Krio, the lingua franca of Sierra
Leone, which crackles and reverberates off the concrete Rokel Bank building. My
Krio is decent but I had to ask Kadija what the message was saying. She looked
nonplussed as she said, “the government says we shouldn’t touch anyone”. I
smile as I suggest that it’s still totally fine for her to hug and hold her
children, one of which was looped over her back in a lappa. This
over-simplified government message is another example of misinformation being
circulated about town. But, how do you convey the more accurate message “don’t
touch sick or dead people”?
It’s rainy season here and as I huddle under a blue tarpaulin
awning with a small group of “okada” riders (an okada is a small, public
motorbike taxi) the conversation immediately turns to the Ebola crisis. I ride
my own motorbike around town and so share an affinity with these professional
taxi-riders. They tell me stories about witchcraft (juju), Ebola witch guns,
crazy nurses injecting neighbours with Ebola, government conspiracies and other
nonsensical rumours. Then, in unison, they tell me that we are all in the hands
of God and that only God can save Sierra Leone. This is a deeply religious
country of Muslims and Christians and many people believe prayer is the only
hope against Ebola.
The President of the Republic of Sierra Leone, Ernest Bai Koroma,
in his second address to the nation, declared Monday, August 4th as a national
“stay-at-home” day for “reflection, education and prayer”. At daybreak, the
streets were completely empty as, it seems, the entire country stayed at home. There
were no taxis. There were no “poda podas” (converted mini-vans turned into
public buses). Stray dogs lounged in the middle of usually busy intersections.
Police and security forces strolled empty sidewalks… and all businesses, shops,
offices and street markets were closed. The eerie quiet and unusual emptiness
was a bit disconcerting. As I strolled through the Aberdeen neighbourhood in
the west of Freetown, I noticed women braiding each other’s hair, cooking fires
covered with big pots of boiling cassava leaf stew, young folks sweeping
porches and older folks listening to radio broadcasts. There was a lot of
sitting around… talking, discussing, watching and praying.
I was recently at the water taxi, which shuttles air
travellers between the Lungi Airport and the shores of Freetown. I met a group
of Latter Day Saints guys who’d come to Sierra Leone to do missionary work.
Their white shirts gleamed and they’d gathered their luggage in anticipation of
the boat ride across to the airport. I asked about their plans and they
informed me that they were being “recalled” because of the Ebola crisis. Most
of the young guys were from the U.S. and were leaving Sierra Leone along with
the Peace Corps volunteers because of the perceived risks. I told Mark, the
only one in a suit jacket, that I didn’t think the risk was overly great. I
asked if they worked in hospitals. “No”. I asked if they touched sick or dead
people. “No”. In my mind, their organization’s response to the situation here
was overly dramatic and not entirely based on evidence.
People are afraid of the Ebola virus and rightfully so. But,
I’m hoping factual and clear information can help allay some of this fear. Ebola
is here and primarily affecting people who treat sick people, professional healthcare
workers and close contacts. Healthy caution, awareness of the facts and a
preventative mindset is in order. But, there’s no question it’s affecting many
people’s lives. This is a close-knit country, for the most part. People went to
school together, were from the same or close-by village, are related by
marriage or politics. Everyone seems to know everyone else and undoubtedly will
be touched by this disease in one way or another.
And, ebola has touched my life beyond the street
conversations and dinner table debates. My friend, Hawa Rebecca, a nurse in
Kenema, was recently tested for Ebola. She was positive. Two days ago she was
“responding to treatment” in the Kenema Hospital. This morning, she died. She
left behind three young children and countless other family members who relied
on her small income. Ebola is here and it’s affecting us all.
