The West
Africa Ebola Virus outbreak in Guinea, Sierra Leone, Liberia and Nigeria has consumed more than 1,200 lives with more
than 2,200 suspect cases. World Health Organisation has declared the epidemic
as an international emergency.
1785, Gola
Forest, Sierra Leone, group of Kru tribals settle
in the woods having recently migrated from Lofa,
Liberia. They collect timbers, tubers and hunt Diana monkeys for food. Life has given enough troubles to every
member of the clan but now Krus have
settled for peace and serenity, which is but temporary in their new habitat. Dumola Muwalu Bukele, the local tribal
elder of the Vai tribe is unapproving
of the recent Kru developments in his
neighbourhood. Krus do not share
ethnicity with Vai but they are
ferocious and brave although a minority. Vais
on the other hand are the deadly hunters and conjurers who on wish can change themselves
into demons. Eventually on the night of full moon when Krus are dancing and drinking to celebrate Jacqui - birth of their clan deity, Bukele attacks the settlement. The Vai demons attack with claws, jaws, spears and knives on the
unarmed Krus including women and
kids. Beaded hair and white decorated Kru
faces are reddened with blood and soon the settlement is flooded with dead
bodies around the fire. The witch-hunt consumes every single Kru save mother Sherma who says to the demon Bukele:
We came for water, we came for food, we meant no harm, sorghum we
brewed.
We didn’t take arms for tonight Jacqui we celebrate, had we picked up
our spears, our might we had demonstrate.
You are no demon, you’re just another coward, mark my words for
darkness on you shall be showered.
For a time shall come when the beast of the fallen Kru shall arise,
In the dread of the night it will walk with black eyes.
It will eat, it will bite and will wipe your name in mud,
All your men will die and their women will weep blood!
Having cursed Bukele, Sherma, still
breathing and the entire settlement
was put to fire. As the fire consumed Sherma,
Bukele watched her burning and
screaming in agony. Soon the screams were muted and silence engulfed the
settlement. But unnerved he stood, for Bukele
could still see clearly the curse of Sherma still hanging above the ashes.
229 years after her death, the
beast has finally arisen.
2014, 9:30pm meanwhile
in Sierra Leone…
(Donda, Running
and panting, speaking to himself) Where are you! Sshhhit! (Breathing heavily) Keep runnin, keep runnin little Donda, almost
there! This isn’t real…this can’t be! My God, stop shouting, Edward for
Christ’s sake shut up these women!
(Meanwhile
women shouting…) Eee Bow Laaa! Eee Boww Laaaa!
Edward: I’m trying my man, they’re
excited Donda. Where’re you up to Donda?
Donda: Edy my man, I’m off to
report a signature!
(Donda
to himself) Keep runnin, keep runnin Donda,
you’re almost there! I know the world is spinning, but this ain’t your regular psychedelic
smoke, this is lack of air, ma mouth is dry, I’m thirsty and I’m about to fall…
(Thud!) I’m down, man down, get up,
no let me lay, let me die… at least it’s less painful… (Silence)… The taste of mud,
they say it’s salty and its smell… more like my hair… this is heaven. No!!
Get up you good for nothing jackass, find the white shirts. This is a task, to
fall and die is a direct breach of protocol! My legs are weak but functional
still and run I shall, yet again. Keep runnin keep runnin little Donda, there it
is, the white van.
Donda to
white-shirts:
Sir! Sir Hello sir, the… theyr… there’s a signature sir, yes sir, premature.
(Donda contemplating)
Then I sit in the white van with the white shirts and we trace back the path
that I recently ran past. There yonder pond lies Sister Mary in her hut and
we’ll fetch her with doctors, with medics and throw Ebola out’a her. Eee Bow Laaa Eee Bow Laaa vehemently
shouts the women of the neighbourhood. This is my small animated locality in
western Daru, Sierra Leone and I am 40 year old Ebanahu Donda. I own a meat
shop and my neighbours call me little Donda, owing to my little body. White
shirts say I do not grow because I shit in open. I believe the white shirts. Our
van speeds past bushes on one side and muddy-plastered huts on other side. It’s
2143hrs and there’s no electricity (hardly surprizing) save the orange glows of
Naftaada Lamps (kerosene lamps), which
the lahai women light up every
evening in their small huts for what has become a ritual now. There are rumours
that shouting EBOLA aloud will make
the disease go so every evening invariably, women flock near the cotton tree and repeatedly shout aloud Eee Bow Laaa! As our van approaches the
pond and we dismount the van, white shirts jump out with extreme swiftness and carry
Sister Mary inside the van on a stretcher.
White-shirts: “The girl is showing Ebola signatures.
We will take her and her father to the treatment facility. Do not enter the
premises of this hut. Do not touch anything and women... stop wailing.
(Sffwoosh!) The van drives away in the
dark of the night leaving me with animated men and hysterical women. Soon the neighbours
retreat to their dingy huts and I can hear the crickets as silence falls. Naftaada lights flicker over my face
revealing the dread and tears in my eyes. While I weep, shadows dance on brown
mud walls as if mocking my pain, Mary’s pain. And in the shadows I can sense an
old women… and her curse.
Donda: Bad… This is very bad, I
say.
9:23am next
Morning…
(Taka
taka dhum!! Sounds of Congo-drum being playing nearby)
(Donda
blabbering) I slept whole night outside
Mary’s porch? Aah…I am weak... and
hungry. My hands… they are so small, calloused and rough. I stink! Where are my
shoes? My head is spinning. Aah…Thieves!
Hold it Donda, hold it, I am alright, drink some water. Am I colour-blind? Why
is everything brown? No wait…there’s something Red. Red and Blue, yes this is
the poster that the white-shirts pasted. It reads “Ebola don’ts”. It shows a
shitting man and says “don’t defecate in open”. The white-shirts say Ebola
spreads through body fluids. Unlike flu virus it doesn’t spread with air. It
spreads through Blood, sweat, urine, semen, sneeze and shit!
All hell broke loose since this beast of a
disease entered our country. Initially the doctors did not know what they were
dealing with in their dilapidated hospitals. Later the white-shirts were
deployed in all districts. They wear white Hazmat
suits and helmets…thus the name. They look at us from beneath their giant snorkelling masks and dare not touch us
without latex gloves. They carry blue
buckets filled with Ebola culture, which is transported to treatment facility
for finding the cure to the beast. They don’t have the cure yet. Anybody who
catches the virus here, does not survive. These white-shirts… (Sad)…they’re working hard but they’re
just stalling the imminent end.
(Somewhere
near, Radio chatters…BBC Morning Edition, Americans Dr. Kent Brantly and Dr.
Nancy Writebol who were infected with Ebola while working in a missionary
clinic in Liberia are recovering fast. The duo had been treated with the
experimental “chimpanzee adenovirus vector vaccine”. To use the drug in African
nations or not is however still an issue of debate…)
(Dhum dhum
taka… Congo sound increasing)
Our locality is infested with a moribund state
of gloominess. Today there’s no sun. Breeze is cool under an overcast sky.
Donda
(shouting in half cracked voice): “Aye
Edward! Why’re you squatting o’er there?”
Edward (clad in his favourite Qatar Airways Barcelona jersey): “I’m waiting”
Donda: “You’re waiting! You’ve been squatting over there for over an hour now,
whachha waiting for?”
Edward
(pensive):
“I don’t know! (Pthu…spitting betel-nut juice)”
Edward grins, exposes his few pairs of reddened
crocked teeth but soon retreats in contemplation.
(A bunch of drunk
boys arguing with the white-shirts)
The white-shirts are having a hard time to
convince the boys that Ebola is real. Women believe in it but men don’t. They
think women are scared and it’s a political scam to divert international funds.
Now the local administration has started printing T-shirts with “Ebola is real” logos. Edward was
interviewed yesterday by a team of journalists from Doctors without Borders? It went like this:
Edward to
journalist: “Lissen Medem- (Hoarse voice) there’s no Ebola! Take Ebola to
Emerica, take Ebola to Britane, no Ebola over here, and no Ebola in me. If I
die that’s my right.”
(Donda
disturbed and blabbering) If people don’t believe in the disease then they don’t report the
signatures and the disease spreads. But I reported Mary yesterday. Oh Jesus
what a deadly disease it is! It makes you bleed from inside. Your eyes will
bleed, nose, mouth and ears will bleed. Oh God, your skin bleeds from within and
large bubbles filled with blood appear on it. It’s an agonizing and painful
death. Jesus save us from the curse!
When the reporters were interviewing Edward, Daru was scared. Daru is Edward’s pet monkey, so no one eats it. Nobody eats
anybody’s pet, is the unwritten law in the neighbourhood. But everyone eats a
wild monkey even if it is diseased. The white-shirts said “stop eating the primates, primates spread Ebola!” Edward reprimanded
“(Hoarse voice) the white-shirts want to
eat all monkeys, so they stop us”. Bushmeat
(Monkey meant or Groundhog meat) is commonly eaten in our country. Everyone
prefers monkeys over chicken and fish. White-shirts say “Bat eats fruit, Monkey eats fruit, Donda eats fruit, and Donda catches
Ebola” HIV virus spread like this, they say. I used to shout on a
loudspeaker and sell a lot of Bushmeat, freshly traded from Lofa forest Liberia. It is protein and is
sweet. But now administration has put ban on Bushmeat and police has closed my
meat shop. They have instead opened a chimp testing facility in the
neighbourhood. Soon Daru will be snatched from Edward
Edward (still
squatting motionless).
(Taaka dhum
dhum taaka…Congo plays loudly) Eee Bee Oow Ell Aaa! Ebola in town! Don’t touch
your friend! No touching! No eating something! It’s dangerous! Ebola… Ebola in
town, don’t touch your friend! No kissing! No eating something! It’s dangerous.
(A bunch
of boys are walking past the neighbourhood and they’re singing ‘Ebola in town’)
Donda: Isn’t this the latest chartbuster
sung by Shadow Morgan that has gone
viral with the youth? I wonder why
people dance on the tunes of the beast. Seems the beast is playing with our
minds and everyone is going blind and crazy. Young boys and girls still eat
Bushmeat in their homes and dance all night on the tunes of Ebola in town.
Shadow Morgan is earning a killing out of it.
There’s a new brand of cola called the Ebola
Cola, the haemorrhage that refreshes. A new Chinese movie called Ebola Syndrome has released. It’s poster
says “it wasn’t murder, it was war!” Infested
dead bodies are being buried in separate burial grounds but it seems many of us
don’t care. It seems as a dark comedy.
(Donda looks
at his face in a mirror hung upon the brown muddy wall of a hut nearby) My face is weather beaten,
oily and bloated. My hair is falling, I ought ‘a drink less.
In the mirror I see, far behind me Edward has
stood up and is chasing and pelting stones on an ongoing white van.
Edward (sprinting):“Get out you
baboons or I’ll eat you”
Donda: Ey
Edward!
Edward:
Donda, what is it my man?
Donda: You’ve
taken my shoes, you mule?
Edward: No,
my man
Donda: Still,
walk me over to my hut
Edward: Right
away Donda
…and we walk (Edward humming Ebola in town…)
