Whirlwind

It was just yesterday that I received the message. I’d been teaching a review math class for my students going into 10^th grade since I won’t be there to teach them next year and the presence or absence of a replacement teacher remains a giant question mark. When class was over, I immediately noticed several text messages and missed calls, the first one from PC CD (Peace Corps Country Director), which read something along the lines of: “Due to Ebola, PCG has decided to remove all V/Ts from Guinea as a precautionary measure. See email for details.” For those of you who don’t speak Peace Corps, PCG means Peace Corps Guinea and V/Ts means Volunteers and Trainees. The moment I read the message, it was like I’d been punched in the stomach.

Let me give a little background. If you follow the news, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Ebola outbreak that began in Guinea this past April. I distinctly remember cooking my dinner by candlelight, listening to the BBC headlines on my shortwave radio, and dropping my spoon when the words “Guinea” and “Ebola” were used in the same sentence.

The days following confirmation that the hemorrhagic fever popping up in Guinea’s forest region was in fact the dreaded Ebola, I was sure we’d be evacuated. I was terrified to eat with my host family or to get into a shared taxi as we learned of Ebola’s transmission out of the forest region and into the country’s capital, Conakry. However, the facts quickly quelled my fears. The truth: it’s actually not very easy to catch Ebola. One has to be in close contact with the bodily fluids of the ill or recently deceased in order for it to be transmitted from person to person. Ebola is not transmissible if the person is not yet displaying symptoms, and when the person actually gets sick, their symptoms cause them to be bedridden. Patient zero probably contracted it by eating undercooked bush meat, such as monkey or bat. So basically, to avoid Ebola, one should avoid the gravely ill, recently deceased, and not eat monkey. Sounds clear enough.

The people in my village were freaked out when they heard about Ebola, especially because of its lack of treatment and gruesome way of liquefying its victim’s organs. This actually wasn’t a bad thing. A lot more people started washing their hands with soap, and my principal found money for us to install “tippy-taps,” the closest thing you can get to a faucet without running water, at my school. Orange, the largest phone service provider in Guinea, sent out PSAs to all of its clients, dispelling myths about the illness (and trust me, there were a lot). Things seemed like they might actually clear up. And they started to, but not for long.

A combination of mismanagement and skepticism from locals has made it incredibly hard to control this outbreak of Ebola. Over the months, the death toll has continued rising and the disease has spread to three other countries: Sierra Leone, Liberia, and now Nigeria. Peace Corps continually gives us updates on where the outbreaks are concentrated in Guinea (mostly in the forest region, where there are no PCVs), reminds us of the things we should do to avoid it, and tells us we can leave site and go to our regional capital if we feel uncomfortable. We were assured that the odds of Ebola leading to an evacuation were slim to none.

Which is why this text message seemed so incredibly out of the blue. Earlier that day, I’d spoken to multiple PCVs about future projects we were planning, I’d given my students math homework for Saturday, and I’d planned to bike to a neighboring volunteer’s site the next day. There was no way on earth we’d be leaving, and so suddenly. But we are.

This past week, two PCVs in Liberia were exposed to Ebola, and while neither of them is displaying symptoms, Peace Corps needs to do something. I understand that. All PCVs in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea are being “temporarily evacuated.”

My hut is packed up, I’ve informed those dear to me in Cissela, and a Peace Corps car is coming to pick me up tomorrow morning. PC has purchased us roundtrip tickets departing in the coming days and returning to Guinea in the beginning of September in the hopes that the situation will be tame enough by then that we can return to our work. I have no idea what to expect, all I know is that being torn away from this place I’ve learned to call my home over the past two years with so many unknowns is one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through. After all of the unrest surrounding with elections, the month we were on lockdown at site and not allowed to go further than a 5-mile radius, it’s Ebola that’s sending us home.

So, let’s hope that both the Guinean government and foreign bodies helping out (namely Doctors Without Borders and the CDC) are able to control this outbreak in the coming weeks. Let’s hope, not only for the 102 PCV/Ts being sent home, but also for the 102 communities that will have a hole in their schools/health centers/youth centers, and the population of Guinea that is not only at risk of Ebola, but also lacks information, running water, and basic hygienic infrastructure.

Guinea, despite being hot, uncomfortable, and trying, has a way of sneaking its way into your heart. Regardless of what happens, I am so lucky that I got to spend 25 spectacular months here. As for the United States… see you in the next few days!