Ebola is a real disease. People need to stop deluding themselves.
In the eastern reaches of the Democratic Republic of Congo, a disease that kills with touch is spreading through communities that question whether it exists at all. An Ebola outbreak has claimed at least 177 lives across Ituri and North Kivu provinces, with nearly 750 suspected cases now reaching major cities — yet the virus finds its most dangerous ally not in biology but in disbelief. Where trust in institutions has been eroded by conflict, poverty, and years of neglect, a public health crisis becomes something older and harder to contain: a crisis of shared reality.
- The WHO has raised its risk assessment to 'very high' for DRC, warning that weeks of undetected spread mean case numbers will almost certainly keep climbing.
- Community skepticism is actively fueling transmission — traditional funeral rites involving physical contact with the deceased continue, and many residents refuse to believe the disease is real.
- Violence erupted at a hospital in Bunia when grieving relatives tried to forcibly reclaim a body, setting fire to medical tents and exposing the deep fracture between frightened communities and the health system meant to protect them.
- Aid organizations are scrambling to fill gaps left by funding cuts, delivering basic disinfectant to clinics while warning that the response remains dangerously under-resourced.
- A vaccine is in development but months away, and doctors fear a secondary catastrophe: if people avoid hospitals out of Ebola panic, treatable diseases like malaria could go unaddressed, putting children and vulnerable populations at grave risk.
Hélène Akilimali wears a face mask every time she enters the market in eastern DRC, selling cocoa in the middle of an Ebola outbreak that has killed at least 177 people. But a mask offers little protection when those around you refuse to wear one — and in Ituri and North Kivu provinces, many still do not believe the disease is real.
The outbreak has moved from rural areas into cities like Bunia and Goma, with nearly 750 suspected cases now recorded. The WHO raised its risk level to "very high" on Friday, warning that the virus circulated undetected for weeks before any alarm was raised. Uganda has recorded five confirmed cases and two deaths just across the border.
On the ground, the human texture of the crisis is complex. Bunia resident Élie Ilunga recalls when people treated Ebola as a joke — until the dying began. He has set up a washbasin at home and urges his neighbors to do the same, but he understands the resistance: "Those who doubt are perhaps those who haven't experienced this yet."
That doubt turned violent on Thursday when relatives of an Ebola victim attempted to remove his body from Rwampara Hospital by force, setting fire to two medical tents. The incident laid bare a deeper wound: distrust of hospitals, fear of authorities, and the persistence of traditional funeral practices — where mourners touch the deceased — that accelerate transmission. Local authorities responded by banning public gatherings and wakes.
The response is operating under severe strain. Eastern DRC is a conflict zone with two million displaced people and a chronically underfunded health system. The strain of Ebola driving this outbreak has no approved vaccine or treatment, and prior cuts to U.S. foreign aid have made emergency mobilization harder. "We are in a game of catch-up," said Greg Ramm of Save the Children. "There are not enough health resources."
Doctors warn that fear itself may become the outbreak's most destructive force. If people stop going to hospitals to avoid Ebola exposure, they will stop seeking care for malaria, measles, and malnutrition — diseases that kill quietly but reliably, especially children under five. The health system risks collapse not from the virus alone, but from the panic surrounding it.
Aline Kitambala Masika, who fled North Kivu after Ebola tore through her family, hopes others will listen before they suffer the same loss. A vaccine is being developed, but its arrival remains uncertain. For now, the guidance is simple: avoid contact with the infected, with the dead, with wild animals. In a place where many still doubt the danger is real, changing that behavior may prove the hardest challenge of all.
Hélène Akilimali wears her face mask every time she steps into the market. She sells cocoa in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo, in the heart of an Ebola outbreak that has already claimed at least 177 lives. But a mask protects only the person wearing it if everyone around them refuses to do the same—and in Ituri and North Kivu provinces, many people still don't believe the disease exists at all.
"Ebola is a real disease. People need to stop deluding themselves," Akilimali said, watching customers come and go without protection, their skepticism as present as the virus itself. She cannot turn them away. She cannot force them to take precautions. She can only show up to work and hope.
The outbreak has spread from rural areas into cities like Bunia and Goma. The World Health Organization now counts nearly 750 suspected cases across the region. On Friday, the organization raised the risk assessment to "very high" for the DRC and "high" at the regional level, warning that case numbers will likely continue climbing because the virus circulated undetected for weeks before anyone sounded an alarm. Uganda has recorded five confirmed cases and two deaths just across the border.
But numbers alone do not capture what is happening on the ground. Élie Ilunga, a resident of Bunia, remembers when people treated Ebola as a rumor, something to joke about. "As we see people dying, we used to think it was a joke, but now we can see that it's real," he said. He set up a washbasin at his home and has been trying to convince his neighbors to do the same. "Those who doubt are perhaps those who haven't experienced this yet or whose families haven't been affected yet," he reflected.
Tension erupted on Thursday when relatives of a young man who died of Ebola tried to remove his body from Rwampara Hospital by force. Protesters set fires that destroyed two hospital tents. The incident exposed a deeper fracture: people are afraid of hospitals, afraid of authorities, afraid of a disease they cannot see. Traditional funeral practices—where mourners touch the deceased—have accelerated transmission. On Friday, local authorities banned public gatherings and wakes in an attempt to break the cycle.
The response is already strained. Eastern DRC sits in a conflict zone with an estimated two million displaced people. Healthcare infrastructure has been chronically underfunded for years. The strain of virus driving this outbreak has no approved vaccine or treatment. Aid organizations report that cuts to U.S. funding prior to the outbreak have made the emergency response harder to mount. Greg Ramm, country director for Save the Children, described the situation bluntly: "We are in a game of catch-up. There are not enough health resources." His teams are delivering disinfectant and chlorine to clinics, trying to keep the basic machinery of healthcare functioning.
The fear itself has become a weapon. If people stop going to hospitals because they are afraid of Ebola, they will stop seeking treatment for malaria, measles, and malnutrition. Children under five are especially vulnerable to malaria. The health system could collapse not from the outbreak alone but from the panic it generates.
Aline Kitambala Masika, who fled North Kivu Province to Bunia, carries the weight of what denial costs. "Ebola devastated my whole family," she said. She hopes others will listen before their own families are destroyed. Meanwhile, the Africa Centers for Disease Control is working toward a vaccine, though the director cautioned that no one can predict exactly when it will be ready. For now, the message from doctors is simple and urgent: avoid touching anyone who might be infected, stop unnecessary physical contact, stay away from dead animals. Every person must change their behavior to break the chain. In a place where many still doubt the chain exists, that may be the hardest part of all.
Notable Quotes
As we see people dying, we used to think it was a joke, but now we can see that it's real.— Élie Ilunga, Bunia resident
We are in a game of catch-up. There are not enough health resources.— Greg Ramm, Save the Children DRC country director
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does disbelief spread so quickly in a place where the disease is actually present?
Because Ebola moves slowly at first. People don't see it until it's already killed someone they know. By then, the skepticism has already taken root—it's easier to doubt what you haven't witnessed than to accept something that terrifies you.
But people are dying. Surely that's evidence enough?
You'd think so. But in a conflict zone where two million people are already displaced, where hospitals have been neglected for years, where trust in authority is thin—people interpret the same facts differently. Some see a real threat. Others see a story being used to control them.
The hospital fire—that's a breaking point, isn't it?
It is. It shows how quickly fear and anger can turn into violence. When someone dies and you can't touch their body, can't hold a funeral the way your culture demands, the grief has nowhere to go except outward.
What about the people trying to prevent spread? Are they making any headway?
Slowly. Akilimali wears her mask. Ilunga set up a washbasin and talks to neighbors. Masika speaks about what the disease took from her family. These are small acts, but they're the only tools available right now—personal testimony, visible precaution, refusing to look away.
And if the health system collapses?
Then you have a catastrophe layered on top of a catastrophe. People die not just from Ebola but from malaria, measles, malnutrition—all the things hospitals normally treat. The virus wins not because it's unstoppable but because everything else fails first.
Is there any reason for hope?
A vaccine is coming, though no one knows exactly when. But hope right now looks like keeping clinics open, getting disinfectant to health centers, and finding one person at a time who will believe and then convince someone else.