In the eastern reaches of the Democratic Republic of Congo, where conflict has long eroded trust in institutions, an Ebola outbreak has claimed at least 177 lives and infected more than 900 people across Ituri and North Kivu provinces, now reaching cities like Bunia and Goma. The virus moves not only through bodies but through belief — thriving in the space between what communities have been taught to fear and what they have learned, through hard experience, to doubt. What unfolds there is not simply a medical emergency but a collision between grief, tradition, and the fragile architecture of
Misinformation and mistrust hamper Ebola response in DRC epicenter
At least 177 deaths linked to the outbreak; approximately 2 million people displaced in the conflict zone; Uganda has recorded 5 confirmed cases and 2 deaths.
Ebola is a real disease. People need to stop deluding themselves.
Mark
Why does misinformation spread so quickly in a place like eastern DRC during an outbreak?
Mimi
People have lived through decades of weak health systems and conflict. When authorities suddenly appear with warnings about an invisible threat, skepticism is reasonable. And when you see your neighbor recover from something called Ebola, or when you hear conflicting information, doubt takes root.
Luke
But we should be careful here—the reporting doesn't actually tell us how widespread the denial is. It gives us vivid examples from a few people, but we don't know what percentage of the population doubts the disease exists versus how many are simply taking precautions.
Mark
What role are traditional practices playing in the spread?
Mimi
Funeral customs that involve touching the deceased are a major transmission vector. Ebola victims remain highly infectious after death, but these rituals are central to how communities grieve and honor their dead. It's not ignorance—it's a collision between cultural practice and epidemiology.
Luke
The reporting attributes this to "a community mobilizer" who told CNN about one funeral custom. That's a single source describing a local practice. We don't have data on how many transmissions actually occurred this way versus other routes.
Mark
How much is the conflict zone itself complicating things?
Mimi
Two million people are displaced. Healthcare infrastructure was already weak. When you layer an outbreak onto that, you don't have the basic systems to respond—no supply chains, no trust in institutions, no stable population to track.
Luke
The reporting mentions the displacement and underfunding, but it doesn't connect those dots to specific failures in the response. We know the conditions are bad, but we don't know exactly how they've slowed case identification or treatment.
Mark
What about the U.S. funding cuts—are those actually hampering the response?
Mimi
Aid workers told CNN that USAID cuts and funding reductions made things harder. But a State Department official denied it. So we have competing claims.
Luke
Exactly. The reporting presents both sides, which is fair, but it doesn't resolve the question. We don't know what the actual impact of those cuts was on outbreak response capacity. That's still an open question.
The Pulse
- With over 900 suspected cases and 177 deaths, the WHO has raised its DRC risk assessment to 'very high,' and the virus has already crossed into Uganda, signaling that containment is slipping.
- Denial is not merely ignorance — in communities shaped by years of conflict and neglected health systems, disbelief in Ebola is a learned reflex, and it is costing lives.
- Traditional mourning rituals involving contact with the deceased are accelerating transmission, and when a hospital in Ituri tried to enforce safe burial protocols, grieving relatives set fire to its tents.
- There is no approved vaccine and no proven treatment for this strain, and cuts to humanitarian funding have left health workers scrambling to keep clinics open with basic supplies like disinfectant and chlorine.
- Experts warn that fear of Ebola may cause people to avoid hospitals altogether, allowing malaria, measles, and malnutrition to claim additional lives — especially among children under five.
- Vaccine development is underway through the Africa CDC, but completion remains months away, leaving communities to navigate the outbreak with prevention messaging as their primary tool.
In the eastern reaches of the Democratic Republic of Congo, where conflict has long eroded trust in institutions, an Ebola outbreak has claimed at least 177 lives and infected more than 900 people across Ituri and North Kivu provinces, now reaching cities like Bunia and Goma. The virus moves not only through bodies but through belief — thriving in the space between what communities have been taught to fear and what they have learned, through hard experience, to doubt. What unfolds there is not simply a medical emergency but a collision between grief, tradition, and the fragile architecture of public trust, at a moment when the resources to bridge that gap are dangerously thin.
Hélène Akilimali sells cocoa in a crowded eastern DRC market, wearing her mask every day among customers who refuse to believe Ebola is real. She cannot force them to protect themselves. She can only protect herself and watch.
The outbreak has spread across Ituri and North Kivu provinces and pushed into cities like Bunia and Goma. By late May, the WHO had documented more than 900 suspected cases and 177 deaths, raising its risk assessment for DRC to "very high." Uganda recorded five confirmed cases and two deaths. The virus, believed to have originated in a rural area, was moving faster once it reached population centers.
Bunia resident Élie Ilunga described how perception shifted only as the bodies accumulated. "We used to think it was a joke," he said, "but now we can see that it's real." He set up a washbasin at home and urged his neighbors to change their habits. But skepticism was only part of the problem. Traditional funeral practices — mourners touching the deceased — were accelerating transmission, since Ebola victims remain highly infectious after death. In May, relatives of a young man who died of Ebola attempted to remove his body from Rwampara Hospital by force, and protesters burned two hospital tents. Local authorities responded by banning wakes and restricting gatherings, measures that slowed the virus but deepened community resentment.
The response was already operating under severe strain. The region hosts roughly two million displaced people. The circulating strain has no approved vaccine and no proven treatment. Aid workers described a shortage of basic supplies, worsened by cuts to U.S. humanitarian funding. Greg Ramm of Save the Children said his teams were delivering disinfectant to clinics, but acknowledged there were simply "not enough health resources." The immediate goal was keeping health centers open — because if people stopped seeking care for malaria, measles, or malnutrition out of fear, the death toll could far exceed what Ebola alone would claim.
Vaccine development through the Africa CDC was underway but months from completion. In the meantime, doctors repeated the same instructions: avoid contact with the sick, do not touch the dead, stop unnecessary physical contact. The outbreak was spreading through the very acts — mourning, caregiving, gathering — that hold communities together, in a place where trust in outside institutions had been worn thin by decades of conflict and neglect.
Hélène Akilimali wears her face mask every time she steps into the market in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo. She sells cocoa for a living, which means she stands in close quarters with dozens of people each day—many of whom refuse to believe Ebola exists at all. She cannot turn them away. She cannot control whether they wear protection. She can only wear her own mask and hope.
"Ebola is a real disease. People need to stop deluding themselves," Akilimali said, watching the contradiction play out daily in her work. The virus has spread across Ituri and North Kivu provinces, the two regions hit hardest by the outbreak, and it has moved beyond rural areas into cities like Bunia and Goma. Yet in the places where it circulates most actively, doubt persists. Some residents have convinced themselves the disease is fiction, a story told to frighten them. Others acknowledge its existence only after watching someone they know die.
By late May, the World Health Organization had documented more than 900 suspected cases, with 101 confirmed. At least 177 deaths were attributed to the virus. The organization raised its risk assessment to "very high" for the Democratic Republic of Congo and "high" at the regional level, though it maintained that global risk remained low. Uganda, across the border, had recorded five confirmed cases and two deaths. The virus was believed to have started in a rural area before spreading into population centers, where it moved faster.
Élie Ilunga, a resident of Bunia, described the shift in perception as the death toll mounted. "As we see people dying, we used to think it was a joke, but now we can see that it's real," he said. "The disease is definitely here." He had set up a washbasin at his home and was urging neighbors to abandon their skepticism. But skepticism was not the only obstacle. Traditional funeral practices—particularly the custom of mourners touching the deceased—were accelerating transmission. Ebola victims remain highly infectious after death, and these rituals, rooted in community and grief, were becoming vectors for the virus.
On a Thursday in May, tensions erupted at Rwampara Hospital in Ituri when relatives of a young man who had died of Ebola attempted to remove his body by force. Protesters set fires that destroyed two hospital tents. The incident exposed the fracture between medical protocol and community practice, between what health officials knew the virus required and what families believed their dead deserved. Local authorities responded by restricting public gatherings and banning wakes—measures that addressed transmission but deepened the sense that the outbreak was being managed by outsiders, not understood by the community.
The response was already strained by conditions on the ground. The region is a conflict zone with approximately two million people displaced. Healthcare infrastructure in eastern DRC has been historically underfunded. The strain of Ebola circulating in the outbreak has no approved vaccine and no proven treatment. Aid organizations reported that cuts to U.S. funding and the dismantling of USAID operations prior to the outbreak had further weakened the response infrastructure. A State Department official disputed this characterization, but humanitarian workers on the ground described a shortage of basic resources. Greg Ramm, the Democratic Republic of Congo country director for Save the Children, said his teams were working to deliver disinfectant and chlorine to clinics, but "there are not enough health resources." The goal was simply to keep health centers open and functioning, to prevent people from avoiding hospitals out of fear.
Experts warned that if people stopped seeking care for other diseases—malaria, measles, malnutrition—the death toll could climb far beyond what Ebola alone would claim. Children under five were particularly vulnerable to malaria. Doctors in the region were repeating the same message: avoid touching anyone with suspected Ebola, stop unnecessary physical contact like hugging, do not touch dead animals. "Every person must adopt a preventative attitude to break this chain of infection," said Dr. Mwarabu Hugue. Uganda's President Yoweri Museveni urged citizens to stop shaking hands, though he acknowledged that the vast majority of cases remained in the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Vaccine development was underway through the Africa Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, but the timeline was uncertain. Dr. Jean Kaseya, the organization's director-general, told reporters that completion would take months, though he cautioned against anyone claiming to know exactly how many. Aline Kitambala Masika, a Bunia resident originally from North Kivu, had watched Ebola devastate her family. She hoped others would finally accept the reality of the threat and take protection seriously. The outbreak was spreading in a place where trust in institutions was fragile, where denial was a rational response to years of underfunded health systems and conflict, and where the virus moved fastest through the very practices—touching the dead, gathering in mourning, caring for the sick—that held communities together.
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
There are not enough health resources. It's about getting basic infection prevention and control measures into health centers.— Greg Ramm, Save the Children DRC country director
Want the full story?
Read the original at ABC17News.com ↗
Health & Medicine