Ignorance is not a bliss

Humanity. It’s hard to make up my mind on it, whether to believe in it or not. It’s quite clear that masses are easily swayed, manipulated and co-opted. This is particularly easily done when fear rules. With fear masses can be controlled, creating slaves of our own inner monsters. And then there are individuals who hold ground. They aren’t that many.

Ebola seems to lend itself well to mass hysteria and politics of irrationalism. It’s disturbing that the only way it has attained international attention of scale was through fear that breeds further divide in the already over-divided world.

ON CAUSES OF THE EPIDEMIC

The causes of Ebola epidemic lie in the historical development of the world system that produces, reproduces and exacerbates inequality. They lie in poor national and international politics and policies that produced weak health systems in the affected countries that have insufficient capacities for rapid containment.

The real causes of the epidemic are not in the bushmeat as you’d like to believe. Yes, patient zero probably got infected through an infected animal, but the rest of the thousands afflicted didn’t.

People in West Africa have been eating bushmeat since pretty much ever and there has not been a recorded Ebola case until now. Bushmeat is an important source of protein in many areas and in others it is a delicacy.

But the masses like sensations and the media has been doing a great job supplying it. As Mike McGovern points out, politics of disgust sell (http://www.culanth.org/fieldsights/588-bushmeat-and-the-politics-of-disgust).

It’s kind of funny, really, looking at some of the delicacies eaten in the West: blood sausages, frog legs, pig trotters, and for more refined connoisseurs, cow brain.

Read a history book or two. For once. Make an honest comparison between the blood sausage you had the other day with your sauerkraut and a roasted fruit bat.

ON CALLS TO ISOLATE THE REGION

Well, you just didn’t think this one through did you?!

The key to make all of you feel safe again is to contain the outbreak at its source. In the affected countries in West Africa. The current isolation of the region caused by reduction of commercial airlines operating in the region and travel restrictions to certain countries is already posing an obstacle to the Ebola crisis. Movement of personnel, equipment and materials suffer. Any further isolation of the region would worsen such movements and pose a further impediment to containment of the outbreak. That would mean Ebola spreading further.

People will find a way to move, to travel. They always do. Such restrictions would only force people to do it in a more clandestine way, which would result in decreased movement control of people from Ebola affected areas. Good luck with that!

Re-think. If you don’t seem to make any sense out of it try doing it over and over until you do.

ON CALLS TO STOP “IMPORTING” EBOLA PATIENTS TO THE WEST

Medevac of foreign aid workers that contract Ebola is a minimum guarantee required to be deployed. Without it very few will come to help. They will not be enough to contain the outbreak. If there are not enough aid workers on the ground then Ebola will spread further and catch up with you eventually. Then you should be scared.

All but one Medevac were successful. That’s because the whole process is planned and controlled, following strict protocols. What happened in Spain, of course, has to be investigated.

The Medevac issue is not your call to make. So stuff it.

ON BLATANT RACISM AND INCREASING POLARIZATION

It’s depressing that we still live in an era that has not yet overcome discrimination based solely on the color of someone’s skin, where white privilege still abounds, where people don’t rejoice in the diversity that is planet Earth. We are still at war. With ourselves. The Ebola hysteria contributes to increasing polarization and racism. The debate took a turn for the worse and ugly. Us vs them. Africa vs the rest of the world.

The game of enemy collection continues. It’s the muslims, the gays, the black people and pretty much anyone foreign, anyone different.  And this game is played by those who consider themselves “civilized”. I suggest you invest in a good dictionary, because by now I’m convinced you don’t actually know the meaning of the word.

I still remember a National Geographic poster from years ago. An epitome of basis of any discussion on different-ness. The poster was depicting our solar system on which a tiny dot plotted has a little sign pointing out “we are here”. Insignificant spot in the universe. But the only home we have. How different are we, really?

Try love, compassion, empathy and joy for a change. Read more books! The Journey of Man by Spencer Wells may be a good start. If you prefer ignorance and miserable life of fear don’t do anything different, of course.

ON HYSTERIA

Those of you in the West buying your own PPEs (by that I mean those wackos who are not working with Ebola patients and not even working in any kind of clinical settings or any kind of settings at risk of exposure)… Not only you must look like a clown gone mad, but it may also be wise to check into a facility that can assist you with fitting back those loose screws that made you go all haywire with anxiety and paranoia.

Word of caution on your PPE. In an improbable event that you actually meet an Ebola affected person and you are stupid enough to touch infectious bodily liquids and/or materials, note that if you don’t actually have the skills in undressing, disinfecting and disposing of your PPE, you will probably still get Ebola.

ON THE SENSATIONALIST MEDIA

Your “Worst Of Ebola Hits” may swell your audience numbers and earn you some extra income (which I hope you will have to spend on a therapist due to massive guilt over your unprofessional conduct), but you will go down in history as a negative factor in this whole situation.

If you are offended by this post… that’s your problem not mine. And I’m not sorry.

No More Patience

Patience was going to have a baby.

It was to be her very first baby. She and her boyfriend Momolu were excited. They wanted a baby, they were ready for it. They have been waiting for it.

Finally!

They knew each other since high school. But the war separated them and sent them running for their lives. Patience ended up in a refugee camp in Cote d’Ivoire and Momolu found himself on the ruthless streets of Conakry, Guinea. They have lost contact for many long devastating years, not knowing whether the other is still alive. But they survived. And found each other again after it was all over. Now they were going to have a baby. And they were well prepared.

Patience’s restaurant business was doing great. She found the right location to serve her Liberian delicacies. It was a small, but neat place on Bye-Pass where the major routes come together and streets are bustling with people. So many customers. During the lunch time it was always packed. Her pepper soup was the best in the area. Check rice and palm butter were selling well too, but nothing like her pepper soup.

Momolu’s plumbing contracts brought in a decent income as well. He had several plumbing and other maintenance contracts with private residences and businesses around town. Maintenance was a good business. There is always a plumbing problem somewhere.

They saved up and were able to find a nice place in Paynesville. A two bedroom house, so that the baby could have its own room. A luxury, indeed. The house had charming surroundings with banana and mango trees casting an afternoon shade that moderated incessant heat of the tropical city. There was even space for a kitchen garden. Patience really wanted a kitchen garden. She already had an outline sketched in her mind. Now she could grow her on cassava and collard greens and not have to buy overpriced vegetables at the local market anymore. Life in the city was expensive. But Patience and Momolu were doing well.

The baby made them wait. They have been trying for a couple of  years now. And finally in December she got pregnant. What a joyous day that was when she discovered it.

Few months later, in March, Ebola has reached Liberia. Patience heard about this horrible disease on the radio. But there was no reason for concern. There were only a few people ill far away in Lofa county. It will be stopped soon. It will never reach Monrovia.

Over the coming months Patience and Momolu have painted the house. Patience bought some baby clothes. In white and yellow, as she didn’t know whether it will be a girl or a boy. And she had planted her kitchen garden. She had gone to her prenatal visits to the clinic regularly. She was in good health and in an even better spirit. She was going to have a baby.

She was seven months pregnant when Ebola crisis broke out in Monrovia, as if from hell. Where did it come from? How? What happened? What went wrong?

Ebola descended onto Monrovia, spiraling out of control. Health workers started dying in numbers. Hospitals got infected. And were closed down. Clinics closed down too. Health workers were afraid to come to work. Ebola kills. Quickly and silently.

Patience could no longer find a health facility where she could do her prenatal examinations. She tried. She has been all over town. “OK”, she thought. “I’m in good health and things will get better by the time I am due. Hospitals will re-open.”

Little did she know that the crisis was to escalate. It was not getting better, it was getting worse by the day. That it will take far too long to provide safe health care services again.

It was early August. She didn’t feel well that morning. She was tired and stressed. Things were not going well. Many people from her village in Kakata district have died. Fourteen of them, to be precise. One after the other. Ebola kills. She knew them all. They were her neighbors, her friends. But she knew better than to attend any funeral. She knew that this is how Ebola is transmitted. People touching dead bodies at funeral rituals. But people in the village didn’t listen, they refused that Ebola burial teams collect the dead bodies. They were burying them in secret, at night.

Her business was not going well either. People didn’t want to come. They were scared of Ebola. Many lost their jobs. Ebola. Also, they didn’t want to spend money like that anymore. They didn’t know what is coming. Better to keep the money. Momolu’s contract jobs also became few and far in between. Many people left the country, so there wasn’t much work to be done. And the baby was on the way.

She left the restaurant early. She needed a rest. She was having a stomach pain and that wasn’t good. While walking towards a taxi stand her stomach pain became unbearable. Piercing and burning. Contractions followed. Blood started gushing down her legs. She was horrified. She hurried. She needed to get to a health facility quickly.

One after the other they were closed. Or have turned her down. All too afraid of Ebola.

She was getting weaker. But she kept on moving. She was determined to find an open hospital or a clinic. She kept on going.

Finally, after hours of desperate attempts to find a health facility willing to assist her, she had reached her last resort. The last clinic. She knew she couldn’t go any further. She lost too much blood. Her head was light. She couldn’t stand on her feet anymore. She was losing consciousness.

Her entry was denied.

She sat down on the dirt floor. She tried to call Momolu. To let him know that she had tried. With all her energy drained she was unable to dial his number on the cell phone.

She laid down on the ground.

…

There is no more patience for losing Patience.

Mr. Prime Minister, Please Explain

Most people hate it when foreigners criticize their countries. I won’t do that. I’ll criticize my own. It’s about time to provide a mirror to Slovenia.

Make no mistake. I’m angry. No, that’s not it. I’m furious. And more than that, I’m disappointed. Yet again.

It is by no means the first time I am frustrated with my country. Being a Slovenian expat is no fun when it comes to dealing with various administrative issues that are painfully complicated and make you want to pull all your hair out of the scalp. But this one is just unacceptable.

This all came about last week. We are in the midst of Ebola crisis. I work for a Dutch NGO that is intensifying its Ebola response. Last week the Dutch Embassy in Accra, Ghana has sent a delegate to Liberia to assess the state of affairs, to determine how the Netherlands can best support the response and to encourage its remaining citizens and offer them support. I was invited for a cocktail party organized for the Dutch nationals. I have been in contact with the Dutch Embassy when the crisis broke out and our country director was not in Liberia. I didn’t really want to go. I felt it to be an intimate national affair. But I was encouraged to go. Perhaps I’d be less angry at my country if I didn’t.

It was more than heart-warming. The Dutch were thanked for the work they are doing, in one way or another assisting in Ebola response. They were told that their country appreciates it. That they are thinking of them. And that they will be supported in their endeavors.

The relief on people’s faces. The gratitude for the gesture. It was eye-watering. I wanted to cry and I’m not even Dutch! (We live in a biohazardous environment so emotions tend to run on the high side. So I just drank more beer to mellow my emotions.) It doesn’t take a lot to encourage people. To make them feel appreciated. To have them know that their country cares about them.

The burning question at hand was Medevac, of course. The Netherlands has signed a contract with Phoenix Air, the only organization that is equipped to Medevac Ebola patients. Mind you, that does not mean that the Dutch government is paying the bill per se. But at least there are options.

In the days to follow, my government advised me to reconsider my stay in Liberia. Slovenia cannot assist with my potential Medevac.

Mr. Prime Minister, please explain. Please explain why you believe that advising humanitarian aid workers to leave Liberia in the middle of Ebola crisis sounds like a good strategic choice? When humanitarian aid workers are most needed. I’d really like to know. This is the time to take pride in the fact that 3 of your nationals have not left the country, like so many have done. This is the time to demonstrate Slovenia’s commitment to ending the crisis that has potential devastating effects of global proportions. This is the time to have the balls and show some support. This is the time for action.

Within the same week Slovenian government announced that it will provide 30,000 Euro to the WHO, earmarked for Ebola response. Slovenia, please! My organization got 5 times more than that from the Dutch public alone! This isn’t something to brag about, it’s rather something to be ashamed of. Don’t advertise your shame. We’ve got enough of that to go around. If that’s the best you can do, do it quietly, don’t tell anyone and pray that no one ever finds out. You are making all of us look stupid.

This is not to downplay the contribution. Every cent is needed. It is rather to point out poor consideration and even poorer contribution of a nation-state that can do better. If it wants to.

But then, this isn’t the only thing that is making us all look stupid. We are a country that allows convicted criminals to remain in politics. Who despite serving a prison sentence are allowed to leave the prison to attend parliamentary sessions. And at the same time believing that we are a worldly citizenry and a country of significance.

A nation of serfs. Has been said a long time ago. I refuse to accept it!

Your pretty ties and fancy suits jumping around Brussels mean nothing. Your eloquent words are useless when no action follows. We aren’t judged by our oratory skills, but by our deeds. You don’t walk your talk. Your trample on your walk. And you are drifting into insignificance.

And still you wonder, Slovenia, why your daughters and sons are leaving the country en masse. And why they are not returning. I give you the answer to this one. It’s because you don’t care about us.

Find a mirror and take a good long look.