Man in Dallas
Diagnosed with Ebola Had Contact with Victim in Liberia
Thomas Eric Duncan Accompanied Ebola Victim to
Hospital in Liberian Capital
MONROVIA,
Liberia—Before the first man diagnosed in the U.S. with Ebola landed in Texas,
he escorted a woman to an Ebola ward in Liberia's capital where she was turned
away and died of the virus within hours, even as their neighbors blocked local
health workers from testing for the disease.
The journey of Thomas
Eric Duncan from a neighborhood of tin-roof houses in a West African capital to
an isolation ward of a Dallas hospital is a story of how misunderstanding, fear
and suspicion helped spread the disease across five African countries and now,
to the shores of the U.S.
On September 16,
several health workers arrived in Mr. Duncan's neighborhood in Monrovia to
investigate a report that a pregnant 18-year-old woman, recently sent home from
a nearby clinic, had shown Ebola symptoms that included a fever, vomiting,
diarrhea and some bleeding, according to Prince Toe and other members of the
Ebola Response Team in the capital's 72nd community.
But when the team
arrived in the neighborhood, residents insisted the pregnant teenager had been
in a car accident, said Mr. Toe, the unit's supervisor. When the neighbors grew
rowdy at being pressed for information, the team turned back, he said.
Soon after returning
later that day to the one-room home he rented from the teenager's mother, Mr.
Duncan accompanied the girl, known as Ms. Williams, in a taxi to an Ebola ward.
When they were told the ward was full, the two went home, said Irene Seyou, Mr.
Duncan's next door neighbor.
When they came back to
the neighborhood, Mr. Duncan lifted Ms. Williams by her legs from the taxi, Ms.
Seyou said. Hours later, Ms. Williams died. Blood trickled from both sides of
her mouth as one of her neighbors, Mark Kputo, 23, carried away her body,
protected only by a pair of gloves. "I and her were best of friends,"
he said.
The next day, the
health workers, known as contact tracers, returned to the 72nd community, now
certain they were dealing with another Ebola case. But again, they were greeted
with suspicion and hostility—this time from neighbors as they gathered to pay
their respects to Ms. William's family. The crowd insisted Ms. Williams had
died of low blood pressure, Mr. Toe said.
The team's worries
about violence weren't unfounded. They had previously been threatened with
knives and pelted by stones. In nearby Guinea, a mob killed eight aid workers
and journalists researching Ebola, and dumped their bodies into a village
latrine last month. So Mr. Toe's team retreated again.
The fears of the
residents of Monrovia's 72nd community weren't unfounded, either. The diagnosis
of one person with Ebola has led in many instances to the quarantining of
entire neighborhoods.
The next day, shortly
before noon, Mr. Duncan, a driver, left his one-room home for America, hoisting
his rolling suitcase over the mud and a backpack over his shoulders, visibly
excited about joining his son in the U.S., Ms. Seyou said. He hoped to stay for
two years.
"He was
happy," she recalled. "He said he was going to live his life."
Members of Mr.
Duncan's family couldn't immediately be reached for comment.
At Liberia's airport,
the temperatures of arriving and departing passengers are checked three times
by security guards—at the entrance, before the check-in desk, and at the metal
detectors—to screen out those who display Ebola's hallmark symptom, a fever.
The failure to bar Mr.
Duncan from leaving Liberia now resounds with big implications for Dallas,
where he has been diagnosed with Ebola. Mr. Duncan developed symptoms of the
disease four days after arriving in the city to visit a woman with whom he
shares a child. But it took another four days for doctors to recognize he might
have Ebola and to isolate him. By that time, he had exposed at least a dozen
people in the Dallas area to the disease, health authorities say.
The lapse also grows
out of a single decision by Liberia's government: In August, shortly after
Ebola first struck the country's capital, President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf
defied recommendations from the World Health Organization and quarantined the
hardest-hit neighborhood.
Government officials
now say they regret that decision. Instead of halting the disease, the measure
terrified people. Residents of Mr. Duncan's neighborhood, say they were afraid
to report an Ebola case because they would be quarantined.
On Thursday, a half
dozen children around Mr. Duncan's home in Monrovia were loudly sobbing,
despite assurances from adults they wouldn't be taken from their homes. Many of
the adults were crying, too.
"Our plan is to
quarantine this entire community," said Mr. Toe, while the children
wailed. "They'll stay here."
A second member of the
tracing team blamed the woman's neighbors. "They said it was a car
accident!" said Bishop Amos Sesay. "They are lying!"
Nearby, government
workers were distributing gloves and other sanitary equipment. Mariam Wilefe's
body shook as she watched then: Her hair had been recently braided by Ms.
Williams, the pregnant Ebola victim.
Martu Meeforo, a
37-year-old mother, wailed: "If only people knew!"
—Glenna Gordon in
Monrovia and Betsy McKay in New York contributed to this article.
No comments:
Post a Comment