happens to the previous host, because virus can amplify itself for quite a while, at least until it kills off much of the population of hosts. Most of the fatal cases of Ebola Sudan can be traced back through chains of infection to the quiet Mr. Yu. G. A hot strain radiated out of him and nearly devastated the human population of southern Sudan. The strain burned through the town of Nzara and reached eastward to the town of Maridi, where there was a hospital.
It hit the hospital like a bomb. It savaged patients and snaked like chain lightning out from the hospital through patients’ families. Apparently the medical staff had been giving patients injections with dirty needles. The virus jumped quickly through the hospital via the needles, and then it hit the medical staff. A characteristic of a lethal, contagious, and incurable virus is that it quickly gets into the medical people. In some cases, the medical system may intensify the outbreak, like a lens that focuses sunlight on a heap of tinder.
The virus tranformed the hospital at Maridi into a morgue. As it jumped from bed to bed, killing patients left and right, doctors began to notice signs of mental derangement, psychosis, depersonalization, zombie-like behavior. Some of the dying stripped off their clothes and ran out of the hospital, naked and bleeding, and wandered through the streets of the town, seeking their homes, not seeming to know what had happened or how they had gotten into this condition. There is no doubt that Ebola damages the brain and causes psychotic dementia. It is not easy, however, to separate brain damage from the effects of fear. If you were trapped in a hospital where people dissolving in their beds, you might try to escape, and if you were a bleeder and frightened, you might take off your clothes, and people might think you had gone mad.
The Sudan strain was more than twice as lethal as Marburg virus—its case-fatality rate was 50 percent. That is, fully half of the people who came down with it ended up dying, and quickly. This was the same kind of fatality rate as was seen with the black plague during the Middle Ages. If the Ebola Sudan virus had managed to spread out of central Africa, it might have entered Khartoum in a few weeks, penetrated Cairo a few weeks after that, and from there it would have hopped to Athens, New York, Paris, London, Singapore—it would have gone everywhere on the planet. Yet that never happened, and the crisis in Sudan passed away unnoticed by the world at large. What happened in Sudan could be compared to the secret detonation of an atomic bomb. If the human race came close to a major biological accident, we never knew it.
For reasons that are not clear, the outbreak subsided, and the virus vanished. The hospital at Maridi had been the epicenter of emergence. As the virus ravaged the hospital, the surviving medical staff panicked and ran off into the bush. It was probably the wisest thing to do and the best thing that could have happened, because it stopped the use of dirty needles and emptied the hospital, which helped to break the chain of infection.
There was another possible reason why the Ebola Sudan virus vanished. It was exceedingly hot. It killed people so fast that they didn’t have much time to infect other people before they died.
Furthermore, the virus was not airborne. It was not quite contagious enough to start a full-scale disaster. It traveled in blood, and the bleeding victim did not touch very many other people before dying, and so the virus did not have many chances to jump to a new host. Had people been coughing the virus into the air… it would have been a different story. In any case, the Ebola Sudan virus destroyed a few hundred people in central Africa the way a fire consumes a pile of straw—until the blaze burns out at the center and ends in a heap of ash—rather than smoldering around the planet, as AIDS has done, like a fire in a coal mine, impossible to put out. The Ebola virus, in its Sudan incarnation, retreated to the heart of the bush, where undoubtedly it lives to this day, cycling and cycling in some unknown host, able to shift its shape, able to mutate and become a new thing, with the potential to enter the human species in a new form.
Two months after the start of the Sudan emergence—the time was early September 1976—an even more lethal filovirus emerged five hundred miles to the west, in a district of northern Zaire called Bumba Zone, an ahead of tropical rain forest populated by scattered villages and drained by the Ebola River. The Ebola Zaire strain was nearly twice as lethal as Ebola Sudan. It seemed to emerge out of the stillness of an implacable force brooding on an inscrutable intention. To this day, the first human case of Ebola Zaire has never been identified.
In the first days of September, some unknown person who probably lived somewhere to the south of Ebola River perhaps touched something bloody. It might have been monkey meat—people in that area hunt monkeys for food—or it might have been the meat of some other animal, such as an elephant or a bat. Or perhaps the person touched a crushed insect, or perhaps he or she was bitten by a spider. Whatever the original host of the virus, it seems that a blood-to-blood contact in the rain forest enabled the virus to move into the human world. The portal into the human race may well have been a cut on this unknown person’s hand.
The virus surfaced in the Yambuku Mission Hospital, an upcountry clinic run by Belgian nuns. The hospital was a collection of corrugated tin roofs and whitewashed concrete walls sitting besides a church in the forest, where bells rang and you heard a sound of hymns and the words of the high mass spoken in Bantu. Next door, people stood in line at the clinic and shivered with malaria while they waited for a nun to give them an injection of medicine that might make them feel better.
The mission in Yambuku also ran a school for children. In later August, a teacher from the school and some friends went on a vacation trip to the northern part of Zaire. They borrowed a Land Rover from the mission to make their journey, and they explored the country as they headed northward, moving slowly along rutted tracks, no doubt getting stuck in the mud from time to time, which is the way things go when you try to drive through Zaire. The track was mostly a footpath enclosed by a canopy of trees, and it was always in shadow, as if they were driving through Zaire. The track was mostly a footpath enclosed by a canopy of trees, and it was always in shadow, as if they were driving through a tunnel. Eventually they came to the Ebola River and crossed it on a ferry barge and continued northward. Near the Obangui River, they stopped at a roadside market, where the schoolteacher bought some fresh antelope meat. One of his friends bought a freshly killed monkey and put it in the back of the Land Rover. Any of the friends could have handled the monkey or the antelope meat while they were bouncing around in the Land Rover.
They turned back, and when the schoolteacher arrived home, his wife stewed the antelope meat, and everyone in the family ate it. The following morning he felt unwell, and so before he reported to his
teaching job at the school, he stopped off at the Yambuku Hospital, on the other side of the church, to get an injection of medicine from the nuns.
At the beginning of each day, the nuns at Yambuku Hospital would lay out five hypodermic syringes on a table, and they would use them to give shots to patients all day long. They were using five needles a day to give injections to hundreds of people in the hospital’s outpatient and maternity clinics. The nuns and staff occasionally rinsed the needles in a pan of warm water after an injection, to get the blood off the needle, but more often they proceeded from shot to shot without rinsing the needle, moving from arm to arm, mixing blood with blood. Since Ebola virus is highly infective and since as few as five or ten particles of the virus in a blood-borne contact can start an extreme amplification in a new host, there would have been excellent opportunity for the agent to spread.
A few days after schoolteacher received his injection, he broke with Ebola Zaire. He was the first known case of Ebola Zaire, but he may well have contracted the virus from a dirty needle during his injection at the hospital, which means that someone else might have previously visited the hospital while sick with Ebola virus and earlier in the day received an injection from the same needle that was then used on the schoolteacher.
That unknown person probably stood in line for an injection just ahead of the schoolteacher. That person would have started the Ebola outbreak in Zaire. As in Sudan, the emergence of a life form that could in theory have gone around the earth began with one infected person.
The virus erupted simultaneously in fifty-five villages surrounding the hospital. First it killed people who had received injections, and then it moved through families, killing family members,
particularly women, who in Africa prepare the dead for burial. It swept through the Yambuku Hospital’s nursing staff, killing most of the nurses, and then it hit the Belgian nuns. The first nun to break with Ebola was a midwife who had delivered a stillborn child. The mother was dying of Ebola and had given the virus to her unborn baby. The fetus had evidently crashed and bled out inside the mother’s womb. The woman then aborted spontaneously, and the nun who assisted at this grotesque delivery came away from the experience with blood on her hands. The blood of the mother and fetus was radiantly hot, and the nun must have had a small break or cut on the skin of her hands. She developed an explosive infection and was dead in five days.
There was a nun at the Yambuku Hospital who is known today as Sister M.E. She became gravely ill with l’epidemie, or “the epidemic,” as they had begun to call it. A priest at Yambuku decided to try to take her to the city of Kinshasa, the capital of Zaire, in order to get her better medical treatment. He and another nun, named Sister
