‘I Buried My Parents One Day After the Other’ – Ebola Mourners Learn to Grieve Safely

I buried my parents one day after – In the heart of Bunia, a city in the north-eastern Democratic Republic of Congo, the Nyamurongo cemetery has become a daily reminder of the Ebola outbreak’s relentless grip. The usually quiet grounds are now a hub of activity, with families gathering to honor their deceased under strict health guidelines. Joel Lonza Makumbu, a local man, describes the emotional toll of the disease, which has swept through his community. “It’s the sixth time I’ve visited this place this week,” he says, his voice heavy with grief. “Yesterday, my father was laid to rest. Today, I’m here to say farewell to my mother.” His words echo the broader tragedy, as the virus has claimed three sisters and a brother-in-law in recent months, leaving him to bear the weight of loss.

The Devastating Toll of the Outbreak

The current epidemic, centered in Bunia—a capital of the Ituri province—has claimed nearly 200 lives in the past few months. Unlike the more common Zaire strain, this outbreak is driven by the Bundibugyo variant, which is less familiar to many in the region. This strain has a mortality rate of about 25%, making it particularly lethal. As the virus spreads rapidly, communities are forced to adapt their customs to prevent further infections. Safe burials have become a critical measure in curbing the outbreak, yet they require significant changes to traditional practices.

“Today is the sixth time I have come to the cemetery,” says Joel Lonza Makumbu. “Yesterday I buried my father. Today I have come to say goodbye to my mother.”

Joel’s story is emblematic of the personal and collective grief experienced across Ituri. The Bundibugyo strain, though rare, has caused a surge in deaths, disrupting lives and livelihoods. Health officials emphasize that the virus spreads through contact with bodily fluids such as blood, urine, vomit, semen, and breast milk. To mitigate this, strict protocols have been implemented, including the use of leak-proof body bags and thorough decontamination procedures. These measures, while necessary, challenge deeply rooted cultural traditions that often involve close physical contact with the deceased.

Tradition Meets Modern Health Protocols

Julienne Anoko, an anthropologist with the UN’s World Health Organization (WHO), highlights the significance of traditional mourning rituals. “In many communities, the deceased are dressed in their finest clothes, and funerals can last for days,” she explains. “It’s seen as a sacred transition, a journey to the world of ancestors.” This belief is central to local customs, where families believe it is essential for the departed to appear dignified and celebratory in death. Women, for instance, are often adorned in wedding attire, and songs are sung to commemorate the life of the deceased, symbolizing hope for their eternal existence.

“Women are dressed in a wedding dress with make-up… They sing, they celebrate that person, because it’s a journey, it’s not the end of the life,” she tells the BBC.

Yet, in the context of Ebola, these rituals have been modified to prioritize safety. Bodies must be buried quickly, without the usual washing or prolonged ceremonies. This shift has been met with resistance, as families grapple with the loss of their cherished traditions. Health workers and volunteers work tirelessly to educate the public, ensuring that cultural practices are preserved where possible while minimizing risks. “We need to be very close to the communities and engage with them very closely,” says Maria Munoz-Bertrand, public health emergency coordinator for the International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent (IFRC). “It’s about building trust and making sure they understand the necessity of these changes.”

A New Burial Process

The process of laying someone to rest has evolved dramatically. At a hospital in Bunia, a tent outside the treatment center serves as a temporary morgue, where health workers in full personal protective equipment (PPE) handle body bags with care. When I joined an IFRC team, we observed the meticulous steps taken to transport a 34-year-old mother of four. Her father and brother-in-law watched from a distance, their faces etched with sorrow. The body, wrapped in a leak-proof bag, was placed into a coffin featuring transparent panels to allow mourners to glimpse the deceased while maintaining safety.

“We want to be as supportive as possible, while at the same time protecting them, the community, and our volunteers,” says Munoz-Bertrand.

Despite the efficiency of the new procedures, emotional resonance remains. The mother’s family had waited by the roadside for hours, their grief palpable. The IFRC team, clad in protective gear, followed a decontamination routine before entering the tent. The body was transferred to a truck, the journey marked by the absence of the usual crowd and the lingering sense of loss. “This is a big blow for us,” said Simone Nyal, the woman’s father. “She was ill for just one week before she passed. We don’t know how we’ll raise her children without her.”

Adapting to Survival

While the changes in burial practices may seem drastic, they reflect a delicate balance between honoring the dead and safeguarding the living. Munoz-Bertrand notes that the IFRC team works to accommodate cultural wishes whenever possible. For instance, coffins are used to retain the ceremonial aspect, and body bags are designed with clear film on the top to allow visibility of the face. These adjustments aim to ease the psychological burden of mourning while preventing the virus from spreading through touch.

As the outbreak continues, the resilience of the community is evident. Families, though grieving, are learning to adapt. The Nyamurongo cemetery, once a site of celebration, now serves as a solemn space for remembrance. Each burial is a blend of tradition and urgency, a testament to the human spirit’s ability to endure even in the face of tragedy. The fight against Ebola is not just a medical challenge but a cultural one, requiring empathy and innovation to ensure that both the living and the dead are respected in this new reality.

For those who have lost loved ones, the message is clear: Ebola is real, and its impact is felt deeply. Yet, through collaboration and compassion, communities are finding ways to navigate this difficult chapter. The path to recovery begins with understanding, and for the families of Bunia, that understanding is slowly taking root—one burial at a time.