Behind the mask: Meet the people on the front lines of the Ebola response

Dr. Sylvain Radjabu Lubangi used to work at MSF’s Elikya Ebola treatment center in Bunia, Ituri province, which has since been closed. For months, he cared for patients with Ebola disease in the high-risk zone.

Having survived the disease himself, he knows how frightening it can be.

“When I learned that I was positive, I was in shock,” he says. “At the beginning of the outbreak, many people were dying. I thought I was going to die, too.”

Dr. Lubangi contracted the virus before joining the MSF-run treatment center. Once he was admitted to the facility, he learned that other health workers had died in the region. “That was very hard,” he says. “I was afraid. I kept thinking maybe I would be next.”

But he found the strength to fight.

Dr. Carla Schwanfelder is a pediatrician from Germany working at MSF’s Ebola treatment center in Mongbwalu, Ituri province, where the outbreak began.

While children represent a minority of patients seen at this facility, they make up a larger proportion of patients who die from the disease.

“Most of the children we treat who test positive die,” she explains. “They are among the groups most vulnerable to this disease, alongside the elderly and pregnant mothers.”

The abruptness of some child deaths adds to the distress of working at the Ebola treatment center.

“They can seem fine one day, eating and playing, and the next day they are dead,” she says. “It is no longer surprising, but it is deeply sad. When we see them deteriorating, there is not much we can do. It is also difficult to see children losing half their families to the disease.”

Dieudonné Tchuma Longa works as a health promoter with MSF in Mongbwalu, raising awareness in communities about the dangers of Ebola and advising people how to stay safe.

“We go door to door, organize community meetings, and speak with religious and other community leaders,” he says. "We explain that Ebola is real and that people should seek care as soon as symptoms appear.”

Since July, Longa has lost eight members of his family to Ebola, including his father and son. He believes he was infected at his father’s funeral, and that he later transmitted the virus to his wife. Both were treated in an Ebola treatment center for more than two weeks before recovering.

“One night in the Ebola treatment center, three people died in the beds around me,” he says. “Bodies can’t be evacuated at night. It was really scary.”

Charlotte Borive provides mental health support to patients at the Ebola treatment center in Mongbwalu.

“Most of my job is about identifying the needs of patients and helping them overcome their fear of the treatment center,” she says.

“People are scared of being isolated, they are scared of Ebola, and they are scared of people in personal protective equipment (PPE). It is not something they are used to. The first step is to explain to patients why MSF is here and how we can help them.”

“After speaking with patients, I refer them either to one of the psychologists working here, or to the health promotion team.”

Alice Alyerunga is a nursing supervisor from Bunia working at MSF’s Ebola treatment center in Mongbwalu. She has worked with MSF for the past 12 years, but she has never faced an emergency on this scale.

“It is the most stressful intervention I have been a part of,” she explains. “At the beginning, it was catastrophic. We had no survivors for three weeks. Around 100 people died. Every night, my heart was bleeding for our patients. When we had our first survivor, it was a joyous moment.”

“As frontline health workers, we face high levels of exposure, even with PPE,” Alyerunga adds. “This means that it can be frightening to work here. But we are motivated by our mission to save lives and break the chain of transmission.”

Richard Kasereka is an ambulance driver from Goma, North Kivu, who works at MSF’s Ebola treatment center in Mongbwalu, Ituri, where the outbreak began.

“We have picked up a lot of patients here,” he says. “In bad cases, there is a lot of blood, diarrhea, and vomiting. It is risky because these fluids are highly infectious. Sometimes the person is nearly dead already when we pick them up. Sometimes they are dead by the time they arrive.”

These scenes can be upsetting for staff.

“It is not easy, but this work demands that we adapt,” says Kasereka.

Samson Balidja grew up in Ituri province. Today, as MSF's head of mission support in Bunia, he helps MSF navigate the security and humanitarian challenges of working in his home province.

Around a dozen active armed groups operate in the area, complicating humanitarian access and the Ebola response.

“During clashes, the population flees in every direction,” he says. “This disrupts prevention measures, facilitates the spread of the disease, and prevents us from accessing affected areas.”

Alongside the insecurity, MSF teams also face deep distrust in communities about the Ebola disease response. Balidja was among the first MSF staff to arrive in Mongbwalu, where the outbreak is thought to have begun.

“We were threatened, and a group of youths set fire to a tent we had set up next to the hospital to receive patients,” he recalls. “They didn’t believe Ebola was serious. They thought NGOs had created it to make money.”

Judith Mudjagani is a nurse in Bunia who joined MSF’s Ebola response in May. She worked at Elikya Ebola treatment center in Bunia, Ituri province, until the closure of the facility at the end of October. The virus is thought to have been spreading in Ituri province for months before the outbreak was officially declared.

Prior to joining MSF, Mudjagani was working in a local maternity clinic without adequate protective equipment.

“For months before the outbreak was declared, we were treating sick patients without proper protection,” she says. “In early June, I tested positive for Ebola. I’m sure it was because I had been working without protection.”

Mudjagani recovered, but the experience left her deeply shaken. “It was frightening. I know other health workers who have died.”

Adelard Kasereka Kasisivahwa is from Butembo, North Kivu. As MSF’s water, sanitation, and hygiene supervisor at the city’s hospital, he leads and trains around 60 colleagues who clean the wards to create a safe environment for staff, patients, and the community.

When a patient dies, Kasisivahwa's team helps prepare the body, which is highly infectious, for safe burial. The morgue tent has transparent “windows” allowing families to watch the preparations.

“Families need to see what we are doing and be part of saying goodbye,” he says.

For his colleagues, the process can be hard to bear.

Kass Kalume is chief of community engagement at MSF’s Ebola treatment center in Beni. He joined the response in August 2026, and his job is to inform patients, families, and visitors about Ebola and how to protect themselves — and to tackle the rumors that can spread fear.

“Some people say our ETC [Ebola treatment center] is a morgue — that no one leaves alive,” he says. “Others say we inject people to make them weak.”

The most difficult moments occur when a patient dies. Mourning can turn into anger, and sometimes into threats and accusations against MSF staff. Kalume and his colleagues respond to disinformation with facts.