Guest Vignette by Stephanie Nitschke
The new Ebola treatment center in West Point, Liberia has been attacked. My stomach drops as the faces of my youth program girls flash through my mind. Less than six months ago, I visited them in that very same slum. The community pulled apart the medical center shouting, “Ebola does not exist, you only have malaria!” Infected patients were taken out of the clinic and into the slum. On a normal day, West Point surges with tension so thick you could drop a match and the whole place would light on fire. All those people, all that energy, and ebola pent up for an indefinite period of time is asking for an implosion.
The new Ebola treatment center in West Point, Liberia has been attacked. My stomach drops as the faces of my youth program girls flash through my mind. Less than six months ago, I visited them in that very same slum. The community pulled apart the medical center shouting, “Ebola does not exist, you only have malaria!” Infected patients were taken out of the clinic and into the slum. On a normal day, West Point surges with tension so thick you could drop a match and the whole place would light on fire. All those people, all that energy, and ebola pent up for an indefinite period of time is asking for an implosion.
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