By George S. Tengbeh
The Forgotten Wounds
On a quiet afternoon in West Point, one of Monrovia’s most crowded neighborhoods, 38-year-old Hawa sat on a wooden bench staring at the waves crashing along the Atlantic coast. Her body still carries the scars of the Ebola virus that ravaged Liberia in 2014. She remembers the days when her neighbors whispered “Ebola woman” as she passed.
Ten years later, the virus is gone, but the stigma remains. “I lost my husband, my mother, and my two children in less than two weeks,” Hawa recalls, her voice breaking. “They told me after I survived that I would get help. But nothing came. Nothing.”
Hawa’s story mirrors the voices of hundreds of Ebola survivors across Liberia who feel abandoned by their government and forgotten by the international community. For them, the end of Ebola was not the end of suffering, it was the beginning of a long silence.
The Promises That Faded
When Liberia was declared Ebola-free in 2016, international donors pledged millions for survivor care. The Ministry of Health promised housing, scholarships for orphans, counseling, and lifelong medical support. Survivors were told they would never be left behind. But as the headlines faded, so did the promises.
A 2021 investigation by FrontPage Africa revealed that funds meant for survivor programs were mismanaged, leaving many still without healthcare. Survivors complain of constant headaches, eye problems, joint pains, and psychological trauma.
Few clinics in Liberia offer specialized post-Ebola treatment, and most survivors cannot afford private care. “Every time I go to the hospital, they ask me for money,” says James, another survivor from Bong County. “I tell them I am an Ebola survivor. They look at me and say, ‘‘so what? Pay first.’’ The betrayal cuts deep because Ebola survivors were once hailed as heroes.
Their blood was used in research to understand immunity. They were paraded at donor conferences. They were told they would be part of the rebuilding of Liberia. Today, many survive on the margins of society, unemployed and stigmatized.
Stigma That Won’t Die
In Liberia’s small towns, being an Ebola survivor can still feel like a curse. Some neighbors fear that survivors still carry the disease. Landlords have refused to rent houses to them. Even churches have quietly excluded them. “I went to sell in the market and one woman shouted, ‘Don’t buy from her, she had Ebola!’” recalls Martha, a mother of three who survived the outbreak in Lofa County.
“That day I cried like a child. I asked God, why didn’t you just take me instead of making me live like this?” For survivors, stigma isn’t just about words. It robs them of livelihoods, dignity, and hope. Children of survivors, some now teenagers, still carry the label “Ebola child” at school. The psychological damage is devastating. Many survivors battle depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress. Yet Liberia has less than three licensed psychiatrists for the entire nation of 5 million people.
International Aid, Where Did It Go?
During the height of the Ebola crisis, Liberia received nearly $2.4 billion in international aid.
But tracking how much of that went directly to survivor programs is almost impossible. Reports from donor agencies highlight “capacity-building,” “strengthening systems,” and “supporting resilience.” Survivors say those words never translated into food, healthcare, or jobs. In 2017, the Liberian government launched the National Ebola Survivors Network with fanfare, promising to coordinate assistance. Today, that network struggles with funding, leadership wrangles, and lack of support.
“The money passed through many hands, but very little reached the survivors,” says an NGO worker who requested anonymity. “It’s the same story in Liberia, donors give, officials manage, and the people suffer.” This echoes a larger problem: Liberia’s governance crisis, where corruption and weak accountability rob citizens of justice. Survivors, who paid the highest price during the Ebola epidemic, are now paying again through neglect.
Survivors in the Shadow of COVID-19
The COVID-19 pandemic re-opened old wounds. As the world scrambled to fight a new virus, Ebola survivors felt déjà vu. They watched as billions were mobilized for vaccines, testing, and treatment. Yet their own health needs remained unmet. “People think Ebola is over, but for us, it never ended,” says James.
“My eyes still hurt. My joints still swell. But nobody cares. It feels like we are ghosts, alive but invisible.” The irony is cruel: lessons from Ebola helped shape global responses to COVID-19. Survivors in Liberia feel the world learned from their pain but gave nothing back.
A Nation’s Moral Failure
Why does this matter now, a decade later? Because how a nation treats its survivors says everything about its soul. Liberia celebrates “resilience” every Independence Day. Politicians invoke the memory of Ebola to showcase strength. But the survivors, living testaments to resilience, remain in poverty. It is a moral failure. These are people who endured unbearable loss. They buried families in mass graves. They survived loneliness in isolation units. They returned to communities that feared them. To abandon them now is to erase their humanity.
The Human Cost of Neglect
The neglect has real consequences. Survivors report higher rates of blindness, miscarriages, and chronic pain. Many cannot afford school fees for their children, leading to another generation trapped in poverty. “I feel like I died with my family, only my body is walking,” says Hawa. “If they had kept their promise, maybe I would feel alive again.” Survivors are not just patients; they are living libraries of lessons. Ignoring them means losing valuable knowledge about resilience, community healing, and epidemic recovery.
What Must Be Done
The way forward requires courage and compassion. Liberia’s government must:
- Audit survivor funds – An independent review of how Ebola survivor aid was spent is essential. Accountability restores trust.
- Provide free lifelong healthcare – Survivors should not pay a cent for treatment of post-Ebola complications.
- Launch anti-stigma campaigns – Communities need education to end discrimination.
- Offer survivor scholarships and jobs – Children of survivors should receive education support, while adult survivors deserve targeted job programs.
- Partner with survivor networks – Survivors must lead their own advocacy. Government should support, not control, their voices.
Closing Reflections
On the beach in West Point, as the sun dipped into the Atlantic, Hawa whispered words that carried both grief and defiance: “They thought Ebola finished when they buried my family. But Ebola is still here, inside me, inside all of us who survived. If they cannot see us, then Liberia has no heart.” The ghost of Ebola haunts Liberia not because of the virus, but because of the silence that followed it. The real epidemic now is neglect. And until survivors receive justice, Liberia’s healing remains incomplete.
About the author:
George S. Tengbeh is a Labour & Environmental Justice Advocate, researcher on climate change, and expert in Public Sector Management, Labour Economics & Policy, Governance, and Water Resource Management. He is the founder of the Liberia Labour and Governance Alliance (LILGA), a non-political civil society organization dedicated to exposing unfair labour practices and promoting good governance.
Contact me: Email: gstengbeh@gmail.com | 📞 Tel| WhatsApp: +231 880 767 070
