Thomas Eric Duncan did not die in vain.
His tragic death links two divergent continents to a deadly virus that’s claimed far too many lives. Yet the lamentable fact that the Liberian native died on American soil is bound to prick the conscious of human beings the world over.
As “Patient Zero,” the first Ebola case diagnosed in the U.S., Duncan shook all of us out of our comfort zone.
He compelled us — if for no other reason than self-preservation — to take a closer look at the human wreckage in West Africa, where the virus has killed more than 3,800 people.
“If for some reason Mr. Duncan had not been able to get on a plane to the United States, he would have remained a faceless, nameless individual that we didn’t care about,” said Mark Wingfield, associate pastor of Wilshire Baptist Church in East Dallas.
“But because he came here, we know his name, his face and his story.”
And with the wisdom of hindsight, we know we can no longer pretend that what’s happening across the Atlantic can’t possibly wash ashore in America.
“I think it’s an indictment on us that we didn’t recognize this as a global problem we need to care about,” said Wingfield. “We only care about it now because it came knocking on our door.”
It did more than that. Ebola kicked the door down. It humbled a public healthcare system that’s arguably the best the world can offer. It put a major metropolitan city on edge.
It turned the Dallas apartment complex where Duncan came to live with his fiancée, Louise Troh, into a tinderbox of fear and loathing. It caused a misguided and mean-spirited backlash against immigrants and refugees in the Vickery Meadow neighborhood touched by the Ebola case.
Keep in mind we’re talking about a single case of Ebola, in one American city, with a highly skilled team of local, state and federal health officials at the ready.
Just imagine what life must be like in Liberia, Sierra Leone and Guinea. Duncan opened our eyes, if not our hearts, a little wider.
“We’re all saddened by his death — every one of us who has been involved in responding to the first Ebola case in the U.S.,” said Dallas County Health and Human Services Director Zachary Thompson.
“We didn’t just see him as ‘Patient Zero.’ He was a human, a husband, a father … and all of our hearts are heavy.”
If, as Russian philosopher Leo Tolstoy wrote 120 years ago, “the only meaning of life is to serve humanity,” Duncan did that, even if it was done unwittingly.
In life, he reminded us that a deadly virus rooted in a faraway land is just a plane ride away.
In death, he reminds us that modern medicine can’t always work miracles, not even in the land of plenty.
James Ragland writes on race and culture, education, social services and public health. Follow him at facebook.com/jamesragland61.
