Ebola in Guinea: reggae plays on in Gueckedou as clubbers try to relax

On a Saturday night recently two teenagers, David and Fofana, defied their parents’ orders to stay at home and  slipped out as night enveloped the rice fields. They hitched rides on the back of motorbikes that brought them towards the bright lights of one of the few clubs still open in Gueckedou.

What elsewhere would be an act of youthful rebellion, was a chance to remember the way things used to be before Ebola came to Guinea. For a few hours, music could sweep away the grief and fear stalking alongside the disease that has killed almost 5,000 people across west Africa since the outbreak began in this market town in the lush hinterlands of the country.

“Nobody goes out here any more because our health is the biggest concern. But we wanted to have a laugh tonight, for once, because it’s the weekend,” said David, 17.

Fofana wore a jewel-blue dress to match her aquamarine hair extensions, and smiled shyly at David’s compliments as they joined a group of sharply dressed friends at the Fatou Rose hotel, the town’s crown jewel, whose tiled façade rises two storeys above the dusty streets.

The pair can remember not so long ago when dancing wasn’t a rarity in the birthplace of the Gueckedou jazz band, one of Guinea’s most famous post-independence orchestras. Once popular for wedding receptions and baptism parties, the hotel’s pool now holds only a few inches of stagnant rainwater, and a stream of exhausted international aid workers has replaced the celebrations.

But while other businesses struggle the hotel’s guaranteed customers make it one of the few places that can afford to run an electric generator most of the night, which in turn transforms the courtyard into a makeshift club at weekends.

“It’s their stolen time. All day they walk three paces apart from each other so they don’t catch Ebola,” said one Red Cross team worker staying at the hotel, gesturing at the crowd swaying body-to-body as Guinea’s trademark reggae crackled through the loudspeakers.

Nearby, a colleague who had carried out four burials that day, was less sanguine. “Even if there’s just one suspected case among them, this is dangerous,” he said, the frustration clear in his voice above the booming bass.

Guinea has had three lulls in Ebola cases. It has begun the 42-day countdown to be declared Ebola-free during each lull. But each time cases have surged again. Gueckedou, where the outbreak first began, in December, has been one of the worst hit districts, and residents say they have learnt the hard way how to protect themselves.

For the past two months almost all new cases filling the MSF treatment centre a stone’s throw from the Fatou Rose hotel have come from the neighbouring district which borders Liberia.

Ebola is passed on through direct contact with bodily fluids, usually by those caring for the sick. David, who saw two neighbours die of the disease, said he felt safe in a club surrounded by friends. “People who have Ebola cannot come dancing like this,” he said.

Laurent, the only waiter on duty, said: “We closed the club several times but people wanted it to come back.” Outside, clubbers dipped their hands in a bucket of chlorinated water before filing in.

“It’s true Ebola is like a nasty dog,” said Georges Saa, who was volunteering at the MSF treatment centre. He sat slightly apart, with a beer, on a rare night off. “But it’s like a dog they know well – they don’t think it will bite them.”

The next day a group of children in neatly pressed Sunday best trooped into the Fatou Rose for a birthday party – despite public gatherings having been banned. The generator spluttered to a stop, but they kept dancing anyway.

Later three women also went in, a photographer trailing after them, and they laughed and posed in front of the empty pool.

Completely escaping the epidemic swirling around, however, is never possible. At the marketplace, once a thriving hub that drew in neighbours from Sierra Leone and Liberia, deserted stalls are remainders of those gone.

“Even during the war we never had anything this bad,” said Alassane Diallo, a money changer. “I used to change money for 30 or 40 people on a market day, now I can go three days without any customers.”

At the Faxe nightclub one afternoon a man named Ibrahim stood before the red and black-spangled entrance and debated whether to open that night. “The owner died this morning,” he said. “Because of Ebola?” a shocked passerby asked. “Not because of Ebola! He’s been sick for many years. That’s how rumours start,” Ibrahim shouted out. His eyes were red, but whether from crying or something else wasn’t clear.

“Please pass my condolences,” the visitor said, but he walked quickly away from the forlorn handful of mourners gathered under a nearby canopy. Work is slow these days, yet hardly anyone was at the memorial. Still, by nightfall the music played on and the club was full.