There is a popular expression, which says, "The more things change, the more they stay the same". In the Kasai, around the epicenter of the Ebola epidemic in the Democratic Republic of Congo, this still rings too true.

I accompanied the Missionary Aviation Fellowship flight recently to Bulape, an isolated Presbyterian mission station in the heart of the Congo We carried a load of personal protection suits, soap, bleach, and other supplies for the hospital staff there to cope with a potentially large number of Ebola patients. In some ways, it feels like a part of the world that time forgot. Our landing on the little used grass airstrip startled a group of sheep grazing placidly. Instead of darting right or left, as our pilot Garth Pederson brought the plane to a stop, they ran in terror ahead of the plane. Predictably, hundreds of enthusiastic, chattering and curious children scampered from everywhere to press in around us, eager for a hello, a handshake, a chance to feel my hair. But a couple men with bamboo poles kept them at bay so they couldn't and wouldn't touch us. Changes, but the smiles of the children and their chants of “mundele” held warm familiarity. Dr. Joseph (the medical director of the Bulape health zone) and Dr. Patrick (medical director of the Bulape hospital) came on foot to greet us and receive the freight. The warm, hardy, handshake greeting, (so characteristic of the hospitable spirit of the people of the Congo), is now avoided in this area where people are rubbing shoulders with Ebola. Instead, folks offer symbols of greetings: a nod, a bent elbow, a bow - poignant reminders of the changes imposed by recent events.

From L to R: Dr. Joseph, Katherine Niles and Dr. Patrick at Bulape Hospital

In addition to the delivery of supplies, my mission was to cast a glance at the house which serves the Bulape hospital and church as a guest house. While Garth unloaded our cargo for transport to the hospital, Dr. Joseph and Dr. Patrick accompanied me to the guest house. In the path, local government and territory officials way laid us to greet me (with a nod), inquire as to my mission, and to press me for promises of benefits for them personally. Some things stay exactly the same. Colorful adjectives have been used to describe the overt corruption so rampant in the Congo, which snares the task of providing services, relief and development. In the context of the human tragedy of an epidemic like Ebola, the cruelties inevitably in it’s wake are multiplied.

Further down the path, we passed a two room cement block house with a clutch of people seated in the sparse shade provided by the overhanging tin roof. Dr. Joseph slowed our pace, noting that we should first greet these people. It would help them. We offered a bow. The expressionless eyes of the two women gripped me and I choked on my greeting. These were Mabinghi and Mayinda, the widows of Mr. Kwete, a man who died of Ebola at the Bulape Hospital five days ago, along with Mayinda's son, and Mr. Kwete’s kid brother. All had intimate contact with Mr. Kwete during his illness. They've been brought to Bulape from their village 12 miles away and this house has been prepared for them to wait. To wait for what? They have no symptoms of illness yet, but the course of the Ebola virus infection is well documented, and unforgiving. Almost 80% of people, who get Ebola, die. So these women are waiting, and Mayinda's small son squirms in her lap. Dr. Joseph introduced me to the hospital chaplain who is standing there and who visits this home regularly. Both assure the women of the prayers of many. I can't dismiss a deep feeling of despair. While things change, much remains the same.

Fortunately Bulape will benefit from extra help. In their isolation, they'll need it, as they are being visited by Ebola. Maybe more help will be needed, and that’s why we walked through the guest house to size up its potential. But the time we had to spend on the ground in Bulape passed quickly, so Dr’s Joseph and Patrick walked me back to the airstrip. The encouragement and hope brought, even by a bowed greeting and a shipment of needed supplies is real. The gratitude expressed by those in the thick of the situation is heart felt and genuine.

Children at Bulape

As we walked, Dr. Joseph gestured widely in the direction of the hospital and said, "To face all this, we also need grace". We said goodbye, and I looked down over Bulape as we circled out. Grace. Freely given, freely received: not subject to Fellowship plane weight limitations but dispensed by a Heavenly Father who watched His only Son die, because He so loved the world. Grace, available in overwhelming measure to those who ask for it. Mayinda, her child, Dr. Joseph and the faithful at Bulape need grace. Though in an isolated corner of the Congo, they are not beyond it’s reach. As God’s children, you and I can intercede for Grace on their behalf – a full measure, pressed down and running over, so God’s faithful can stand “in the face of all this”. The more things change, the more God remains the same.

Katherine Niles