Ebola ’76, by Sudanese novelist Amir Tag Elsir (and exquisitely translated by Charis Bredin and Emily Danby) is a fictionalized account of the first historically documented Ebola virus outbreak that took place in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and South Sudan. Published in April of this year, it was undeniably a shrewd choice by Darf Publishers to release it now: the original Arabic edition was sent to the presses back in 2012, prior to the major West African outbreak. As such, one would be hard-pressed to argue that they were not immediately drawn to it by the title.
The protagonist is Lewis Nawa, a factory worker native to Nzara in South Sudan. Sojourning briefly in the DRC to mourn the death of his beloved mistress, he unwittingly carries the Ebola virus to his hometown after a fleeting tryst with a prostitute. With each page, an omniscient narrator reveals how each of the virus’s victims is infected and recounts their eventual fate.
The reader is introduced to a host of characters—a veteran magician, a blind musician, a textile factory owner—all bound by their fear of the virus. One becomes well acquainted with the symptoms of the Ebola virus by way of each character’s struggle and paranoia: fever, vomiting replete with bile, and gruesome lesions, to name a few.
What imbues the novel with the constitution of a magnum opus, and yet remains its greatest shortcoming, is that the Ebola virus itself is a character. It plots, cackles with glee, and is incensed when a target escapes. Through the virus’s crosshairs, the reader is privy to its notions of prey and how it travels from one host to the next: by way of a violent sneeze, a slobbery kiss of a hand, or in a moment of passion.
The first part of the novel is undoubtedly more potent and visceral in its personification of the Ebola virus as a being. To the extent that the reader experiences a build-up, it never climaxes, but rather skips to the dénouement. The virus as a character is a terribly intriguing prospect, yet inchoate. A stronger identity, presence, voice, or deeper insight into its designs would have gripped any reader from start to finish. The tale focuses more on each of the victims rather than the killer whose initially distinctive voice fades. Strength, however, is found in the omniscient narrative voice, especially in how it flows seamlessly from one individual to the next, at times even returning to them after they die. Each character is affiliated to Lewis, whether closely—such as his mother-in-law or wife—or not.
Death, the fear of it, and how we as humans face it in its myriad forms (heart attack, slaughter by a self-righteous mob or the Ebola virus itself) is a cornerstone of the novel. Some, such as a prostitute in the novel, continue on reassuring themselves that “the life of a working girl is far harder than any death;” others, such as James Riyyak (the factory owner churning out face masks) spring into action to search for any solution. Some spur momentary movements such as ‘Fight Fear with Art’ whilst others literally flee in the opposite direction to the border.
Though an unusual occurrence, one has the opportunity to compare Bredin and Danby’s translation alongside another translator’s, as Maia Tabet previously translated the first few pages of Ebola ‘76 for the online literary publication Jadaliyya. Even if the novel itself may not be Elsir’s strongest work, its translation must be loudly applauded.
Bredin and Danby’s visual choices create a world that the reader can easily step into, as seen on page ten. Tabet writes, “There on the outskirts of the city, lay the piteous harvest of Ebola’s rampage,” whereas the translation duo pen “ . . . on the outskirts of the city. There, Ebola’s many victims lay side by side, struck down in the overwhelming chaos of its recent outbreak.” Specifying how the corpses lay side by side left a stronger impression in my imagination than the first rendition. Another difference between both renditions is that the duo decide to break down the commonplace Arabic run-on sentences to distil the essence of each statement. Key idiomatic choices such as ‘blue-collared worker’ instead of ‘unskilled worker’ also vitalize the text (p. 9).
Additionally, Bredin and Danby’s conscious decision to employ a conversational tone makes the character of Ebola all the more believable. For example, where Tabet writes “The killer Ebola had been terrorizing the people of the country for some time now and couldn’t say why Lewis caught his fancy, but he was tense with excitement,” it is Bredin and Danby who narrate: “the deadly Ebola was not entirely sure what it found so intriguing about Lewis Nawa, but something about him had propelled it into a fit of excited agitation” (p. 11). Phrases such as ‘not entirely sure’ and ‘something about him’ lend Ebola an appreciation of Verstehen.
Though it is a quick fictional account, Ebola ’76 is an educational read about the emergence of the Ebola virus and how it could have possibly spread from the DRC to South Sudan. One is left wondering: if Elsir were to write an account of the most recent West African outbreak, how would it differ from what he envisaged in 1976? Would the lacking aid and intervention from wealthier countries play a greater role in the survival of those affected? More likely, increasing awareness of what the disease actually is and how it is contracted, rather than the blind belief that a formidable sorcerer is behind the mass deaths, might be a greater focus of the novel.
A final strength of the novel is that it lacks a conclusive ending; the author instead offers a number of options of how such a story might end. This encourages the reader to believe that the story could still be ongoing, almost leaving Elsir the chance to pick it up again at a later date. Fiction it might be, but it definitely serves a lot of food for thought.
*****
Sawad Hussain is an Arabic teacher, translator and litterateur who holds a Master of Arts in Modern Arabic Literature from the School of Oriental and African Studies. She is passionate about all things related to Arab culture, history and literature. Her dream job would be to translate and review Arabic literature full-time.