Most Recent Posts

The plastic orange mesh fences that once separated Ebola patients in the "red zone" from visitors in the "green zone" have collapsed. Corrugated metal roofing sheets flap in the wind. Some of the tents that served as isolation wards are still in good shape, but many of the tarps used as partitions are torn and frayed.

i

Dr. Michael Mawanda, from the World Health Organization, walks past goggles left to dry during the last days of operation at the Ministry of Defense ETU. Jason Beaubien/NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Jason Beaubien/NPR

Dr. Michael Mawanda, from the World Health Organization, walks past goggles left to dry during the last days of operation at the Ministry of Defense ETU.

Jason Beaubien/NPR

"Here we are going through to what used to be the red zone," says Dr. Michael Mawanda from the World Health Organization as he leads me through the grounds of a defunct 300-bed field hospital in Monrovia, Liberia. "As you can see the structures over there, those are patient wards."

During this Ebola outbreak some of the largest Ebola isolation units ever constructed were built in Liberia. The country has 21 in total, many of which were built by the U.S. military as part of President Obama's response to the crisis.

But now that Liberia has been declared Ebola free, the country is trying to figure out whether to tear down these field hospitals, repurpose them or keep them operational in case the disease makes a comeback

This isolation unit, known as the Ministry of Defense ETU, opened in October. The last Ebola patient walked out the gate free of the virus on Feb. 11.

Even though the current WHO protocols assume that the virus can't survive on beds or medical equipment for more than a week, Mawanda's team is still disinfecting everything here to reassure people that that there's no risk to the public.

"We are there to ensure that these processes happen — the cleaning process, the decontamination," he says. They also decide "what should be repurposed reused and what shouldn't be."

i

A boot-drying rack sits empty at the Ministry of Defense Ebola Treatment Unit in Monrovia. Jason Beaubien/NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Jason Beaubien/NPR

A boot-drying rack sits empty at the Ministry of Defense Ebola Treatment Unit in Monrovia.

Jason Beaubien/NPR

Leftover equipment, like drip stands and beds, can be reused at another hospital but they will be thoroughly sanitized first, says Mawanda's colleague, Ling Kituyi.

"You can imagine yourself," Kituyi says. "Even in the U.S., if you got something and people in that a hospital knew it came from an Ebola treatment unit, they might object and say, 'How do we know that's safe?"

Before anything can leave here, it has to be washed twice in a strong chlorine solution.

i

The Ministry of Defense ETU opened in October and closed in February. Now it awaits decommissioning. Jason Beaubien/NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Jason Beaubien/NPR

The Ministry of Defense ETU opened in October and closed in February. Now it awaits decommissioning.

Jason Beaubien/NPR

There is still concern here that the outbreak might somehow come back, or that cases might come in from neighboring Sierra Leone or Guinea. So only 14 of Liberia's 21 Ebola treatment units are being dismantled. The U.S. military built the majority of them as the hallmark of President Obama's multi-billion-dollar response to the crisis. But those American-built field hospitals didn't open until after the number of cases started to drop dramatically.

Some of the U.S. Ebola treatment units or ETUs never saw a single patient.

But Tolbert Nyenswa, who led the Liberian government's Ebola response, the building of these unused field hospitals. When construction started, Nyenswa says, this is what Liberia was asking for.

"When the U.S. came in, we gave them where ETUs [should be built] and the number of beds of ETUs to be built, and they did that effectively," he says.

Block By Block, Health Workers Lead Liberia To Victory Over Ebola May 9, 2015

Baltimore Artist Helps Turn Liberian School Into A Mural Masterpiece May 14, 2015

It's Like The Story Of Job: Ebola Survivors Who Continue To Suffer May 15, 2015

Not to be outdone, the Chinese built the most lavish of any of the ETUs. While the others are in tented structures, the Chinese hospital is an air-conditioned, modular building. It offered patients private rooms and has closed circuit video monitors so nurses could check on a patient without the danger of going to their bedside.

But the Chinese ETU is right next to the national soccer stadium, and there's now a fight over whether to move it, dismantle it or find some new use for the hospital where it stands.

Compared to the problems Liberia had just a few months ago, the problem of what to do with too many Ebola treatment beds is a refreshing change.

ebola

Liberia

You'd recognize actress Elizabeth Banks if you saw her — blonde, attractive, funny — whether she's playing an exhausted pregnant woman in What to Expect When You're Expecting, or an inappropriate a cappella judge in the 2012 movie Pitch Perfect.

i

Elizabeth Banks directed Pitch Perfect 2, and she also returns as impolitic a cappella judge Gail Abernathy-McKadden. Universal Pictures hide caption

itoggle caption Universal Pictures

Elizabeth Banks directed Pitch Perfect 2, and she also returns as impolitic a cappella judge Gail Abernathy-McKadden.

Universal Pictures

Now she's taking on a different role: Directing Pitch Perfect 2. It's a tall order since the first one was such a surprise hit — it only cost $17 million to make, but earned more than $100 million worldwide.

And much like the first film's success, singing heroines the Barden Bellas are fresh off a victory, though theirs was onstage at a college championship, rather than at the box office. So to raise the stakes, Banks took the big fish out of their small pond, and dropped them in an ocean. In Pitch Perfect 2, the ladies are competing in the world championships.

Banks tells NPR's Audie Cornish she thinks these films are just like sports movies. "In the first film, especially, it was really structured like The Bad News Bears," she says. "It's a group of misfits who have to come together, who practice, who have competitions, they have to keep winning in order to keep going — so very much like a sports movie."

Interview Highlights

On her particular inspiration for this movie

Our model was Rocky IV. Because we spent a lot of time talking about Ivan Drago — we have a new competitor, a German group called Das Sound Machine, and we wanted Das Sound Machine to sort of be like our Ivan Drago, and the Bellas are our Rocky ... I think they look villainous but weirdly sexy.

On the tribal nature of a cappella

I think it's a good metaphor for life, generally — you know, all of these voices have to work together in harmony to be its best, and I think that's something that on an almost subconscious level people are responding to with these films. This particular type of music, I think, really requires all the part, and that dovetails really nicely with our teamwork themes.

Movie Reviews

Staying In Tune Isn't So Easy In 'Pitch Perfect 2'

On moving into directing

Monkey See

The Hard Work And Close Bonds Of Competitive College A Cappella

I started thinking about it probably maybe five years ago. You know, I directed plays in college, and it's something that I've sort of always put in the back of my mind ... and I started just sort of seeking out small opportunities. So one of the first things I did was direct a short film for the Farrelly brothers. And I did it by essentially guilting them into letting me direct it. I said, you don't have any women writers, directors, nobody. And I knew that they sort of trusted me in a weird way ... so I had been working towards this moment, towards the moment of directing a big feature.

On why more actresses don't move into directing

It's really the time commitment — and if you're going to direct a movie, you know, I think that's why Ben Affleck always stars in his movies. I mean, that would be my theory — I don't chat to him about it! But, you know, I think if you're going to take that amount of time to direct, you don't want to just leave your acting career on the side. That's what brought us to the dance, that's what we all love to do.

Weekend Edition Sunday aired a feature piece last week about the experience of Little Rock, Ark., cartographer Andrea Zekis as she transitioned from male to female. It focused on her experience at her workplace, the Arkansas State Highway and Transportation Department, and was told largely through the voices of Zekis and her coworkers as they recalled events from several years ago.

Clair Gustafson, a listener, wrote to my office with several concerns about the story. I'm going to focus on the part of the complaint that was about the language.

Gustafson wrote: "Andrea's birth name and pronouns were used for much longer than they had to be. The idea that it's okay to call trans people, especially trans women, by names and pronouns they no longer use actually literally puts trans people in physical danger." Similarly, "QueenKylee," a commenter at NPR.org, called the story "problematic," noting that "calling someone by their birth name is not only offensive to that person, but in some cases, puts them at risk."

Language issues come up frequently when NPR addresses transgender stories, including former Olympian Bruce Jenner's recent announcement that he identifies as a transgender female. Some would prefer that NPR use no pronouns when referring to transgender persons. Jenner told ABC News' Diane Sawyer that he still preferred to be referred to as "he."

NPR's policy is laid out here. The main highlights:

People define their gender identities and we respect their decisions.

We respect their wishes if they change their names.

We respect their wishes on whether to be referred to as "he" or "she."

Regarding Gustafson's complaint about the Weekend Edition Sunday piece, Sarah Gilbert, supervising senior editor for Weekend Edition, wrote in an email that the staff talked through the language issues carefully when assembling the piece. "We decided to let Andrea set the parameters on language, and what you hear is her choice of words on her own experience. She described herself as Gary at work until she came out as Andrea: we respectfully followed her lead."

The show's host, Rachel Martin, added in an email to me: "This is, in many ways, new territory for journalists – covering transgender issues and the language associated with them." She said, "We thought a lot about every pronoun we used and how it reflected back on Andrea's transition. If possible, we tried to avoid pronouns altogether in certain situations – always trying to balance the particular sensitivities of this story with the natural constraints of storytelling and the need to refer back to Andrea's previous life for narrative purposes. We tried very hard to strike that balance."

That seems appropriate to me. I understand Gustafson's larger point but it's almost certain that not every transgender person will see the issues in the same way. Given that this was a specific story about a specific situation, it seems reasonable to let the subject set the boundaries on this question.

Given that this was a specific story about a specific situation, it seems reasonable to let the subject set the boundaries on this question.

I had one concern of my own about the piece, however. Zekis was identified only as a cartographer; she is also the co-founder and executive director of the Arkansas Transgender Equality Coalition, which has advocated for federal protections against workplace discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity.

I asked the Weekend Edition staff why that fact was not noted. Gilbert replied: "We wanted specifically to talk about the experience of transitioning in the workplace," and Zekis co-founded the advocacy group in 2014, "well after she transitioned in 2010." It would have been "absolutely necessary" to mention the affiliation had it been current while she was transitioning, Gilbert added, "Not least because her position could have affected how she was treated or how she chose to handle things." But, she said, "In retrospect, we could have been clearer about her story since that time."

I agree. My take is that the affiliation should have been mentioned no matter what, so that listeners who knew of her affiliation would not have to do the math themselves — and those who didn't would know that the story's main subject is an active advocate for a cause related to the story.

Mark Memmott, NPR's standards and practices editor, agreed, as well, telling me, "A reference to Andrea Zekis' advocacy work would have told listeners and Web readers more about her commitment to the issues she is facing. Some listeners and readers might have put more stock in what she was saying, knowing that her experience has led her to take action. Some might have put less stock in what she was saying, thinking that being an advocate affects her credibility. It was valuable information. In our Ethics Handbook we stress the importance of identifying 'who is speaking.' We aim to add 'the context that describes where that person is coming from.'"

transgender

On Language

It's harvest time in the coca fields of southern Colombia. Using his bare hands, Franklin Canacuan expertly strips the bright green leaves from his 5-foot-tall coca bushes.

But over the years, Colombian police planes have sprayed his fields with a powerful weed killer.

It's part of a government program to destroy coca leaves, which are used to make cocaine. Since it began in 1994, the program has received more than $2 billion in U.S. funding.

i

Franklin Canacuan strips the leaves from his coca bushes in southern Colombia. He says his daughter became ill after she was doused with weed killer while playing outside. John Otis for NPR hide caption

itoggle caption John Otis for NPR

Franklin Canacuan strips the leaves from his coca bushes in southern Colombia. He says his daughter became ill after she was doused with weed killer while playing outside.

John Otis for NPR

Now, due to health concerns, the Colombian government has decided to ground the spray planes.

Canacuan, the coca farmer, says his 8-year-old daughter became ill briefly after being doused by the rain of defoliant while playing outside.

"It makes people sick. It gives them a fever and skin rashes on their arms." he tells me. "It happens right after the planes pass over."

It's impossible to verify Canacuan's claims. However, misgivings about glyphosate, the active ingredient in the herbicide used to kill coca, are growing.

Daniel Mejia directs the Drug and Security Research Center in Bogota. He conducted a four-year study of coca-growing regions and found that such health problems increased immediately after these areas were fumigated.

"In our own study we find that exposure to glyphosate used in the spraying campaigns in Colombia causes respiratory, dermatological problems and miscarriages," he says.

The Word Health Organization has raised an even bigger red flag. In March, its cancer research arm concluded that glyphosate "is probably carcinogenic to humans."

That prompted the Colombian government on Thursday to order a phasing out of the program. Justice Minister Yesid Reyes said the crop-dusting flights will probably end by October.

i

Janeth Cuaran picks coca leaves in her 2-acre field in southern Colombia. Most coca growers sell their crops to FARC guerrillas. John Otis for NPR hide caption

itoggle caption John Otis for NPR

Janeth Cuaran picks coca leaves in her 2-acre field in southern Colombia. Most coca growers sell their crops to FARC guerrillas.

John Otis for NPR

Still, it's an awkward time for Colombia to holster a key weapon in its war on drugs.

"For first time in more than eight years, the United States government concluded that coca cultivation and cocaine production in Colombia has increased and increased rather dramatically," says William Brownfield, the U.S. State Department's top anti-drug official.

Colombia's coca crop expanded by 39 percent last year, he says. That means cocaine production may have jumped from 185 tons to 245 tons. Brownfield said a more aggressive spray campaign might have reduced those numbers.

The program is dear to the hearts of U.S. officials because they helped invent it. FARC guerrillas control many of the coca fields and frequently attack ground-based eradication teams. So Colombia opted for aerial eradication with American crop-dusters and glyphosate, which is used by agro-industry all across the globe.

"To the best of our knowledge there is not one single verified case of cancer being caused by glyphosate," Brownfield says.

Monsanto, which manufactures of glyphosate, points to many scientific studies showing that the herbicide poses no risk to humans. It claims that the World Health Organization report ignored this research.

Related NPR Stories

Goats and Soda

The Second Most Dangerous Country For Land Mines Begins To De-Mine

Parallels

In Colombia, A Town Badly Scarred By Wartime Rape

As it turns out, coca farmers routinely handle toxic chemicals. Near the town of La Hormiga, I meet Sandra Trejo, a former coca farmer who has switched to growing black pepper. She got out of the drug trade, in part, because turning coca leaves into cocaine requires mixing powerful solvents, like acetone and sulfuric acid.

"People use very strong chemicals without protection, like goggles, overalls or facemasks," Trejo says. "So we can't blame all the problems on glyphosate."

But Colombian President Juan Manuel Santos says there are other reasons for scrapping the spray program. He says that going after big-time smugglers rather than peasant coca farmers can be a more effective way to fight drugs.

drugs

Colombia