戰地記者直面埃博拉

At a bar in Freetown， Sierra Leone， a table of journalists wrestled with disturbing news： James Foley1） had been executed by ISIS2）. The discussion about a fallen colleague， though grim， briefly distracted them from the surrounding chaos.

It was mid-August， almost five months after Ebola had first been detected in West Africa. The number of infected was on the rise. An underdeveloped healthcare network， coupled with porous3） borders， hampered efforts to quarantine4） the sick. Already， more than 900 Sierra Leoneans had contracted the virus and over 370 had succumbed to it. The group sitting at the Freetown bar included foreign correspondents tasked with chronicling the tragedy.

Some spent their days speeding from one hospital ward to the next， filming desperate attempts by health workers to isolate the ill. Others journeyed into rural areas， discovering villages crippled by the virus. For many of them， working in a highly fluid5） crisis was nothing new. They had experience covering insurgent6） warfare， and were familiar with the unpredictable risks that come with it—like kidnappings or suicide bombings in Iraq and Afghanistan. But this was different. The veteran reporters were covering an insurgency that was essentially invisible.

“Here’s to Foley！” Pete Muller said， holding up a glass in honor of the murdered journalist. The American photographer watched as his glass clinked those of his colleagues. Then his mind began to race. “Fuck！” he thought as he realized he had forgotten rule number one： Don’t touch other people. “What if one of us has Ebola？”

In August， Muller spent 11 days in Sierra Leone on assignment for The Washington Post. He reported mainly from the Kailahun district in the east of the country， along the border with Liberia. Muller， who lives in Nairobi， Kenya， has been assigned to some of this decade’s most violent conflict zones： Afghanistan， Somalia， the Democratic Republic of Congo， the West Bank， Mali. He lived in South Sudan for three years. Yet the unrelenting7） fear associated with covering the Ebola crisis， he said， is remarkable.

“There’s an inherent anxiety working in those types of conflict zones， particularly where there’s a kidnapping risk，” Muller told me. “But ... you don’t know exactly where Ebola is. That creates an awful lot of tension and you’re sort of perpetually on edge8）.”

War zones， despite how they may be perceived， are not completely engulfed9） in gunfire and explosions. They are undoubtedly risky situations， Muller said， but there are a number of ways reporters can protect themselves. Hired drivers and fixers10）—locals that arrange interviews—can help limit reporters’ exposure to danger， for example. While reporting on a rebellion in the DRC last November， Muller witnessed militias establish evident borders of control （man-made trenches， in some cases）. These types of boundaries send signals to journalists that can direct them away from potentially hostile encounters.

But in Ebola-affected areas of West Africa， “the virus can kind of be anywhere，” Muller said.

Step in the wrong place in a hospital ward and you’re vulnerable to contaminated fluids. Simply brushing your arm against a sweaty doctor puts you at risk. A flak jacket11） and helmet might protect a war photographer from shrapnel12）， but the full-body protection suits intended to shield skin from the virus are themselves potentially lethal13）. Improper removal of gloves， for example， can result in infection.

To avoid being kidnapped or killed in combat zones， reporters can vary their routines by， say， changing hotels， using different taxis， and never eating at the same restaurant more than once. Evading the contagion of Ebola， however， requires that journalists act in a rigorously repetitious fashion： Take every photo from a safe distance， without any risk of human contact. Every single time.

Muller often asked nearby Doctors Without Borders officials whether it was safe to move closer for a picture. He uses only fixed lenses， and was therefore unable to zoom in on infected patients. Jerome Delay， the chief Africa photographer for the Associated Press， wrote recently that washing his hands and feet with chlorinated14） water “to the point of obsession” ultimately became “the norm.”

“Whatever the dynamic is that poses a threat， I’m not trying to die for a picture，” Muller said.

But the imperative of capturing images of Ebola requires photojournalists to enter health clinics in which the disease is highly contagious， and to position themselves as close to victims as safety will permit. Otherwise they can’t fully document the crisis.

“I’ve been almost killed by a car bomb and shot at by snipers15） and all sorts of things， and none of that compares to being just completely on edge the whole time I was out [in Sierra Leone]，” Agence France-Presse photographer Carl de Souza told me.

“Whether it’s a war zone or Ebola， a photojournalist has to be in the middle of it to get the best shots，” said Geoffrey York， Africa correspondent for the Toronto-based Globe and Mail， who recently spent a week reporting in Liberia. “As a writer I can be back a little bit.”

Efforts to visually document the raw， graphic nature of death by hemorrhagic16） fever are not necessarily perceived as heroic in affected countries. After detailed pictures of Ebola patients， many lying motionlessly in pools of their own bodily fluids， began appearing in the press， Liberian health officials introduced new regulations on media coverage of the crisis. Journalists working in Liberia are now required to get consent from Ebola patients before taking their photos.

De Souza initially planned to report in the border regions of Sierra Leone for two weeks. But he arrived amid talk of banning flights from West Africa. His wife was weeks away from giving birth to their first child. He feared getting stuck in the country， so he left after six stressful days of reporting. Yet the assignment shook him in surprising ways.

Whether returning from the Libyan revolution or unrest in Pakistan， de Souza had never struggled to transition back into everyday life. “I’ve never had any nightmares and never had any problems working in conflict zones，” he said. “If I need to cry， I cry. If I need to be scared， I’m scared. But I deal with it then and get it all out.”

Ebola’s three-week incubation period17）， however， weighed heavily on the photographer’s mind. He hesitated to kiss his wife， fearing he might be carrying the virus. He stayed out of their bedroom and slept on the couch. He checked his temperature dozens of times a day to monitor whether he was showing symptoms of Ebola. “I wasn’t happy，” he recalled.

“In a conflict zone you go out and you know you can hear the sounds of bombs and bullets，” de Souza added. “But when it’s something that’s invisible， it’s actually really， really scary.”

埃博拉被稱為“世界上殺傷力最強的瘟疫”，如果對這場瘟疫的抗擊可以稱作戰爭的話，那么奮斗在疫區進行報道的記者所面臨的生理和心理考驗則都遠遠超過普通的戰地記者。因為槍林彈雨帶來的危險尚可通過經驗和方法預防，埃博拉帶來的威脅和恐懼卻無處不在、防不勝防。在這場沒有硝煙的戰爭中，他們要面對的不僅僅是被感染的危險，還有日后被夢魘纏繞的痛苦……

在塞拉利昂首都弗里敦的一間酒吧里，圍坐一桌的記者們正在設法面對一條令人不安的消息：詹姆斯·弗利被極端組織“伊斯蘭國”處決了。談論一位遇害的同行雖然讓人心情低落，卻能使他們暫時忘卻周遭的混亂。

那是8月中旬（編注：該文原文發表于2014年10月），距離西非發現首例埃博拉病例已將近五個月。感染者人數正在持續上升。落后的醫療保健系統和松懈的邊境管理增加了隔離患者的難度。已有900多名塞拉利昂居民感染了埃博拉病毒，死亡人數超過370人。聚在弗里敦這間酒吧里的這群人中就有受命報道這場災難的外國記者。

有些人每天的工作就是從一間病房趕往另一間病房，拍攝醫療人員不惜一切隔離病患的工作場景。另一些人則深入農村地區，將那些被病毒重創的村莊公諸于世。對他們中的許多人而言，在情況瞬息萬變的危機中工作已不是什么新鮮事了。他們有報道叛亂戰爭的經驗，對工作中那些無法預料的風險——比如在伊拉克和阿富汗遭遇綁架或自殺式炸彈襲擊——已習以為常。但是這次與以往不同。這些經驗豐富的記者們這回報道的實質上是一場看不見的暴亂。

“敬弗利一杯！”皮特·穆勒舉杯向那位被害的記者致敬。這位美國攝影記者看著自己的酒杯和同事們的酒杯碰在一起，腦海里忽然閃過一個念頭。“該死！”他心中暗想，因為他發現自己居然忘記了首要法則——不要接觸他人。“萬一我們之中有誰感染了埃博拉可怎么辦？”

8月，穆勒受《華盛頓郵報》委派，在塞拉利昂工作了11天，主要負責從塞拉利昂東部與利比里亞交界的凱拉洪地區發回報道。穆勒住在肯尼亞首都內羅畢，他曾被派往近十年來沖突最為激烈的一些地區：阿富汗、索馬里、剛果民主共和國、約旦河西岸和馬里。他也曾在南蘇丹駐守過三年。但是他說，在報道埃博拉危機的過程中體會到的那種無休無止的恐懼讓他刻骨銘心。

“在有沖突的那種地區工作，尤其是在有被綁架風險的地區工作，焦慮是肯定存在的，”穆勒對我說，“但……對于埃博拉病毒，你無法確切地知道它在哪兒。這讓人極其緊張，可以說你始終處于坐立不安之中。”

無論人們如何看待戰區，它們其實并不會完全被炮火和爆炸所吞噬。穆勒說，戰區無疑是非常危險的環境，但是記者們有許多辦法可以保護自己。例如，雇來的司機和接洽人（即安排采訪事宜的當地人）可以幫助記者們降低遭遇危險的可能性。去年11月，在報道剛果境內發生的一場叛亂時，穆勒目睹了民兵劃定明確的勢力范圍（在一些情況下會修建戰壕）。這類邊界向記者發出信號，可以指引他們遠離潛在的敵對遭遇戰。

但是在西非的埃博拉疫區，“病毒可能存在于任何地方。”穆勒說。

在病房里站錯地方，你就很容易沾上被病毒污染的液體。就算胳膊碰一下出汗的醫生，你也會有感染的風險。防彈背心和頭盔或許能保護戰地攝影師不被彈片擊中，但旨在防止皮膚與病毒接觸的一體式防護服本身就具有潛在的致命危險。比如，如果摘手套的方式不正確，就可能被感染。

在交戰地區，為了避免遭到綁架或殺害，記者們可以改變自己的行動套路，比如更換旅館，搭乘不同的出租車，從不在同一家餐廳重復就餐。然而，為了避免感染埃博拉病毒，記者們則需要嚴格遵循一成不變的程式：每次拍照都要保持安全距離，杜絕與人接觸的風險。每一次都必須如此。

穆勒經常問身邊來自無國界醫生組織的官員，走近一些拍照是否安全。他使用的只是定焦鏡頭，所以無法把鏡頭向被感染的患者推近。美聯社駐非洲首席攝影記者杰羅姆·迪雷最近在文章中寫道，他用氯水清洗手腳已經“達到了著魔的程度”，而這最終已成為一種“規范”。

“無論危險因子是什么，我可不會為了一張照片而送命。”穆勒說。

但是，由于肩負著拍攝埃博拉照片的使命，攝影記者們需要走進具有高度傳染風險的醫療診所，并且在安全允許的范圍內盡可能靠近患者拍攝。否則，他們就無法充分記錄這場危機。

“我曾差點在一次汽車炸彈襲擊中喪命，也曾差點被狙擊手擊中，還經歷過各種各樣的驚險場面，但那都不能跟我（在塞拉利昂時）始終緊張不安的感覺相提并論。”法新社攝影記者卡爾·德蘇薩對我說。

“無論是戰場還是埃博拉疫情，為了拍到最好的照片，攝影記者都必須置身其中，”多倫多《環球郵報》駐非洲記者杰弗里·約克表示，“而作為文字記者，我可以待在離事發區稍遠一點的地方。”他最近在利比里亞進行了為期一周的報道。

攝影記者們用影像記錄下由埃博拉出血熱引起的血淋淋的、觸目驚心的死亡，而在被疫情困擾的國家，他們的這份努力未必就被視為壯舉。在細致記錄埃博拉患者的照片——照片中的許多患者都是一動不動地躺在自己的體液里——見諸報端后，利比里亞的衛生官員針對媒體報道此次危機實行了新的規定：在利比里亞進行報道的記者現在需要事先征得埃博拉患者的同意才能為他們拍照。

德蘇薩原本計劃在塞拉利昂邊境地區進行為期兩周的報道。但他剛剛抵達那里，就聽到了來自西非的航班即將禁飛的傳聞。他的妻子再過幾周就將生下他們的第一個孩子。由于擔心會被困在塞拉利昂，在緊張地報道了六天之后，他離開了。然而，這次任務卻以意想不到的方式讓他心緒不寧。

以往，無論是從利比亞革命還是巴基斯坦的動亂中執行完拍攝任務回來，德蘇薩都可以毫不費力地回歸正常生活。“在沖突地區工作，我從來不會做噩夢，也不會遇到什么問題，”他說，“想哭的時候我就哭，該怕的時候我會怕。但之后我能處理好自己的情緒，能從中完全走出來。”

可是，埃博拉病毒長達三周的潛伏期卻給這位攝影記者的心靈造成了巨大的壓力。他遲疑著不敢親吻自己的妻子，擔心自己已經攜帶了埃博拉病毒。他不進臥室，晚上就睡在沙發上。他每天測量數十次體溫，監測自己是否出現了埃博拉感染的癥狀。“我過得不開心。”他回憶道。

“在沖突地區，你出門后，知道自己能聽見槍炮聲，”德蘇薩補充說，“但如果對手看不見摸不著，那真是非常非常恐怖。”

1. James Foley：詹姆斯·弗利，美國《環球郵報》（Global Post）網站的自由記者，于2012年11月22日在敘利亞北部失蹤。2014年8月20日，一段公布在網上的視頻顯示弗利被“伊斯蘭國”恐怖組織成員殺害。

2. ISIS：“伊斯蘭國”，以前稱為“伊拉克和大敘利亞伊斯蘭國”（Islamic State of Iraq and al Shams ，縮寫為ISIS），是一個活躍在伊拉克和敘利亞的極端恐怖組織。

3. porous [?p??r?s] adj. 〈喻〉多漏洞的;松懈的

4. quarantine [?kw?r?nti?n] vt. （為防止傳染病的流行而）將（人、畜、船等）隔離

5. fluid [?flu??d] adj. 易變的;不固定的，不穩定的

6. insurgent [?n?s??（r）d?（?）nt] adj. 起義的;造反的，反叛的

7. unrelenting [??nr??lent??] adj. （不愉快的情況）持續的，不斷的

8. on edge：緊張不安的，煩惱的，惱怒的

9. engulf [?n?ɡ?lf] vt. 使陷入，包圍

10. fixer [?f?ks?（r）] n. 代理人，代人疏通者

11. flak jacket：防彈衣

12. shrapnel [??r?pn（?）l] n. 炮彈碎片

13. lethal [?li?θl] adj. 致命的，危險的

14. chlorinated [?kl??r??ne?t?d] adj. 含氯的;氯化（了）的

15. sniper [?sna?p?（r）] n. 狙擊手

16. hemorrhagic [?hem（?）r?d?ik] adj. 出血的

17. incubation period：[醫] （傳染病的）潛伏期