When the Ebola outbreak reached Kahungu in eastern Congo—just two kilometers from the gates of the Lwiro Primates Rehabilitation Center—the sanctuary's leadership made a difficult choice: seal off the compound entirely. Since May 23, more than 200 rescued primates, including 129 chimpanzees and 108 monkeys of various species, have been confined to protect them from a virus that has already claimed over 200 suspected lives across the region.
The threat is real, though not in the direction most might assume. While Ebola transmission from infected wild animals to humans is well documented—there are recorded instances of people contracting the virus after handling deceased infected gorillas in the forest—transmission from humans to great apes has never been recorded. Yet that absence of precedent offers little comfort when a confirmed Ebola case, identified on May 21, emerged in a nearby village whose resident had traveled to Ituri Province, the outbreak's epicenter.
The Lwiro center houses a remarkable diversity of life rescued from poaching and the illegal wildlife trade: olive baboons and yellow baboons, L'Hoest's monkeys, blue monkeys, agile mangabeys, along with chimpanzees, and even parrots, turtles, and porcupines. To protect them, the sanctuary implemented an exhaustive Ebola protocol that turned the facility into a fortress of prevention. Fifteen care staff members are now completely isolated from the outside world, their only human contact the two veterinarians who conduct twice-daily health checks, monitoring temperatures with clinical precision.
The logistics of protecting a sanctuary full of primates reveal the meticulous choreography required. Handwashing stations equipped with water, bleach, and soap dot the compound. Each caregiver receives personal supplies of alcohol-based sanitizer, face masks, and gloves. Handwashing is mandatory before every feeding and after restroom use. But the most striking detail emerges in how the center protects the chimpanzees' most basic need: fresh bedding. Each day, workers collect dried banana leaves and deposit them at the sanctuary entrance, where veterinarians spray them with bleach, allow them to dry, and only then permit the chimpanzees to build their nests—ensuring even this daily ritual passes through layers of disinfection.
Food supplies follow the same protocol: delivered to the exterior grounds, transported inside by staff, and disinfected with bleach before feeding the animals. According to Itsaso Vélez del Burgo Guinea, the technical director, every step is designed to create an impenetrable barrier between the outbreak and the sanctuary's inhabitants.
The initial lockdown was set for ten days, with extension possible depending on conditions in the area. Four deaths linked to the first confirmed case have already been recorded nearby, underscoring the stakes of this isolation. The Lwiro center is not alone in its response—emergency plans have also been activated across the Greater Virunga Landscape, a transboundary protected area shared by the Democratic Republic of Congo, Rwanda, and Uganda, signaling a coordinated regional effort to contain the virus.
Primatologist Liz Williamson of the IUCN SSC Primate Specialist Group noted the broader context: Ebola is one of the primary reasons western lowland gorillas have been classified as critically endangered since 2008, as the virus can enter wild gorilla populations through spillover from other animals. By protecting the primates at Lwiro, the sanctuary preserves both individual lives and genetic diversity that conservation efforts depend on—a reminder that safeguarding wildlife sometimes means keeping the human world at bay.