released and a year since the deadly disease was first reported on the Liberian soil. The transfer last Saturday of the cremated remains of nearly 3,000 victims of Ebola from the crematorium to a cemetery for proper burial is an evidence of how close the country has reached in ending Ebola. Liberia’s reversion to the use of the Boys Town crematorium on the road to Marshall, Margibi County was indicative of the massive toll the disease had taken between August and October 2014—when it was spiraling out of control as sick people, including children, waited at the entrance of treatment

units to be treated. For the first time since the establishment of the crematorium nearly three decades ago, meant solely for the use of the Indian community, the smoke coming from the furnace of the facility were frequenter, blacker and thicker. It immediately cast a dark cloud of fear and trauma as each day for those active four months was met with weird reality of the departure of souls of fellow countrymen.

The ceremony marking the transfer of the remains of Ebola victims was equally not short of painful memory of the horrid experience. There were 16 barrels containing the bones and ashes of the victims. They were all decorated in red and white. An inter-religious ceremony administered by prelates, Muslim clerics and traditionalists. There were exaltation, choruses—all filled with profound solemnity and tearful memory.

Children climbed up the balcony of nearby houses to catch a glimpse of the intercessory service.

The Traditional Council of Liberia exchanged kola nuts with residents of the Boys Town community who have been demanding compensation for exposure to trauma and possible hazard as the result of the five-month cremation of the unfortunate Ebola victims. “Jacob said to his children ‘If I die, carry me to my home’”. Chief Zanzan Kawor said, adding, “This place does not represent our people.”

A special prayer was offered for the young who volunteered their services as cremators—that they get the reward of helping to what has come to be one of the darkest moments in the history of Liberia.

All 16 barrels were taken to the Disco Hill cemetery, where they would await a period of consultation and possibly an erection of a memorial bearing the names of all the victims before bones and ashes they contain can be laid to rest.

Just before being placed  in vehicles by the burial team of the Liberian Red Cross Society for the journey to their final resting place, the choir of the Providence Baptist Church sang: “My Lord what a morning when the stars began to fall.”