infected populations. Genetic sequencing of this strain has enabled rapid diagnostic testing. Local health workers, backed by international NGOs and African governments, have got better at educating people about Ebola, earning their trust and isolating those with symptoms. Yet none of that is likely to be much help with this outbreak, the 17th recorded in Congo since 1976. Bundibugyo, the strain that is causing it, is a bit less fatal than Zaire. But it is less common, and there is no licensed vaccine or rapid diagnostic testing for it. Samples taken in Ituri must be flown to Kinshasa, the capital of Congo, some 2,000km away. It can take days to receive a result. “This feels like we’re back to square one,” says Bob Kitchen of the International Rescue Committee (IRC), a humanitarian NGO, likening the situation to the start of the epidemic in 2014, before vaccines against any strain were available. The kaleidoscope of conflicts in eastern Congo complicates the picture. More than a hundred militias are active across Ituri and the Kivus. In the outbreak in Congo in 2018 some of these groups burned down clinics run by Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), another NGO. “We are taking safeguarding very seriously,” says Alan Gonzalez of MSF. Armed groups— and some of the worst roads in Africa—make it hard for medics to get to remote areas.

The state in Ituri is weak, as in much of Congo. “We are very worried because, so far, the provincial authorities have taken no action,” says Machozi Mwanamolo, a university professor in Bunia, a city in Ituri. He laments that people from Mongbwalu have been “allowed to move about freely when they should be restricted to prevent the spread of the virus”. He is wearing a face mask and making ginger tea with lemon and garlic “to boost our antibodies”. Farther south in the Kivus, the situation is even trickier. In the past two years M23, an armed group backed by Rwanda that is at war with the Congolese government, has taken control in much of the two provinces, causing many aid workers to leave. It has replaced officials across the local bureaucracy, including in the health ministry. When your correspondent visited a government-run clinic near Goma at the end of April, it was struggling to contain a measles epidemic. M23 has also declined to reopen the airport in Goma, forcing NGO workers to make journeys to parts of North Kivu via Rwanda and Uganda. Aid workers complain of supplies being held up by M23 officials demanding payment. Then there are the aid cuts. Before 2025 American funding helped pay for surveillance (typically in the form of community health workers) and preparedness (education schemes and protective gear). But over the past year that has been slashed; IRC, for example, went from working in five areas in Ituri to just two after March 2025. On May 18th the State Department promised $13m to help with the response, a fraction of what America spent to combat the epidemic in 2014-16. Other Western governments, including Britain’s and Germany’s, have also drastically cut aid spending.

Much will depend on whether the WHO, international NGOs and African organisations can fill the gap. Jean Kaseya, the head of Africa CDC, the continent’s main public-health body, implicitly criticised America’s decision to restrict travel by non-Americans who had recently been to the region. “Global health security cannot be achieved through borders alone,” he said. “It is achieved through partnership, trust, science and rapid investment in preparedness and response capacity.” Responding to Ebola was difficult even with more of those things around. In the 2018 outbreak it took two years, around 300,000 doses of vaccine and a well-funded aid response to end the epidemic. Without vaccines, the support of local Congolese for public-health measures is more important, just as there is less money for schemes that build trust. That sort of education matters, says Foibe Mbusi, a market seller from Bunia: “There’s a segment of the population, even female vendors like us, who don’t believe Ebola exists.” ■ Sign up to the Analysing Africa, a weekly newsletter that keeps you in the loop about the world’s youngest—and least understood—continent. This article was downloaded by zlibrary from https://www.economist.com//middle-east-and-africa/2026/05/19/a-new-ebola-outbreak- could-be-the-worst-in-a-decade

Middle East & Africa | Into Africa How to save the safari Balancing the needs of locals, tourists and animals is a difficult business May 21st 2026 The Cottar family has faced a few challenges in more than a century of running safaris. Charles Cottar, who swapped the plains of Oklahoma for those of East Africa in 1909, had to salvage one of the first motorised safari vehicles after it fell off a ship upon arrival at port. He survived a mauling by a leopard in 1922 but was eventually killed by a charging rhino in 1939. In 1965 his grandson Glen set up one of the first camps for tourists to photograph animals rather than hunt them. Not that the wildlife seemed grateful: that year Glen was gored by a buffalo. Today running a safari firm is less dangerous, but more complex. The industry faces a difficult trilemma in balancing the demands of tourists, growing local populations and pressured nature. Some operators are trying

new business models to resolve it. That is crucial, because in some of the most spectacular parts of Africa, the current model of tourism, if unchecked, will spoil the natural splendour upon which business depends. Safaris are increasingly popular, attracting some of the 81m tourists who visited Africa in 2025, a record according to the UN. The global industry is valued at some $38bn, estimates Grand View Research, which assesses the market, rising to $67bn by 2033. Most safari-goers are from rich Anglophone countries, notes Go2Africa, a travel firm, but the number from emerging economies like India is growing. In the Maasai Mara, a popular destination in south-west Kenya, the number of lodges has increased from 95 in 2012 to 183 at the end of 2025. In the neighbouring Serengeti National Park, in Tanzania, the number of tourism facilities has increased by almost 800% over the past 20 years, notes Grant Hopcraft of Glasgow University. Conservationists say the surge of tourists has affected wildlife. The population of large animals in “the Mara” has declined by 70-90% over the past 40 years. The famous migrating wildebeest spend approximately one and half months less in the core parts of the Mara and Serengeti than they did two decades ago, in part because they avoid buildings. Of these there are more than ever, including the first safari-focused branch of the Ritz Carlton, which opened last year near a popular animal-crossing point. Fewer cheetah cubs survive because safari vehicles that crowd around their parents’ kills attract lions and hyenas, which eat the young.

Rapid human population growth, meanwhile, means that there are more people living around natural hotspots. Africa has never been the empty Eden depicted in misty-eyed films and books. Many of its reserves and parks were created by colonial authorities who evicted indigenous people. Nevertheless the population of Narok County, which manages the Masai Mara National Reserve, has increased by 3,000% since 1947, or from 38,000 to 1.2m. The number within the whole Mara-Serengeti region has doubled over the past 20 years and is forecast to double again in the next 20. About half of Maasai, the pastoralist group in the area, live below the official national poverty line. Their efforts to make ends meet are putting more pressure on land they—and tourism firms—depend on. They are increasingly fencing off hitherto communal land for farming or to sell grazing rights, blocking animals’ migration paths. Forests are being felled for fencing and charcoal. Cattle, sheep and goats graze on ostensibly protected areas. When your correspondent arrived in the Mara the first 300 or so animals he saw were cows. One third of the MMNR is degraded from over-grazing. Human-wildlife conflict is intensifying, with people killing elephants that trample on their land and, on occasion, poisoning carcasses to kill predators.

One potential way to reduce the pressure, at least from tourists, would be if places like the Mara became more exclusive. Some African countries have a high-price, low-volume tourism model. Typically only 100,000 tourists visit Botswana’s Okavango Delta every year. Rwanda charges $1,500 per person to see its gorillas, and is considering raising the price. Many conservationists working in the Mara argue that visiting it should become more expensive. But it will be hard to change. “We would love to raise prices but we are competing with 250 other operators,” says the boss of one safari firm. Politicians are unlikely to embrace quotas or other restrictions. Narok County receives more revenue per year than any other Kenyan county (including Nairobi) through leases and a portion of the “bed fees” paid by tourists. Local bigwigs, who claim ownership of the land on which many lodges sit, also benefit from the fees. On the other side of the border Tanzania is promoting tourism via what it calls the “voluntary relocation” of Maasai. Samia Suluhu Hassan, the president, says the point is to ease “population pressures” around key tourist sites. These pressures are real, but Human Rights Watch, an NGO, says the tactics, including stopping public services, equate to “forced evictions”. Is there a better way? Many safari firms these days promise to “give back” to “communities”. But Sue Snyman of the African Leadership University points out that some firms pay little attention to what these people actually want, which is often cash. If there are financial benefits, they often go to the most powerful in the area.