It is unusual to see singing and dancing in a location that has witnessed so much loss of life, yet the successful recovery of an Ebola patient is a reason for rejoicing at a hospital in the northeastern region of the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Shortly after noon on Friday, roughly a dozen medical workers dressed in green scrubs chanted hymns of gratitude—"grace has been bestowed upon us; grace has been bestowed upon patients"—as they accompanied Daniel Kitambala out of the facility.
Two negative Ebola tests confirmed he was clear of the virus after spending approximately three weeks at the centre.
"That illness is dreadful. I was extremely unwell [when I arrived]. But God is mighty, I am healthy now," Kitambala, a devoted Christian, informed the BBC as the medical staff continued to applaud.
The 49-year-old, wearing a black T-shirt and trousers and carrying a black plastic bag containing his sanitized possessions, was radiant with happiness and relief as he moved between the two lines of orange netting that define the exit route from the treatment centre.
Over 140 individuals are confirmed to have died from the rare Bundibugyo strain of the disease here in Ituri province, the focal point of the most recent outbreak that was first announced just over a month ago.
However, this virus, which has killed roughly one in five of those known to have been infected, may have been spreading without detection for months. Authorities are now striving to bring infections under control.
That effort is partly about overcoming local misconceptions, including the belief that the disease results from something locally referred to as the "coffin curse" and that treatment centres are the issue rather than the remedy.
But survival from the virus is achievable, and the festivities at the Ebola treatment centre in Mongbwalu were evidence of that.
"Look… I recovered," the subsistence farmer said as he raised his hands in the air three times in a victory gesture and in praise of God.
"People should pursue medical care when they become ill," he said as he turned to thank the healthcare workers behind him who were applauding.
Considering how he became infected, Kitambala said he visited someone in his community who was unwell and prayed for him. Shortly after, he fell ill himself.
The virus transmits from person to person through contact with infected bodily fluids such as blood or vomit.
When Kitambala first became ill, like many in DR Congo, he initially tried traditional medicine. But when his condition worsened, he went to the hospital.
"We have observed a significant shift in the community since the first patient recovered and returned home," said Dr Richard Lukodu, Mongbwalu hospital's medical director.
"More individuals are now coming here seeking treatment."
Fifty-five-year-old pastor Deogratias Kasereka became the first Ebola patient to leave the centre a week ago.
Lukodu is hopeful that the recoveries will help foster trust in the healthcare system, as his hospital has been a target of violence linked to misinformation.
On 21 May, a tent set up to treat Ebola patients on the hospital's grounds was set on fire.
Myths about what medical staff were doing had been spreading since February—three months before the Ebola outbreak was confirmed—when people began dying in noticeable numbers from an unusual illness.
"The people here had been misled to believe that Ebola ended during previous outbreaks after they burned down the treatment centres," Lukodu said.
During the 2018-2020 outbreak in neighbouring North Kivu province, Ebola treatment centres were attacked and set ablaze multiple times.
This is just one of several rumours circulating in the community since people started dying from this disease, said Mongbwalu's mayor, Sesereki Mandro Israel.
Seated inside his blue office in the centre of the town, which has no paved roads, he explained that an incident in early February appeared to have triggered a large number of infections.
"There was a time a family was bringing a body from Bunia for burial here," the mayor said, referring to the provincial capital some two-and-a-half hours away by road.
"But the coffin broke on the way here. The man was buried and the broken coffin burnt."
That led to what became known as "the coffin curse" in the community. The deaths were blamed on the act of burning the coffin.
"The situation was dire. Many people died," he says. "People were dying daily—seven, eight or even 10 people every day."
But things are now changing gradually, he says.
Initial tests on those suspected to have the virus were negative as medical investigators were looking for other more common species of Ebola rather than Bundibugyo.
"We called community leaders to explain the symptoms and encouraged them to refer people with signs of the illness to the treatment centres."
A fortnight ago, the hospital in Mongbwalu got a laboratory and can now return results within a day. Until then, it took more than a week to get results from the nearest testing laboratory in Bunia.
Medical workers are among those most at risk of infection in every Ebola outbreak, and this one is no exception.
"Five health workers have died here, and several more who are infected are admitted here," said Lukodu.
But improved practices to prevent infection had been put in place since the outbreak was declared, reducing the risk of infection, he added.
There is a similar situation in Rwampara, a second town at the heart of this outbreak.
A treatment centre here was set on fire two days after the one in Mongbwalu.
But it has since reopened, and late afternoon is visiting time for families to see their loved ones. A wife and her sister are kept waiting as the doctor checks on the husband. The apprehension is visible.
Inside, things are carefully managed to ensure patients do not interact closely with hospital workers and visitors.
Patients with more severe illness are in their own cubicles, and only medical teams in full protective equipment are allowed in. There is an open space that patients can access, but anyone coming to see them is separated by a barrier about two metres wide.
Elsewhere, there are large glass screens and curtains where those being treated can also be seen safely.
"I feel very happy. I'm looking forward to going back home," Mireille Gahindo said, speaking from the other side of the glass after two weeks of being here.
She had taken her 11-month-old child to a local hospital after he got a fever and diarrhoea. He was treated but did not improve after two weeks.
When he started bleeding from the mouth, she brought him to the treatment centre, and she too then tested positive. Both the mother and child are now improving.
She can't wait to rejoin her two older children—aged five and two-and-a-half—and her husband when she gets discharged.
"If it was any other infection, I would have discharged her," her doctor said. But with Ebola, each patient has to be tested twice for the infection and obtain negative results before being allowed to go home.
At the entrance to the treatment centre, Eli Asimwe Bawere said he had gone to see his older sister and brother.
His stepmother was also admitted here.
"We have already lost our mother and sister-in-law who was married to my brother who is here. We have mourned a lot. We don't want to mourn any more," he told the BBC.
So many people in Ituri seem to know someone who has died from suspected Ebola. Videos and photographs are circulating on social media showing families who have been affected.
Amid all the desperation and death, every recovery of an Ebola patient brings the community and healthcare workers much-needed hope that the outbreak can be controlled.
But much still needs to be done. In order to really stop the virus spreading, everyone an infected person has been in contact with needs to be traced to see if they've been infected.
Health officials have warned that many of these are still being missed, and until they are found, any optimism may be short-lived.
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