Cynthia Kwennah's father fell ill in June in Liberia, where doctors told family members that he was suffering from typhoid and malaria. They rallied at his bedside to try to nurse him back to health, at one point admitting him to a hospital.
Only after his death did his family learn that he'd died of Ebola.
Then the deadly virus swept through Kwennah's overseas family, killing eight more. Kwennah, 32, of Brooklyn Center, now has lost her father; her mother; her 28-year-old sister, who recently graduated from college; a 13-year-old nephew and 18-year-old niece; cousins and in-laws. In addition, her aunt has been hospitalized with a suspected case of Ebola, and another niece is showing symptoms.
Kwennah said Monday that family members have told her that they have no idea how her father, an accountant in Monrovia, contracted the virus, which has killed nearly 1,000 people in four West African nations.
"Losing my entire family has become a stigma and a burden in my heart," she said, sitting in her living room as her daughters, ages 4 and 1, played at her side. "I would like to work in their honor."
Cynthia and her husband, Andrew Kwennah, are part of a community of nearly 30,000 Liberians concentrated in the northern Twin Cities suburbs who are anxious for any scrap of news from family and friends living in the outbreak zones of Liberia, Sierra Leone, Guinea and now Nigeria.
Hundreds of people packed two community meetings in Brooklyn Park and Brooklyn Center last week to discuss the epidemic.
At the Brooklyn Park meeting, hosted by the city, Hennepin County health officials and African community groups, many asked how to counsel their loved ones back home: Should my family in Liberia avoid hugs and handshakes? Can sexual contract transmit the disease? Should my family avoid bush meat? Which agency can we trust with donations for medical supplies?