By Joseph Goldstein and Finbarr O’Reilly

New York Times News Service

BENI, Democratic Republic of Congo — When Ebola came to this city, Janvier Muhindo Mandefu quit farming and got work burying the highly contagious bodies of the victims.

But Muhindo is less afraid of Ebola than of the mourners he encounters at funerals. He and his burial team have been attacked by relatives of the dead, one swinging a hoe. Mourners have shouted at team members, accusing them of stealing the organs of corpses, and have threatened to throw them into the open graves. Last month, a mourner brandished a hand grenade, he said, sending everyone scattering and leaving a 3-year-old Ebola victim unburied.

“Someone like me can be buried alive,” Muhindo said.

This outbreak in eastern Congo, the second-largest ever recorded, is now spiraling out of control. Despite some early success — helped by a new and effective vaccine — the disease has come roaring back in the past two months.

Efforts to combat the epidemic have been hobbled by attacks on treatment centers and health workers; deep suspicion of the national government, which is managing the eradication efforts; and growing mistrust of the international medical experts who have struggled to steer patients into the treatment centers, according to interviews with dozens of family members, politicians, doctors and health workers in recent weeks.

When a doctor was killed, and treatment centers attacked by gunmen or set on fire, front-line health workers suspended their work, giving the virus time to spread. Some medical and aid groups have decided to pull some of their personnel from the areas where Ebola has hit hardest.

Nearly 1,150 people have died in the outbreak, according to the World Health Organization. That is a significant undercount, aid groups said in interviews. Health workers have been turned away regularly from homes where someone has died, leaving them unable to test for Ebola.

Earlier in the outbreak, the police would remove these bodies from homes, at gunpoint if necessary, said Philemon Kalondero, 39, who is often the first member of his Ebola response team to arrive at a grief-stricken home.

“The new protocol is that we just abandon the body,” he said. “They will learn their lesson when they get sick.”

When the outbreak was discovered last summer, health workers had reason to worry. This part of eastern Congo has long been beset by dozens of armed groups fighting over land, natural resources, ethnicity and religion — including one outfit with ties to the Islamic State.

Yet optimism ran strong among the arriving wave of international health experts and humanitarian workers, many of whom had experience treating Ebola, an often fatal disease caused by a virus transmitted by body fluids.

They came with lessons learned from the outbreak that tore across West Africa starting in 2013, killing more than 11,000 people. And they were buoyed by a recent success: the speedy containment of an outbreak in western Congo.

They also brought medical advances: a strikingly effective vaccine, experimental treatments and a transparent container known as the “cube” that Ebola patients live inside, reducing the transmission risk to doctors and visitors. Some of the responders hoped big outbreaks were a thing of the past.

Who is behind these attacks? Many health workers and foreign medical organizations say they do not fully understand the forces aligned against them. But they are all aware that resentment has been stirred up by the sight of late-model SUVs carrying foreigners and Kinshasa bureaucrats through town, offering high-paying jobs to some but not others.

“Can we stop the epidemic? Certainly we can,” said Mike Ryan, who runs the World Health Organization’s emergencies program. But to do so, he said, a political solution that reduced the violence was first needed.

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