In Bunia, a city in north-eastern Democratic Republic of Congo that is currently serving as the epicentre of the Ebola outbreak, Nyamurongo cemetery is seeing more foot traffic than usual - and not for happy reasons.
"Today is the sixth time I have come to the cemetery," says Joel Lonza Makumbu, who has had a front-row seat to the virus's devastation. "Yesterday I buried my father. Today I have come to say goodbye to my mother." He's also lost three sisters and a brother-in-law to the disease. "I want to say for all people [to hear] that Ebola is true," he says, a message he's desperate to get out as authorities battle misinformation that has helped the virus kill nearly 200 people in the last few months, mainly in Ituri province, of which Bunia is the capital.
This outbreak is caused by a rare species of Ebola known as Bundibugyo, which kills about a quarter of those infected. Ebola spreads through contact with infected bodily fluids - blood, urine, vomit, semen, breast milk - so strict protocols are required to stop it, and safe burials are critical.
One gravedigger at the cemetery reports that 15 families were currently attending burials, but there's none of the usual crowds, ceremony, singing, or other rituals. Traditional practices like washing dead bodies before burial are now strongly discouraged. It's a delicate task to persuade grieving families that these changes are necessary.
Julienne Anoko, an anthropologist with the UN's World Health Organization (WHO), explains that mourners would normally dress a dead body in smart clothes, and funeral rites could last several days. Most communities in Ituri believe a dead person needs to look their best because they are "travelling from one world to the other world - to the world of the ancestors." "Women are dressed in a wedding dress with make-up… They sing, they celebrate that person, because it's a journey, it's not the end of the life," she tells the BBC.
But for Ebola victims, the body must immediately go into a leak-proof bag. Maria Munoz-Bertrand, public health emergency co-ordinator for the International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent (IFRC), says efforts are being made to accommodate families. In Ituri, this means using coffins with transparent panels so mourners can see inside, and body bags with clear film at the top to reveal the face. "We need to be very close to the communities and engage with them very closely and make sure that they understand what's going on, they're informed and they consent," she says. "If the family asks for something special to be included in the procedure, as long as it respects the infection prevention and control measures, and it doesn't put anyone at risk, we will try to accommodate the wishes of the family as much as possible."
A BBC reporter joined an IFRC team as they collected a body from an Ebola treatment centre in Bunia. Family members sat by the roadside waiting to accompany their deceased kin to the cemetery, including a weeping mother who had lost her child. At a tent serving as a temporary morgue, health workers in full PPE placed a body bag inside a coffin and sealed it. The IFRC team, also in full protective gear, loaded the coffin onto a truck. Inside was the body of a 34-year-old mother of four; her father, Simone Nyal, said, "This is a big blow for us. She was ill for just one week before she succumbed. She has left us her four children - I don't know how we will cope."
At the cemetery, her mother and sister waited by the freshly dug grave. In under 10 minutes, the burial was done. The volunteers decontaminated and left, leaving three gravediggers to cover the grave with soil.
Anoko says her team listens, condoles with families, and tries to humanise the situation. "We negotiate to make the family accept the unacceptable. Sometimes it may take three days, but we negotiate, and I use the knowledge of their culture." The most challenging scenario has been negotiating the burial of pregnant women. The community believes a pregnant woman should not be buried with the foetus inside - she needs to "travel light" into the afterlife - so the foetus is often removed. But that involves handling a lot of fluids, the very thing that spreads Ebola. Anoko reminds them that ancestors in their culture have foresight: "I explain to them very clearly that our ancestors have already planned something to repair this type of thing."
Anoko, who has worked through several Ebola outbreaks in DR Congo and West Africa, has been welcomed back by many families due to the bond she's built during their most vulnerable moments. She has managed to bridge the gap between communities and healthcare workers - between science and culture. But there's still a long way to go.
Back at Nyamurongo cemetery, as Joel Lonza Makumbu finishes covering his mother's grave, he fears he may return for a seventh time. "I have relatives who are in the treatment centres - two sisters in Rwampara and a cousin and another sister [at a different facility]. I don't know if it will continue like that and I don't know the future. But I want everybody to know that Ebola is real."