





Marcus DiPaola is a reporter and photojournalist whose work has been featured in NBC News, CNN, The Wall Street Journal, CBS New York, NPR, The Boston Globe, NJ.com, NY1 News, China Daily, Shanghai Daily, and People’s Daily.

On the way home, photographers should expect to face three levels of screening: in the hot zone, in a transit country, and in their home country. I just returned from a week-long trip to Liberia where I saw everything from an Ebola vomit-stained mattress being dragged out of an Ebola ward to bodies being hauled out of someone’s home. It was challenging, but not quite as challenging as trying to leave the country.

First at the airport in Monrovia Liberia, passengers are asked to fill out a questionnaire. We began lining up at 3 a.m. in order to make a 6:00 a.m. flight. Before even being allowed into the building that contains the airport, I approached a desk where two women in street clothing who were wearing masks and goggles were waiting. I turned in my questionnaire. “Have you had contact with anyone who was sick?” and “Have you had contact with any dead bodies?” they asked.

I had not. They asked me to remove my glasses, and one took my temperature with a no-contact thermometer. 98.3 F. The other looked directly into my eyes, supposedly checking for signs of red. There was none. I was allowed to pass.

Immediately after entering the airport, another health official checks to see if you have your yellow fever book. Mine was in my bag buried under a ton of camera equipment, so they let me pass without checking it.

Hours later, before we got on to a very beat-up Royal Air Maroc plane, we had our temperature taken again. Mine was 97.2. I’m pretty sure the lady who took it didn’t know that wasn’t a regular reading. We then washed our hands in chlorine water and boarded a bus to ride to the airplane on the tarmac.

While boarding the airplane, I noticed both pilots with N95 masks and extended cuff gloves on. Each flight attendant at the front was wearing gloves, but no mask.

I greeted both attendants in Arabic and French, then went to find my seat. I sat next to a man and his friends who worked in the mining industry and were evacuating because of Ebola.

I flew through Casablanca so I had to go through screening there. As I got off the plane I got my temperature taken once through a handheld scanner and once through an infrared temperature camera that I recognized from the SARS outbreak. I have video of this process . The action starts about halfway through.

I went to my gate to board my flight to JFK and went through regular U.S.-bound security. The Moroccan police wore gloves and asked where I had just come from. I told the man checking my bags that I had just come from Liberia. He didn’t understand where it was in English, so I told him in French.

When he finally understood, his eyes opened wide and he shut my suitcase without checking the other two pockets. He had me open my bag for him, glanced into the biggest pocket, and then had me close it and waved me to my flight.

On the plane, despite many of the same passengers from the Monrovia flight being on this one, everything was normal again. Flight attendants didn’t wear gloves, pilots didn’t wear masks or gloves, and the atmosphere was much more cheerful. I don’t think they realized that they were transporting people coming from one of the most dangerous parts of the world.

When I arrived at U.S. customs, I scanned my passport and was automatically selected for the more intense screening. The Border Patrol Agent asked me where I was coming from. I said Casablanca. He asked me what other countries I had visited. I said Liberia.

He stopped fiddling with my passport and looked up. “Follow me.” he said. I followed him to a wall that was made up of mirrors. He went and knocked on one of the mirrors. The mirror opened. A Coast Guardswoman motioned me inside.

The room was L-shaped, and I was at the small end of the L.

I had my temperature taken immediately, and they asked questions about exposure. “Have you had contact with any dead bodies” “Have you had direct contact with any Ebola patients?” “Have you worked inside an Ebola ward?” “Have you had contact with any dead bodies?”

The answer to all of the questions was no. Thankfully, I’m not a healthcare worker. I saw some on my flight though, and wondered how they would fare through this screening.

My temperature was normal and I didn’t have any risk factors. Everyone relaxed a little bit. I walked over to the second screening area.

“What airplane seat did you sit in?” “What’s your contact information?” “Who is a good emergency contact?”

After collecting this information I got a piece of paper telling me I had been to a country with Ebola, and I was on my way.