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disease made him dedicate his life to finding a cure. That’s why he chose to study biology; that’s why he wants to start his own company. It’s all meant to find closure, to come full circle from that trip when he was thirteen to being here today .

Chapter 6
    Amit and Eddie’s journey began in Cape Town, South Africa, where some of Amit’s distant relatives lived. There they purchased the five-year-old Land Rover that had already traveled more than one hundred thousand miles. After scouring the cape area for about a week, they started heading north along the Atlantic coast toward Namibia. From there, they crossed over to Botswana and toured Chobe National Park—a huge and beautiful park full of a staggering amount and array of animals. They stayed there for two weeks before continuing north toward Victoria Falls on the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe. They enjoyed the comforts of civilization for a couple of days in the nearby city of Livingstone, then went straight on east across Zimbabwe, toward the capital, Harare, and up north back to Zambia in order to cross the Zambezi River and reach the mighty Lake Malawi.
    The malfunction in the vehicle’s transmission held them back at the Horowitz farm, north of Harare. Now fully stocked with food and gasoline, they were all set to cross the Zambezi and go the rest of the way to Lake Malawi. The journey alongside the lake’s western bank took them a week. Its clear waters and tranquil atmosphere caused them to slow down unintentionally. In the evenings they would start preparing for the night and set up camp in the designated area. The allotted camping grounds were located quite far from the water, since the shore would be sole territory of the hippos and crocodiles with the approach of nightfall, and any person present there at that time would be in serious danger. Exhausted after the day’s driving, cooking, and setting up camp, Eddie and Amit fell asleep in no time. Eddie still had time to think back on the magical week he had at the Horowitz farm before dozing off with a calm, content smile across his face. They rose at the break of dawn, spent an hour preparing a light meal and loading all the gear back on the car, and were on the road again.
    Two more weeks passed before they crossed Tanzania from the southwest to the northeast and arrived at Kilimanjaro. Towering at a height of 19,341 feet, its snowy peak faced north toward Kenya. They spent a week at the nature reserve surrounding the mountain, letting their bodies grow slowly accustomed to the increasing height, until one Sunday, four months after leaving Israel, they were standing in awe and excitement on top of Mount Kilimanjaro.
    “The mountain is ours!” cried Amit, and he burst out in song, bellowing the timeless French hit about the snows of Kilimanjaro. The fierce wind shook the waves of his voice, and the echo of his hoarse singing resonated all around them.
    “First goal achieved, next goal still ahead,” said Eddie, not letting Amit forget their resolution to get to the Ebola region in Congo.
    “Let’s just enjoy this moment for a while. Try to forget the chores and duties for a minute.” Amit gripped his friend and forced him into a joyful slow dance, resuming his singing of the 1960s chanson .
    Over the next few days, they made their way to Nairobi, Kenya, and directed their thoughts to the next destination—Congo and the Ebola virus.
    “How far is it from Yambuku to the Ebola valley?” asked Amit.
    “About thirty-nine miles as the crow flies. There’s nothing to worry about. The area we’ll be visiting has been plague free for several years now, and the likelihood of the Ebola epidemic breaking out again just when we’re there is the same as getting hit by a car while crossing the road in Tel Aviv.”
    “Those aren’t exactly low odds,” said Amit, chuckling, and he lapsed into thought. Their military service rendered them accustomed to dangers of a much higher probability. The Ebola