Sleeping Sickness

In the humid heart of Cameroon, a modest clinic quietly combats a disease most of the world has forgotten. Ebbo Velten has devoted himself to the sleeping‑sickness programme, finding purpose in the slow, steady rhythm of field work while the surrounding landscape hums with the sounds of distant cities and untamed rivers. The film paints the region with a gentle, almost lyrical realism, letting the heat, the mosquito‑laden evenings, and the soft murmur of local conversations shape an atmosphere that feels both intimate and expansive.

At home, Vera navigates the expatriate enclave of Yaoundé, a community that offers polite smiles but little comfort. Her marriage to Ebbo feels stretched across continents, especially as their fourteen‑year‑old daughter, Helen, spends most of her school years in a German boarding school, returning only for brief, bittersweet visits. Vera’s sense of displacement is amplified by the distance between her personal aspirations and the expectations that linger in the shadows of the aid world, creating a quiet tension that underlies everyday interactions.

Years pass, and the project’s future hangs in balance. When a French‑Congolese doctor arrives to evaluate a new development initiative, the quiet routine is subtly disturbed. Alex Nzila steps onto the scene with the professional detachment of a World Health Organization inspector, yet his presence triggers a ripple of questions about commitment, legacy, and the cost of staying versus leaving. The encounter between Alex and the withdrawn Ebbo becomes a focal point, hinting at unspoken histories and the fragile bonds that tie people to a place that is both a refuge and a crucible.

The tone of the film is contemplative, blending moments of gentle humor with an undercurrent of melancholy. It asks what it means to belong to a cause that is half‑finished, and how love, responsibility, and the pull of distant homelands can reshape a life lived on the edge of the unknown.

Last Updated: November 25, 2025 at 14:54