Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.
I think that sums it up pretty well. I am just here recovering from the Winyé Mask Festival and the following abject misery brought about by the Mega-Virus of Doom. I don't think that's what the doctor calls what I've got, but believe me, it fits.
This is my first day up and about since Saturday night, so I am desperately trying to catch up on all fronts. Fanta (our household helper) has malaria. Alexa has an evil infected throat. JP just left for a month-long stay in Europe and his brand new, first-time-ever-in-Ouaga research assistant is staying at our house for the week. I have had a three man film editting crew working in the kids' playroom for the last two months. (No, they are NOT doing stop-action animation with the Barbies. They are working on an anthropological film for JP) In short, I have a few things going on around here and a long blog entry is not in the cards today. But the next few entries will no doubt be about my various mishaps on my short, yet eventful trip.
I even have pictures I'll be posting. Of the mask festival, not of me being ill in a hut in Boromo.