Eleven Years later...

This was the first time I met Keita's sons: Moussa to the left and Lassie the youngest...I was stopping in Segou  on my way to Djenne to close the hotel down temporarily- Keita was in a wheelchair and our world had collapsed in just a few weeks. We  were going to Casablanca for radio therapy for his spine- there was a small chance that he might get some movement back in his legs...

I am spending some of this isolation time trying to write about our life in Mali, the hotel and the whole strange and wonderful time. To write about Keita's illness is not easy, and I am finding my way through it by trial and error, I hope. There was always so many extremes-everything always felt like teetering on the brink of catastrophy while at the same time there was so much to laugh at- even at the most difficult times.
I spoke to Keita's sons yesterday- they are now in their late teens and suffering from the Malian situation- first a year of teachers' strikes just when Moussa was supposed to take his baccalaureat and now the schools are once more closed because of the Corona crisis.
There are not many cases known in Mali yet, and everyone is holding their breath- will Africa somehow be let off the hook? Or at least less badly affected? It is not yet possible to tell, but  there are some signs that it may be so. Today the Ministry of Health announced  144 cases so far in Mali with 13 deaths. This is about two weeks after the first known case. Of course there  may be many more that are not recorded, but since I am in touch almost daily with both Timbuktu and Djenne I would certainly know if there were a larger than normal mortality in either place.

Please let that Angel of Death pass over Mali and Africa lightly for once...