Yesterday, we buried my host sister's three-week-old daughter.
Her name was Fatoumata, and she was, of course, beautiful.
The details of her death are still too raw for me to share.
Among those she left behind are: her mother, Nana, who only cries when nobody's looking, and her twin brother, Lassina, whose odds of survival increased with her passing, but remain daunting.
And me, who is trying to find sense and meaning in something that simply has no reason.
I am sad, but mostly angry - and I hope this marks the low point of my service.