I haven’t been able to sell fish lately, which always makes it hard to come home after the day. My children need to eat, need to live, but it has been so hard when the only fish you can catch is the size of a hand. I go to Lake Chad everyday, hoping it would be better than the last, but it never is.

Everyday I would throw in my net in, and wait on the boat, remembering how nice it was to fish here several decades ago. Catching fish that was as big as men, being able to row for hours on end, looking at a beautiful lake that stretched out as far as the eye could see, and being able to go home knowing you can eat that night. Those were definitely the good days, but I do not think life will ever be that good again.

I look down at my net, and I did not see anything in it, but instead glared at my reflection that was staring back at me, “Wow, the years have really taken a toll on me.” My hair was silver, my face was wrinkled, and you you see all my bones, showing I was malnourished. My kids unfortunately looked worse. You could see all their bones sticking out of their skin, as if they were walking skeletons. And everyday I come home, they always have a smile on their face, hoping for something, anything, but a lot of times I don’t bring anything. Then it always breaks my heart to see their innocent similes turn upside down, and there is nothing I could do.

Maybe one day my life will be better, and Lake Chad will grow once more, but until that day comes, I have a long journey ahead.