JOURNAL 5
We grew food here…
…even after…
…the rains stopped coming.
We had a river.
I could still see it…
[The grave marker 1868-1939 belongs to the old man pictured later.]
…if I closed my eyes.
Maybe we could ask for help…
…from our neighbors…
…but they had to leave too.
He built this farm long before I was born.


[This is the man buried along the river, earlier.]
We couldn’t leave.
But if we stayed we would die.


*
To be continued…
JOURNAL 4
I wanted to go home
but we had no home to go to.
Walking, walking, walking all day…
…and all night into an unknown.
Hope
Hope was all that kept us going.
Far in the distance…
…we began to see the tents 
of the refugee camp.
END OF CHAPTER ONE


*
Chapter Two begins soon!