Recently, the Gambian navy intercepted a migrant boat carrying nearly 100 would-be migrants during a daring night patrol. Among them were Gambians, many found dehydrated and some already ill after enduring 20 harrowing days at sea.

Despite the dangers of such a journey—highlighted repeatedly in the media— scores of Gambians continue to risk it. Not out of bravery, but out of desperation and a loss of hope for the future at home.

If you think those risking their lives are only jobless youths, think again. Even working-class individuals are now abandoning their jobs to embark on this perilous journey. This is both alarming and pathetic, underscoring the failure of African governments to address the pressing issues in their countries.

Imagine toiling for a whole month, waking up early every morning and working late into the evening to provide for yourself and your family. Yet, at the end of the month, your earnings cannot cover basic needs, let alone put food on the table or pay exorbitant electricity bills. This harsh reality is driving many Gambians to flee their homeland.

They are desperate. They have lost hope in the future. They are fed up with the persistent hardships. For many, the only perceived solution is to escape the abject poverty in their country—even if it means risking their lives. Some would rather die than stay behind and watch their parents, siblings, and loved ones suffer, knowing they are powerless to help.

I am a living witness to these challenges plaguing our country. While I have never taken this journey, I have friends, family members, and neighbours who dared to—and many of them perished. Some claim that these migrants take their own lives, but that’s a grave allegation.

A person in their right mind wouldn’t end their life without reason. They don’t kill themselves; they die because they feel they have no other choice. It is heart-breaking to witness your loved ones endure hardships that could have been avoided.

To our authorities, how do you feel about these lingering problems tormenting your fellow citizens when you lay your head on your pillow at night? Do you not feel guilty for failing the people you swore to serve? Are you truly comfortable receiving your salaries—paid by taxpayers’ hard-earned money—without providing the essential services they so desperately need?

Adama Makasuba, concerned Gambian