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The Scene in Yemen; January 2024

  "The past is a place of reference not a place of residence" this is a sentence I have to constantly remind myself. It is okay to look back to ponder then proceed, it is life nothing more, as tough and as complicated as it can get. That being said; I never choose to revisit the past, I cannot decide whether it is due to fear or rather being past the past. I choose to deem it as acceptance, that it is a chapter of history I can learn from but should never mourn upon, although I usually choose the route of not looking back. January 5th 2024, Friday, was one of those extremely rare days that I sensed I was sent through a time capsule, 8 years back, early 2015 to be exact. As I heard the sound of the war-crafts bolting through the serene blue sky of Sanaa, I was triggered. My first reaction was to run holding my head down, waiting for my home to come crumbing down to the ground. My rapid processing mechanism was concluding that Saudi is back at bombarding us, in sequence with th
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A Journey of Blissful Pain; The Prisoner Release Arrangement

Her tears were enough to reignite the flames of my rage, a fragile soul made of roses and daisies in such pain, unable to connect the dots between this man and the dad she knows from worn out photographs her mother keeps in the top drawer of her dresser that is slowly falling apart, she gazes into her father's eyes and it finally clicks that this is her dad, the man in the picture is real, this is the very first time she set her big, brown eyes on her dad, and she breaks down into showers of tear turning her face from pale to scarlet, filling every inch of her body with inexperienced joy. The mothers falling to their knees, eyes clouded with tears in complete denial that this day has finally shined upon them, the days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years, and she patiently waits holding on by her faith in God, she sees her son and breaks down, he might be injured and his legs are at the brink of being amputated, but in that moment nothing matters but him, he is h

Eight years later; the story goes on

The silence is frightening, like the calm before the storm. I am so used to their sounds, their thunders, now all I hear are my thoughts. As I wait for the silence to pass, this calm is now the unknown. I hear the airplanes passing and I can't help but shiver reminiscing when it all started eight years ago, when all I knew was silence that was cut off, always in a sudden, to hear a speeding warcraft above my head about to take away the lives of tens of people at once in a matter of seconds. How can I justify or explain to myself that these are not war crafts these are airplanes, the airplanes that used to sound so natural to me. The airplane that little children would wave at just eight years ago, those same children are teenagers now, and the children today would never wave at an airplane because it never is an airplane, it is always a hovering, killing machine about to take out little kids just like them. Times change and although there is a truce there is no serenity, just the f

Steed Sorrow

In her eyes I saw pain, I saw the feeling of helplessness that I have seen too many times before. In her eyes were wails and screams, the image of a broken soul. She stood so tall yet so frail like the slightest breeze of air could shatter her to pieces. Her bloody body standing above her little one with nothing to do but to accept the pain and to dwell in the sorrow.   Wars are never easy and the losses are never predictable, the only thing guaranteed is pain. Over 1800 days have passed and the only thing that has been stable is the pain. The only constant in our lives is pain. These horses were more than just animals to us Yemenis, these Arabian horses resembled both nobility and courage which are the two components Yemenis are made of. In the past fifty years Yemenis were portrayed and conveyed as savage illiterates who have no morals, all of which are false allegations. In the past five years I have got to know my people because nothing brings people closer together than commo

The 26th of March; Five Years In

I remember this day vividly, half a decade has passed and it feels like yesterday. It was a Tuesday and I had decided beforehand to skip school that day to study for an exam. I slept early the night before as I always do, then when I woke up, I grabbed my phone, opened WhatsApp and found my class’s group blowing up with messages. I began to read through them and I was not comprehending the words “Saudi declared a war against us” it seemed insane. I went out of my room, I found my mother and sister in front of the TV watching the news and it was in fact real. Everyone in Sana’a was awake, the first bomb thrown left the whole city awake, except me that is, that is also when I discovered what a deep sleeper I was. It did not make any sense to me, why were we attacked? A few days prior on the 21st of March, 2015 there was an explosion in a mosque during the Friday prayer which led to the death of so many. Maybe that was the warning sign, but I never saw it coming. The whole day I laid cud

The Power of a Decade

I remember my excitement for 2010 I had just turned 11 and the world seemed to be my oyster, I had a whole plan set out for myself. I was a hardheaded child with a plan, a well thought of plan, I was going to graduate high school at 17 and start university directly after, as a law student of course, and Harvard was the obvious choice. Nothing seemed too far, nothing seemed unreachable, every dream I had was valid, every dream was a possibility. It is hard to reminisce the past, how all that energy is long gone, I blame this war for it.  In February of 2015, I was sixteen preparing for my AS-Levels to elevate my chance of getting into a league school, my life revolved around books and studying, I would stay put for six hours straight without budging studying maths day in, day out. I missed out on so much all for an exam I never took because the moment this aggression began all hell broke loose, everything was cancelled and I was left to panic and cry that my life plan would n

The Price of a Revolution

When I just turned fifteen during early 2014, my brother and I were traveling to Spain in the Summer but as Yemenis we had a few bumps on the road. Our American passports were expired and we only had our diplomatic ones which in some countries actually mean some sort of immunity, but not in Yemen not under Hadi’s ruling. There was no Spanish embassy, so we went to the Italian embassy to get shin-gin visas. As we arrived to the embassy with our uncle who wasn’t allowed to come inside, only my brother and I were allowed in. The degradation began with their searching of our belongings, we were not allowed to let our phones inside and we were treated badly at the gate. As we stepped inside the embassy, quite a fancy place, we were led to an empty hall and awaited for what seemed like an eternity then the interrogation began. Finally, a few hours later we were set free and left with papers to fill. I remember how annoyed I felt, but at the same time although I felt degraded and belittl