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 belittled in my own country I felt like it was okay to be treated like a threat.
I traveled to Spain that Summer, my brother renewed his passport, but I did not and we were set to go back in December, in timing with me sixteenth birthday and that is when the true feeling of degradation sunk it. This feeling was not one I made up, it was a collective feel it grew with me throughout the years. I remember vividly 4 years ago while my brother and I were on our way yet again to Spain from Yemen, my brother traveled using his American passport and I traveled with my Yemeni passport, as we stopped in Dubai for a transit he was allowed to pass through the arrivals gate while I had to wait until my father arrived. He had to pay an exaggerated fee in order to let me in to the country for my two day stay. I have never felt so worthless in my life, my brother who was my life long companion since birth with only an 18 month difference between us was given the upper hand just because he was “American” while I was treated as a possible threat to a country at just sixteen. This was on the sixteenth of December, 2014 the day of my sixteenth birthday. That feeling of degradation will stay with me for life.
So, in timing with the 57th anniversary of the so-called Yemeni independence marking the downfall of the kingdom and rise of the republic, I want to state as a young woman that I have never felt independent. I have never felt of worth. I have never felt proud of being Yemeni. I hated every part of being Yemeni that was all until the 21st of September, the start of the real Yemeni revolution that just marked its fifth anniversary. The anniversary of the revolution that changed the course of history for Yemen and the world, I am now proud to say I am Yemeni. As an American born Yemeni woman I know through experience how proud I was of my second nationality. At times I wished I had an American name rather than my oh so Muslim-Arabian name. I felt such shame coming from Yemen that whenever I would travel I would hope no-one would know where I came from and would deem me as an Omani or an Egyptian anything other than a Yemeni.
I believe this fire in my soul is only normal considering how I was raised in a revolutionary family where everything was to be questioned and settling was never a choice. I remember my questioning since my earlier days and how I would openly say, “Nope, I don’t like Ali Abdullah Saleh.” As a child I was never afraid of stating my mind, the fear appears as we grow older. I remember how much rage I had back in the Arab Spring I was confused but I was there, it felt right. As the years passed and I began to understand a few things, I learned that standing with what is right costs relationships and that in this life we are given the choice to either stand up for what we believe in or to accept the lifelong feeling of worthlessness.
When the events began to heat up in early 2014 I was ready to fight, I was filled with every revolutionary feeling there was, then victory arose and for a moment I felt like perhaps this was the start of something new, something positive for Yemen. Perhaps now I would be proud of being Yemeni. Life was good for the first few months then the coalition began. Yes, this revolution came alongside a war, just six months after its rise, the country I just learned to love was under attack. I was once again filled with rage and anger because the six months were some of the best I have ever lived. After being accustomed to assassinations and degradation, we were safe. Yemen for once seemed to be on the right track.
I remember the fear that filled my heart with every missile strike. I remember every shudder of glass and every sleepless night. I remember how much I feared the death of my family. How could I possibly forget? But as the years passed I grew and so did the Yemeni armed forces and for once I was no longer ashamed of being Yemeni instead I was proud and I wanted to brag about being the underdog country to standup to over 10 countries. It is incredible that through the shackles of slavery Yemen was able to reign supreme. Through the years of degradation and being burnt to death in Saudi borders, now people think twice when they come across a Yemeni. Through being the world’s kicking box, we are now a missile shooting, God trusting nation. Yemen has found something in the past five years that the world hasn’t found in the past 1400 years and that is the power of faith. He knew it since the early 2000’s and we comprehended it now almost 20 years later, but at least we did, and look at where we have come. God did not leave us here to feel less, to feel helpless, to feel degraded just because of our geographic positioning, but as we all know sovereignty is not given it is taken. No one could stand the thought of Yemen actually living to its full potential, yet here we are four years later and building our own war-crafts.
In the end, I am proud to say that I lived through it all, I lived the dark ages before 2014 and I now live in the light of God, in the light of a better tomorrow. I can assure you that not even the raids and the fear of death compare to the darkness and degradation of the past. So, here’s to revolutions that change the course of history. Here’s to the 21st of September.
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