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 not go forth. All the time spent studying maths and writing commentaries are all gone. Nothing will ever give me back my youth, my time, my life. I still had a small glimpse of hope that maybe not taking the exams was okay. As always I had a second option, a back-up plan. I was chosen a few weeks prior to the start of the coalition, with a few students from my grade as possible candidates for the UWC scholarship, I remember video taping myself that day after school crying tears of joy that my efforts paid off; I was chosen! I could not have been happier, I have never felt that much excitement from a mere idea of possibly getting chosen, chosen for a scholarship that would lead up to me entering into a league school.

Suddenly this coalition started, only a month after I received the news that I might be getting a scholarship.  My interview for the scholarship was set for the start of April, I was so nervous I could barely breathe, both because it might simply be cancelled considering the situation, and because I am a naturally nervous and anxious person. The interview was set and that day I was so stressed that I wouldn’t be chosen. The interview went well, I was not extremely confident because the competition was real. The following week I got a call saying, congratulations! You got the scholarship, we chose you over seventy other candidates. You are going to Norway. I just kept repeating the phrase thank you, I hung up. Ran upstairs to my mother, jumping up and down and she stared at me with looks of disbelief and said; you can’t possibly be thinking of leaving. No way. Impossible. Not going to happen. Not in this household. And that is when I felt my whole life falling apart. I was devastated, heart broken I felt betrayed, how could she let me apply and then when I get accepted she simply says no. I felt every form of anger I wanted to smash my fist in a wall. I balled my eyes out, I called my dad dwelling in tears like the world has ended and at the time it seemed like it did, I told him what happened he told me to calm down, he would talk to her and so he did. She did not budge, she came to my room and I wouldn’t look her in the eyes. She came to give me a talk, she told me she couldn’t let me a sixteen year old travel to Norway for a year with no one by my side, that she let me apply thinking I wouldn’t get the scholarship and that some rich kid would get it -as would happen in Yemen-, she wanted me to give it a shot, but she never thought it would work. She said when you are done with high school you can just go to America and stay at your Aunt’s place and go to university there. All I remember was barely being able to look her in the eyes, I felt betrayed. 

After endless efforts from both my father and the scholarship people, it was decided she would not let me go. I know she could not have forced me to stay, but I could not leave knowing she did not want me to, I could not even imagine doing it. I wanted this scholarship more than anything I have ever wanted, I was traumatized that I would not be taking the AS-levels and I would not travel to Norway, everything seemed so dark and sad. I have never felt that kind of sadness ever again. It was not sadness it was misery and helplessness coated in a thousand layers of disappointment. All I remember is crying and crying and crying. I thought of running away to my father, it seemed like a choice. My life suddenly stopped in the middle of my school year in eleventh grade suddenly my life went from constant studying and planning for the future to staying at home with no electricity and the fear of dying. I felt empty on the inside like all my life has been a waste. 

I remember my inability to comprehend the magnitude of the situation during the first few weeks of the Saudi-led coalition. I was so self-consumed, nothing other than my disoriented life mattered to me. The deaths around me seemed so far, everything seemed so distant to me. It felt surreal nothing was the same yet I could not adjust. All I did was dwell in my sorrows, in how unfair life was to me. After a few weeks my mother as the strong-willed woman she was, obviously did not stand back and watch as her country was being bombed relentlessly for no valid reason she took it into her own hands to search for every possible way to display the situation to the rest of the world and of course I had to be part. That is the thing when your mom is the brave, just, well-read person my mom is being active is not a choice, there is no other way to live. That is when I was pulled out of my ocean of self-grief and into reality and I changed forever. My purpose was to show the rest of the world what was happening how unjust it was to kill little children, to displace families, all for what? And why? Because we want our sovereignty. We went out to every march, I spoke in many events in English, all in hopes the world would take action but in those few months I realized the world does not care. It shocked me, I was so disappointed in everyone, but once again when your mom is the incredible mom I have being disheartened is not a choice, I learned to persevere and here I am almost five years later a changed person.

Since I no longer had a school to go to I was dedicated to writing on Facebook expressing my wrath, my anger and that is when I felt I had purpose, that is when I realized that maybe that is why my mom did not let me leave because I would have dismissed the growing intensity of the aggression against my country because it is hard to relate when you are unaffected, when you are unmoved. I do not regret staying. My school re-opened nine months later and suddenly I was a senior in high school, but I was a changed person. In the nine months that passed I moved twice to different relatives homes it was tough. We left because we feared for our lives, a bomb would drop and everything in our humble home would tremble and dust would flood our rooms. I would shiver and turn ice cold, I would be unable to speak for an hours or so. I loathed the feeling of being weak, how much fear filled my mother’s eyes when she would see me so broken. I felt anger, the wrath of the seven seas. I felt at times helpless like my voice was unheard, like my death would make no difference. Whenever I saw a window I was startled because windows and bombs are the most terrifying combination. Every bomb was a reminder that I might be next and death no matter how far it seems is ever so close. 

When I started school I was quite accustomed to the bombs, I was a bit stronger the bombs still frightened me, but at least I felt some momentum in my life. I remember vividly my last first day of school, my mom and sister escorted me because I was terrified the same way I was 12 years prior when I started school.  It is quite amusing how vulnerable the human is how even if you are sixteen you are still as scared and anxious are you were at four and that is both sad and beautiful. During the nine months I spent at home and looking back at those times I see how much I matured how you do not choose when you grow, your birthday does not indicate it, it is the experiences you go through, the struggles and triumphs, they are what determine your age and that is what a war does it steals your youth, you are between being a child diffused in fear and a crippling elderly unable to speak. There is no in-between, a whole phase of your life is taken away from you and there is no way to ask for that time back. 

I finished high school, my brother left to study university the day after my graduation, and I decided to stay an extra year before leaving to the United States, the year passed and with the passing days I changed. My wrath, my anger, my fury increased. I think it is worth mentioning that when I was 16 I lost my interest in law, I wanted to major in education in order to enhance the educational institution in Yemen. I wanted the generation succeeding me to grow up unscarred by the cruelty of the educational system. I wanted the next generation to be taught to think not to memorize, I wanted qualified teachers to educate them and not qualified in terms of diplomas but in terms of capabilities. I wanted capable, intelligent, and kind people to teach the next generation. I was lucky enough to come across two amazing teachers in my life time, one taught me English and the other taught me maths, they have impacted my life in so many ways. They gave me the ability to think and their hard work did pay off. If it were not for their support through my teen years I would not have been the person I am today. The year passed and I was planning on leaving on October 2017, I was ready for the next chapter of my life. 

In Yemen, most high school graduates take a year off, so by the time I was planning on leaving all my friends were starting university in the only “certified” university in Sana’a. I was quite upset that I was not sharing their excitement, I felt left out. My mom was visibly sad that I was leaving the nest, and I wanted to share my friends’ excitement, so I thought it through and decided to take a semester in this university to both enjoy the fun with my friends and a few extra weeks with my mother. Then, I would leave for sure in January. As you can expect there are almost no choices in majors in the university I joined, nothing even close to education nor was there law, the options were so limited. I thought about what subjects I was good at and came to the conclusion electrical engineering will be fun to try. When I went to register, I explained how I was only planning on staying a semester and the registrar advised me otherwise, saying it is not worth it, I would not be gaining any experience in electrical engineering from the first semester and I insisted on taking the three months semester. I remember how scary it all seemed although it was literally two buildings that are anything but intimidating. I took pre-calc and I was getting 100 on every exam because I loved maths and it was super easy which surprised me considering the fact university should be harder than school from my perspective. My first semester finished I got straight As and I did not enjoy the major at all, but I wanted to beat the odds by being a female electrical engineer. I decided to stay. 

This is where I explain why I decided to stay in one part I would like to say I enjoyed the university that I was in but that is a lie because I absolutely hate it and I still do. The reason I stayed is because it felt like if I left I would never come back and it was true. Who can leave a war-ridden country with no electricity and then willingly come back? Maybe I would have come back but I would be a changed person and I know this for a fact. I chose to stay because everyone seemed to be abandoning the country and the only people left were those who hated Yemen and if given a chance to leave for good they would. I felt a responsibility amongst myself to stay and I did. I eventually changed my major to IT which I also dislike considering the dreams I had. I am starting my final year of university in a few months, it did pass by faster than I thought it would. My ten year old self would never had imagined that I would be an IT graduate from a below-average university and somedays it is hard for me to believe it too. The only thing that makes it all bearable is seeing history being made in my country and staying here taught me something traveling and achieving my dreams never would have. I learned that there is a whole country populated with 27 million people other than me, I learned that life is not about what you achieve as an individual but what your country achieves as a whole because my country’s success is my success and its failure is mine as well. I learned that loving a place is harder than loving a person. I learned that no matter what are plans are something different, something right will be awaiting you. 

I know this might disappoint a lot of people to see dreams fade away, but looking back at it all I can not imagine not being a part of the ongoing change in my country. I was raised privileged and I am now learning how to think like those with less. A war-ridden country teaches you more about yourself and more about humanity than you will ever learn in peace. I have seen so many displaced people, so many sick, paralyzed, wounded, mentally ill people that mourning upon my materialistic losses is invalid and inhumane. I am proud of the person I have become and there is not one part of my story I would change.