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 fear of tomorrow, when we are hit back with reality that this isn't the same Yemen we knew eight years ago, the people are stronger and the mountains stand tall, taller than they have ever stood. Eight years passed so much faster than I ever imagined, it was just yesterday when I was awoken to the news, not able to comprehend what was going on. Eight years feel like a minute, but when I stop to dwell on the years; my eyes fill up with tears, so much has happened, so many souls have gone. So many people have left, have changed, have given up... As I wipe away the tears I remember the person I once was and how this war against my country has changed me to the core. There is pain and there are miseries, but there is also a hope of a better tomorrow.

I still vividly remember the mark of the very first year and how 365 days seemed like an eternity but now close to 3000 days in so much has changed and this country rose from the rubbles. Yes, we rose from the rubbles while we were under attack by their air raids but we persisted in hopes of a future where this country regains its sovereignty, its freedom, its God given rights. Pain can be broken down into levels, at the start you feel engulfed or rather buried by the emotions, some days it feels overbearing where all you can see and touch is sorrow, everything is blanketed in grief. As you level up, you begin to view the world for what it is, as if you are awaken into reality, the sadness ends and a new wave of emotion begins, drowning you in facts, facts you cannot believe you never saw, and at that moment it all clicks, everything falls into place. The pain becomes valid and you are no longer in grief; in the contrary you are in a phase of rage, but not in a bewildered, feral way, rather in a legitimate, sane form, this is what I believe maturing is. Maturing is knowing where your emotions stand, what they mean, and what they will lead to, it is taking actions and taking a stance.

I have seen such high levels of brutality from this aggression by the same countries that I once believed were symbols of peace, signs of freedom. In the beginning it was hard to wrap my head around the fact that the countries I looked up to were now spending fortunes in attempts to demolish my people, to demolish me. It was painful coming to this realization, but I can now clearly see the world in a way that I could have never deemed to be the truth years ago. It is at the moment we take off our rose-tinted glasses that we see the world for what it is, and although at times it may seem brutal and in all truth it is, the world is not a happy place, but it is a choice that we make, we shape the world we live in, and when I awoke and took them off I was freed. Freedom does not come easily and it comes accompanied with mountains of agony, but once it settles in you witness serenity even under the showers of air raids, bombs, and the fear of death. This is the reality check we all need and all it takes is setting away your rose-tinted shades.

We are told to accept the situation we are in, the state of no war and no peace, the so-called truce. The truce that in itself is a form of aggression and the ongoing blockade is another form of aggression, this is a situation which we will not accept nor will we tolerate. Peace is not achieved in this way, it is not a double-sided deal, peace is taken in its entirety, not in bits and pieces. It always leaves me dumbfounded that as a third world country we are expected to simply accept that a dictatorship like the United States has all the right to come and take over a country, taking the natural resources and their sovereignty and in return they give the people crumbs that have been chewed and spit out for them to indulge in, and accept. This is not a life the people of Yemen intend on living and this war can go on for centuries, but we refuse to bow down or let go of our rights because the effect of this war is not one that can be forgotten, the souls that have been lost, and the misery that has overshadowed this land, this country belongs to Yemen and its people, not to the countries that invaded it and those who supports the invaders. 

Eight years have passed and we have grown, matured, changed. Eight years have gone by and we have grieved, cried, broken down. Eight years felt like a glimpse of an eye and an eternity all at once, this is Yemen and we will not surrender or accept defeat in our just battle of defense. Here’s to a bright, prosperous future for the children of Yemen. I have faith regardless of all the pain that we have endured that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and we will rise from the ashes.