Yemen: The descendants of a forgotten conflict

 

Al-Rasheed Street in Taiz, a Yemeni city surrounded by mountains and Houthi rebels, may be suffering's address if it had one. The kids are unable to flee a grinding battle that the world usually forgets on this small street of adobe dwellings.

With his crutches, a small child with a mop of dark hair skillfully avoids potholes as he guides us down the street. The Yemeni war began while Bader al-Harbi was only seven years old. Above the knee, his right leg has been amputated. His T-shirt has the word "Sport" written on it.

If misery had an address, it might be on Al-Rasheed Street in Taiz, a Yemeni city ringed by mountains and Houthi militants. On this little strip of adobe houses, the children are unable to escape a bloody conflict that most people tend to forget.

A small girl with a mop of black hair walks us down the street while using crutches, expertly dodging potholes. When Bader al-Harbi was just seven years old, the Yemeni conflict started. His right leg has been severed above the knee. The word "Sport" is inscribed on his T-shirt.
 
 Bader is sitting in his family's backyard on some breeze blocks with his stump clearly visible. There are no shoes on his other foot. Hashim, his older brother, stands by his side, sharing in his silence and trauma.

Hashim is missing a thumb and has a broken right foot. He constantly moves his hands around as though attempting to rub the scars away.

In October of last year, the boys were returning home from school on a break when they were hit by Houthi shelling, according to their father, al-Harbi Nasser al-Majnahi. Since then, they have not returned to their lessons.
 
 He sits cross-legged on a mattress and adds, "Everything changed entirely. They don't play outside with other kids any longer. They're handicapped. They are anxious and struggle with mental health issues.

Hashim declares that he would like to return to school in a quiet voice that makes him sound younger than his nine years.

He says, "I want to learn and study." I enquired as to Bader's desire to join us. "Yes," he answers. But how can I move now that my leg has been amputated?

Because he lacks the funds for transportation, according to their father, they have not been enrolled for the upcoming school year. Additionally, he lacks a means of rescuing his family from danger.

 He explains to me, "Even though we are afraid, the rent would be more if we moved somewhere else, therefore we can't. Therefore, whether we live or die, we are compelled to remain here.

In what started as a civil war, regional rivalries supporting opposing sides fueled the conflict. Even though Yemen's internationally recognized government is weak, Sunni Saudi Arabia backs it. The Houthi movement, formerly known as Ansar Allah (or Supporters of God), is supported by Shia Iran.
 

The Houthis overran Yemen's capital city of Sanaa in September 2014, toppling the ruling coalition. A coalition led by Saudi Arabia intervened the following spring with support from the US and the UK.

A swift effort to reinstate the government was promised by the Saudis. Not exactly.

After eight years and thousands of airstrikes from the coalition, the Houthis are still in control of the capital. Now, the Saudis want to leave quickly—at least militarily.

And Bader and Hashim, who are still sleeping and waking up to the sound of battle in Taiz, are on the front lines.

"I hear explosions," Bader claims, "and there are snipers. Everything in the neighborhood is shot. I have the impression that there might be an explosion nearby or that the house might blow up.

We proceed a little distance to the home next door, where yet another childhood has been shattered.

Amir, a three-year-old boy dressed in a yellow T-shirt and acting solemnly, shows up at the door. His right leg has been replaced with a metal prosthetic. He is assisted in standing by his father, Sharif al-Amri, who frequently stoops to kiss his forehead.

Just a few hours after Bader and Hashim on the same day, Amir also sustained injuries.

When the house across the street was bombarded, he was inside and both his uncle and his cousin, who was six years old, perished. Amir is still alive, but he has deep memory wounds.

Amir dozes off while being cradled in Sharif's arms as he describes his son's suffering in the oppressive heat.

"He recalls every second from the time the bombardment occurred until he got to the hospital. "This happened to my uncle, and this happened to my cousin," the speaker claims. He talks about the blood and smoke he witnessed. He becomes furious and declares, "I don't have a leg," when he sees kids having fun.
 
There is a certain amount of terror in each home on this street. More than most, Munir's has. The family house, which is directly in the line of fire, is down an alleyway that the father of four guides me to. He said that Houthi gunmen are about 20 to 30 meters away from his neighbors.

Munir squats down by his living room window and declares, "There's a sniper in front of us. If I open the window, I can see him now. He will shoot if you go outside to the garden.

In Taiz, we experience constant fear. Nobody can predict when they will be shot at by a sniper or a rocket. If God wills, Yemen will return to greatness and there will be peace.
 Every house on this street has a specific level of horror. Munir's has more than most. The father of four leads me down an alleyway to the family home, which is right in the line of fire. He claimed that his neighbors are only 20 to 30 meters away from Houthi gunmen.
There is a sniper in front of us, Munir exclaims as he kneels down by his living room window. I can see him now if I open the window. If you go outdoors to the garden, he will shoot.
We live in continual fear in Taiz. Nobody knows when they will be targeted by a rocket or a sniper. Yemen will rise again to grandeur if God wills. 

In Taiz, we experience constant fear. Nobody can predict when they will be shot at by a sniper or a rocket. If God wills, Yemen will return to greatness and there will be peace.

Mohammed, his oldest kid and a wheelchair-dependent 14-year-old, greets us in the corridor. The other students fled his school when it was shelled, leaving him behind. He now fears that if his house is hit, his family may suffer injuries while attempting to save him.

    Why is there a war in Yemen?
    The battle in Yemen has a devastating cost for women.
    Hope for a Yemeni ceasefire is raised by the Saudi-Houthi talks.
 

 Taiz has been essentially under siege for more than 3,000 days as a result of fighting between government and Houthi forces. Additionally, children were not spared.

We learned from a local physician that since 2015, he has cared for over 100 children who have lost limbs due to Houthi shelling, mines, and explosive ordnance.

The Houthis have primarily been responsible for the majority of child deaths and maimings in Taiz throughout the years. In the early years of the war, some people were killed by government forces while others perished in airstrikes carried out by the Saudi-led coalition. Blood has been spilled on both sides.

Since a UN-mediated cease-fire last year that lasted for six months, the fighting in Yemen has been reduced in intensity. It's no longer a full-scale conflict, but it's also not peace.
 

Saudi Arabia and Iran have shaken hands and made up. So far, so good. There have been talks between the Saudis and the Houthis, but sources tell us they have stalled. And there are no talks involving Yemen's own warring factions.

The country is increasingly fragmented, like a broken jigsaw that can't be reassembled. A separatist movement - backed by the United Arab Emirates - wants the south to be independent, as it was from 1967 until 1990. That is one more fissure in a fraying state.