Bushra al-Maqtari - What Have You Left Behind?

In my dreams, the war is silent. No missiles, no air raids, no murder, no famine, no fear, no hatred. But when I wake, the war is still raging, just as it has been the past four years. Air raids light up the Sanaa night sky; ambulance sirens pierce the quiet of night. And while I write, I think about the time it took for war to reach us.

After all, a war like this doesnt break out without warning; it takes a long time. A full turn of history. It took years, decades in fact, to push its way into our lives. I remember how its head drifted unmistakably towards us. It had been during the first weeks of March 2015, but our eyes werent open wide enough to see it coming. Or maybe they were, but we didnt realize that what we were seeing were the harbingers of war. Houthi militia were on the streets, but it hadnt been anything like the day Sanaa had fallen a few months earlier.

As night began, armoured vehicles and individuals in military fatigues holding weapons could be seen coming forth. These troops proceeded on the same desert roads used by ordinary travellers. I remember seeing military trucks rolling along the route from Sanaa to Aden. Slowly, they advanced through the mountain pass, blocking civilian traffic. The vehicles carried tanks that seemed fresh out of storage. Then a long line: rocket launchers, machine guns, more equipment, guarded by exhausted soldiers on foot. And even more trucks, this time with soldiers jam-packed on the back, some of them grinning stupidly at the Peugeot drivers beside them. And finally, the military police cars. They escorted the army on its way to the south of the country.

I reached Aden in the second week of March. The missiles shook the city from all sides. Houthi militia bombed the Presidential Palace they had no idea that a new, much bloodier one awaited them. On 23 March 2015, the decision to go to war was made; diplomats and international employees left Sanaa, while foreign embassies closed their doors and evacuated their personnel. Likewise, political party leaders departed the country with their families. I bade farewell to some of them in good faith. It didnt occur to me that they having sensed the war was coming decided to flee and leave us to our fate.

At that time, I was convinced the so-called civilized world wouldnt leave us to the foolishness of politicians and generals, that this world wouldnt just stand by idly watching us in the impending wreckage. That somebody would inevitably intervene tomorrow, or maybe the day after, and stop us from wandering like an unknowing flock of sheep off a cliff. At 2 a.m. Thursday, 26 March, when the Arab Coalitions fighter planes suddenly cut through the Sanaa sky, war became a reality. From that morning, whats engraved on my mind isnt the roar of the explosions, or the horrifying thunder of planes piercing the sound barrier, nor my anxiety over the trajectory of missiles hitting targets further than I could see, nor the sounds of war that I had grown accustomed to. Rather, it is the shock of how war was conjured, how life collapsed in one fell swoop: civil infighting, the humiliation of hunger, the indignity of it all, our generations lost dreams. They split the citizens into two warring camps, leaving the majority of us transformed into victims or voiceless beings.

Im not concerned with listing the political details of the war here; instead, I have recorded in the introduction to this book the memories remaining in my mind of the bitter war we are still living through. An attempt to capture the essence of it all: the images of war Ive seen and experienced, the disappearance of any kind of normal life, the damage and defeat that took root in my soul when the godfathers of war trampled patriotism, sovereignty and national unity beneath their heavy boots. But how can life in the shadow of a war that has destroyed everything be fully encapsulated? Whats undeniable is that we have returned to pre-civilization: all cities are without electricity, and we are living by the candlelight and gas lanterns used by our ancestors. And when the gas runs out at home, families resort to cutting down trees to use in wood stoves. Theres no clean water to drink, so it has become a daily occurrence to witness children and the elderly queuing up with empty pots to fill from tankers donated by some good doer. Poverty can be seen wherever you turn: citizens have lost their jobs and livelihoods, airport. Police dogs sniffed their luggage as if they were criminals yet another country violating their rights. The Arab Coalition even shut Sanaa airport in August 2016, further exacerbating the situation.