When they came to the village, I was no more than a baby.
Before I could learn my own vernacular language and to worship our Gods residing on the mountains, before I could learn to walk among my people, my widowed father decided to give me, as a present, to a white couple visiting.
The scarf
It is not ordinary at all to have a love to come home to
Somewhere, in Africa
Black Lives Matter and the logic of two weights and two measures
The hawksbill turtle
We decided I would make a small fire to roast some fish that we would catch immediately.
What happened next became a sad chapter of my life
”I paint my love for Yemen”, Wissam Al-Ansi
I want to embrace the world with Yemen’s beauty, for all to see
Amedeo Vergani
He travelled, photographed, wrote.
He always helped. Everyone
For every woman raped in every war
to never allow oblivion
The dance
I never really danced
My name is Gamela and I am looking for my family. An appeal to Yemen
Will you help me find my father or his family?’
Children’s Drawings from Yemen
A j’accuse for us all
the talking of the soul 