Tareq Abdullah and no chance of survival in war-torn Yemen

Tareq Abdullah is only 10 years old. He comes from an extremely indigent family of Hodeidah, Westerm Yemen, and  life has balanced the lack of money in his days with abundancy of illnesses and grief. Tareq happens to be deaf, suffers from renal failure and has an enlarged heart. With such a clinical record, chances ofContinue reading “Tareq Abdullah and no chance of survival in war-torn Yemen”

Manal, a light for thousands of Yemeni disabled

Manal is in her mid-twenties, an active, passionate and smart young woman. Yemeni, she holds a University degree from the Faculty of Arts in Sanaá in English literature and, indeed, she masters perfect English. The feeling you have when you talk to her, see her moving around, watch her dealing with people and friends, isContinue reading “Manal, a light for thousands of Yemeni disabled”

You are there, in my war frame

They sent me this picture of you, Tnseem. I filed it in ‘My World’ folder. You are smiling. At last I see you smile. I am sure before the war started, our paths had crossed ways. We must have met on the stairs or during Eid. Or on a Friday, weekend day, when you used to come andContinue reading “You are there, in my war frame”

One day someone dressed beautifully

Maybe it’s not in the city. Maybe it’s in the villages, down the valleys, behind the rocks. close to the sea, behind a water-fall where freedom happens. Freedom to use what you have, combine the colours, the fabrics, plaid the wool as if it were your hair-dome, weave a basket hat, match a yellow scarf with blue andContinue reading “One day someone dressed beautifully”

In a village, one day

One day, passing by, someone took out the camera and the village girls started laughing. The picture is blurred, it’s shaky. The girls are in their country clothes. Time of the picture is unknown, as well as the author But the strength, the energy of the moment is still there. And it’s all in theContinue reading “In a village, one day”

Memoirs of a refugee still looking out of the same window

There is still a Country outlined by the routes of the ancient caravans of the merchants of pepper, coffee and frankincense, a Country equal to itself, a jewel shining of its own light century after century. A Country which has remained isolated being at the nib of the Arabic Peninsula, hence, preserving itself from theContinue reading “Memoirs of a refugee still looking out of the same window”