In Pictures

Yemen crisis: The devastating impact of six years of war

Yemenis reveal how six brutal years of air raids, mortars, gunfire, fear and destruction have devastated their lives.

Muhsen Murhshed has farmed the land since birth, but three years ago his family had to flee to a temporary camp outside the desert city of Marib. “We used to live among green farmlands,” he said. “Here only dust and barren land surrounds us.” Since February, intense battles in Marib are threatening hundreds of thousands of displaced families like Murhshed's. “The fighting gets nearer every day. Others have already fled this camp, but I have a large family and we have nowhere else to go.” [Hamza Al-Qadaimi/NRC]

By Riona Judge McCormack

This week, the war in Yemen enters its seventh year. The country is once again hitting the headlines because a new famine warning is threatening millions of people. But this is only the latest in a series of fully preventable tragedies for the nation, all of which are rooted in the unending conflict.

In 2014, the Houthi armed group took control over large swaths of the country, including the capital Sanaa. The conflict escalated significantly in March 2015 when a Coalition of regional countries led by Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates assembled a military coalition in an attempt to restore the government of President Abd-Rabbu Mansour Hadi.

Six brutal years of air attacks, mortars, gunfire, fear and destruction have today left the country almost unrecognisable.

The coastal city of Aden, once a popular holiday destination, is choked with rubble and ruins. Farmland that flourished green and productive for generations is left barren. Electricity networks are down and hospitals have been destroyed or run out of supplies.

An estimated four million Yemenis have fled their homes in fear and more than 20 million are left in need. Whether it is the schools that children once attended or the roads that cities once relied on for food supplies, no facet of life has been left unaltered.

For humanitarian organisations, trying to stave off famine in these conditions is an uphill battle. When COVID-19 first reached Yemen, families told us they must focus all their energies on finding the next meal, so worrying about the virus had to come second.

Now the country is weathering unthinkable aid cuts, narrowing the window of assistance even further. And every day, more destruction takes place: another clinic or home or school is struck, more people flee gunfire or bombs, and more children starve.

A question people ask repeatedly is: “Why has the world abandoned us?”

In collaboration with local Yemeni photographers, The Norwegian Refugee Council (NRC) spoke to families across the country about their lives before the war began, and asked them to show the world how they live now. These are just some of their stories.

Ahmed Abdullah was 11 years old when his sister picked up an object and threw it. It was an explosive device, left behind after fighting swept through their home village in Lahj a few months before. “Everything went dark,” Ahmed said. “I was taken to the hospital, but it is still dark even now.” Ahmed lost his sight and his left hand. His brother was killed. Almost every type of explosive weapon has been used during the war in Yemen, with unexploded devices littering the country. [Mahmoud Al-Filastini/NRC]

Ahmed Abdullah, now 17, does his best to bring in money by uploading phone credit for others. “I haven’t been able to study as there is no school for blind children here. I can’t live like other children my age. But I’m trying to enjoy life.” Children made up a third of deaths and maimings from landmines and unexploded ordinance in Yemen last year. Abdullah's sister was among them: a device exploded while she was clearing garbage, injuring her for the second time. [Mahmoud Al-Filastini/NRC]

Since the start of the war, shopkeeper Maher Al-Shaibani has seen the cost of transporting flour quadruple, pushing up food prices in a country where many are already starving. “The main roads into Taiz city are blocked, so we have to bring our goods through valleys and mountains where the big trucks can’t move," he said. "It used to take five minutes from the city to Al-Hawban, and now it takes five hours. We hope that the roads reopen, and we can travel and bring goods safely, like before. The blocked roads play a main role in raising food prices, and many people can’t afford it now.” [Khaled Al-Banna/NRC]

Before the war, Muhsanah Al-Odaini’s husband worked in Saudi Arabia and sent money home. “Appliances like fridges used to be common for families,” she said. “But since the war began, the power has been shut off. We have forgotten there is this thing called electricity.” [Khaled Al-Banna/NRC]

Muhsanah Al-Odaini opens her fridge, which has not been powered for years. “We bought solar panels for the lights, but it can’t run the fridge, washing machine or any other machine. We use the fridge as a cupboard now for clothes and other items,” she told us. “My husband tried to sell our appliances, but no one wants to buy such things.” [Khaled Al-Banna/NRC]

Muhsanah Al-Odaini's family now use solar panels to power the lights in their home, but these are often damaged by stray bullets. “We suffer in the dark until we can buy another,” she said. [Khaled Al-Banna/NRC]

Even physicians and nurses are unsafe. Dr Mohammed Al-Faqeeh once ran a laboratory in Taiz city, which he had to abandon when fighting swept through the area. When he went back to check on it, he was shot in the leg. “People took me to Al-Thawrah Hospital. But I suffer from that injury still. So now I cannot walk normally like everyone else. The health system is damaged, and there are too many victims of this war.” [Khaled Al-Banna/NRC]

Despite his injury, Dr Mohammed Al-Faqeeh still works in Al-Thawra Hospital. He has not given up on the laboratory either, which he and his mother and youngest brother have reopened recently. “It isn’t making an income like it did before, but we are trying to do something instead of just staying at home.” [Khaled Al-Banna/NRC]

Fifteen-year-old Mona Ali Ayyash and her family fled their home in Hodeidah two years ago. Her father Ali explained how life has changed for them: “Before the war, we used to enjoy a comfortable life and had three meals a day. But now we can hardly find enough food for the day. Since coming here, we sleep on the ground. We don’t have blankets, mattresses or anything to put between the ground and ourselves. We fled on foot. I had a donkey, but it was killed by a bullet while we were fleeing. How could I stay at home where bullets are over our heads all the time? It is a frontline.” [Mahmoud Al-Filstini/NRC]

The destruction caused by the war is visible everywhere. In Taiz city, once known as Yemen's Capital of Culture, entire neighbourhoods have been reduced to ruin. By 2019, the surrounding governorate had racked up a fifth of all civilian deaths in the country. Across Yemen, hospitals, schools, homes and water networks have all been hit, crippling the country's services and decimating the economy. [Khalid Al-Banna/NRC]

Abdullah Hasan Al-Sharai once owned a house in Taiz city large enough to rent out to other families, before fighting forced his family to flee. When he returned to check on his home, he found shells had punched holes in the walls and ceilings. The former landlord is now virtually homeless and unable to pay his own rent. “I lost everything I have. Now we live in two rooms in an old hotel,” he said. [Khaled Al-Banna/NRC]

Abdullah Hasan Al-Sharai has kept the fragments of the shell that damaged his home, making it uninhabitable. The destruction continues unabated. Since the beginning of 2021 alone, an estimated 647 homes have been hit across Yemen. [Khalid Al-Banna/NRC]

Before the war, Naji Ahmed was a spice seller near the border with Saudi Arabia. After an air raid hit his home and killed six of his siblings, he fled to Amran. “When we arrived in Amran we slept for a week on the street," he said. "Then people helped us with plastic sheets and we settled in this camp. I tried to look for work but in the end, I had to ask my children to beg in the market. We eat leftovers from restaurants. That’s our main source of food.” [Mohammed Hassan/NRC]

Naji Amhed displays the scars from the attack that killed six of his siblings. “I regained consciousness in the hospital. My leg and hand were injured. My wife was traumatised by seeing one of the burned bodies. She still suffers from that trauma to this day.” [Mohammed Hassan/NRC]

Twelve-year-old Ahmed Al-Yousofi is one of 1,150 children using an unfinished house near the frontlines in Taiz as a school. “It is the only school in our area,” he said. “I go with my two brothers and study in an overcrowded room. Sometimes when we hear the fighting or shelling, we forget what we’re studying and just listen to the sounds, worrying that they might come closer. I want to join a school which is safe and has classrooms, windows, chairs and boards. I want to only listen to the teacher, not for sounds of fighting.” [Khaled Al-Banna/NRC]

There are so many children at the makeshift school that there is not enough room inside, so some classes are taught outside on the ground. The classes inside take place without chairs or tables in overcrowded rooms - amid the risk of COVID-19 - with no doors or glass in the windows. [Khaled Al-Banna/NRC]

Muhsen Murhshed walks through the camp to get water for his trees. “I planted some small flowering trees around my tent, as I love greenery. It is difficult for a farmer to live in a desert.” [Hamza Al-Qadaimi/NRC]