Ten years on: Yemen's overshadowed humanitarian crisis claims lives and hopes in silence

In a four-part series, The National reflects on a decade of war in Yemen, uncovering 10 years of conflict that has torn apart families, lives and livelihoods

As a young newlywed Yemeni farmer, Abdulilah Abdullah's main concern was ensuring that his 500-square-metre patch of crops thrived, providing enough food for his future family. He would wake up at 6am with his wife, have breakfast and they would then head to the farm together to tend to their modest field until lunch. Their day would continue in the field until it came to a close with the setting sun.

But on December 19, 2019 – amid the government's war against the Houthi rebels, five years after they stormed Sanaa – Abdulilah’s fate in Al Dalea' governorate south of the capital changed for ever, forcing him to abandon his dreams and seek survival over stability. The war reached his four-bedroom home, and he was caught in the crossfire.

“We ran out of the house with nothing on our backs. I was shot in my arm,” he told The National from a remote, barren land where his home is now a tent, and his neighbours are displaced people like him.

He was rushed to a field hospital near a tyre repair shop on a motorway – a medical centre used at the time to treat fighters wounded by the Houthi rebels on the front lines. After two more trips to the hospital, Abdulilah's right arm had to be amputated below the elbow.

He is one of the millions of Yemenis who have been suffering in silence and near abandonment since the war broke out in the impoverished country 10 years ago, leading to one of the world's worst humanitarian crises. According to the most recent figures from the World Health Organisation , more than 4.8 million of Yemen’s 30 million people live with at least one physical disability, though the actual number is thought to be even higher.

The conflict between the Houthis and the government has resulted in widespread destruction, poverty, and a collapse of basic services. Hospitals and infrastructure have been devastated, and cholera outbreaks have further strained the already fragile health system. Many Yemenis suffer in silence, with international aid struggling to collect funds and reach those in need, leaving millions on the brink of starvation and survival.

The continuing wars in Gaza, Sudan and other regions risk overshadowing the suffering in Yemen, causing many to forget the devastating conflict that has ravaged the country for nearly a decade and seems to be far from ending.

Abdulilah, now a father of two, sobs over the life he has had to adapt to. Meanwhile, his children have grown up never knowing what their father looked like with two arms. “I am unable to do anything for my family," he told The National.

“When I walk with my two-year-old son, Abdullah, he holds my hand. When my three-year-old daughter, Amira, tries to hold the other – she looks up at me in disappointment when she realises there’s nothing there. That look in her eyes destroys me."

'Happy Yemen'

Since the Houthi takeover, the poorest country on the Arabian Peninsula, known for its world-class coffee beans and golden honey, has effectively been divided into two parts: the north, where the rebels control the majority of the land, and the south, which remains under the internationally recognised government. In 2015, a Saudi-led coalition launched a war at the request of the government to reclaim territory. Life in the place previously known as "Happy Yemen" became anything but – and the situation in the country deteriorated.

The UN warns that Yemen is at risk of a large-scale famine, with hunger particularly widespread among internally displaced people, many of whom live in areas so remote that even aid groups struggle to reach them. In some cases, workers must trek for up to five hours on foot or rely on camels and donkeys to deliver small quantities of aid to those in need.

As the most vulnerable members of society, women and children bear the heaviest burden of this hardship. At least 2.4 million children, half of them under the age of five, are acutely malnourished, and five million children require life-saving interventions due to starvation, a crisis that shocks even the most experienced humanitarian workers.

Save the Children's Claire Nicoll said she could not keep her expression neutral when she saw 18-month-old Leila, whose mother, Rayah, had already lost one child to hunger. Rayah was struggling with a dilemma that she posed to Ms Nicoll: spend all her money on transportation to take her daughter to the hospital, or use what little she has to feed her other children. "I had no answer to her question," said Ms Nicoll.

Many factors have contributed to Yemen's hardships. The country that overlooks the Red Sea imports 70 per cent of its food needs through three main ports, making ordinary citizens vulnerable to global events. For instance, the 2022 war in Ukraine significantly contributed to global inflation due to Ukraine's key role in food supply chains. This impact was especially severe in Yemen, which sourced 20 per cent of its wheat from Ukraine before the war with Russia.

The Red Sea port of Hodeidah is the most crucial, as most of Yemen's wheat, food, fuel, and humanitarian aid are imported through this terminal. It is a lifeline for millions of Yemenis who depend on it for survival. After the start of Israel's war in Gaza last year, the Houthis began launching attacks on commercial ships in the Red Sea in support of their ally, Hamas. Months later, they targeted Israel, prompting an Israeli retaliation on Hodeidah that killed at least 80 people, causing explosions and fires, and severely damaging the port.

When food and commodities enter Yemen, they are sold at exorbitant prices mainly because of insurance costs. In some places, prices have gone up by 300 per cent compared to what they were before the war, causing a "historic high" of 62 per cent of Yemen's households to eat less than they need, the World Food Programme said in a July report.

Additionally, unemployment is widespread, and the fate of public servants, including teachers and healthcare workers, has been uncertain for years. The warring factions continue to dispute the funding source for their salaries and which payroll will be used to identify the beneficiaries. The latest UN figures show that 82.7 per cent of the population lives in poverty, putting further strain on sick or wounded civilians in need of healthcare.

It appears help is not coming any time soon. UN assistance to Yemen in 2024 is only 29 per cent funded, leaving a $1.91 billion gap, as global attention shifts to newer crises like the wars in Sudan, Ukraine and Gaza. As a result, critical life-saving programmes have been scaled back or even suspended, and most Yemenis can no longer afford to buy essential goods. "One bag of flour costs 44,000 riyals [$175.74]," said Abdulilah.

Hidden death traps

A displaced amputee like Abdulilah could be considered lucky because he did not have to pay for the medical treatment he received in 2019 when he was first injured. The field hospital he was rushed to provided him with treatment free of charge. It is the only one of its kind in the entire governorate of Al Dalea', where 800,000 people live alongside more than 11,000 internally displaced people.

Today, it has become a fully fledged facility called the Mohamed bin Zayed hospital, which has treated and referred hundreds of cases like his. According to its director, Dr Sameeh Hazzam, it now has a capacity of 23 beds, six emergency rooms, an operating theatre, radiology capabilities, laboratory equipment and a prosthetics department which would have benefited Abdulilah had it existed at the time of his injury.

But the need for medical assistance in Yemen is overwhelming. Out of a population of 30 million, 17.8 million people – half of them children and a quarter women – require some form of health assistance. The crumbling healthcare system and the Houthi ban on vaccines have resulted in infectious diseases like polio, dengue and measles spreading again. The absence of a systematic nationwide vaccination scheme has left 28 per cent of Yemen's children completely unvaccinated.

Recognising the need for proper healthcare, the team behind the Mohamed bin Zayed hospital has been offering its services free of charge. “This was the case since day one due to the abysmal economic situation in Yemen and the impact the war has had on livelihoods,” Dr Hazzam said.

The need for such a facility extends beyond the peak of the war. Long after the fighting ceases, one enduring legacy of the conflict will continue to menace civilians: landmines.

Experts consider Yemen one of the most mined countries in the world, with the third highest number of landmine casualties globally, according to the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs. The Saudi Project Masam, which has been working on removing mines since 2018, has so far cleared more than 450,000 mines across the country, primarily in territories once occupied by the Houthi rebels.

With 37 per cent of Yemen’s population relying on agriculture for their livelihood, many choose to return home when the fighting stops in their towns and villages, hoping to rebuild their lives by restoring what was lost. However, they often find that their homes have become disguised war zones, littered with hidden mines that can claim a leg, limb, or life at any moment.

Children are often the biggest victims. Mines have killed more children than direct conflict during the 10-year war, according to a UN report. Others, like 13-year-old Rasha Mahmoud, who lost her leg after stepping on a mine in 2020, live to tell their story.

“I was on the way home with my brother after we went out to buy things. I stepped on a mine and it exploded. My brother was badly injured,” she said, a sock with a flower design on her prosthetic showing under a black abaya. Rasha, who was speaking to Project Masam in video testimony, says she wishes she did not have to walk long distances to school, as the long walk wears her out.

Some kids are not as lucky as Rasha and do not have access to prosthetics. Twelve-year-old Alaa Hassan’s small body instead relies on wooden walking sticks, worn out by gravel paths, which he carries with both hands. The last time he ran was the day he lost his leg. “I’m afraid of going out to play with my friends again so that another mine doesn’t explode on me,” he said.