Sadiq Al-Harasi, Yemen, HONORABLE MENTION
Reflections on Sana’a and Its Surrounding Elements
Sana’a has always been an intimate city that welcomes you and makes you feel at home and at ease. It never makes you feel like a stranger or unwelcome, whether you’re a visitor or one of the people who grew up there. It’s a place where people have woven their memories within its embrace — of love, sorrow, loss, death, and absence — and in return, the city has left its mark on them with its simplicity, charm, mountainous landscape, and dry climate.
Those who visit Sana’a can’t simply pass through; it’s not a fleeting stop or just another destination in one’s life journey. Sana’a transcends its geographical location and physical boundaries for me — it’s a feeling. Every time I return, even from a trip within the country, I can sense Sana’a’s presence. The city possesses a unique magic that one can feel deeply. It has the power to leave a lasting impression, stirring emotions and creating a sense of longing for its ambience and the distinctive feeling of being in Sana’a draws you back time and again.
Since 2015, the Ansar Allah group (Houthis) has been implementing oppressive measures and restricting freedoms in Yemen. They have committed numerous violations against Yemeni citizens, including artists. These violations range from roadblocks and movement restrictions to curbing personal freedoms, freedom of expression, press freedom, artistic works, events, training courses, and public gatherings.[1] They have closed public spaces, enforced gender segregation, imposed dress codes on women, limited their movement, and implemented laws preventing women from travelling without a male guardian[2]. They’ve also altered school curricula and committed violations of various human rights and cultural rights.
Aerial photo of Sa’ana collaged with a woman’s portrait
Since 2021, the Houthis have been systematically erasing murals and artwork from Sana’a’s streets, replacing them with political and religious slogans, repressive rhetoric, calls for jihad, and messages restricting women’s freedom. These practices have intensified over the past three years, stifling public spaces and streets, turning them into areas filled with inflammatory slogans, hate speech, and an oppressive presence. This has led to a suffocating atmosphere in Sana’a’s streets, neighbourhoods, and general environment.
By 2024, I felt this suffocation increasing day by day in Sana’a, making me want to escape. Despite the feeling of alienation that haunts me and many other young people, this city still retains its unique charm. Those who have left Sana’a often struggle to articulate their feelings about the city. They try to express the emotions they once took for granted and now long for, but due to the complexity of these feelings, they simply say, “We miss Sana’a” or “We yearn for Sana’a.” With all the changes happening in Sana’a, I wonder: Can these people still recognize the city’s features when they return? Do the modern buildings, marked streets, and armed groups tarnish the city’s image in their minds? Or do they construct an unchanging, idealized version of Sana’a in their memories, interacting with it as if it were the same city they left behind?
I believe they can recapture their emotions and embody their memories through their physical presence, allowing them to feel Sana’a once again. The only people who truly sense the changes are those who can no longer find their old homes, their first loves, the Sidr tree (Christ’s thorn jujube) they played under as children, or the friends who have left the city, died, been martyred, killed, or lost their zest for life and passion.
As a result, Sana’a becomes an emotional city, loved by those far away for the feelings it once stirred in them, yet deeply resented by its current inhabitants for the pain, exhaustion, and difficult emotions they experience daily. In this way, the emotional Sana’a dies, leaving behind only a geographical location, pale and featureless, blending into the colour of the earth.
Do you realize, Sana’a, what’s unfolding?
You’re fading away amidst a people
Unaware of their own slow demise.
Footnotes
[1] https://www.mwatana.org/reports-en/civic-space
[2] https://reliefweb.int/report/yemen/ansar-allah-houthi-group-practices-gravely-undermine-women-s-rights-enar
[3] The opening lines of the poem City Without a Face by the Yemeni poet Abdullah Al-Baradouni
