By Bushra Aldukhainah
Bushra Aldukhainah is Humanitarian Coordinator for CARE Yemen. Her role includes leading all the humanitarian activities in Hajjah province supporting internally displaced people and host communities mainly with livelihoods, water, sanitation and hygiene promotion support.
I never thought I would know what it’s like to be an internally displaced person, but I do now because I am one. Working at CARE in Yemen, I am usually the one helping the internally displaced people, but almost two weeks ago after airstrikes began in Yemen, my family and I now know the fear and pain of suddenly gathering your things, leaving your home and running for your life.
It was 5am when my husband and I were woken by the call that the airstrikes were coming near our home in Haradh and we had to evacuate immediately. I woke my 9-year-old son and tried not to let him see the fear in my eyes. We heard the planes in the distance, and as we quickly packed up our car, I could not stop thinking about all the people whose only mode of transportation was by foot. How would they escape? Would they escape?
As we were departing Haradh, my husband and I tried to keep each other and our son calm and prayed the entire drive that we would make it to our destination safely. Although I know what it’s like to be a displaced person, we are much better off than so many of the displaced, as we are in the care of my husband’s family in Hajjah where we have everything we need-safety from violence, food, water, and most importantly, each other.
Many are not so lucky. The day before we evacuated, a displaced people camp was attacked in Haradh killing 40 people, several of them children and injuring hundreds. CARE does not presently work at this camp, but I knew this camp well. When I received news of this attack and the images of dead children, I sobbed hysterically like a child in disbelief that so many innocent people could be killed for no reason.
I cannot get the images of those dead children out of my head, and am afraid what’s to come for my country. Yemen is already the poorest country in the Middle East and now with this conflict, people are facing fuel shortages, electricity outages and food prices are soaring. There are people in desperate need of assistance of food, water and healthcare, but they cannot be reached because access is blocked, especially in the south around Aden.
We are thankful to be safe in Hajjah for the moment, but every day we hear the planes overhead, and wonder if our safe haven is also about to turn violent. At the loud roar of the planes, my son runs to hide while trying to catch a glimpse of what the plane may do. We live in fear that a bomb could drop at any moment.
To help ease my son’s fears, we are trying to resume some normalcy to our lives, since we can do that in Hajjah unlike the people further South in Aden. Although resources are low, we are still able to access them. But we are stock piling food because we have no idea what the future could hold. I’m still able to do my job at CARE since parts in the north are safe from the conflict, and I’ve enrolled my son in school where he can continue his education and play with other children.
But while I sit in the safety of my family’s home in Hajjah, I worry about the people that I left behind in Haradh and those in Aden where the fighting is concentrated. I hear news daily of the death tolls ticking up-now into thousands, and I wonder: When will this stop so that we can be able to safely access people in need? The needs are escalating so quickly, and there are so many unknowns of what will happen next. It seems like we are living in a nightmare, so we wait in hopes that this nightmare will be over soon and these parties will put down their weapons so we can live in peace.