Yemen

Najat Bahakim wrote this short story for the essay competition of the “wall in the world” project in May 2009; in it, she takes a look back at the divided Yemeni society.

He received a phone call from his friend who lived in the capital Sanaa in the northern part of Yemen. His friend urged him to take advantage of the opportunity to work in a large company. Travelling between the two parts of the country was like walking barefoot through a bush full of thorns. He decided to engage smugglers to get him across to the other side.
As soon as the car reached the “Karash” border region in the southern part, he had to walk for an hour across uneven and mountainous terrain before he could enter the northern part of the country. This was to avoid falling into the hands of gangs and highwaymen. He said goodbye to his wife and his parents. When he crossed the border, his friend was already waiting for him in a luxury car. A few hours later, they arrived in Sanaa. The streets were wide, the buildings high, and the faces on the street were from many different countries. The city had grown, and had infinitely expanded. All this greatly amazed him. The days passed, and everything went smoothly. The world with all its pleasures embraced him, and all that he missed was being able to look into the face of his wife. Letters took a very long time, and the telecommunications network left a lot to be desired. His wife had applied to visit her husband in the north, but the application seemed to take forever to process. Every time she prepared for the journey she was surprised by new obstacles. After a great deal of effort she was finally granted permission to visit for a maximum of 20 days on condition that she name a guarantor who would be put in prison if she came back late.

Another planet

It felt as if she was planning to travel to another planet, not to the northern part of her homeland. She tried in vain to find someone who would act as guarantor. While visiting a sick relative who asked about her husband she complained about all that had befallen her. He declared that he was willing to be her guarantor. This was because he suffered terribly from the loss of his son who had likewise fled to the north with his friends in search of a better life. He did not know which way he had gone; thirteen years had now passed since his son’s escape and he had not had a single piece of news from him. It took five nights to sort out all the formalities. She was now in seventh heaven, imagining that she could see her husband’s face in every cloud and dreaming of what the reunion with him would be like. The aircraft was about to land, so she woke from her dreams and returned to the solid ground of reality. Three years had passed since he had left. Her eyes scanned the ranks of those waiting, hoping to spot him. He looked very different – his clothes, the colour of his face, everything had changed. Was it really true that this man was her husband? Their reunion had an unprecedented sweetness. The first day passed like a wedding day. Everything was new, and she was surprised when he opened the wardrobe to see all the clothes ... all kinds of colours … some really soft ... some fine and see-through ... she ran her fingers over her old clothes … too colourful ... her days with him had a particular taste … in every moment of joy she felt the day of departure grow closer … she wished that these days would never end. How wonderful the world was when he was with her. Today was the fourteenth day of their reunion. Finally she had her own home ... good relations with her neighbours ... unaccustomed luxury.



Another day passed; she received a phone call from her guarantor, who reminded her of her return date – he did not want to spend his dotage in prison, knowing that he would no longer be up to coping with the strains of prison life. He asked her to come back on time. This triggered a painful inner conflict in her, and she shed many tears because she was going to have to leave her husband. At this moment she wished she was a bird who could float in the sky, without any boundaries. Her husband came back from work and wiped away the tears that were rolling down her face. He knew that her departure was approaching and thought about how she was soon to return to an unhappy life, that she had to leave him, and the torture that meant. Everything was forbidden there ... socialism and communism ... discrimination by the governing party ... oppression and constraint ... the harshness of life on the other side. She asked him to find a solution, she begged him ... the pain of impending separation made him cry with her. But she had to return, as her relative had done nothing wrong and did not deserve to get into trouble.

On the sixteenth day she received a phone call, with news of the death of her relative. She threw the telephone receiver onto the floor, feeling immeasurable happiness. She shrieked with joy, yet also felt very guilty. She picked up the receiver again and carried on talking, her loss making tears pour down her face, praying for forgiveness for him ... she could not understand why she felt more joy than sorrow ... she felt the pain of his loss very strongly ... she shed many tears. She was filled with a sense of indescribable happiness, but was confused and no longer knew whether she should be passing on good news or bad. It was the first time that she was happy to hear about the death of a person she loved. She yelled loudly.... banged on her neighbours’ doors ... neighbours who she did not know at all, and told them that she no longer had to return to the south ... she would be able to stay with her beloved for evermore.

She returned to her apartment with a broad smile on her face, relaxed on the sofa ... looked back over the life of her dead relative and cried a lot. She pointed with her fingers at the border that separates the two parts of a country: the sons of one fatherland are separated ... when will we be one country again? When will I be able to see my father again, my brothers and sisters, my friends? When will my homeland be reunited ... when will I be able to wander all over the country without the need for a passport? She takes tight hold of this borderline ... pulls it by the roots out of the deep earth ... fights against the guards, screams at the top of her lungs: “Help, help, one Yemen, and not two”. The echo of her voice shakes the countryside, the mountains, the innermost core of the earth … from east to west … lots of people come to her, whispering … their number grows … they all want to cross the border … each of them complains that they have no homeland … many hands help her rip out the borderline … the soldiers on both sides resist … everyone looks at each other … they all look the same … they all tear the borders out … shouting with one voice: “One Yemen … and not two!” Their voices reach the ears of the leaders. When a people is firmly resolved to reunite, fate must obey.