Crows, Oh 'Nadherah'

Yemenat

4 days ago

In the middle of the first academic semester of law school, my colleague, Yahya Al-Shuaybi, and I were preparing for an imminent exam on Roman law. We decided to study by the sea in Seera and Huqaat. Both of us lived in Al-Qalou'a, known as the 'Revolution Neighborhood.' Yahya was on leave from the Ministry of Interior, holding the rank of Captain, and worked in the Immigration and Passports Department in Aden before his full-time study leave. I found him to be balanced and unenthusiastic about any side of the ongoing conflict. I often heard some of our more extreme colleagues express their discontent with his views, as he remained cautious and prudent amidst the incitement and chaos surrounding us.
On January 13, 1986, we set out for a day by the sea, preparing for our Roman law exam scheduled for the next day or the day after. An uneasy feeling enveloped us—something unusual was in the air. The sky appeared unusually gloomy, as if it were in a sour mood. Yahya felt this anxiety more intensely than I did.
After an hour on the beach, he urged me to return early, while I hesitated. Reluctantly, I agreed, as I struggled to study alone. I was accustomed to studying with others, and the material was dry, filled with outdated terms and complex principles. Our teacher, Al-Qai'iti, demanded precision in answering his questions, and he knew his subject inside out, as if he had consumed it each morning.
Political tension was at its peak. Just a short distance into our walk back, we overheard unsettling chatter and conflicting reports from passersby. There was movement—men and women peering from balconies and rooftops, their faces showing concern, and suspicious activities unfolding as if something was happening that we could not see.
We heard reports of gunfire in Al-Tawahi, while another source claimed it was in Al-Fat'h. A third source suggested that the gunfire was part of a campaign targeting crows. This was the beginning of a cover-up, attempting to obscure the brutal and tragic reality.
The 'killing crows' narrative was initially employed to distract from the truth and delay awareness of what was occurring. Whenever we inquired, those claims suggested that the gunfire specifically targeted crows within the framework of this campaign—a claim that masked the onset of a bloody scene. It was an attempt to buy time, to utilize fleeting moments to cover up and manage the unraveling tragedy, postponing public awareness of the atrocities and conspiracies being committed. This marked the start of a dire, uncertain future, a mission to eliminate certain comrades at the expense of others. Every passing minute deepened the folly against the nation, comrades, and the future.
What transpired later became a darkly satirical play titled 'Crows, Oh Nadherah.' This phrase was reportedly uttered by the radio host and journalist Awad Bahakeem when his kind wife, Nadherah, was brewing the tea she excelled at making. Upon hearing the gunfire, she, filled with dread, asked him, 'What's happening today, Awad!?' Awad, craving his tea, attempted to reassure her by jokingly suggesting that the gunfire was part of the campaign to kill crows that had been initiated earlier, saying, 'Crows, oh Nadherah.'
The attempt to delay awareness of what was happening through such claims applies not only to the events of January 13, 1986, but also to the beginning of every phase Yemen has witnessed, marked by conspiracy, war, and tragedy. Each phase has laid the groundwork for an even uglier, more degenerate, and destructive era. Phases of killing, destruction, and so-called victory continue to perpetuate the illusion of power and triumph through blood.
Deep wounds remain open after each bloody phase, festering with pus and decay, ultimately leading to the amputation of a member of the bleeding, wounded body. The 1994 partners' war and subsequent conflicts obliterated the remnants of our unity and state. Then came the aggression and war of March 2015, which we have been enduring for the seventh consecutive year, bearing the brunt of its hellish consequences, imposed with non-national agendas of occupation, guardianship, division, and borders, leading to the destruction of what little remains of our Yemen, our homeland, our humanity, and our future.