A bit quiet today in Sana'a. Fighter jets flew by a few times, but didn't drop any bombs as far as I can tell, and sky was clear for most of day. Knock on wood, please.
It was a beautiful day. A bit of clouds but with warm rays of sun shining through and making for a rather gorgeous weather. So saw no harm in standing with my eldest son by door of our house to chat with the neighbors.
One of the often cheerful and normally very social neighborhood guys straddled by without paying any attention to our now small mob of neighbors. Mob whom were a moment ago loud in sharing stories & cracking jokes but suddenly quiet when noticed him.
You could easily tell from way he carried himself now that he was broken. A big part of him died after he lost his son to an airstrike. He was a healthy man in his mid forties but seemed to have aged a decade since his loss just a few weeks ago.
Everyone knew him, everyone knew his story. The rowdy mob falling into a sudden pin drop silence was in a way an acknowledgment of the pain he had suffered but also a show of respect and solidarity by not disturbing and leaving him be.
The community had stood by him at the time of the incident and still do now. It's a closely knit community and they went the extra mile in supporting him as he mourned. But now was time to simply give him some space to deal with his own demons.
Now was the time for him to deal with the fact that his son's death is partly if not mainly his fault.
He didn't greet me or neighbors as he walked by but did quickly glance at my son for a second that seemed like an eternity. His sunken eyes spoke volumes of agonizing emotions, mostly of deep regret.
His son was only 14 years old when picked up an AK47 and boosted would "join battle font-lines to defend the honor of the nation". To which and for whatever temporary insanity, he cheered and encouraged, when as a father should've smacked the living lights out of his son and indefinitely grounded in his room.
His son was only 14. Not just a minor, but also barely a teen. He had no comprehension of what grave risk and horrors fighting in a real war would entail for a child his age. With neither his frail body nor his weak psychological state of mind prepared to bear brunt of brutal battles, he had no business fighting in a war that many adults wouldn't.
Now that it's too late, the father is torn between a whole host of "what if's" and "it was meant to be's" as he tries to come to terms with the fact that he did indeed foolishly lead his son to his own demise.
Pity the father having to go through that and fighting such demons now when no path for a recourse. But far more do so the poor child whose life was entrusted to such a father to protect and safeguard.
There are 10 million children in Yemen, that's almost 40% of the population, and where majority are food insecure, out of school & struggling to survive. 82% of the population need all sorts of urgent aid according to the UN. That's a humanitarian catastrophe.
According to the UNICEF, there have been at least 747 child deaths in past few months of a still raging war in Yemen. That's a conservative number considering not all deaths are registered and accounted for.
It is further estimated that 1/4 of fighters are underage. Information on and number of fighters killed in battles is scant. Now take that into account and add to all of the above, and you get a sense of the very ugly reality that is Child Soldiers and where the smallest coffins are the heaviest.
