This is my dying day, or it could be,By Haytham, Yemen

This is my dying day, or it could be.

We are living what’s even worse than war. At least at war, the enemy is plain known…

 

This is my dying day, or it could be.

This is A story of a dying city in an ill world, so insignificant that you might never even heard of it.

A place where everyone gets their share of death and sorrow, where it doesn’t count if you are a kid or an elder, if you are a young man with an astonishing mind or an old man who’s peaceful and wise.

 

You all get your share of death, in silence.

Welcome to this briefing of this city.

It’s Aden, a small city in Yemen.

“A port city and the temporary capital of Yemen with its unique location inside a crater of a dormant volcano”. That’s what you will find googling Aden. But is it really? Dormant?

What a poetic location we’re inhabiting! Well, I think this volcano is erupting and we are all burning inside.

Kidnapping, assassinating, bombing, gun, organs and human trafficking, all in one package of a what so-called “city”, 

Yes! This happens in this very small city if you were scrolling deep enough in Google maps, you would see.

 

All this and more is happening in my own -born and raised- city.

People of no crime are being murdered over no reason. Ambitious youngsters who have a lot to give to their city, a lot of ideas to share. And they are being killed for god knows what by god knows who.

You could have a peaceful dinner with a friend and then, returning home, only to know that he’s dead, or him knowing of your death.

It is that simple here, how life gets taken unrightfully. 

 

I wish I was exaggerating, talking like that about my own city, but this is the truth that even the media fail to cover, what an insignificant waste of life and no one knows, it’s not news anymore, it’s not so new after all.

I am supposed to be a citizen journalist who knows his way to deliver a message, knows his way to share a fact, and as a fact, I don’t.

I am just here as a person present in the scene, a representer of too many young people incapable to simply live, threatened by this city of our own, unnotified of our death, hoping the odds would favour us and the one we love,

wishing the world would notice us. Would know this brief of the dying city.