By Nawal Al-Maghafi, Senior International Affairs Correspondent
Place of work, Taiz, Yemen
Published 2 minutes ago
Reading time: 6 min
The original of this material in English can be read here.
Every morning at six o'clock, 10-year-old Rafif and her little brother get ready for school, wearing cream and brown school uniforms.
She always looks forward to seeing friends and studying all subjects, from mathematics to Arabic to Islamic studies. She can't wait to start learning English next year.
But on the way to school, Rafif faces dangers that are incomparable to those that threaten an ordinary schoolchild, such as crossing the street or being late for the bus.
Rafif's school in Taiz, southwest Yemen, sits on a mountain at the edge of a valley that runs through the front line and "no man's land." The land has been bitterly fought over in the civil war between forces supporting Yemen's internationally recognized government, which is backed by Saudi Arabia, and the Iran-backed Houthis.
On one side of the school lies government-controlled territory, on the other there are Houthi sniper positions.
Rafif's house is located further down the mountainside.
On the way to school, she has to walk with her back to the sniper positions. “I'm scared,” she says.
Even before the escalation of the war in Yemen in September, some 3.2 million children in the country were out of school, according to UNICEF.
According to these data, thousands of children have been killed or maimed since the war began in 2014. Thousands were recruited by armed groups on both sides.
However, despite all this, Rafif has no intention of leaving school because she enjoys seeing her friends and this is her only opportunity to spend time with them. She begins to list the names of the children in her class.
Rafif's parents only allow her to leave the house to go to school. They really want her to get an education, and with it a chance for a better life. The girl dreams of becoming a doctor.
“A mortar shell came out of nowhere.”
Nine years ago, the Rafif family moved to Taiz seeking safety from the Houthi-held coastal city of Hodeidah. But the fighting did not spare Taiz.
Rafif says that two years ago there was a mortar attack near her home.
“Everyone was outside except me and my brother. And then a mortar shell came out of nowhere... Shrapnel broke through the door and hit the house.” The girl broke her arm and still has a scar in this place.
And in recent days the conflict has escalated. On Sunday, the Houthis cut a vital transport artery linking the city to Aden, allowing them to effectively encircle Taiz. Control of this route is constantly changing hands.
Residents told the BBC of their fears: they fear the Houthis could take the city at any moment.
They said government forces had made gains in other areas this week, retaking control of strategic points along the Bab el-Mandeb Strait and launching an offensive to retake control of the capital, Sanaa.
Houses in Taiz are mostly scattered along the slopes, but many have been abandoned by families fleeing the fighting.
We tried twice to visit the area where Rafif and her family live, but a local community leader warned us it was too dangerous.
For the first time, residents of the area told us that snipers shot three people. The second time we were informed about another shootout.
At Rafif's school, teacher Abdel Raqib al-Obaidi, 45, takes us to the roof to show us what he says are Houthi military camps, barracks and sniper positions in the mountains.
Standing on the roof, the Yemeni security adviser accompanying us suddenly demands that we go back inside. He explains that from these positions we are clearly visible and they can open fire on us.
Abdel Raqib laughs in agreement and says that the school has been shelled before.
“The situation can explode at any moment: when we are sitting in class, sleeping, at school or going outside. We don't know what tomorrow will bring."
For Abdel Rakib, this risk has become an everyday occurrence, and he has become so accustomed to it that it is frightening.
Taiz has long been on the front lines of the country's devastating civil war. After the government was ousted from the capital Sanaa in 2015, the Houthis tried to capture Taiz but were driven out of the city by local militias.
By capturing Taiz, the Houthis would gain complete control over the north of the country. In their latest offensive, the Houthis have made extensive use of drones along with other weapons.
Sometimes civilians suffer during hostilities.
That same evening we received a call from a hospital located five minutes from the school. Two children were seriously injured as a result of mortar fire.
Arriving at Al Rawda Hospital, we saw a nurse at the entrance to the intensive care unit. In her hands were tiny rubber sandals, splattered with blood.
They belonged to three-year-old Ahmed. As it turned out later, he died when a mortar shell hit a car repair shop in the city.
Shard in the heart
When I ask about the sandals, nurse Ikram Shamsan cries. “What did this child or his family do wrong?” she asks.
A shrapnel hit Akhmed in the back and struck his heart. The boy was with his father, who was inflating a motorcycle tire in a workshop. The father remained unharmed.
As the doctor told us, the father was going to leave his son at home, but the boy wanted to go with him and began to cry.
Taking his son's body from the hospital, the father asks how he will now look into the eyes of the boy's mother.
Doing a simple task turned into the most terrible day of their lives.
Another boy, 11-year-old Amjad, was also in the auto repair shop. He and his brother worked there with their uncle, sending the money they earned to the family in their home village.
Shrapnel hit Amjad in his lung and stomach.
We found him in the intensive care unit, struggling to breathe. There are no relatives near his bed.
The doctor assesses his condition as critical. He fears the boy could die within hours and hopes his mother will arrive in time to say goodbye.
Doctors note that during her visit the boy’s heartbeat improved and believe that his condition is stable enough to operate again.
After we left, he underwent this operation, but Amjad is still in critical condition.
“We are constantly terrified. It’s impossible to see children die,” says nurse Shamsan. “We want peace and we want to be safe.”
