As Yemen falls apart, Marib comes back to life
MARIB, Yemen - The clang of jackhammers and excavators fills the streets of Marib, an oil-rich Yemeni boomtown once accustomed to the sounds of war. It is a rare oasis of stability in a country torn by strife.
Yemen is convulsed by what is arguably the world’s worst humanitarian crisis, with rampant disease, famine and a ruinous conflict pitting the Saudi-backed government of President Abd Rabbo Mansour Hadi against Iran-aligned Houthi rebels.
The fall of Yemen has coincided with the rise of Marib, once seen as an al-Qaeda bastion. It has been spared much of the misery owing to its oil and gas reserves, proximity to Saudi Arabia and rare tribal cohesion that has helped repel Houthi incursions.
“We have managed to push the war far away from Marib,” said provincial Governor Sultan al-Arada. “Marib is untouchable.”
Marib is Yemen’s most thriving city, thanks in part to an influx of hundreds of thousands of internally displaced people, among them entrepreneurs, doctors and a monied class that is driving up investments and property prices.
Hundreds of new businesses, from eateries to water bottling plants, have opened and construction sites are everywhere.
Marib offers another novelty to legions of youth in a country with chronic joblessness — salaries.
“The spectacular rise of Marib has come not despite the conflict but because of it,” Farea al-Muslimi, a Yemen expert at London’s Chatham House think-tank said. “Marib has gained from the chaos surrounding it.”
A weakened central government — exiled in the southern port city of Aden, where southern separatists opened a new front in the conflict — has strengthened local governance, giving Marib more autonomy to chart its future.
Its university is expanding and businessmen, who once fled the war, are slowly returning. That includes Obaid Zubaiyen, head of a family-run trade and construction enterprise with interests across the Gulf. He had left Yemen in 2011 amid increasing turmoil.
“The family is back because Marib means opportunity,” said Misbah Ohag, a group manager, showing a blueprint of a planned multimillion-dollar project of villas, apartments and malls.
Arada said he plans to build an international airport and aims to make Marib, home to temple ruins from the ancient Sabaean kingdom, a magnet for tourists, a plan hampered by the wrenching conflict.
However, scars of the war rumbling outside Marib are visible in the province.
At a rehab centre for child soldiers, drawings sketched by the young survivors are telling. One showed a grenade, a tank, a helicopter gunship and crimson splashes of blood.
“They blew up my school,” read the caption.
Houthi rebels planted thousands of landmines around Marib and mangled carcasses of cars litter its mountainous border.
“So many dead and limbless people,” said Mohammed Abdo al-Qubati, head of Marib general hospital, home to Yemen’s only functional prosthetic limbs centre in government territory. “It’s like we are waiting for the remaining people to die.”
Marib, with an original population of about 350,000, is sinking under the weight of what officials say are 1.5 million displaced people from across Yemen, putting a strain on resources.
In a decrepit camp on its outskirts, dozens of people from a tribe called Jaham tugged at the sleeves of Saudi aid officials, imploring them for more relief supplies.
“This is the kind of life you wish upon your enemy. We used to live in palaces, now we live in tents,” said a tribesman from nearby Sirwah district, which was overrun by the Houthis.
“No, no,” interjected another tribesman. “This is not even a tent. This is wood covered with a flimsy blanket.”
Houthi rebels besieged Marib for months in 2015 after they captured Sana’a but were pushed back in fierce clashes with local tribesmen aided by the Saudi-led coalition.
Arada, one of the region’s most influential tribal leaders, rallied fellow elders — even those who traditionally supported the Houthis — to pledge loyalty to the Hadi government.
The United States, behind regular drone strikes in the territory to combat al-Qaeda, imposed sanctions on Arada’s brother, accusing him of supporting the group, a charge the governor vehemently denies.
Marib faces the constant threat of Houthi rockets, hundreds of which have been fired towards the city. A missile strike killed six children last year during Eid festivities, Arada said.
Yemen is a chessboard of proxy warfare between Saudi Arabia and Iran. Paying a heavy price for the conflict are thousands of divided families in Yemen, split between Houthi and government territory.
“We go through checkpoint, checkpoint, checkpoint,” said Amina al-Ayashi, 55, describing a circuitous route to Sana’a, where her son, journalist Taufiq, is in a Houthi jail as the rebels crack down on the media.
“It feels like a whole lifetime. They (rebels) humiliatingly search us. We bring clothes, bread, vegetables. They refuse...” she trailed off.
Morsal Haidara, an English professor at Marib University, which restarted in 2016 after being shut down during months of fighting, draws parallels to Shakespeare’s “Hamlet,” comparing the rebels to the character Claudius who seized the throne by poisoning his own brother.
“What’s happening in Yemen is a tragedy,” he said.