In Wartime Yemen, Children Find Solace in Music

Pupils study in a classroom at a school in the Yemeni city of Taiz. (AFP)
Pupils study in a classroom at a school in the Yemeni city of Taiz. (AFP)
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In Wartime Yemen, Children Find Solace in Music

Pupils study in a classroom at a school in the Yemeni city of Taiz. (AFP)
Pupils study in a classroom at a school in the Yemeni city of Taiz. (AFP)

The sound of music fills the halls at a school in Yemen's Taiz, where little Nazira al-Jaafari sits at a keyboard as a teacher takes her through the notes.

"I love music," said Jaafari, a pupil at the Al-Nawras school where tutors are trying to help students temporarily forget the ongoing war, said an AFP report Sunday.

"Whenever I feel sad or uncomfortable, I play music."

She has built up an eclectic repertoire, including happy birthday and cult songs by Arab icons Fairuz and Umm Kalthoum.

"I just hope that Yemen will win this war," she said before exhaling deeply, then smiling and adding: "And that we can live a new life."

Taiz, a city in the southwestern Yemeni highlands, was once known for its coffee beans, grown at high elevation and exported through the famed port of Mokha.

Today, the city is home to some of the most intense fighting in a war between the legitimate government forces and Iran-backed Houthi militias.

The United Nations has urged both parties to open humanitarian corridors to besieged Taiz, where state troops are embedded inside city limits.

The walls of the three-storey Al-Nawras school are pockmarked with bullet holes, but educators decided to expand the music program, making it part of the core curriculum alongside maths and Arabic, with the hope that it would restore joy to their students' days.

"The psychological state of the students was very difficult when we reopened here, after all the shelling and bombing and fighting," said principal Shehabeddine al-Sharabi according to AFP.

The head of a university in neighboring Mokha recommended music, loaning instruments to Al-Nawras free of charge.

"Music is not an extra-curricular activity here. We can see how it impacts our students, how they are more responsive through music. It yields purely positive revenue," Sharabi said.

While the lessons are not part of a formal mental health program, music therapy has been used around the world to support those who have experienced trauma.

And in the humble classrooms of Al-Nawras, dozens of boys and girls find daily, albeit temporary, reprieve from atrocities in a country the UN says is home to the world's worst humanitarian crisis.

Smiling and tapping on their desks, a class of bright-eyed students sing, in English, "My face, my face, this is my nose".

In a class later in the day, slightly older children sing "Education is a weapon".

But around two million Yemeni children are missing out on school, with half a million dropping out since 2015, according to UN figures published last March.

In Taiz, teacher Abir al-Sharabi takes the time to help students -- like Jaafari -- learn to play the tunes themselves.

"There's a sense that students feel more comfortable here than in their other classes," Sharabi told AFP. "Their energy in this class is different.

"And some students even have experience in singing! All their voices are beautiful. Singing helps the psyche," she told AFP.

"War is the cause of so much pain, and sometimes it's easier to express that through song."



Flashy Villas, Cars and Drugs: Assad’s Legacy in Latakia

A man climbs a staircase in the damaged house of Hafez Munzer al-Assad, a relative of ousted Syrian president Bashar al-Assad, in the western port city of Latakia on December 15, 2024. (AFP)
A man climbs a staircase in the damaged house of Hafez Munzer al-Assad, a relative of ousted Syrian president Bashar al-Assad, in the western port city of Latakia on December 15, 2024. (AFP)
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Flashy Villas, Cars and Drugs: Assad’s Legacy in Latakia

A man climbs a staircase in the damaged house of Hafez Munzer al-Assad, a relative of ousted Syrian president Bashar al-Assad, in the western port city of Latakia on December 15, 2024. (AFP)
A man climbs a staircase in the damaged house of Hafez Munzer al-Assad, a relative of ousted Syrian president Bashar al-Assad, in the western port city of Latakia on December 15, 2024. (AFP)

The drive winds between manicured lavender-lined lawns to a crescent-shaped home with a gleaming swimming pool on the Syrian coast: Bashar al-Assad's holiday hideaway disgusts those who now come here.

"To think that he spent all that money and we lived in misery," spat Mudar Ghanem, 26.

He is grey-skinned and his eyes are sunken after spending 36 days in a Damascus jail, accused like other suspected dissidents of "terrorism" against the ousted president's rule.

Now he had come "to see with my own eyes how they lived while other people had no electricity", Ghanem told AFP, standing by the windows of a huge white-marbled living room.

"I don't care if the next president lives here too," he added, "as long as he looks after the people and doesn't humiliate us."

The Assad holiday home is in Latakia, Syria's second largest port after Tartus. It is in an area that is the heartland of the Assad clan's Alawite sect.

On Sunday, a week after the deposed president fled Syria a lightning opposition offensive after his family had ruled for more than five decades, curious people came to see how Assad had lived.

This was just one of three Assad villas on the outskirts of the city.

In scenes that were unimaginable just days ago, Syrians wandered through the luxury home that is now guarded by a handful of fighters.

There was no air of triumphalism, just stupefaction and anger at how Assad had lived a life of luxury in this idyllic seaside spot.

Over the past week the house itself has been ransacked, stripped of its last doorknob, but the grandeur of its rooms and the antique mosaic adorning the entrance bear witness to its standing.

- Showroom -

The land used to be owned by Nura's family.

"They chased us away. I didn't dare come back" before now, the 37-year-old said, adding that she intends to seek legal redress to get her property back.

Most people who spoke to AFP on Sunday, like Nura, spoke freely but preferred not to give their full names. Despite its downfall, the fear instilled by the Assad name is still there.

"You never know -- they could come back," said 45-year-old Nemer, after parking his motorbike outside a flashy villa.

The house belonged to Munzer al-Assad, a cousin of the former leader.

Along with his brother, who died in 2015, Munzer ran the notorious "shabiha" militia, known for its abuses and trafficking operations.

"It's the first time I've stopped here," Nemer said. "In the past the guards would chase us away. We weren't allowed to park."

The two-storey house had also been stripped. Chandeliers, furniture, stucco moldings... all gone. Family photographs ripped up and portraits torn from now bare walls. The looters had been busy.

"I get 20 dollars a month. I have to do two jobs just to feed my family," Nemer said, bitter at the memory of Assad clan convoys that used to speed through the city streets.

Munzer's son Hafez ran a car showroom -- Syria Car. Now just a single vehicle sits there among the broken glass.

The car won't start, so people have been pulling it apart, destroying its bodywork, windows and upholstery. A young couple pretended to get behind the wheel.

- On a mission -

Lawyer Hassan Anwar, another visitor, was on a mission. The 51-year-old inspected the premises, searching for any documentation that could be later used in court.

He said this was because Hafez was well known for confiscating cars or buying them for well below market price before selling them on.

"Several complaints have been filed," Anwar said.

"Syria Car" was in fact one big money-laundering operation to mask the family's trafficking operations, the lawyer said.

On the pavement outside, two passers-by stopped beside a sewer grating. They lifted it up and scooped out hundreds of small white pills.

This was captagon, a banned amphetamine-like stimulant. It became Syria's largest export, turning the country under Assad into the world's biggest narco state.

They said massive quantities of the drug had been found nationwide after Assad fell.

Lawyer Anwar said pills had been exported from Latakia inside clothing labels.

Accompanied by two young opposition fighters newly arrived from Idlib province, Anwar entered the building beside the showroom, stepping through its broken window. As he did so, a young guard, Hilal, appeared.

In the basement, Hilal had discovered brand new scales still in their boxes -- "for weighing drugs", he said -- along with box after box of glassware, pipettes and tubes he said were used to manufacture amphetamines.

"I'm shocked by the scale of these crimes," said 30-year-old Ali, one of the two fighters from Idlib.

As Ghanem said at Assad's sumptuous holiday villa, standing there and looking out to sea, "God will have his revenge."