In Yemen, Queen’s Death Recalls Memories of Colonial Past

A historical statue of Queen Victoria sits in a central square in Aden, Yemen on Tuesday, Sept. 13, 2022. (AP)
A historical statue of Queen Victoria sits in a central square in Aden, Yemen on Tuesday, Sept. 13, 2022. (AP)
TT

In Yemen, Queen’s Death Recalls Memories of Colonial Past

A historical statue of Queen Victoria sits in a central square in Aden, Yemen on Tuesday, Sept. 13, 2022. (AP)
A historical statue of Queen Victoria sits in a central square in Aden, Yemen on Tuesday, Sept. 13, 2022. (AP)

In 1954, large crowds turned out for a historic visit by Queen Elizabeth II to Aden. At the time, this city on the southern tip of the Arabian Peninsula was a colony of the British Empire and was one of the busiest and most important ports in the world.

Now the queen’s death after a 70-year reign has prompted some Yemenis to remember a part of history not often evoked.

Her death has brought waves of grief and sympathy from around the globe. But it has also raised calls for a re-examination of the death and deprivation inflicted by Britain’s colonial rule in Africa, Asia and the Caribbean.

In Aden, now the second largest city in Yemen, many remember colonial rule as a time of oppression that entrenched some of the problems still plaguing the city and the country, which has been devastated by war since 2015.

Some today still remember Elizabeth’s visit with admiration and credit British rule with advances in the country. Hassan al-Awaidi, a university student, knows his grandfather was among those waving from the street when the queen and her husband, Prince Phillip, passed by.

But al-Awadi says his generation now knows better.

“In the context of the 21st century, such practices are seen as a reflection of contemporary global issues like racism, inequality and white supremacy,” he said.

“They cracked down on people who wanted to end the colonial occupation of this land. Thousands of people were killed in the struggle to root out colonialism. They should be prosecuted and pay for their crimes.”

Aden was the only Arab territory to have been a British colony. Other British outposts in the Middle East like Egypt, Palestine and in the Gulf were mandates or protectorates, not outright colonies.

Aden was first occupied by the British in 1839. Britain went on to seize surrounding parts of southern Yemen as protectorates, clashing with the other colonizers of the peninsula, the Ottomans.

Finally, the two established a border splitting north and south Yemen — a division that has endured throughout the country’s modern history.

Aden was officially declared a Crown Colony in 1937. Positioned just outside the Red Sea, the city was a vital refueling and commercial port between Europe and Asia, particularly Britain’s colony of India.

Elizabeth stopped by on the way back from Australia, part of her first tour of the Commonwealth two years after ascending to the throne.

Photos of the visit on the website of the British-Yemeni Society, a UK charity, show British officers, dignitaries and Yemeni leaders greeting the young queen and her husband.

The royals also watched a military parade featuring British and local Yemeni forces.

But not long after the visit, an uprising emerged, fueled by pan-Arab nationalism and backed by Egypt’s President Gamal Abdel Nasser, an arch-foe of colonial powers in 1950s and 1960s. After years of fighting, the British were finally forced to withdraw.

When the last batch of British troops left Aden in late November 1967, the People’s Republic of South Yemen was born with Aden its capital. It would be the only Marxist country to ever exist in the Arab world, lasting until unification with the north in 1990.

Some in Aden recall British rule as bringing order and development.

Bilal Gulamhussein, a writer and researcher of the modern history of Aden, said many “long for the past they lived during the days of British rule, because everything was going in order, as if you were living in Britain exactly.”

He said that much of the beginnings of infrastructure and basic services, including health and education, date to the colonial time.

“Britain laid the foundations of the civil administration in Aden from the first beginnings of the occupation,” he said.

A few small reminders remain.

A statue of Queen Victoria stands in a main square, nicked by bullets that grazed it during crossfires in the current war. A clocktower resembling London’s Big Ben overlooks the city from a hilltop. A plaque commemorates Queen Elizabeth’s laying of the founding stone of a main hospital.

Salem al Yamani, a schoolteacher in the southern province of Abyan, said that even amid the current chaos, nostalgia for colonial times sparked by Elizabeth’s death is misplaced.

“The idea of having good roads and services does not mean they (the colonizers) were good. They were occupiers who served their own interest in the first place,” he said.

“That the situation now is dire doesn’t mean we want them back again,” he said. “This is our own problem, and it will be resolved if foreign powers stopped meddling in our affairs.”



In Assad's Hometown, Few Shared in His Family's Fortune. They Hope they Won't Share in His Downfall

A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)
A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)
TT

In Assad's Hometown, Few Shared in His Family's Fortune. They Hope they Won't Share in His Downfall

A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)
A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)

On the walls of the palatial mausoleum built to house the remains of former Syrian President Hafez Assad, vandals have sprayed variations of the phrase, “Damn your soul, Hafez.”
Nearly two weeks after the ouster of his son, Bashar Assad, people streamed in to take photos next to the burned-out hollow where the elder Assad’s grave used to be. It was torched by opposition fighters after a lightning offensive overthrew Assad's government, bringing more than a half-century rule by the Assad dynasty to an end, The Associated Press said.
The mausoleum's sprawling grounds — and the surrounding area, where the ousted president and other relatives had villas — were until recently off limits to residents of Qardaha, the former presidential dynasty's hometown in the mountains overlooking the coastal city of Latakia.
Nearby, Bashar Assad’s house was emptied by looters, who left the water taps running to flood it. At a villa belonging to three of his cousins, a father and his two young sons were removing pipes to sell the scrap metal. A gutted piano was tipped over on the floor.
While the Assads lived in luxury, most Qardaha residents — many, like Assad, members of the Alawite minority sect — survived on manual labor, low-level civil service jobs and farming to eke out a living. Many sent their sons to serve in the army, not out of loyalty to the government but because they had no other option.
“The situation was not what the rest of the Syrian society thought,” said Deeb Dayoub, an Alawite sheikh. “Everyone thought Qardaha was a city built on a marble rock and a square of aquamarine in every house," he said, referring to the trappings of wealth enjoyed by Assad's family.
In the city’s main street, a modest strip of small grocery stores and clothing shops, Ali Youssef, stood next to a coffee cart, gesturing with disdain. “This street is the best market and the best street in Qardaha and it’s full of potholes.”
Families resorted to eating bread dipped in oil and salt because they could not afford meat or vegetables, he said. Youssef said he dodged mandatory military service for two years, but eventually was forced to go.
“Our salary was 300,000 Syrian pounds,” a month, he said — just over $20. “We used to send it to our families to pay the rent or live and eat with it" while working jobs on the side to cover their own expenses.
"Very few people benefited from the former deposed regime,” Youssef said.
So far, residents said, the security forces made up of fighters from Hayat Tahrir al-Sham — the main group in the coalition that unseated Assad, and which is now ruling the country — have been respectful toward them.
“The security situation is fine so far, it’s acceptable, no major issues,” said Mariam al-Ali, who was in the market with her daughter. “There were a few abuses ... but it was fixed.” She did not elaborate, but others said there had been scattered incidents of robberies and looting or threats and insults.
Al-Ali called Assad a “traitor,” but she remained circumspect about her Alawite community's position in the new Syria.
“The most important thing is that there should be no sectarianism, so there will be no more blood spilled,” she said.
Dayoub, the Alawite sheikh, described “a state of anticipation and caution among all citizens in this area, and in general among Alawites,” although he said fears have started to ease.
At the town’s municipal building, dozens of notables sat on bleachers discussing the country' s new reality and what they hoped to convey to the new leadership.
Much was centered around economic woes — retired public servants' salaries had not been paid, the price of fuel had risen, there was no public transportation in the area.
But others had larger concerns.
“We hope that in the next government or the new Syria, we will have rights and duties like any Syrian citizen — we are not asking for any more or less,” said Jaafar Ahmed, a doctoral student and community activist. “We don’t accept the curtailment of our rights because the regime was part of this component.”
Questions also loomed about the fate of the area's sons who had served in Assad's army.
Since the army's collapse in the face of the opposition advance, residents said several thousand young army recruits from Qardaha have gone missing. Some later turned up on lists of former soldiers being held at a detention center in Hama.
“These are young guys who are 22 or 23 and they never took part" in active combat, said Qais Ibrahim, whose nephews were among the missing. Over the past few years, active combat was largely frozen in the country's civil war. “We send our children to the army because we don’t have any other source of income.”
Um Jaafar, who gave only her nickname out of fear of reprisals, said the family had no information about the fate of her two sons, stationed with the army in Raqqa and Deir Ezzour, though one son's name later turned up on the list of those imprisoned in Hama.
“My children got the best grades in school, but I didn’t have the ability to send them to the university,” she said. “They went to the army just for a salary that was barely enough to cover their transportation costs.”
Syria's new authorities have set up “reconciliation centers” around the country where former soldiers can register, hand over their weapons and receive a “reconciliation ID” allowing them to move freely and safely in Syria for three months.
But Ahmed, the doctoral student, said he wants more. As the country attempts to unify and move on after nearly 14 years of civil war, he said, “We want either forgiveness for all or accountability for all.”
Ahmed acknowledged that during the war, “rural Latakia was responsible for some radical groups,” referring to pro-Assad militias accused of widespread abuses against civilians. But, he said, opposition groups also committed abuses.
“We hope that there will be either an open process of reconciliation ... or transitional justice in which all will be held accountable for their mistakes, from all parties," he said.
"We can’t talk about holding accountable one ... group but not another.”