Sana'a (Yemen), February 24
Thousand and One Nights
Passing the fortified gate of Bab al-Yemen, which gives the old city of Sanaa, I feel like I get in a movie. Around me, these are just gorgeous tan adobe houses with windows outlined in white lace. Nestled in the maze of alleys, the place Soukha its displays of hookahs, jewelry, spices and fabrics, it's like in The Thousand and One Nights.
Men are wearing a scarf or a kéfieh white embroidered carry a huge curved dagger set with silver belt and have them stuffed shirt of qat, a sort of local equivalent of the coca leaf. At 13h, all activity stopped because they sit in the shade to chew the leaves that turn into a ball of green paste them unsavory fact plays a trumpet or toad troppical, something completely out of proportion anyway. The entire population is addicted, it tells me that even women ruminate them in homes. It's really the local soma. Women, in fact, make me shudder with this blend of black veils covering them completely, leaving just a trickle for the eyes. They are like shadows.
Just to give you a better idea of the atmosphere in the street, here are some examples of small traders in Sanaa: a seed ...
... khat vendor ...
... and finally my favorite, this delightful bakery.
Despite their first sight a little intimidating, people are friendly. Once they learn that I am neither American nor Danes (the Mohammed cartoons have traumatized), I wish they all warmly welcome. And the restaurant when my dish does not move fast enough, they always offer me to eat on their plate ... Here, for cons, I'll treat.
But unlike the Indians, how they talk and shoving me feel that these are people so rude. The first night I was surprised when all the muezzin of the city there are calling for prayer, some screaming, others singing, chatting with a final obviously forgot that his microphone was on. The political context has also changed. At Bombay airport, I had forfeited my lighter purchased in Goa which projected an image of beautiful naked girl. I find the same at the foot of my hotel, but this time it appears that Saddam Hussein with a pistol in his hand! His portrait is also stuck around, from hotels to grocery stores. I wanted a change of scenery, I am served. I am a bit struck. A country
tense
As usual, I did not plan my trip. But on the Internet, we only speak of kidnappings of tourists and closed areas. A month ago, a convoy was attacked by the Belgians, there were three deaths. I'm beginning to wonder if I will not have to join an organized tour, which makes me shudder in advance. In ambasada, Consul explains that tourists are not removed in the expectation of a ransom, or even for religious reasons, but to lobby against the central government in exchange for opening a school or installation of electricity in a given village. Nevertheless, increasingly, the authorities respond by using force, resulting in bloodshed. He assures me that as I see the daggers in their belts men, djumbias are an ornament as innocuous as a tie, but the country has sixty million firearms to twenty million inhabitants. In case of disagreement, it comes out easily the Kalashnikov.
The consul told me that the tensions are also due to the catastrophic state of the local economy. The dividentes oil revenue fell by 30% between 2006 and 2007, corruption is rampant, unemployment is approaching 40% and qat cultivation replaces more than wheat, an essential element of the local diet, and coffee, which could generate foreign exchange. But the president, himself a big consumer, can take restrictive measures without risking a revolution. In short, it's a national scourge. Finally, when even a new drug, it excites my curiosity.
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