SANA’A, YEMEN — “We’ve been wealthy since the days of our great-great-great-grandfathers.” These were the words of a friend while we were discussing our salaries — which haven’t been paid for eight years in the Houthi-controlled areas of northwestern Yemen. She was replying to another friend who had just said that the ruling Houthis do not feel the people’s suffering because they’re already rich and receive money from their de facto government.
The problem is not only that she believes herself — as the Houthi elites do — to be a member of the Prophet Muhammad’s household (Banu Hashim), claiming a “divine right” to a fifth of the nation’s wealth (khums), while maintaining they are inherently pure because Allah has cleansed them of all impurity.
The problem is also that she used to criticize some of the Houthis’ violations herself. Her criticism made us feel safe sharing our own disappointments through years of Saudi, Emirati, Israeli, and American airstrikes, all under the weight of Houthi repression. But I’ve learned a hard lesson: it’s one thing for them to criticize from the inside, but don’t be fooled into joining in. The moment you do, you’ll find yourself aggressively attacked with insults and warnings.
Those words echo in my mind every time I witness another Houthi injustice, another theft of rights. I see Houthi elites living in ease and relief while the rest of Yemen collapses under the weight of hunger and stolen rights; still, they claim divine purity.
I walk through the souqs and malls, passing row after row of closed shops and empty display windows. These businesses didn’t just fail; they were strangled by the heavy fees imposed by the Houthis, who are not satisfied with just a fifth of our earnings, but intend to take everything, leaving millions of people with nothing. They monopolize everything — from jobs, education, and scholarship opportunities to international aid, investment facilities, natural resources, and more, and all.
The purchasing power of a people who haven’t seen a salary in years is vanishing. For most families now, even the smallest luxury of buying basic goods is a dream; life has been stripped down to a bare struggle for food. Even those who used to be financially secure are struggling to survive on a meager amount that barely lasts until the end of the month.
I dread walking past the shops now. The way the shopkeepers’ eyes light up with hope when you enter, only to dim with disappointment when you leave empty-handed, is soul-crushing. Our leaving without buying means another day gone without a single sale, forcing the shopkeepers to return home empty-handed, too. Even during the peak holiday seasons of Eid and Ramadan, when the streets are packed, the cash registers stay silent. People wander in and out, wanting to buy and comparing prices, but ultimately walking away. A low price means nothing to an empty pocket.
This year has seen a wave of factory and restaurant closures. Here in Sana’a, Rimas Plaza Restaurant closed its doors, while Al Kabous Coffee and Tea industries moved to another country — among many businesses that didn’t even wait for this past Ramadan season to begin, signaling a total loss of hope. While other nations strive to attract foreign capital, Yemen is forcing its own investors to flee. Local businessmen are moving their interests abroad to escape the crushing weight of triple-taxation: high customs fees, heavy financial levies, and endless bureaucracy — adding to that a total loss of buying power and lack of basic services and rights. It’s heartbreaking to see the investors leave, but the true tragedy is the millions of families left jobless in a predatory wartime economy.
Hypocritically, these rules don’t apply to the elites. While local businesses struggle, a member of the Houthi Political Council has established three oil-importing companies that bypass all customs and fees. Salaries are paid to Hashemite women staying at home, while schoolteachers are left with nothing, year after year.
We are told the investment environment will “improve” soon. But I’m certain this is only to clear the path, replacing struggling merchants with Hashemite and Houthi elites rebranded as “investors.” New laws will be passed under the guise of “encouraging investment,” but the goal is simply to enrich their own people and movement.
What is happening remains clear: a new class of business elites is being born and prepared to monopolize commerce — “whales” (heetan), as we call them in Arabic. Suddenly, there will be no more boycotting of Gaza genocide-linked goods, and there will be less quality testing and custom procedures for imported goods. Soon, those businesses will grow richer and richer to ensure that one day their great-grandchildren will say: “We have been wealthy since our grandfathers.”
I want to ask my friend, with her inherited “divine right,” exactly how those Hashemite grandfathers became rich, but there is no point in arguing history. History is always rewritten by those in power to justify their privileges. In our case, after 11 years of war, there is no need to read history — we, the Yemeni people, are witnessing the exact same stories, incidents, and injustices repeat.

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