SANA’A, YEMEN — It is often said that history is written by the victors, but more accurately, it’s rewritten by those who hold the reins of power. This is exactly what we are witnessing in Yemen today. Having seized control of the present, the ruling Houthis are actively reshaping the narrative of their ancestors — the Imams who ruled in the past — rebranding their lineage as a flawless golden era and reframing past injustices into a polished tale of divine justice and inevitable triumph.
There is a story often told today of an Imam and a kerosene ship. In an era without electricity, kerosene was the lifeblood of the home, used to fuel every lamp. The narrative claims the Imam managed to export a shipload of wheat to the West in exchange for a shipment of kerosene.
The narrative is always told with a flash of pride: the Imam made the world’s fuel seem cheap compared to the bounty of Yemen’s soil. Modern supporters use this story as a weapon against the present, contrasting it with today’s Arab rulers — who, they say, sell their oil for far less than it’s worth.
When the Western importers demanded two ships of wheat for only one of kerosene, the Imam reportedly stood his ground. “A full man sleeps at sunset,” he said, suggesting that a nation fed by its own soil does not need to “beg” for the world’s fuel. And while a hungry man can’t sleep, even in the light, a well-fed man is content to rest in the dark.
As the story goes, the West blinked, attempting to retreat to the original agreement. But the Imam stood firm, refusing even that. He had forced their hand, and they eventually traded two ships of kerosene for a single shipment of Yemeni wheat. We certainly admire the image of such leadership. This Imam appears to be the kind of leader we all dream of: one who fiercely protects his nation’s dignity and puts his people’s welfare above all else.
But that is not what actually happened.
The reality for most Yemenis was that they did indeed sleep at sunset, but with empty bellies. They had no wheat, and they had no light. To the ordinary person, a single jar of kerosene was so precious that accidentally breaking the glass was a tragedy worthy of tears. For most Yemenis, reality was a cruel reflection of the Imam’s words.
The truth comes to light in the elites’ underground grain storage pits (madafen). The people’s crops were seized under the guise of religious charity (zakat) or the one-fifth wealth tax (khums), only to be hoarded by the Imam’s lineage. Hidden inside, the grain was often left to rot rather than be given to the hungry. The injustice was written on the very bodies of the people: the physical gap between the well-fed ruling class and the emaciated workers.
Stories are still told of the reopening of madafen after the September 26, 1962 revolution that brought down the Imamate in North Yemen and created a republic. The uncovered storage pits were reported to be full of rotting grain and thick with fermented, toxic gases that remained a death trap for days — a lethal reminder of a harvest that could have saved lives, but was instead left to decay. Stories are still passed down of Yemenis toiling all day in the houses of the elite, performing backbreaking labor for less than a single kilo of grain. It was the very grain they themselves had harvested, only to be forced to yield it as zakat.
The Imam’s defiance in the story was never for the sake of the Yemeni people. It was purely for the benefit of his own inner circle and privileged class. He effectively stole the food from the people’s mouths so that the upper class could enjoy the luxury of lighted nights.
Through a series of recent public posts, numerous Sana’a-based businesses — including the specialized agricultural enterprise Asl Al-Enab (“The Origin of Grapes”) — have spoken out against the relentless financial demands of Houthi zakat regulators. These merchants reveal that despite generating zero profit over the past year and currently being buried in debt, authorities continue to enforce steep, arbitrary annual tax levies without relief.
We don’t need to argue over history books to understand this betrayal. We are watching the same tragedy repeat itself today — perhaps in an even crueler form. Behind the mask of a supposed divine justice, ordinary people suffer under the weight of hunger and stolen rights, while the ruling class still claims divine purity.

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