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NY Times June 16, 2011
Clans and Tribes Forge New Yemen Unity
By THE NEW YORK TIMES
SANA, Yemen — After more than four months of insurrection, this
tormented country may seem to be more divided than ever, with
rival rallies still seizing the capital every week and fierce gun
battles raging in the north and south.
But the protest sit-ins occupying Yemen’s major cities have
brought Yemenis together in remarkable new ways, creating
makeshift communities in which the old barriers of tribe, region,
clan and gender are crumbling.
In the sprawling tent city outside Sana University, rival
tribesmen have forsworn their vendettas to sit, eat and dance
together. College students talk to Zaydi rebels from the north and
discover they are not, in fact, the devils portrayed in government
newspapers. Women who have spent their lives indoors give
impassioned speeches to amazed crowds. Four daily newspapers are
now published in “Change Square,” as it is called, and about 20
weeklies.
The very length of Yemen’s protests — far longer than the 18 days
of Egypt’s Tahrir Square uprising — may be helping to forge new
bonds and overcome this country’s deep fissures, even if the
country’s political elite (and their henchmen) continue to shoot
and kill one another in the near term.
“In a sense I’m happy the revolution is taking a long time,
because these meetings and arguments are healthy,” said Atiaf
al-Wazir, a blogger and activist. “We can’t say everything has
changed, but the seeds of change are there.”
The sit-ins are taking place across Yemen, and in some areas
elaborate deals have been made to allow tribesmen to join the
protest without fear of being ambushed by their rivals. Many
people have abandoned their jobs, adding to the economic collapse
that now threatens the country.
In Sana, the protest area is virtually its own city, complete with
restaurants, medical clinics, auditoriums and gardens. There are
numerous art galleries and exhibits, and an endless series of
seminars and lectures.
Unlike Tahrir Square in Cairo, the Sana protest area is not a
central plaza. It is a dense network of streets running alongside
the walls of Sana University — with pre-existing shops, homes and
offices — and is therefore more sustainable as a community. Almost
every tent has televisions and Internet, with wires and cords
snaking over the canvas to the buildings nearby.
The numbers in the square have dwindled somewhat in recent weeks,
with the summer heat, fighting in the capital and fuel shortages.
Some protesters may have been discouraged by the long wait, and by
Yemen’s uneasy political void. The president, Ali Abdullah Saleh,
is recovering in Saudi Arabia from burns and shrapnel wounds
sustained during an attack on his palace mosque, and the capital
is abuzz with constant rumors: the president is dead, the
president is returning in an hour to seek revenge on his rivals.
Still, the square remains amazingly vibrant, a carnival-like city
within the city. Tribesmen with daggers in their belts strut
through the crowd, singing antigovernment “zamils,” or tribal
chants. (“God burned your face, oh Ali,” one of them went, in a
derisive reference to the president.) Vendors wheel wooden trays
of glistening red tomatoes and cucumbers, while others sell fruit
juices, popcorn and fried foods.
Banners bearing the names of countless political factions hang
between buildings, and the faces of martyrs killed during
government crackdowns decorate the tents. Underfoot is a slurry of
mud, plastic bags, fliers, food and leaves of qat — the plant
Yemenis chew in the afternoons for its stimulant effect.
“There are new values forming here,” said Dughesh Abdel Dughesh, a
sociologist. “You can see a big sheik sweeping the street, nuclear
physicists taking away garbage.”
Mr. Dughesh moved to a tent in the square early on in the protest
along with his wife, two sons and three daughters. He began giving
lectures on sociology and arranging for seminars on other subjects.
Not all the encounters are positive. On Tuesday, two protest
factions clashed after disagreeing over a planned march, and more
than a dozen protesters were beaten, some of them hospitalized.
The fighting served as a warning that Yemen remained a deeply
divided country, and that the protesters’ spirit of reconciliation
might turn sour — much as it did in Egypt after the revolution
there — if the uprising gave way to more violence, or failed to
achieve substantial change.
Mr. Dughesh, a liberal, said hard-line Islamists began stealing
chairs from his tent after he taught co-ed seminars. Islamists
have also intimidated women who spoke or sang in the square.
Yemen’s main Islamist party, Islah, became a dominant influence
early on in the protest, taking over from the politically
independent youths who were the pioneers. Many protesters lament
that, saying the harder-line Islah members are intolerant of the
square’s diversity.
Others say the frequent confrontations between Islamists and
liberals are healthy, like those between all the factions and
currents represented in the square. Yemeni society is deeply
conservative, and any changes to the place of religion or the role
of women will come slowly. But some women say the square has
changed their lives forever.
“Before, we were sitting at home like pigeons trapped in a cage,”
said Jamila Ali Ahmed, a passionate 29-year-old who wore a full
black niqab covering all but her eyes, like most Yemeni women.
“When we arrived to the square, we felt the beauty of freedom. We
feel proud now and we want a dignified life.”
On Monday evening, as a light rain fell, several dozen Yemenis
crowded into a tent known as the Academic Forum. A Sana University
hydrologist, dressed in a natty blue suit, was delivering a
lecture on Yemen’s dire water problems.
Across the alley, a white-turbaned Zaydi imam, his face
illuminated by a yellow lamp in the gathering darkness, spoke to a
crowd of young men about the religious duty to expel unjust
rulers. In the distance, a song was playing by Muhammad
al-Adra’ee, a celebrated figure in the square who entertains
crowds with his dead-on mimicry of the Yemeni president.
Nearby, Abdel Raghib Ghaylan, a 32-year-old teacher, was beaming
as he handed out copies of a survey on how to improve Yemen’s
educational system.
“This is the real Yemen — the Yemen we’d like to see,” Mr. Ghaylan
said.
Later in the evening, tribesmen from the provinces of Bayda and
Marib formed two lines and began performing an athletic dance full
of leaps and shouts. A poet arrived — there are countless poets in
the square — and began singing verses that the tribesmen repeated
in unison.
“Our people made a revolution peacefully,” the men sang, as a
drummer beat a rhythm on a drum held between his knees. “No
airplanes, no guns, we have just our faith, our strong faith.”
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