“Allah Akbar…”.  The mosque announces the time for evening prayer. Music coming from the shops on the streets stops. On the roof of one of the buildings a young man in ragged clothes prepares himself for prayer. I contemplate in wonderment as all the surrounding mosques from near and far join in one prayer chant, celebrating the resignation of another hardship-filled day, in harmony, peace…and acceptance.

 I’m leaving part of myself in Hudaida. But, with me I carry its bitter sweetness. I wonder about what is so magical about Hudaida. Surely, not its run down houses, nor its worn out roads, and certainly not its 40ْ C heat and suffocating humidity. Over the past three years of my regular missions in microcredit training here, I have been captured by the beauty, simplicity and incredible determination of its people. I have worked with staff in the field until ungodly hours of the night, as they delivered their program’s financial services inside Hudaida City and in its far road-less rural communities, where an excellent memory and sense of direction was the only means to show us how to get to our designated area. There, the level of my physical endurance was tested; my understanding of perseverance and human compassion was elevated; and my respect for both, the field staff (who humorously called themselves the “Knights of the Field” or ‘Firsan el Meedan’) and the people benefiting from microcredit, took on a different level of its own.

 The year-round blazing heat during the day shows no mercy. Thus, the people of Hudaida and its surrounding villages, who conduct income generating activities, accelerate in pace by night until early hours of dawn. They rest during the early hours of the morning and resume their activities as the day progresses. Blessed in approval by their families, the field staff of the Yemeni Women Union Microcredit Program of Hudaida, show no hesitation in accommodating and extending their working hours to meet their clients’ financial needs, allowing them opportunities for financial improvement and a better way of life, which they had never dreamed of having, through access to the program’s microlending services.

 Over the past three years of my numerous field visits there, I had made acquaintances with endless numbers of microentrepreneurs from those communities; heard their stories, and saw the spark in their eyes as they proudly conducted their small businesses of selling clothes, handicrafts, goods and snacks, etc.; some from their homes and others in the local markets. They know that they have a long way to go, although, driven by their hopes, dreams and determination towards ensuring a better life for themselves and their children, they are also confident in realizing them gradually given their enlightened understanding of the opportunities presented to them as their education about microlending grows and their relationship with the program is strengthened.

 My thoughts travel to the working women I have met, whose roles have so powerfully grown in a society such as this, where the male role is typically dominant in Yemen more than any other Arab country. In Hudaida and its region, where 77% of the clients benefiting from Hudaida’s microcredit program are women, I have seen overwhelming bravery in those women, conductors of small and micro income generating activities, pillars of their households. I have sat with them and listened as they told their stories with a much ‘as-a-matter-fact’ way; some of which described their manual labor, single-handedly building their small huts of clay and straw roof tops (Bajil village – Hudaida), providing food and clothing for their children from the income generated out of their small business activities, while their husbands were either away seeking work, jobless and useless at home, or deceased.

 One of the other stories described a young, secondary school educated woman in her early twenties. She lives in one of Hudaida’s remote areas (El Zeidiyah), where she had joined the growing number of clients benefiting from the program through its branch office there. This young lady ran a small business of selling second-hand clothes which she carried out from door-to-door within the boundaries of her village; something which was strongly opposed by her father at the beginning. But, rather than have her pursue her dream of continuing her education to become a writer one day and be exposed to the world outside her village, he settled for her lesser wish of starting this small business activity that would generate some income for herself and family. However, with her stronger inner determination to pursue her dream, and with the little freedom she is allowed, she has secretly been working on improving her writing skills while taking on a nickname which she now uses as a cover up to avoid being discovered by her father or family. So far, she has managed to get a few of her written thoughts and articles published in some of the local newspapers in Hudaida through the help of one of the program staff’s personal contacts.

 …I think I’m leaving Hudaida as a better person. This ‘magic’ of Hudaida goes back home with me. And every time I complain about things such as getting a stomach ache, my car breaking down, getting caught in traffic, or complaining from work overload, I will be reminded of the amazing tolerance, undying patience and devotion, and, most of all, the genuine kindness I have learned in Hudaida, and how magnificent it felt being welcomed by the hopeful smiles generated from within the agony of people everywhere here - despite their ongoing daily struggles which, by far, surpass those in all the other places I’ve been to, and despite their despair - to a total stranger coming from the ‘outside world’, not too far away from here.

 Nostalgic,

 May Nasr

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