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The Story of the Yemeni Child Samih Who Held On to His Father’s Body Until Morning

A human story documenting the massacre at the Bani Qais wedding, committed by the Saudi aggression, which claimed the lives of more than ninety martyrs and wounded. Don’t Leave Me Alone, Father

On one cold night in Europe, a small child lay in his warm bed. His father turned off the room’s lamp, leaving only a sliver of light sneaking in from behind the door. The child reached out his small hand and held his father’s hand as he was about to leave. In a soft voice, he said: “Dad, don’t go... I’m afraid to sleep alone.”
The father smiled, returned to his side, sat on the edge of the bed, and patted his head. “Don’t be afraid, my little one. I’m here.”
The child clung to his hand even more, closed his eyes reassured, while his father stayed by his side until he fell asleep. It was an ordinary night in the life of a child who feared nothing but the dark, and who knew of the world only that his father’s hand meant safety, and that all the fears of the night would end as long as his father was near. That night, the child slept peacefully. Elsewhere in the world, another child would spend his night holding his father’s hand, but he would not sleep. His name was Samih. “Dad... open your eyes.”
Sunday evening, April 22, 2018. In the Raqa area, Bani Qais district, Hajjah governorate, Yemen, joy filled the place. A wedding celebration, voices rising in happiness, faces drawing dreams of tomorrow. Samih did not know that this night would split his life in two: a life where his father was close to him, and a life he would spend searching for him in his memory. The airstrikes of the Saudi aggression thundered. In moments, joy turned to tragedy, dust and destruction filled the place, and cries for help rose from beneath the rubble. When the noise subsided a little, Samih searched for his father. He found him among the debris, approached him, and with his small hand held the hand that had always given him safety. He looked at his face and called:
“Dad...”
There was no answer. He came closer, as if thinking his voice hadn’t reached him. “Dad, open your eyes.”
But the father remained still. Samih did not understand what had happened. How could his father, who always answered when called, be silent now? How could the hand that used to pat his head not respond to his touch? He kept shaking his hand gently, calling him again. He didn’t want a miracle. He just wanted his father to open his eyes. Night fell heavily on Bani Qais. The world was far away, the voices of the afflicted echoed among the ruins, and the survivors were busy searching for their loved ones. But Samih was not looking for anything else. He had found his father, and was not ready to leave him. Some people tried to pull him away, but he clung to his father’s hand even more, as if afraid they would take him away, or leave him alone in a world he no longer understood. He sat beside him, gazing at his face. “Dad, why don’t you answer me?”
Silence. “Dad, I’m here.”
A longer silence. Then he rested his small head near his father, still holding his hand. Maybe he was waiting to feel him move, or hear his voice, or see him suddenly open his eyes and tell him that everything that happened was just a nightmare. But the night passed, and nothing happened. That night, many children slept in their fathers’ arms, and others slept reassured by their presence behind doors. But Samih stayed awake beside his father, fighting off sleep and pain, not knowing that the Saudi regime hates Yemeni children. The night grew longer, and his small hand still held his father’s. He did not know that childhood, when it comes face to face with a savage Saudi regime, can be shattered in a moment, and that some nights in the time of Saudi aggression do not end when dawn breaks. The first threads of light began to creep into the sky of Bani Qais.