It no longer matters what day it is in Yemen when your sole focus is survival

Time is gradually lost because everyday life as we know it has almost come to a stop Hisham al-Omeisy Sanaa 
Hisham al-Omeisy is a Yemeni political analyst

People inspect the rubble of a house destroyed by a Saudi-led airstrike in Sanaa, Yemen. The missile fired by the Saudi-led coalition killed eight people AP

It has been almost 10 months since the war started. On 26 March a coalition of states led by Saudi Arabia launched a joint military campaign in Yemen. A campaign that many, including me, only learned of hours after being knocked out of bed by earthshaking explosions from surprise airstrikes in Sanaa.
The airstrikes have lasted 44 weeks now. I expected to be desensitised, grow numb and lose track of things after months of war. But my sense of time wasn’t one. There are battles, bombs dropping, buildings collapsing, people screaming in the chaos of a raging war. Time is gradually lost because everyday life as we know it has almost come to a stop. Our city is slowly being choked to death.
When schools, businesses, and most other institutions shut for months, days are all the same. It no longer matters what day it is when your sole focus is survival. You still need water, food and shelter. 
By last Wednesday it had been 300 days of war. That was 7,200 long hours queuing for petrol, food and water. Surviving the eternity of one hour at a time with the false hope that your misery won’t be extended by another. That was 432,000 minutes, many spent praying for self and loved ones not to be killed by a bomb, shell or stray bullet. Praying that you will be able to secure the necessities of life. Praying that war is over soon. Praying that your prayers will be answered.You adopt a new dynamic – “War o’clock” – where you track hours and days according to the amount of time it takes to secure basic life-sustaining necessities. 
That was 25,920,000 seconds. Seconds you and your children held your breaths during airstrikes and shelling. Seconds where your hearts skipped beats when the whooshing sound of a projectile was followed by an explosion. We have, luckily, survived. For now.

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