Woman Who Fell From the Sky - Jennifer Steil [52]
I’d heard a great deal about the kidnappings before I came to Yemen, as it was one of the few things westerners seemed to know about the place. “Aren’t you worried you’ll be kidnapped?” was one of the first things people asked me. That is, if they had heard of Yemen at all.
I wasn’t worried that I would be kidnapped. Most kidnappings don’t have anything to do with hostility toward foreigners. Tribesmen just see tourists as handy bargaining chips in their disputes with the government. Thus they sometimes capture a convoy or two to pressure the government to, say, build a school or improve the water system. (My parents, being parents, did worry I would get kidnapped. When I explained that my kidnappers would probably just want a mosque or a school in return for me, they fretted that they couldn’t afford a whole building. “We could afford a stop sign,” they said. “Tell them that.”) Almost all of the approximately two hundred tourists kidnapped in Yemen in the past fifteen years have been treated kindly by their captors and released unharmed, though there are a few exceptions. In 1998, sixteen westerners were kidnapped by a group called the Aden-Abyan Islamic Army. Four were killed during a botched rescue attempt by the Yemeni government. Another tourist was killed in 2000, again as a result of a shootout between the government and the kidnappers. “If I ever get kidnapped,” I say to al-Asaadi, “don’t let the government try to rescue me.”
Another reason I don’t waste too much time worrying about kidnappings is that they very rarely happen to foreigners in Sana’a. Most attacks occur as tourists travel in conspicuous convoys through more remote parts of the country where there are active tribal conflicts.
Now that the al-Abdullah tribe has the government’s attention, it is demanding that some of their incarcerated tribesmen be released in return for the French tourists. Al-Asaadi gives me ten stories he wrote about the kidnappings last year to get me up to speed. He also draws me a chart of the tribes and their various disputes, which started with the murder of some members of the al-Abdullah tribe years ago. My head reels.
Yemen is home to hundreds of tribes, which play an integral role in Yemeni politics and lives. Divisions among tribes are largely territorial. Before 1990, when Yemen was divided into North and South Yemen, both the British and the Communists in turn endeavored to weaken tribal allegiances in the South, in an effort to create a more cohesive society. But in the North, tribal ties remain strong.
President Saleh belongs to the Sanhan, a Hashid tribe from near Sana’a. The Hashid and Bakil tribal confederations are the most powerful in the country. But Saleh’s control over tribesmen diminishes the farther one gets from Sana’a. Rural people are far more likely to turn to their tribal leaders, called sheikhs, than to the government to resolve disputes over land, grievances, or natural resources. Sheikhs serve as spokesmen for their tribes, arbitrating conflicts, helping parties agree on appropriate amends, and wielding political influence. For example, oil companies working in Yemen often must negotiate separate deals with the government and with the sheikhs of tribes upon whose land they are working. Otherwise they can find their buildings suddenly surrounded by angry, AK-47-wielding tribesmen.
Most Yemenis’ first loyalty is to tribe and family rather than to their country. Whenever I get into a taxi with my reporters, the first thing they do is figure out what tribe our driver belongs to. Mohammed al-Matari, my elder-statesman reporter, is the most adept. He can find out the tribe, hometown, and family of a driver