Rahma Shanzour

Yemen — The ongoing conflict in Yemen since March 2015 has doubled the suffering of children. They have not only lost their childhoods; some have lost entire limbs and arms, remaining trapped in pain and deprived of the simplest activities of daily life.

The story of young girl Shaima Ali Ahmed Qa’id sheds light on the immense price children in Yemen pay as a result of armed conflict. She was injured years ago when a shell fell in front of her home in central Taiz City, at just seven years old.

Now 15 years old and a ninth-grade student, Shaima says, “I will never forget that day. I was injured on May 29, 2017, by a shell that led to the amputation of my right leg. I was only seven. After the injury, my life changed completely. I lived in a very difficult state filled with despair and exhaustion. I didn’t want to see the world. I preferred to stay confined in a dark place, far from everything.”

She recalls her life before the injury: “Before it happened, I used to walk and run like any child. When I remember myself before the injury, I get very sad and fall into depression.” Her first weeks after leaving the hospital were the hardest. She couldn’t walk steadily and would watch children playing outside while she stood helpless. “Whenever I saw a child walking and playing, I felt sad and asked myself, why am I like this?”

Despite everything, her journey toward recovery began with her family’s support. “I received treatment, and my father and mother were my greatest support. They always told me, ‘Continue living your life, we’re with you, no one can make you feel less.’ Their words gave me great strength.” She also received psychological support that helped her step out of her pain. “For two or three months after the injury I was devastated, then I received psychological therapy. I started to feel better and felt like I was coming back to myself.”

Before her injury, Shaima used to walk to school every day because no school bus was provided for children from marginalized groups. She didn’t mind; she even enjoyed walking and climbing stairs multiple times a day as part of her play. “I walked to school. I loved going up and down the stairs. I lived my childhood normally.”

But after losing her leg, the simplest details of her day became new burdens. She transferred to a private school where a bus picked her up instead of walking. The scene was ordinary for most children—but not for Shaima, who would stop for a long time in front of the stairs, staring at them with sadness before attempting to climb them with one leg and a prosthetic limb. “When I see my classmates walking easily, I feel sad, and standing in front of the stairs has become the hardest thing.”

Over time, with her family’s support and psychological care, Shaima regained some balance. She learned to walk again on one leg and participated in neighborhood games when children gathered, trying to rebuild what remained of her childhood.

Speaking with maturity beyond her years, she says, “The sadness was there and still is a little, but I try to accept what happened and live my life.” Her struggles did not stop at the injury; Shaima also faced bullying during her early years after the amputation. “In the beginning it was very hard. Some of my classmates mocked me, but I decided I would not leave school no matter what.”

With time, she found her path to inner recovery. Her academic performance improved, and she found in education a form of compensation for many of the things she had lost. “I encouraged myself, and now my studies are better than before. I feel like I’ve managed to make up for some of what I lost.”

“We want to live like the children of the world”

Shaima Ali Ahmed Qa’id belongs to one of Yemen’s marginalized groups, but she views her injury as a source of strength, not another obstacle. She says, “The injury made me stronger. My dream is to become a lawyer so I can prosecute those responsible for the crimes and violations that cost me my leg. I also want to study media so I can be a voice for the children who suffer as I did.”

For her, the conflict is not just a personal tragedy but a collective wound. “The war did not hurt only me—it hurt the entire Yemeni society,” she says, asking, “How can we have a future and live in safety? We want a life without mines and bullets. We want to live like the children of the world.”

She adds, “The war took my happiness. It took my leg and many other things. Children around the world play freely, but we suddenly hear gunfire and shelling and run back to our homes.”

Shaima’s story remains a true example of the consequences of conflict on children in Yemen—many of whom have lost limbs, childhoods, and emotional and social stability—highlighting the enormous challenges of living in an environment continuously ravaged by war.

According to World Health Organization estimates, about 4.5 million Yemenis live with disabilities—a figure rising due to ongoing conflict.

UNICEF data also shows that around 18% of children in Yemen face functional difficulties in one or more areas such as walking, playing, or communicating. Additionally, human rights reports confirm that landmines and unexploded ordnance continue to threaten civilians; since the beginning of 2025 alone, an estimated 40 children have been harmed by mine remnants.

Between 2017 and 2025, the Yemeni Network for Rights and Freedoms recorded the deaths of 387 children and injuries of 738 children due to landmines planted by warring groups