dI am not writing this as a politician or an analyst. I am writing as someone who sees people standing in public squares and asking for something very basic — a life with dignity.
What we are seeing today in Southern Yemen, especially in places like Mukalla, is not chaos. It is not anger out of control. It is not a sudden emotional wave. It is something much deeper. It is people finally speaking together after many years of silence.
For decades, Southern citizens have lived with broken systems. Electricity that comes and goes. Water that is not guaranteed. Jobs that do not exist. Decisions made far away, by people who do not live with the consequences. This did not happen overnight. It is the result of a political arrangement that failed ordinary people again and again.
That is why the streets are full today.
These gatherings are not violent. They are organised. Families come together. Young people stand next to elders. There are no weapons, no calls for destruction. What I see is discipline and patience. That matters. It tells us something important: this is a civic demand, not a rebellion.
Many outside the South still misunderstand the message. They say this is about dividing a country. I disagree. From what people are saying on the ground, this is about restoring what was taken by force, not breaking something that works. The Southern state existed before. It was recognised. Its institutions were dismantled, not voted away.
Since then, life has only become harder.
People are not asking for miracles. They are asking for safety, services, and the right to decide their own future. These are not extreme demands. They are normal demands — the same demands people make everywhere in the Arab world.
What is happening today feels like a public vote without ballot boxes. The numbers, the calm, the unity all of it sends one clear message. This is not the voice of a party or a leader. It is the voice of society.
Ignoring this voice will not make it disappear. History shows us that neglected demands only return stronger. If the region and the international community truly care about stability, they must look beyond old slogans and failed formulas.
We should ask a simple question:
Has the current arrangement protected people?
Has it delivered dignity?
Has it brought peace?
If the answer is no, then change is not a threat — it is a necessity.
The people of the South are not asking the world to fight for them. They are asking the world to listen. To recognise a reality shaped by years of suffering. To understand that stability does not come from denial, but from justice.
When people speak together, peacefully and clearly, the least the world can do is hear them.