Qat! .. (2) A Society Committing Suicide, a Nation Eroding

Yemenat

Ahmed Saif Hashed

Before 1990, in Aden prior to Yemeni unification, the consumption or sale of qat was permitted only during official holidays and on weekends, specifically Thursdays and Fridays.

On all other days, the penalties were severe, and the law was enforced with strictness. I once heard of a man who was reported by his neighbor for secretly chewing qat in his home in Dar Saad.

 He was arrested, brought to trial, and sentenced to two years in prison, effective immediately.

After Yemeni unification in 1990, I was transferred to work in Sana’a. At the beginning of my stay there, I was struck by the sight of most of society chewing qat throughout the entire week.

Qat markets were the most crowded, noisy, and chaotic places. Some people chewed once a day, others twice in what was known as the two-round system, and some exceeded even that through what was called the extended session.

I saw children between the ages of ten and eighteen chewing qat. Some were unruly and homeless, others worked in exhausting jobs, and some did so under the care or encouragement of their parents, or at least with their families’ full knowledge.

 I also observed wives chewing qat with their husbands or under their supervision, and I heard of private women’s qat sessions where women gathered specifically for that purpose.

In times of war, we have seen how warring parties take special care to provide qat to fighters, viewing it as a stimulant for endurance, activity, and aggression. It has come to be treated as a wartime necessity, listed alongside food, water, weapons, and ammunition.

During the recent war, which lasted seven years, I witnessed young men learning to chew qat on the front lines. I also saw youth driven by poverty, need, opportunism, and qat addiction throw themselves into battlefields.

They were not seeking death, but rather the bare minimum needed to survive: a modest monthly income and a guaranteed, steady supply of qat.

The truth, and I say this as someone who does not come from a qat-chewing background, is that the outsider often sees what insiders do not.

 The shock is clearer, the disaster fully exposed. One becomes aware of the sheer scale of social devastation caused by qat cultivation and consumption at every level, and of its danger to both the present and the future of our people.

It is an environment that seems to say plainly that no one will escape, not even the newcomer who once rejected it, except for a very few. Exceptions, however, do not make the rule. Regrettably, many of us have become its victims after long years of resistance and condemnation.

I have known friends who care less about the quality of their food than the quality of their qat, and others whose spending on qat exceeds what they spend on food.

Some live on a single meal a day, yet never miss their daily qat session. They go to sleep without dinner, sleep late into the morning, eat lunch, and then buy qat that costs twice as much as the meal they just consumed.

Some work only to waste their wages on qat, eating barely enough to stay alive. Others labor and save money at the expense of the nourishment, health, and future of those who depend on them.

In the end, we are left facing an addicted society that is slowly dying and, in effect, committing suicide.

According to what was agreed upon by the leaderships of the two regions at the time of Yemeni unity, the positive laws in force in both areas were supposed to remain valid, with better legislation to follow after unification.

What actually happened, whether in law or in practice, largely contradicted those agreements, and this contradiction became even more entrenched after the summer war of 1994.

Four years after unity, war erupted and ended with one side consolidating power. Authority continued to pass from one victor to another, from one era to the next, until we arrived at our present moment, marked by more bloodshed, more destruction, and ever greater cost.

Within the dominant collective mindset, qat has come to be viewed as a stimulant for work, effort, and thought, and as a means of social bonding among friends, colleagues, and even strangers.

 It is said to strengthen relationships, ease emotional burdens, induce a sense of euphoria, sharpen memory, and enliven political and non-political discussion alike.

It may even create a degree of warmth or intimacy among those present, though far less than that produced by shared pilgrimage, deep conversation, or alcohol.

At the same time, qat sessions can become fertile ground for extracting opinions or information that authorities may later criminalize, or for denouncing individuals to the most brutal and repressive security agencies. For children, chewing qat can foster a false sense of competitiveness and manhood.

More dangerous than all of this is the fact that some of the most harmful laws, decisions, and policies affecting people’s lives, livelihoods, and basic survival have emerged from qat sessions and closed majlis rooms. This practice continues today, more widespread and deeply rooted than ever.

What qat has done to our people surpasses, in its destructive impact, the harm caused by any other drug, including alcohol.