In wartime, gender norms in conservative Yemen disrupted

Shortages of fuel, food and water have forced women into unfamiliar roles as the war in Yemen continues, Mohammed Al Qalisi reports from Sanaa

Um Ghalib goes through her daily routine of getting water for her Sanaa home, a ritual that requires queueing up for two hours. Mohammed Al Qalisi for The National

Sanaa // When Ghofran Nori tried to buy fuel in the Yemeni capital recently, the man running the station refused, saying, "The petrol here is only for men."
Ms Nori went to the offices of the state-owned Yemen Petroleum Company in Sanaa and complained. There should be a place where only women can buy fuel, she suggested.
Last week, the company allocated Al Shami petrol station in central Sanaa for women only and placed Ms Nori in charge.
"Now I am running this station with the help of two other girls," Ms Nori, a former public relations and communications worker in her 20s, told The National.
As the conflict in Yemen continues, people are having to go to extraordinary lengths to secure basic supplies. The shortages of fuel, food and water are forcing some women into unfamiliar roles as societal norms in this conservative country shift to cope with the crisis.
Before the conflict intensified in March, when an Arab coalition launched an air campaign against Houthi rebels who had driven Yemen's government into exile, women would never be seen working in a petrol station. Neither would they have queued for hours to get fuel, but the current tough conditions have forced them to take on tasks normally reserved for men.
The allocation of a women-only petrol station is unprecedented in Yemen. But the women now working there as unpaid volunteers feel it is a good idea.
When The National visited the Al Shami station, they were hard at work filling up vehicles in the queue.
"In the beginning the women had to wait for one whole day to get petrol, but now they can get petrol after three hours of standing in the queue," Ms Nori said as she regulated the entry of cars into the petrol station.
Some days she and her staff stay at the station until 4am to make sure everyone gets fuel, but mostly they work from 7.30am to 10.30pm, said Ms Nori, who lives in central Sanaa.
Despite the late hours, she said her family supported her in this job as they considered it a service to other women.
Um Kolthom Al Shami, another volunteer at the station who is a relative of the male owner, said Houthi militants kept guard in case men try to enter.
But she and her friends are happy with the arrangement, she said.
Sometimes men accompanied by female relatives drive up to try and take advantage of the shorter waiting time, but they get turned away.
The station only fills the tanks of vehicles and refuses to sell fuel in containers that people may bring. The pump price for petrol is 3,000 Yemeni rials (Dh51) for 20 litres - as it was even before the Houthis took over the capital - but the cost of the same quantity on the black market has risen to 20,000 rials in the past two months.
Ikram Al Sulaihi, a woman in her 20s, said the system at the Al Shami petrol station worked perfectly. The best thing, she said, was that there was no need for weapons, unlike at the other stations where customers try to get served first by using threats.
She wished there could always be women-only fuel pumps, and not just in times of crisis.
"There is no problem if this petrol station is allocated for women permanently," she said.
As Yemen's conflict has escalated, women have become more visible in the streets of Sanaa.
Early last week, a group of women were seen cycling down a main street, something unimaginable before the conflict started.
Many women now leave their homes to collect water because the shortage of fuel has stopped the supply through pipes and also affected deliveries by tankers.
Early every morning Um Ghalib pushes a wheelbarrow full of plastic containers from her home in Sanaa to a nearby well in Al Daeri street to get water.
When she reaches the well, there are already dozens of women, young and old, waiting in line for their turn to draw water.
"I come early in the morning and usually I bring around six 20-litre bottles that we can use for one day. Usually I queue for more than two hours," said Um Ghalib, who is in her 60s and lives with her son, a construction worker, and his small family.
She does not know anything about the politics behind the conflict and just considers herself a "victim of the war".
"This is the worst crisis I have seen in my life," she said.
"I do not know who is right in this war and I do not want to know. I need to sleep well, I do not like to wake up early to stand in queue to get water, and I hate this life of suffering."
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