"Do you know how a cluster bomb kills? What did we do to them?"

In 2014, a war broke out in Yemen that continues to this day. It claimed the lives of 150,000 people, and the famine that accompanied the conflict claimed over 220,000 lives. A year after the war broke out, Bushra al-Maktari decided to document the suffering of civilians and, inspired by Svetlana Alexievich’s reporting, she traveled the country for two years, risking her life to collect over 400 testimonies. It is these testimonies that make up “What Have We Left Behind?”

Al-Maktari interweaves accounts of victims of the Houshi militia and the Saudi-led coalition. His chronicle of the conflict in Yemen is a reminder of the scale of the human tragedy behind the headlines, and an indictment of the international community for complicity: global and regional powers have done nothing to alleviate the suffering of Yemenis for a decade.

I hid in a hole like a dog. I sat there for ages. My friend had hidden there before, when an Apache helicopter was shooting at us and chasing us across the desert. I remember rolling on the sand, running away from death. The stones cut my back and arms, my foot was bleeding. I only thought about my brother Riyadh, but he was far away. I decided he was safe there, and I had to save myself. When I got to the hole, it was pitch black, but I could see the streaks of bullets from the Apache on the horizon, lighting up the sand and chasing who knows who. (He stops.)

The dogs wandering the desert bark louder. They smell blood. I see them gathering around the bodies abandoned by the road. I watch them, curled up in a ball. My friend comforts me and reassures me that Riyadh is okay. Riyadh was bleeding out under the tree where we were hiding before I rolled here. I reassure myself that he is probably asleep now, the pain has weakened him and he has managed to fall asleep. As I stare into the darkness, my whole life flashes before my eyes. Chaotic images: I am a child, playing soccer in the village of Al-Jarr.

I am a father, I sell fish to feed my family: six sons, father, mother, wife and brother. I see them gathered around me during the holidays, laughing. My mother prays for me at the door, as she always does when I go to work. My younger brother, Riyadh, chases away flies so they don't land on the fish, and makes sure no one robs us.