When Abubaker Saeed went fishing in the Red Sea last month, he got more than he bargained for: a front-row seat to airstrikes. Saudi-led coalition aircraft were bombing Houthi positions near the port city of Mocha, and the rebels were a mere 1km from his village of al-Wahijah. "They were bombing Houthis while Houthis were 1km away from us," the 50-year-old recalled, presumably while mentally calculating the odds of making it home to his wife and two children.
He raced back to shore, only to find the rebels already there, battling government forces. On his way to his house, he witnessed three people being shot and killed. He managed to reunite with his family, and they hid as the fighting raged for 12 hours until government forces withdrew. Once the dust settled, Saeed decided al-Wahijah was no place for his wife and kids - aged nine months and five years. With Houthis controlling all overland routes to safer parts of Yemen, his only option was a boat across the Bab al-Mandab strait to Djibouti. They headed to the shore, 1km from their house, carrying nothing but the clothes on their backs.
They boarded a boat with about 80 other people. The operators charged 100,000 Yemeni rials (about £320) per family, but let Saeed's family travel for free since they had no money. The journey lasted nine hours. Saeed is now one of several thousand Yemenis who have fled to Djibouti in recent weeks, sheltering at the packed Markazi humanitarian site near the fishing town of Obock. Pointing to his white T-shirt - the same one he wore while fleeing - he said: "I left everything behind."
The renewed fighting has created a dire humanitarian situation. More than 900 people have been killed, and at least 250,000 have been forced from their homes since the beginning of August. The clashes have exacerbated an existing crisis: the UN estimates more than half the population needs humanitarian assistance. "Ongoing fighting, insecurity and restrictions on movement are making it increasingly difficult to reach displaced communities and deliver assistance safely," said Laila Al Amine, regional programmes director at Prosper Global (formerly Mercy Corps), which is assisting displaced people in Taiz governorate, where more than 100,000 have sought refuge. "After more than a decade of conflict, families in Yemen should not have to keep running in search of safety."
Taiz, the third-largest city in Yemen, and the south-western Red Sea coast - including the Bab al-Mandab strait, a strategic global trade chokepoint - have seen heavy fighting as Houthi militia and Yemeni forces battle for territory. In recent weeks, fighting has intensified around Taiz as Houthis encircle it and take control of routes in and out, raising fears of a siege.
At the Markazi site on a sweltering day, families sat beside mounds of belongings - mattresses, jerrycans, buckets. Children played on a swing; women in burqas chatted in clusters. A mile away, a few hundred Yemenis staggered toward the site carrying aid packages from a government warehouse.
Madinah Abdullah, 43, painfully recalled surviving airstrikes and gunfire in Mocha in September before fleeing after Houthis took over from retreating government forces. "We were living on the frontline," she said. She said Houthis forcibly recruited boys and young men, or accused them of working with government forces. She was especially worried about her 16-year-old son. "I was afraid Houthis would see my son," she said. They hid until an opportune moment, then she and seven other family members took a fishing boat to Djibouti with about 40 other people. "Life in Mocha was very good before the conflict, but Houthis disrupted everything," said Abdullah, who used to work with an aid organisation.
Markazi was already hosting refugees, including Yemenis who arrived after the civil war began in 2014. As of 8 October, new Yemeni arrivals had reached 3,807, according to Yemen's office for assistance to refugees and disaster victims. Coordinator Mahdi Osman said there is increasing pressure on shelter, water, sanitation, food and healthcare. "The main challenge lies in the gap between the rapid pace of arrivals and the resources available," he said. "Djibouti continues to demonstrate solidarity with people forced to flee conflict, despite its limited resources. We call on the international community to stand alongside the government of Djibouti to ensure that every person arriving has access to effective protection, shelter and essential services."
Yemen's civil war erupted in 2014 when Houthis took control of the capital, Sana'a, and the government. A Saudi-led coalition then launched a military campaign to reinstate the government. A UN-brokered ceasefire in 2022 was mostly adhered to until July, when Houthis fired drones and missiles toward Saudi Arabia in response to what they said were Saudi airstrikes on Sana'a international airport aimed at preventing an Iranian plane carrying Yemenis from landing. In early September, Houthis launched a lightning offensive along the Red Sea coast, seizing key positions around Bab al-Mandab, which had become an important route for Saudi oil exports due to disruptions in the Strait of Hormuz caused by the US war against Iran. Houthis have also attacked Saudi airports, tankers and oil facilities. On 10 October, a missile attack on King Khalid International airport in Riyadh killed 13 people. Experts fear the escalating conflict could draw in additional countries.
For many Yemenis who have fled to Djibouti, the recent displacement is yet another mark of the war. Aisha Ismail still has a bullet in her leg from a shooting at the onset of the civil war. She fled to Djibouti in September with her sister and their elderly father, who has a hearing impairment. "War, gunfire and bombing," she said of what drove them to leave. The 33-year-old added: "We just ran away because we have no men to protect us. My father is an old man and he is now 85 years old and we have no brother or uncle. Out of fear, we just ran away without taking anything. We left everything behind. All our belongings."
From their home town of Dhubab, just north of Bab al-Mandab, they trekked for miles to find a boat to Djibouti, finally making the journey with more than 100 other people. Ismail used to sell potatoes to sustain herself, her father and her sister. She bemoans that although food is distributed at the site, it's never enough. "The last time I ate something was yesterday," she said one late morning.
Saeed is often occupied with volunteering at a water collection point, where he helps children and other vulnerable people draw water from a tap, "so that everyone has a fair opportunity to access water without confusion". Like those of many others at the site, his thoughts often return to his home in Yemen. "My hope," he said, "is that the war will end so that I can return home with my family and live in peace".