In Mowza, western Yemen, a tiny school sits on top of a hillside. There’s no road to the school, just a narrow dusty track that winds its way through open fields. The building was occupied by Houthi troops in 2018. The walls are riddled with bullet holes and the three small classrooms are in a bad state of repair – but it’s the land outside the school that poses the most threat to the young pupils. The school sits in fields littered with landmines and other unexploded ordnance. Photo: Cherry Franklin for DRC
Saeed, 55 was driving to see his sister in hospital in Mokha when the car he was driving hit a landmine, which exploded instantly, killing his daughter, 3, and injuring her nine-year-old sister. Photo: Cherry Franklin for DRC
Working alone, without a
salary or support, from his
home in Khoka, Mohammad
has been arranging transport
and medical support to
people injured by landmines
and other explosive
ordnance. Photo: Cherry Franklin for DRC
After enduring conflict and displacement, two years ago Eman and her family returned to their home, a tiny stone hut in the middle of the desert. But even though the fighting has moved on, the danger remains. Eman’s house is in the middle of a vast
minefield. Photo: Cherry Franklin for DRC
Abdullah, 35, pours water for his goats into empty storage containers for bullets and
soldier’s helmets, the remnants of Yemen’s ongoing seven-year conflict. He gestures to an
anti-tank mine lying on the ground nearby:
“There are mines everywhere here. Sometimes our sheep or camels set off the landmines
and they explode, but you can see them everywhere on the ground.” Photo: Cherry Franklin for DRC
In Mowza, western Yemen, a tiny school sits on top of a hillside. There’s no road to the school, just a narrow dusty track that winds its way through open fields. The building was occupied by Houthi troops in 2018. The walls are riddled with bullet holes and the three small classrooms are in a bad state of repair – but it’s the land outside the school that poses the most threat to the young pupils. The school sits in fields littered with landmines and other unexploded ordnance. Photo: Cherry Franklin for DRC
Saeed, 55 was driving to see his sister in hospital in Mokha when the car he was driving hit a landmine, which exploded instantly, killing his daughter, 3, and injuring her nine-year-old sister. Photo: Cherry Franklin for DRC
Working alone, without a
salary or support, from his
home in Khoka, Mohammad
has been arranging transport
and medical support to
people injured by landmines
and other explosive
ordnance. Photo: Cherry Franklin for DRC
After enduring conflict and displacement, two years ago Eman and her family returned to their home, a tiny stone hut in the middle of the desert. But even though the fighting has moved on, the danger remains. Eman’s house is in the middle of a vast
minefield. Photo: Cherry Franklin for DRC
Abdullah, 35, pours water for his goats into empty storage containers for bullets and
soldier’s helmets, the remnants of Yemen’s ongoing seven-year conflict. He gestures to an
anti-tank mine lying on the ground nearby:
“There are mines everywhere here. Sometimes our sheep or camels set off the landmines
and they explode, but you can see them everywhere on the ground.” Photo: Cherry Franklin for DRC
In Mowza, western Yemen, a tiny school sits on top of a hillside. There’s no road to the school, just a narrow dusty track that winds its way through open fields. The building was occupied by Houthi troops in 2018. The walls are riddled with bullet holes and the three small classrooms are in a bad state of repair – but it’s the land outside the school that poses the most threat to the young pupils. The school sits in fields littered with landmines and other unexploded ordnance. Photo: Cherry Franklin for DRC