Yemeni man's World Cup journey through war
Saeed Al Batati / Al Jazeera English
For 44 years, 56-year-old Adel Mohsen has never missed a World Cup, despite Yemen's war, economic crisis and personal losses. This year, power cuts and fuel shortages threaten his streak. He watches matches at a local stadium, hoping to analyse games for local media.
Mukalla, Yemen – Weeks before the 2026 World Cup kicked off, Adel Mohsen’s backup battery broke. He had no money for a replacement, meaning no power during frequent blackouts. Life in Mukalla, eastern Yemen, is even tougher: fuel shortages leave him without enough petrol for his motorbike, limiting his ability to travel to watch matches elsewhere.
Adel, a 56-year-old football enthusiast, has followed every World Cup since 1982, defying war, economic downturn and political upheaval. But this year, he cannot escape the reality that more than a decade of conflict and hardship have gripped Yemen.
“I think this is the worst World Cup,” Adel told Al Jazeera, sitting on a wooden chair, eyes fixed on the big screen at the local stadium. “I may miss many matches because of power cuts.”
Although he paid for a local TV subscription broadcasting the games, Adel cannot scrape together $200 for a spare battery or afford an internet package to stream on his phone. The local stadium is his best option for the 2026 tournament.
Just before the opening match between South Africa and Mexico, the sound of generators echoed across the area; the projector flickered on only minutes before kick-off. The pitch was dark, the paving old and worn. Two men sat chewing khat, a popular stimulant in Yemen, leaning against concrete blocks. A few others sprawled on raised platforms, scrolling phones while chewing. Heat and humidity left everyone sweating.
Yet Adel quickly switched into World Cup mode. “The Mexicans will attack until they score,” he said, glancing at his old phone to review notes he hoped to use for analysis on local TV or social media. His prediction came true as Mexico scored first. “I watch matches now through the eyes of an analyst rather than an ordinary fan,” he explained.
In 1982, the World Cup was held in Spain, just a few years after television arrived in Mukalla and other cities of the People’s Democratic Republic of Yemen (PDRY), known as South Yemen. Adel, then 12, still remembers where he and other fans gathered to watch. “It was like a first love etched in memory,” he said with a smile. “Even as a child, I remembered player names and stadiums. Brazil had one of their greatest generations with stars like Zico, Falcao and Eder.”
In January 1986, thousands were killed or wounded in Aden when internal conflict erupted between factions of the ruling Socialist Party. That same year, Mexico hosted the World Cup. Adel, then 16, remained glued to the old TV in the same room. “I was in secondary school and watched with deeper understanding,” he recalled. “That tournament belonged to [Diego] Maradona.”
By 1990, when North and South Yemen unified, Adel was 20, playing amateur football for local clubs. Watching the World Cup in Italy, he learned tactics and skills, applying them to training and matches. But the honeymoon did not last. In 1994, civil war broke out as the World Cup was held in the United States, spreading fear across Yemeni cities. “That was the worst World Cup I ever watched,” he said. “People worried about war, security instability, frequent power cuts. I’d watch one match and miss three.”
After the 1994 civil war, Yemen enjoyed a period of relative stability. The tournaments of 1998, 2002, 2006 and 2010 were easier to follow. But by the 2014 World Cup in Brazil, Yemen was again in turmoil: al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) escalated attacks, and Houthi rebels expanded territory. “The country entered a new political and economic crisis,” Adel said.
Mukalla has largely avoided fighting during 12 years of war, except for clashes in late 2025 between the internationally recognized government and the separatist Southern Transitional Council. But economic woes and lack of services make it hard for Adel to follow his passion.
Despite blackouts, mounting economic pressure and criticism that sport is a luxury in a crisis-ridden country, Adel is determined to maintain his four-decade habit. “I see sport as an escape from hardship,” he said, sitting on a wooden chair, light from the big screen illuminating his sweaty face. “People ask why we talk about football when there are so many problems. What do they want us to do – kill ourselves? Sport gives us a brief outlet from all the difficulties around us.”
Adel predicts this year’s champion will be France.