Aden, Yemen – In this coastal city, where sweltering, humid summers have long been the norm, the loss of electricity can fundamentally alter the rhythm of a day.
When the power fails, fans and air conditioners fall silent. Sleep becomes nearly impossible. Students scramble to finish their homework before darkness closes in. Children spill into the streets, while young men drift toward the shoreline in search of moving air and cooler water.
Inside hospitals, where treatment cannot wait for the lights to come back on, electricity carries a weight that goes far beyond mere convenience.
Yemen’s power crisis extends well beyond the current conflict. Even before the war began, only around 55 percent of the population had access to electricity from any source – one of the lowest rates in the Middle East and North Africa region.
Since 2015, damaged infrastructure, acute fuel shortages, and ageing generation and distribution systems have left the country’s power supply even more precarious.
In Aden, power stations continue to suffer repeated shutdowns, leaving residents without electricity for extended stretches. Soaring insurance premiums on tankers transporting fuel to the port have reportedly deepened the crisis further.
An assessment published this year by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) found that Aden residents were receiving just two to six hours of electricity per day, as structural weaknesses and fuel shortages triggered frequent outages.
As the sun dips below the horizon, a second phase of the day begins. Homes and businesses slip into darkness, lit only by the faint glow of battery-powered and solar-run devices. Residents often have no reliable way of knowing how long the latest blackout will last, or how long the power will hold once it returns.
During the summer months, when temperatures in Aden climb toward 40 degrees Celsius (104 degrees Fahrenheit), the consequences become nearly inescapable. Residents interviewed during the height of the season described their homes as almost uninhabitable during the prolonged outages that plague the city. The heat does not always dissipate once the sun goes down.
“Sometimes the power comes back while we are asleep, so we wake up just to make use of it. Our daily lives have become locked to the schedule of when electricity arrives and when it disappears,” one resident said. For her family, a blackout is measured not simply in hours but in cascading problems. Children cannot sleep, food spoils in warming refrigerators, and household chores are left on hold.
When the heat inside becomes unbearable, Youssef heads to the coast. The sea, he explained, has become far more than a place of recreation – it is a refuge from the stifling heat of the city.
“When the electricity is off for hours, it is extremely hard to stay indoors,” he said. “There is no fan, no air conditioning, and the humidity only amplifies the heat, so we come to the water.”
As the day winds down, young men and families gather along the waterfront. Some swim. Others simply sit beside the water, waiting for the city to cool. But the sea cannot fix Aden’s electricity crisis. Hours later, Youssef makes his way home and sometimes finds the house exactly as he left it.
“Sometimes we get back and the power is still out, and we just start waiting all over again,” he said.
For children like Mohammed, Saeed, and Abdullah, blackouts have reshaped where childhood takes place. When their homes grow too hot, they move into the street, running between houses or sitting with other children until the late hours.
“It gets too hot inside the house, so we come down and play in the street,” one of the boys said. “We play football or sit with our friends. It is better outside when the electricity is off.”
For them, a blackout is not an extraordinary event. It is simply the backdrop against which they have grown up.
The effects follow them into the classroom. In Aden, the United Nations Development Programme documented more than 7,000 students and teachers struggling in dark, stifling classrooms during power cuts. The installation of solar systems at eight schools and an education office has offered some relief. One teacher reported that several students had fainted due to the extreme heat.
At home, preparing for exams may come down to a rechargeable lamp or a small solar system, if the family can afford one.
In hospitals, there is no alternative but to wait out the darkness. Operating theatres, intensive care units, laboratories, medical refrigerators, and dialysis machines all depend on a continuous power supply.
The World Health Organization (WHO) reports that recurring power cuts are disrupting lifesaving health services across Yemen, forcing facilities to piece together a patchwork of grid electricity, diesel generators, and solar systems to keep operations going.
In 2025, the WHO delivered approximately 4.33 million litres (1.14 million gallons) of fuel to 177 health facilities across the country to keep generators and essential medical equipment running.
Zeina Ahmed, a kidney patient, watches the tubes carry her blood to a dialysis machine.
“For people at home, a power cut means heat and darkness. For us here, the first thing on our minds is whether we will be able to have our dialysis session or not,” she said.
“I come to the hospital knowing that I need this session. If it is delayed, I keep thinking about when I will finally get it and whether the machines will keep working.”
After years of an unreliable grid, solar panels, batteries, and generators have become a familiar sight across Yemen’s landscape.
They sit on rooftops, supplying power to the homes, businesses, and schools that can afford them.
More than half of Yemen’s households now rely on solar power in some form, according to the WHO, while hospitals and other health facilities are increasingly adopting solar systems to keep essential services operational.
Families that can invest in larger panels and batteries can run more appliances. Others may have just enough electricity for a single light, a fan, or a phone charger – a fragile shield against the dark and the heat.