Marib, a name that echoes through millennia, is today a battleground in Yemen’s brutal civil war. Yet beneath the headlines of airstrikes and humanitarian crises lies a land steeped in history—a place where empires rose and fell, where the Queen of Sheba once ruled, and where the fate of modern Yemen is now being decided.
Long before oil and war defined the region, Marib was the heart of the Sabaean Kingdom, a civilization that thrived on trade and ingenuity. The legendary Queen of Sheba, mentioned in the Bible and the Quran, is said to have ruled from here, her wealth built on frankincense and myrrh—luxuries that fueled ancient economies.
The ruins of the Great Marib Dam, an engineering marvel of its time, stand as a testament to Sabaean brilliance. Built around 800 BCE, it irrigated vast farmlands, turning the desert into a green oasis. Its collapse in the 6th century CE, some say, marked the end of an era—a warning of what happens when infrastructure fails.
Marib wasn’t just an agricultural hub; it was a crossroads. The incense trade routes snaked through here, linking the Mediterranean to India. Control over Marib meant control over wealth—a lesson modern powers haven’t forgotten.
Fast-forward to the 21st century, and Marib is again a prize. Its oil reserves make it a key battleground in Yemen’s war, with Houthi rebels, the Saudi-led coalition, and local tribes all vying for dominance. History repeats itself—only now, the weapons are drones and missiles.
Yemen’s conflict is often framed as a proxy war between Saudi Arabia and Iran, but for the people of Marib, it’s about survival. The city has become a refuge for thousands displaced by fighting, straining resources in a region already plagued by drought.
The irony is bitter: the same land that once sustained an empire with advanced water management now faces a man-made famine. The Saudis bomb Houthi positions; the Houthis retaliate with drone strikes. Meanwhile, civilians pay the price.
War doesn’t just kill people—it erases history. Ancient temples and inscriptions, some still unstudied, risk being lost forever. In 2015, airstrikes damaged the Marib Dam’s ruins, a grim symbol of how conflict devours the past.
Archaeologists warn that looting and neglect are stripping Yemen of its heritage. With no tourism and minimal protection, sites that survived centuries of natural decay may not survive this war.
Marib isn’t just another Middle Eastern conflict zone. It’s a microcosm of global crises: climate change, resource wars, the weaponization of history. If the Great Dam’s collapse once signaled decline, what does Marib’s current devastation foretell?
The answers won’t come from politicians or generals. They lie in the dust of ruins and the resilience of people who still call this ancient land home.