The report says Mohsen paid for a television subscription, but cannot afford the $200 needed to replace a battery that powers his home during outages. Internet vouchers for watching on his phone are also reportedly out of reach.
Fuel shortages have limited travel across the city, leaving a local stadium as his best option. Generators were needed before the opening match, while the projector reportedly came to life only shortly before kick-off.
“I might miss a lot of matches because of the power cuts,” Mohsen says.
That uncertainty has changed his relationship with the tournament. The report describes him taking notes on his phone and studying games as an analyst, hoping to use his observations on local television or social media. Yet the communal pull remains strongest when Brazil or an Arab team plays, with crowds reportedly swelling around those fixtures.
For Mohsen, the World Cup is also a personal timeline. He reportedly watched the 1982 tournament in Spain on television, sometimes seeing matches a day late after recordings travelled from Aden by bus.
The tournaments that followed carried the weight of Yemen’s own upheavals: South Yemen’s turmoil in 1986, unification by 1990, civil war during the 1994 competition and renewed instability in later years. Through each chapter, football provided continuity when ordinary life was repeatedly disrupted.
“Sports give us a brief escape from all the hardships around us,” Mohsen says.
As the 2026 World Cup continues, the next fixture will bring another practical test: whether the power holds, the generator runs and the screen stays bright. For fans in Mukalla, simply watching may remain an achievement in itself.