On a rain-soaked mountain road in Yemen, beekeeper Mosad Al-Humairi watched a truck carrying 48 of his beehives slide towards the edge of a muddy drop. In those few seconds, his entire livelihood hung in the balance. Inside those hives were bees he had carefully raised, moved, and protected for months — bees about to enter one of the most important moments of the year: the Sidr honey season.
For Yemeni beekeepers, this is normal life. Danger, patience, and devotion are all part of producing what many consider the finest honey in the world.
The Art of Tazeeb – Chasing Flowers Across Yemen
The journey that nearly cost Al-Humairi half his bees was part of an age-old tradition called Tazeeb – seasonal migration.
For centuries, people in Yemen have moved with their animals in search of grazing land. Today, beekeepers have adopted that same nomadic rhythm. They travel hundreds of kilometres each year, loading their hives onto trucks and following the bloom cycles of different plants.
Instead of keeping bees in one fixed location, they chase flowers:
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High, cool regions when certain trees blossom
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Warmer valleys when those blooms fade
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And, most eagerly of all, the areas where the Sidr tree comes into season
This constant movement keeps the bees in healthy, nectar-rich environments. Since Tazeeb became more widespread, Yemen’s beehive numbers have risen sharply, and honey production has grown despite war, drought, and economic collapse.
The Sidr Season: A Brief, Intense Miracle
The Sidr tree is a large, thorny, deeply rooted species that thrives in pockets across Yemen. Its honey is legendary — rich, complex, and powerfully medicinal. But the Sidr flower has one weakness:
It blooms only for a very short time each year.
From mid-September to mid-November, these trees flower in places like Hadramawt, Hajjah, Ibb, Dhamar, Taiz, Amran, and Saada. When the season arrives, it shapes the entire calendar of the beekeepers.
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Hives are moved at night so every bee returns home before travelling
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Trucks cross unpaved, flood-scarred roads under rain and darkness
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Beekeepers sleep next to their hives, guarding them from hornets, snakes, and theft
During this brief window, the bees work with incredible intensity, as if they sense that their time is limited. They collect nectar from Sidr blossoms from dawn to dusk, filling the combs with what will become Yemeni Sidr honey – a thick, aromatic honey that can sell for premium prices worldwide.
Once the flowers fall and the trees begin fruiting, the Sidr harvest ends. Beekeepers then move their hives again to greener areas, giving the bees time to recover and multiply until the next cycle.
A Honey Under Threat
Despite its beauty and heritage, Yemeni Sidr honey is increasingly difficult to produce.
Beekeepers today face a storm of overlapping challenges:
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Pesticides: Uncoordinated spraying campaigns have killed entire colonies in a single night. Some beekeepers report losing up to a quarter of their hives after chemical sprays intended for malaria control.
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Deforestation: Live Sidr trees are cut down for firewood and charcoal as families struggle to survive Yemen’s economic collapse. Forests shrink faster than they can regrow.
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Climate change: Floods, droughts, extreme heat, and unpredictable rain patterns disrupt flowering seasons, wash away hives, and reduce pasture for bees.
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Conflict and insecurity: Roads are unsafe, fuel is expensive, and some areas are cut off completely. Migratory routes that once felt routine are now filled with risk.
The result is a craft that demands more work, more danger, and more sacrifice each year.
More Than an Industry – A Living Heritage
Yemen’s honey trade is worth hundreds of millions of dollars, employing well over 100,000 beekeepers. But for many families, beekeeping is not just business – it is legacy.
Beekeepers like Ahmed bin Bakr in Wadi Al-Ain speak of the craft as something inherited, not simply chosen. It holds memories of childhood, family, and community. In the past, when harvests were plentiful, honey was shared generously with neighbours and relatives, strengthening social bonds and symbolising hospitality and blessing.
Honey itself is woven deeply into Yemeni life:
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Eaten for breakfast, especially in winter
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Given to women after childbirth for strength and recovery
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Used as a natural medicine for stomach issues, wounds, energy, and immunity
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Respected through Qur’anic verses and Prophetic traditions that speak of its healing qualities
As economic hardship pushes more young people into beekeeping for survival, there is a real risk that this once generous, culture-rich craft becomes over-commercialised and environmentally strained. Too many hives, not enough trees, and increasing pressure on a fragile ecosystem.
Sidr Honey as Cultural Memory
To speak of Sidr honey is to speak of Yemen itself — not only as a place of conflict, but as a home of:
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Ancient skills
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Deep ecological knowledge
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Creative, resilient people
Families who refuse to abandon their hives despite war. Young beekeepers who patrol fields with slingshots, protecting bees from hornets. Artists and thinkers in the diaspora who search for new ways to preserve Yemeni culture beyond the narrow lens of news headlines.
Every spoon of authentic Yemeni Sidr honey is a concentrate of all of this:
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The desert and mountain landscapes
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The Sidr forests that still stand
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The nomadic journeys of Tazeeb
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The risk and patience of beekeepers
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The memory of a country that is far more than its struggles
Why This Honey Matters
In a world of mass-produced, blended, and sugar-mixed honeys, true Yemeni Sidr honey is something rare:
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It comes from a specific tree, in a specific land, in a very specific time window.
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It is produced by small beekeepers who move with the seasons, not by factories.
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Its survival depends on healthy ecosystems, living trees, and local knowledge.
Choosing real Sidr honey is not just about enjoying an incredible flavour or benefiting from natural medicinal properties. It is also a quiet act of support for:
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Yemeni beekeepers and their families
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The preservation of Sidr forests
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A craft that has been practiced since at least the tenth century BC
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A culture that deserves to be known for its beauty, skill, and resilience
A Spoonful of Story
When you taste genuine Yemeni Sidr honey, you’re not just tasting sweetness.
You’re tasting:
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Night drives across muddy mountain roads
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Migratory hives under star-filled skies
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Generations of hands lifting wooden frames heavy with golden comb
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A land fighting to protect both its nature and its identity
It is, quite literally, history in a jar — and one of the last living links between Yemen’s fragile environment, its ancient traditions, and its future.
