The day I was stoned in public happened to be my birthday.
I was walking along a quiet side street, close to the parliament building in Yemen's capital, Sanaa.
I was alone, but I did not think twice when a battered old pick-up truck drove towards me.
It was just like hundreds of other pick-up trucks that I saw every day in Yemen. There were two tribesmen in the driver's cabin and a handful of young men standing in the flat-bed, holding onto the side rails to keep upright.