For Ameera Khamees Alassi, the day begins at the break of dawn. By 6 a.m., she is up and ready to scour the few remaining local farms and markets for vegetables, grains, and other essentials.
When bombing displaced Ameera from her home in Rafah, Gaza, in May 2024, she joined a throng of thousands seeking refuge in nearby Khan Younis. This is where she lives today, in an improvised settlement made up of tents and whatever other materials people could find to build shelter.
"The basics of life are hard to have during times of war and fear," explains the 35-year-old mother of three. And that includes food. Nearly a year into the war, with much of Gaza’s farmland destroyed and aid deliveries having nearly ground to a halt, many families struggle to find or afford food, as well as the fuel to prepare it.
Ameera understood quickly that strength lay in pooling resources and building community. And thus, their community kitchen was born. Once a farmer herself, these days she dedicates her life to ensuring her neighbours receive at least one nutritious meal a day.
"We want to – and do – offer good food at a low cost, but high quality, even when the wood and resource prices skyrocket,” she says. “We offer the food with joy and happiness."
The community kitchen, which is a lifeline for many, thrives on flexibility and resourcefulness. Supported by contributions from organizations like the Union of Agricultural Work Committees, relief funds, and the volunteers themselves, it exemplifies the power of adaptability. The volunteers adapt to whatever they can gather, be it through donations, the sparse yields of local farmers, or whatever the market offers.
"It is all circumstantial”, she says, “based on whatever raw resources and financial support we can find”.
In a well-coordinated effort, half the volunteers focus on baking bread, while the others prepare the main dishes. By late morning, they start the rounds of distribution.
These meals are not just sustenance – they are a symbol of solidarity and care for almost 1 500 displaced people who rely on the kitchen while living here and in neighboring refugee camps, many of them children.
It’s for them and her own children – whose laughter she returns to at night – that she keeps up the tireless work, providing some stability amidst chaos and keeping the community intact for the future.
“The ability to ensure my neighbours' children, my relatives' children and the children of all my people are not sleeping hungry brings me the most honorable happiness,” she says.
