El -Bireh, occupying the West Bank – In a modest hotel in Ramallah, nearly 100 Palestinians moved from Gaza, most of them receiving medical treatment, silently wait Iftar. They are seated on plastic chairs around long tables, were bathed in the golden light of the sunset.
They wear loss stories. Some people look at crutches, missing members. Parents watch over sick children, exhaustion engraved in their face.
Ahmed Abu al-Am and his volunteers move quickly, distributing meals.
A handful of volunteers unloaded platforms and food boxes from two vehicles which had just arrived from the kitchen, about 15 minutes.
Abu al-Am has managed the community cuisine Sidi Shayban since 2002, serving Iftar each Ramadan.
As he spends meals in the hotel, he worries, there is not enough food. “We do what we can,” he says. “But each donor has his own priorities. We can only distribute what we are given. ”
Among the displaced, Haya Nahal, 36, arrived in Ramallah with her daughter, Raghd, two months before the war. RAGHD, 11, has a neurological disorder and Haya had to leave her husband and son behind to visit Ramallah for the treatment of RAGHD.
“I haven’t been able to come back since,” she says, her heavy voice of desire. “Regardless of the difficulty of life at home, nothing replaces belonging. We will be home here, and people with good heart help, but it’s not at home.”
Next to her is sitting Laila, a woman aged Gaza. She arrived at the Augusta Victoria Hospital in Jerusalem-Est occupied with her granddaughter, Amira, who had cancer. “We arrived six months before the war,” says Laila. “No immediate family of Amira was allowed to accompany him, so I came instead.”
On November 13, Amira died at the age of nine. Laila remains blocked, unable to go home.
She hugs a white handkerchief. “I have been here for almost two years. I miss Gaza. “
As Iftar begins, the room calm down and people take their first bites, whispering prayers of gratitude. Abu al-Am and his team look at, ensuring that everyone is served. They are always the last to break their fasting.
Back in the kitchen
On the other side of the living room and balcony of his apartment in El-Bireh, Abu al-Am, 43, quickly moves between the bubbling jars.
The space no longer looks like a house – the sofas and carpets have long been replaced by heavy stoves, their flames fed in wood licking the bases of massive cauldrons.
While Al-Al-Am raises each cover, clouds of spicy steam elevation, filling the air with the smell of slow cooked meat, onions and scented rice. The aroma drifts in the street, attracting curious passers -by.
In fortune cuisine, volunteers stir, chop and season with the efficiency practiced. Food arrives, and it is still time before Maghrib, when the sunset call to prayer will signal the end of the day of the day.
Soon, the first visitors will flow – some to sit and eat, others to collect meals to bring home.
Today’s menu is QUDRA, a Palestinian dish of scented rice cooked with chickpeas, garlic and lamb cooked slowly. The meal is simmering on a solid wood oven, while a separate gas oven roasted chicken trays for variety.
Nearby, the long tables are lined with containers, ready to be filled and distributed.
For Abu al-Am, this routine is second nature.
“The idea of the kitchen came during the second intifada,” said Abu al-Am, tightening a chickpea to test if it is cooked. “The Israeli seat in the West Bank has left many families in difficulty, and we had to do something to help.”
The initiative has developed since the end of the second intifada in the mid -2000s and adapted to the needs of the community.
It was not until 2015, when he gained ground on social networks, that the kitchen took its current name – a tribute to the historic district where a wali, or Saint, which would have traveled from the Maghreb, fought alongside Saladin against the Crusades and which was finally deposited at rest here.
Since then, pandemics, occupation and economic difficulties have passed. A few years, volunteers welcomed Iftars to Jerusalem-East and Gaza; In others, they focused on the distribution of take -out meals.
Public Iftars, known as “Mercy Tables”, are a secular tradition observed in Ramadan in the Muslim world. They bring together communities, promoting generosity and solidarity in the spirit of the sacred month.
This year, in the West Bank, he has occurred in the midst of Israeli violence and invisible escalations since 2002, which have moved more than 40,000 people and have raised annexation concerns. Although El-Bireh was spared trips, he was attacked several times in the months preceding Ramadan.
Meet growing needs
Servant and father of two children, Abu al-Am says that the mission of the kitchen is to touch as many families as possible, whatever the challenges. “We have supported many governors, even Gaza. No one is excluded, “he told Tel Aviv Tribune.
“This is entirely funded by donations,” explains Abu al-Am, who was able to use the house he inherited in a charity center and move elsewhere. “What we offer and how often we offer it depends on what people give.”
From the pandemic, demand has increased. Then came the War of Israel against Gaza and tightened the restrictions in the West Bank, pushing even more families in the difficulties.
“Many of those who had stable income lost everything after the October War,” he said, referring to the war in Gaza. “Israel’s restrictions have prevented Palestinian workers from reaching jobs. Who would support these families? “
Since October 2023, when the war has started, Israel has set up more than 900 road dams in the West Bank, fragmenting the territory and stifling the means of subsistence. The kitchen had trouble working, but Abu al-Am and his team have adapted, coordinating with volunteers from different governors to ensure that supplies reached those who needed it.
Among the volunteers, Shireen, who came for the first time in the kitchen in need itself.
“I have been a single mother for five years. I did not even know that this place existed until they helped me financially for a difficult period, “she said, enveloping meal containers, dressed in her volunteer uniform.
The organizers of the kitchen helped pay for a Shireen room and its children could move in and continue to help it financially thanks to donations they collect.
Without an official degree, Shireen had trouble finding work. “I couldn’t afford rent or school fees for my children,” she recalls. “But thanks to this kitchen, we succeeded. Now the least I can do is restore. I help prepare food and cleanliness, and my children join Abu al-Am to distribute meals, especially during Ramadan. ”
The youngest volunteer is Mustafa, 14. Wearing yogurt boxes and bottled drinks, it quickly moves between stations. “I am here because I am an orphan and I want to make others happy,” he says. “Volunteering changed me. My mother always said to me, “You are too sweet for this kind of work. But I wanted to prove to him – and to myself – that I can do it. »»
This play is published in collaboration with EGAB.
