The Electronic Intifada 31 October 2024
A Palestinian child trying to survive the Gaza genocide sits alongside recently distributed food in Deir al-Balah on 25 October.
APA images / PolarisWe all hold on to special dates that remain etched in our memories – a loved one’s birthday, a success story or a wedding anniversary. One unforgettable date for me, 3 September 2024, marks the day my children, 3-year-old Abdul Kareem and 5-year-old Yumna, saw potatoes for the first time in over 11 months.
On this day, an organization distributed food parcels containing fruits and vegetables to several families as malnourishment and extreme hunger grip Gaza. Unfortunately, we weren’t among the recipients. But our neighbors, despite their large family size and the limited contents of the parcel, insisted on sharing with us.
Their selflessness, especially in such dire circumstances, was one of the finest examples of generosity I’ve witnessed. We received three small potatoes, a head of garlic and two onions. We were immensely grateful for this small treasure.
When Abdul Kareem saw the potatoes, once his favorite food, he hesitated to name them. Could he have forgotten? Then, he asked me with innocent curiosity: “Where have these potatoes been? How do they just disappear and suddenly reappear?” I didn’t know how to answer his questions, which reflected both his innocence and the harsh reality he’s facing.
We prepared the long-awaited meal of potatoes, rationing the food so that each person received two small pieces to make it stretch for everyone. I gave up my portion for my son, but, even so, the quantity was too meager for him. He began to cry, asking for more. I tried to buy some potatoes, only to be shocked that a single potato now costs around 28 dollars – an impossible expense in these challenging times.
Two days later, while browsing social media, I stumbled upon a page run by a young woman from northern Gaza, who, like us, is enduring the same famine. She creatively came up with recipes using whatever canned goods and simple ingredients were available.
One video caught my eye: a recipe titled “Fake Potatoes.” I laughed at the name – how could potatoes be fake? But curiosity got the best of me, and I watched.
The woman opened a can of chickpeas, mixed them with flour and flattened the dough. She then cut the dough into potato-like pieces and fried them.
Immediately, I decided to try this recipe, praying that my children would enjoy it.
When I finished preparing the food, the meal looked strikingly similar to real potatoes. I served it to my children; their joy was indescribable as they devoured the large plate of “potatoes.” Abdul Kareem looked up at me and asked, “Is all of this for me?” I smiled and said, “Yes.”
They ate heartily and enjoyed it so much that they seemed to have forgotten the taste of real potatoes.
After they finished, I promised them that I would make “potatoes” for them every day. They laughed and asked, “How will you get potatoes every day?” Our children, far too early in life, have learned harsh lessons, lessons they should never have to know – like this devastating famine we live through.
Tomorrow I will attempt the “Fake Cheese” recipe. Until God blesses us with the end of this war and the return of the real things we’ve missed so much, I will continue to craft these “fake” creations that bring a little joy to our lives.
Nour Abu Dan is a writer in Gaza.
