Kitchens of solidarity

The numbers rise every day: more families displaced, more people sleeping in schools, mosques, cars and crowded apartments across Lebanon. The community kitchens throughout the country operate with an increasing number of volunteers who prepare meals for their daily food distribution activities.

In Beirut kitchens, volunteers work quickly to prepare food for shelter delivery. They move between cutting boards and steaming pots to create trays of rice and soup. Some volunteers know each other. Most don’t, yet within minutes, they move like a team that has worked together for years.

Many of these kitchens emerged from earlier crises, the Beirut port explosion, the economic collapse and the pandemic. With the current war driving waves of displacement, they have once again become essential.

Filling the gaps

At Nation Station’s community kitchen, what began as a small volunteer effort has grown into a major food distribution operation. “We gathered here different people that didn’t know each other and started helping people right after the August 2020 explosion,” said operations manager Jenitta Hebbo. “Since then we’ve kept operating.”

On ordinary weeks, the organization distributes around 300 meals three times a week to vulnerable residents in Beirut’s Ashrafieh area. “Now we’re distributing around 1,700 meals a day,” Hebbo said. “And it’s increasing daily.”

Every morning, the team coordinates with Lebanon’s food security sector to identify shelters missing food deliveries. A whiteboard fills with locations and meal counts. Nonetheless, the official lists do not tell the whole story. “There are a lot of people that are not receiving help,” Hebbo said quietly. “If someone comes in and asks for food, of course we give it.”

Across Beirut, similar kitchens are working through the same demand. At Ahla Fawda’s community hub in Hamra, founder Imane Assaf oversees a relief kitchen preparing iftar meals for around 2,000 people during Ramadan. Although, many of the people seeking help are not in registered shelters at all. “We receive families who are displaced and staying in cars or parking lots,” Assaf said. “They come to the center for clothes, hygiene products, or food they can cook.”

A room full of strangers

The people behind the meals rarely look like a typical team: students, professionals, longtime residents, expats and newcomers working together.  At Nation Station, around 40 to 50 volunteers can rotate through the kitchen during emergencies.

Among them is Ahmad Jomaa, who has been volunteering since the port explosion in August 2020. “The first time we came was after the Beirut blast,” he said. “And we come again whenever there’s a crisis.” His role changes constantly based on the kitchen's needs. “It’s improvisation,” he explained with a small laugh. “Wherever there’s a gap, you cover it. Preparing food, filling containers, helping with deliveries, everything.”

What keeps him returning is not only the work. “The space here, the community, the people, the work we’re doing, it creates a very nice space,” he said. “Especially during a crisis like this.”

In other words, it gives people something to do other than sit with the news. “Either you watch the news,” Ahmad said, “or you help.”

At Ahla Fawda, Assaf says volunteers arrive from everywhere: universities, local neighborhoods, even among displaced families themselves. “We receive between 20 and 30 volunteers every day,” she said. “From the community, from universities, some who are displaced.” Some chop vegetables, others distribute supplies, while a few entertain children as their parents collect food. “We don’t close the door,” Assaf added. “Even if someone comes and just sits with the community, it’s a plus.”

Food made with dignity

For Maya Terro, founder of FoodBlessed, community kitchens are about more than food. The organization began more than a decade ago as a series of volunteer-run soup kitchens across Lebanon, “With time we realized it wasn’t only about food,” Terro said. “It was about community.” Many of the people coming to the kitchens were elderly or isolated.  “They used to tell us the food is great,” she recalled, “but we don’t come for the food. We come for the company.”

When the port explosion hit, the model expanded into emergency community kitchens cooking hundreds of meals daily. “We don’t just distribute meals,” Terro said. “We make fruits, dessert, water. It’s made with love.”

The kitchens themselves remain powered almost entirely by volunteers. “You don’t need superpowers to help others,” she said. “Usually it’s ordinary people who make the biggest impact.”

Keeping the pots full

Despite the energy inside the kitchens, the biggest challenge remains. Donations fluctuate, ingredients cost extra and more people need food by the hour. Nation Station once reached up to 5,000 meals a day during previous crises. Today, the organization’s capacity depends entirely on how much support it receives. “As much as we have donations, we can increase our numbers,” Hebbo said.

Small contributions can make a real difference. At FoodBlessed, Terro says some of their most meaningful donations come in small amounts. “Someone gave $5 yesterday,” she said. “We are grateful for it.” Helping, she explains, does not always mean giving money.

Her advice is: “donate, volunteer, advocate.”

Even sharing a post online can help direct attention and resources to kitchens that need them, because for many families the next meal is never guaranteed.

Returning to the kitchen, the volunteers start to stack boxes by the door. Cars will soon arrive to transport them across different parts of the city. Soup, rice, salad, simple meals prepared by dozens of hands are ready for whoever is still waiting.