* Any views expressed in this opinion piece are those of the author and not of Thomson Reuters Foundation.
Food holds a place at the centre of every life. It is embedded in our cultures, our religions and our definition of identity. It is what nourishes us and helps us survive and thrive. And in times of trouble, it is one of the first things to come under threat. People on the move, fleeing natural or man-made crises will inevitably struggle to find the food that they and their families need – and without outside assistance this can become a struggle for life itself.
As the United Nations agency responsible for meeting the food needs of those on the frontlines of hunger, the World Food Programme is in a unique position, engaging with millions across the world – whether refugees or the displaced – on a regular basis. While providing them with food, or the means to buy food in shops and markets, we hear their stories, their hopes and their dreams and this year in Syria and neighbouring countries, we tried to give some of them a platform to speak about their lives through the #IamSyrian campaign.
The result has been a series of stories that are authentic, unedited and from the heart. Some things have surprised us and some have not. Many refugees feel bored and isolated in the camps and communities that are sheltering refugees in Jordan and Lebanon. Most are frustrated that they cannot work, and while some have taken the decision to seek new lives far away in European countries, almost all hope that one day they will be able to return to their homes in Syria.
Ahmed, who managed a furniture showroom in Homs before the war started, told us of the shock he experienced when the fighting became too much and he had to flee to Jordan: “We had gone from living a normal life to living in a tent in the desert.” The stress and strain of his circumstances may have contributed to the heart attack Ahmed suffered and the panic attacks that his daughter, Zeina experienced. But life for Ahmed has settled into more of a routine now. The cash the family receives on a WFP e-card allows them to buy and cook food with familiar ingredients, and Zeina gets free WFP meals at school.
“I tell my daughter that her weapon is her study,” Ahmed says, “That must be her focus now.”
Ahmed’s experience finds echoes in the upturned lives of others. Many, like Jamal, carried tokens of their former life when they fled Syria. For Jamal, it was the hammer he used in his work as a carpenter, while Ziad brought his “rababa,” a Syrian string instrument that he plays while composing poems.
But alongside these tangible objects it was also the untangible memories, and most inevitably, those associated food that connected people back to Syria. The conversations we had with refugees about the food they missed most, almost always opened a door to deeper memories built around the ingredients, flavours and smells of meals they once ate with family and friends at a time when their country was still at peace.
Syrians like Badreya, who fled the town of Ar-Raqqa in northern Syria after it became – as she describes it – “a hell on earth,” cherished memories of a particular meal that represented life before war. For her, the enduring memory of the life she left behind is the family meals that she cooked with her mother-in law, and a particular dish called “Asheh,” a Syrian sausage made with rice and spiced meat, which is eaten on special occasions. Those days with a strong religious significance like Eid, or Fridays, when she would make Asheh with her mother-in-law are now long-gone and Badreya is left to contemplate a new, bleak life in a makeshift refugee camp in the Bekaa Valley in Lebanon where winter will soon be drawing in.
News reports over the summer told the story of the Syrian family that was brought to Italy by the Pope after his visit to the Greek island of Lesbos where refugees were arriving by boat. Amongst the belongings they salvaged from their shattered life in Syria was a falafel mould, carried with them on their journey from Syria to Italy “to remember.” Not photos, not jewellery, not anything of any real, intrinsic value, but simply a falafel mould that would allow the family to continue to make the food that is most familiar to them from the life they left behind.
The conversations captured through the #IamSyrian campaign underline the importance of food at the centre of life and its value beyond its nutritional and calorific inputs in the lives of those we assist all over the world. What is true for Syrians, is also true for South Sudanese, Somalis, Afghans and millions of others all over the world, and this should be recognised when the issues around refugees take centre stage at the United Nations General Assembly in New York this week.
Greg Barrow is the Head of the London Office of the United Nations World Food Programme and worked with teams at WFP headquarters in Rome and the Middle East to bring the #IamSyrian campaign to life.
