Dilapidated hospital corridors and the faint rumble of bombs being dropped — this was the backdrop as Palestinian food blogger Hamada Shaqoura, known affectionately as Hamada Sho, awaited the birth of his son, Nizar. What was once a life defined by joy through cooking, tasting, and sharing Gaza’s vibrant food culture turned into a fight for nourishment after October 7, 2023, when Israel launched a wide-scale military assault on the region.
Amid the devastation, Shaqoura began cooking hope where there was none, becoming a fragile lifeline for Gaza’s kids. He shared videos on his Instagram account of him making meals from rations, creating joy at a time when there was little joy to be found. Now, that lifeline is fraying. In an essay for TIME Magazine, he reflected on his journey and explained why he can no longer feed the children of Gaza.
Once his home and culinary studio lay in ruins, Shaqoura found himself among displaced families in Khan Younis’ tent camps. Rations from humanitarian organisations offered survival, not actual sustenance. “In those early weeks, I began cooking only for my family,” he wrote. “But I could not ignore the children around me. They were surviving on whatever kept them alive… I remembered how much food had once meant to me and how it had always been a source of joy and connection. I wanted these children to feel that again, even in the middle of war.”
So he began cooking small, flavour-driven meals, experimenting with the limited ingredients available. “At first, the portions were tiny, but the reactions from the children changed everything. They would take a hesitant first bite, their faces still heavy with the trauma of war, and then break into smiles. They started asking for seconds, and sometimes they would ask when I would return with more.”
Parents, moved to tears, told him these meals sparked the first smiles they’d seen in weeks. His mission grew with support from local groups and his small gesture turned into hundreds of meals prepared with care and purpose.
“As demand grew, it became clear I could not do this alone. I reached out to local organisations that were already helping displaced families. With their support, I was able to secure larger quantities of ingredients and space to cook for hundreds of children at a time,” explained Shaqoura.
But soon, the ingredients disappeared. Flour prices soared; a single bag cost as much as $1,000. Aid deliveries became almost nonexistent and cooking became impossible. Shaqoura transitioned to distributing clean water, the only vital resource still within reach.
“The most painful part was the children. They would still come to me hoping for a meal or a treat. I remember once going to a camp to distribute food and a boy came up to me holding a small medal with the Palestinian flag on it. He told me that he followed all my videos and was sure I would visit his camp one day, so he made this gift for me. Moments like that gave me strength but also broke my heart because I could see the hunger in their faces.”
His heartbreak mirrors the collective tragedy that is unfolding in Gaza today. The area is now gripped by what global authorities warn is not a looming famine, but an active, orchestrated catastrophe.
The WHO described Gaza’s situation as “man-made mass starvation,” citing soaring malnutrition and constrained aid access. In July alone, over 5,100 children were admitted to malnutrition programmes, including 800 critically ill. As of this month, 197 deaths, including that of 96 children, have been attributed to hunger. At the root of this is the Israeli blockade that has decimated agriculture. Only 1.5 per cent of Gaza’s cropland remains intact, with 86pc damaged. Almost all food must now be imported, and imports are severely restricted by the Israelis.
When bombing resumed after the tenuous ceasefire, Shaqoura’s wife was pregnant again. “I wanted her to be somewhere clean and safe — far from the heat, dust, and diseases spreading through the camps,” he wrote.
But the situation kept getting worse. There was no clean water and barely any food. Diapers and baby formula for Shaqour’s son became impossible to find. Even when they were found, they’d be sold at impossible prices. And when relatives abroad tried to help, the money would lose half its value before he and his wife could even touch it. “To get $50 in cash, we had to send someone $100 through the Bank of Palestine mobile banking app. Every part of survival became a tradeoff and a struggle.”
Shaqoura tried to keep cooking simple things when he could. He baked what he could afford it and shared when possible. But eventually, even that stopped. “I no longer had access to any ingredients. I began helping distribute clean drinking water because that was all I could still do. People would see me on the street and ask when I would cook again. They told me they were hungry. But then they would pause and look at me and say, ‘You look so thin. You lost weight too.’ That hurt,” he wrote.
The Integrated Food Security Phase Classification has warned that nearly the entire population of Gaza faces acute food insecurity. Acute malnutrition has soared and child malnutrition has quadrupled in just two months, reaching 16.5pc with many deaths arriving on hospital doorsteps.
“What is happening in Gaza today is bigger than my personal story. Hunger has become a weapon. Entire neighbourhoods are living on scraps or going whole days without eating. Children are fainting in overcrowded shelters because they have no food. Parents are skipping meals so their children can eat a little more. People are boiling weeds and animal feed to stay alive,” wrote Shaqoura.
“The mental toll is as heavy as the physical one … Cooking for children was never only about filling their stomachs. It was about giving them dignity and a small moment of joy …. In recent weeks, I have spent most of my time helping distribute clean drinking water because it is the only thing I can still do. The children I used to cook for still come to me asking when I will make food again and it breaks my heart to tell them I cannot. But I hold on to the hope that one day soon I will be able to cook for them again and see their faces light up the way they used to.”
Shaqoura can no longer feed Gaza’s children. He is not failing these children — the international community is. Gaza’s famine is not the result of a natural disaster or a sudden crop failure, but of calculated policies, the Israeli blockade limiting food, medicine, and fuel supply, the repeated targeting of farmland and infrastructure, and the global powers that enable this siege with arms, aid restrictions, or silence. Every empty plate in Gaza is the product of choices made far beyond its borders, choices that have turned hunger into a weapon of war.
A UN expert condemned Israel’s blockade as deliberate starvation, genocide, and crime against humanity. In this landscape of unrelenting suffering, Shaqoura’s simple act of cooking a meal for a child was revolutionary. It was tenderness in the face of dehumanisation, a reminder that each child matters.
He vows to return to the kitchen one day. He still believes small acts hold immense power. And he hopes “the world does not look away from Gaza’s children.”