When they cook the fish, says Mohammad, it’s like they’re telling the world:
there’s still a heartbeat in me… and there’s still life in the sea.
But even this simple form of life is now under threat.
Just days ago, Israeli warplanes targeted a boat only a few miles off the coast. There were no weapons aboard—just rusted nets, bottles of water, and suspended dreams. Two fishermen were killed: one was Mohammad’s cousin, and the other was preparing for his wedding.
“They just wanted to bring home some fish for dinner,” Mohammad says, his eyes fixed on the sea.
Despite the blood and ashes, Gazans don’t stop lighting fires, even if they burn pieces of broken furniture for fuel. In a partially destroyed home in Deir al-Balah, Umm Alaa lays out pieces of fish on a metal tray, drying them in the sun to preserve them as long as possible.
“We don’t have a freezer to keep anything,” she says. “We’re just trying to survive.”
Fish in the Markets… and the Hearts
In the Nuseirat market, once bustling with the voices of vendors, the sidewalks are nearly empty. But when word spreads that a boat has made it back, people run through narrow alleys as if chasing life itself. Women gather around a small basket of sardines, sharing it on credit or through bartering: an egg for a fish, a piece of bread for a mullet head.
Even those with nothing simply breathe in the aroma—hoping it reminds them of what once was… or what could be again.
The Child Who Wrote a Soup Recipe
On the wall of a school-turned-shelter in Nuseirat, a child wrote with chalk:
“My mom made fish soup… it was the best thing after our house exploded.”
This child, who lost everything, still celebrates a bowl of soup as if it were a holiday. In a time of famine, the simplest dish becomes a story of heroism. In Gaza, every meal that survives is a small triumph against a plan of annihilation.
Sea Salt… and the Salt of Memory
Sarah, a university student who lost her father and brother, says:
“We used to go to the sea for fun. Now, we cook from it… like it became our father.”
Sarah prepares the fish soup recipe from her mother’s memory, writing it down in a notebook—partially burned in an airstrike. She wants to preserve it, “so after the war, we can cook it again with laughter, not tears.”
To the World…
Gaza’s fish soup comes from the depths of the sea, passes through fire and death, and reaches the tables of the displaced as a message. It’s not just food—it’s a story of dignity. In every spoonful, there’s a taste of survival. In every breath of steam, a voice whispers:
“We are here… We live, we love, and we cook… despite everything.”
Alaa Alburai, Kufi Productions
