Community Health Articles

Weaponizing Food vs. Wasting It

June, 2024

Sondos Al Sad

“He is not a believer whose stomach is filled while his neighbor goes hungry”

Prophet Muhammad PBUH

In our world of abundance and scarcity, who would have thought that food could be a double-edged sword sharply injuring our moral existence? On edge is weaponizing food as a means of control and coercion, and the silent yet equally damaging food waste and hate on the other. Both practices reveal deep-seated issues in our global systems and call for urgent introspection and action.

Weaponizing food is not new, yet it should not ever be normalized or acceptable.

We are witnessing atrocious war crimes recruiting siege tactics by cutting off food supplies to starving populations in Gaza, Sudan, and Congo. Even in so-called “modern countries”, food embargoes and sanctions are employed as political strategies;  undermining the autonomy and dignity of entire populations. This practice exploits the basic human need for sustenance and cuts deep into its soul with longstanding trauma to heal through generations to follow. It is cruel that the blessing meant to provide life and hope can be twisted into a means of control.

When our way of life lost touch with morality, our relationship with food became a battle between waste and restriction.

On the flip side, the dysfunctional relationship with food and its waste is an equally devastating ailment. According to the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), approximately one-third of all food produced for human consumption is wasted annually. This wastage occurs at every stage of the food supply chain, from production to consumption.

In developed countries, food waste often happens at the consumer level. Perfectly edible food is discarded due to aesthetic standards or simply because it is surplus to requirements. In developing countries, the lack of adequate storage and transportation infrastructure leads to significant losses. The environmental impact of this waste is profound, contributing to unnecessary greenhouse gas emissions and the depletion of resources used in food production.

On our screen today, we see the contrasting imagery of both children starved to death in Gaza and The Food Waste Story.

As individuals, we must influence these issues through our choices and actions. By being mindful of our consumption, fighting radical regimes and oppression, advocating for food justice, and supporting initiatives that promote food security and reduce waste, we can contribute to global healing and a sustainable world.

Use every platform you have efficiently, we are meant to develop humans not grow bellies and power!

Generational insight towards healing

Ons Mustafa & Sondos Al Sad

“It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,’ says the White Queen to Alice.”

 Lewis Carroll

While I work diligently on identifying healing tools and introducing them to communities I work with, I am fully aware of my own journey towards it as a wounded healer.

My precious one shared her well-crafted poem “My mother’s daughter”. Her words have an empowering insight towards generational heritage of pains and gains. I hope that sharing it with you brings awareness to what healthcare workers and community advocates may be going through. To all wounded healers out there, your families are dealing with it:

I am my mother’s daughter, bound by blood,

A complex tale of love and strife

I look up to her, her strength and her grace,

But as we grow, our paths diverge, a separate space.

In my eyes, she’s a towering figure of might,

I yearn to emulate her, to shine in her light,

I want to make her proud, to walk in her shoes,

But within our similarities, conflict brews.

We clash and argue, like fire against ice,

Our differences mounting, we pay the price,

Her expectations weigh heavy on my soul,

While I long to break free, to forge my own role.

In her presence, I feel both warmth and disdain,

A mingling of love and lingering pain,

For the traits we share, both beauty and strife,

Remind me of a past that cuts like a knife.

I am my mother’s daughter, I can’t deny,

But as I grow, our paths seem to imply,

That the pain she caused, I must now transcend,

To find my own truth, to truly comprehend.

The mirror reflects her face, etched in my own,

A constant reminder of the seeds she’s sown,

I’m disgusted with myself, for the pain we’ve endured,

Yet I can’t escape the love, so deep, so obscured.

In this hectic dance, a bond remains,

A love-hate relationship, forever ingrained,

I strive for understanding, a bridge to mend,

The fragments of a bond that may never fully blend.

I am my mother’s daughter, a bittersweet truth,

A tale of contradictions, an unyielding booth,

And though our journey may be wrought with strife,

I’ll embrace my own path, navigate this life.

For deep within, beneath the layers of pain,

A seed of love persists, a flickering flame,

I’ll learn from her triumphs, her mistakes I’ll unroll,

As I grow into myself, a story yet told.

I am my mother’s daughter, this fact won’t sway,

With wounds and lessons, we’ll continue to grow,

A tapestry of love and hate, intertwined, and so,

I am my mother’s daughter, forever entwined,

A complex bond, with both heartache and kind,

In our differences and similarities, I’ll find my way,

For I am my mother’s daughter, come what may.