In a recent famine, the price of a sack of flour exceeded $1,500, until even a single kilogram became a dream worth more than $40.
Back then, the smell of bread was an illusion, and a handful of flour was worth more than a manās lifetime.
Today, along a side road, sacks of flour are piled up, priced at no more than fifteen dollars each.
A cruel ironyā¦ a scandal beyond words.
How many were martyred while running just to eat?
How many little girls fell asleep orphaned, waiting for a father who returned as a handful of remains?
How many young men were devoured by dogs at the traps of death?
Flour is still expensiveā¦
Not in price, but in the lives paid for it.
And the question continues to haunt us with heavy fear:
Do we store foodā¦ so we wonāt starve again?
My children always say to me:
āMom, buy us a lot of food. Store itā¦ so we wonāt starve again.ā
What am I supposed to tell them,
when even now Iām trying to gather donations just to afford todayās food?
The market is full of food, but everything has become expensive,
and donations are scarceā¦ not enough for todayās meal, nor for peace of mind tomorrow.
And the question keeps chasing us with painful fear:
Do we store foodā¦
or do we simply try to survive this day?
Away from New Yearās,
others strive to bring joy to their families, filling their homes with food and warmth.
But we struggle just to get a single mealā¦
wishing they would try to bring us happiness, even once, by saving us from hunger.