A Story of Grapes, Grace, and Gaza

[Eva Libre]

A Story of Grapes, Grace, and Gaza 

Yesterday, my family managed to do something simple—but in Gaza today, it felt extraordinary: we gave away grapes.

We had found them at a small farm near the sea. These grapes cost nearly $30 per kilo—an unthinkable price, especially when we can’t even find flour or rice to buy, let alone distribute. But we gave what we could find. And we chose to buy from a local farmer—part of Gaza’s shrinking agricultural community, still holding on under bombardment, blockade, and hunger. Supporting them matters too.

When we brought the grapes to a makeshift camp, a young man came forward to help my mom carry the boxes. He wasn’t the organizer—just a kind soul, one of so many youth in Gaza doing what they can. As he helped, he looked at the grapes with quiet wonder. You could see the longing in his eyes. He hadn’t had grapes in months—maybe even longer.

In our culture, when someone loves something—or their eyes reveal a desire—you give it to them. You don’t let them walk away with that want sitting in their heart. It’s a sacred rule.

So when he shyly reached in and took a few grapes, my mom smiled and told him, “Take the whole box. It’s okay.”

Just then, the camp organizer stepped in—not out of cruelty, but concern. They’re under pressure too. Organizers at these camps often try to manage chaos with very little, and sometimes they get it wrong. He was worried the grapes wouldn’t be fairly distributed, that someone else might miss out. But my mom stood her ground and gently said, “What’s the problem? He wants some grapes. Let him have them.”

And he did.
That young man got his grapes.  

I wish we had more to give. I wish it weren’t grapes we were fighting over—but flour, rice, clean water, dignity. I wish every hand in Gaza could reach for food without guilt or fear. But we give what we can. Because even now—especially now—grace still matters.

And so does every single grape.

Hani Almadhoun
www.gazasoupkitchen.org