Three years on, Sudan’s community kitchens are collapsing under war and hunger

With nearly half now closed, the grassroots Takaaya system that replaced formal aid is buckling under rising costs and global neglect.

By Zeynep Conkar
File photo: The bureaucratic compliance costs of global aid are themselves a barrier, designed for large NGOs rather than volunteer-run kitchens. / Reuters

Nearly half of Sudan’s grassroots community kitchens, the last line of defence against starvation for millions, have shut down over the past six months, according to a new report by a humanitarian agency.

The findings come as the civil war in Sudan reaches its third year, a grim milestone for a crisis that has largely faded from international headlines, even as its human cost continues to rise, international funding dwindles, and the cost of feeding the hungry more than doubles. 

Islamic Relief Worldwide says in the report that the collapse in funding and access is pushing already overstretched aid efforts to the brink.

The Takaaya, volunteer-run kitchens embedded in neighbourhoods across Sudan, have sustained an estimated 21.2 million acutely food-insecure people for nearly three years of devastating conflict.

Now, 354 of 844 surveyed kitchens across seven locations have shut down, with all kitchens in Sennar and 86 percent in Port Sudan no longer operating.

The best way to stop famine from spreading is to end the war, but until then, these community kitchens are the only thing keeping many people alive, according to Alun McDonald, Head of External Relations at Islamic Relief Worldwide.

“If international inaction means that more shut down then we will rapidly see famine spread further and more young children will die,” McDonald tells TRT World.

“The Sudanese people didn’t want this war but they’re paying its price.”

Attempts to bring an end to the conflict between Sudanese army and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces (RSF), which erupted in April 2023, have so far failed.

The RSF has been linked to atrocities in Darfur that the United Nations says could constitute genocide.

In North Darfur, a recent nutrition survey found that more than half of the children screened showed signs of acute malnutrition, with rates among the highest recorded anywhere in the world.

Sudan's $4.2 billion Humanitarian Response Plan was less than 40 percent funded in 2025, a sharp decline from 70 percent the previous year. 

Global humanitarian funding last year reached a decade-low. For a war that has produced one of the worst food emergencies on earth, the international response has been, by any measure, inadequate.

"The community kitchens that are still open are running on fumes," says Rayan, a volunteer from Shambat. 

"The people who built them and who run them have given everything they have. They need external support now, not in six months' time."

Feeding on goodwill

The Takaaya was never intended to be a substitute for international humanitarian architecture. 

They were born out of the Sudanese tradition of nafeer, which means collective community solidarity. 

Ordinary citizens, many of whom were themselves displaced or struggling, stepped forward to cook for their neighbours.

Three years on, those same citizens are exhausted. 

Diaspora donors, the kitchens' primary funding source, are sending money to support relatives while also trying to keep kitchens open. 

“Many volunteers haven’t had a day off in three years. They’re displaced and grieving and worried about their own families at the same time as cooking meals for others,” McDonald says.

“Others face violence, arrest and intimidation,” he adds.

Inflation and currency collapse have more than doubled the cost of a single meal, from roughly $4.70 to $11.05.

Supply chains have fractured, forcing traders onto longer routes through Chad after key roads became inaccessible.

"Before, we had variety: lentils, vegetables, beans. Now it is usually just one type of food. We are feeding people, but not feeding them well," says Volunteer Ezaldeen, 65, from Khartoum, describing what rationing looks like from inside a kitchen.

He adds that at least five people in his community have died from hunger-related illness, people he believes might still be alive if the kitchen had been better resourced.

The volunteers themselves are not spared the famine. Some have reduced their own rations to ensure others eat. None receives salaries, psychosocial support, or security provisions. 

Burnout, the report warns, is now a systemic risk to the whole network.

First and foremost community kitchens need funding to keep them open. Many of the kitchens we spoke to simply can’t afford the rising cost of food and fuel, yet more people than ever are coming to their doors,” McDonald tells TRT World. 

Also, the quantity of funding is not the only problem, according to McDonald.

“Many donors have onerous application and reporting processes even for small grants, which local volunteers who are already working around the clock don’t have the capacity or experience to navigate.”

Who bears responsibility?

In areas of active conflict, where international aid organisations cannot operate, community kitchens have stayed open precisely because the need is undeniable. 

It is in areas deemed "relatively stable," like Port Sudan, where funding has failed to keep pace with reality and kitchens have shut at the highest rates.

The bureaucratic compliance costs of international aid, the report notes, are themselves a barrier, designed for large NGOs rather than volunteer-run kitchens operating on goodwill and diaspora transfers.

Many kitchens and other local response groups are run by volunteers,” McDonald says.

“Only a tiny percentage of global humanitarian funding goes to local groups who are on the frontlines. We need international governments to show the same spirit of humanity that we see in these kitchens, and provide them with more support so they can stay open.”