Life Between Gates: Food in the Missions

Food in the missions is more than just nourishment — it is survival, comfort, and culture all at once. Between the fences and checkpoints, food becomes a daily reminder of where you are and what you left behind. For me, Afghanistan, Iraq, and South Sudan each told a different story through food: scarcity, surprise, and resilience.

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Afghanistan — Four Choices and a Lesson in Adaptation

Afghanistan was my first mission where I experienced food as a kind of quiet anchor in the middle of turbulence. Inside the UNOCA compound, we had four — or perhaps five — choices for food.

• The Social Center: During the day it was a simple restaurant with burgers, pasta, and sandwiches. At night, it transformed into a bar with pool tables, old leather chairs, and garden seating. It was a surprisingly warm place in a gloomy context.
• The Coffee Shop: Tucked between office buildings, it offered limited hot meals but a reliable selection of pastries, coffee, and saffron tea. It was also the social hub — you could run into the same colleague five times in one day.
• The Local Canteen: My Afghan colleagues kindly guided me through its orderly but intimidating process — trays first, then cashier, then buffet, then back to pay. The food was simple: rice, chicken, local bread, vegetables. The memory of that meal is less about taste, more about being included in their world.
• The Pizzeria: A small, surprisingly excellent pizza place, run with care. I remember going there with a colleague from China, both of us laughing over sodas and spice.
• The Mini-Market + Cooking at Home: The fifth option was cooking in my small kitchenette. The shop sold everything from Swiss chocolate to Asian sauces, and cooking at home was a way to create comfort.

Lifehack: Learn the unwritten rules of local canteens early. It saves stress — and wins you goodwill with local colleagues who are just trying to get lunch quickly.

Afghanistan taught me that food was both routine and resistance — a way to create normalcy while the world outside the compound cracked with uncertainty.

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Iraq — Variety, Luxury, and Contrasts

When I first landed in Iraq, I knew little about the country’s cuisine. A short trip to Beirut before deployment had introduced me to Middle Eastern flavors, but Iraqi, Jordanian, and Lebanese colleagues reminded me with a smile: “It’s not the same.”

They were right. Iraq had its own rhythm.

Inside the Green Zone

Food inside the compound was safe but uninspiring:

• A canteen run by Pakistani and Indian cooks, hearty but heavy.
• A pizzeria, offering comfort food when routine meals became too much.
• A branch of Ali Baba Café, famous for its strong coffee and pastries with za’atar.
• And if you were lucky, a kitchenette at home to cook your own meals.

Lifehack: Bring small comforts — spices, sauces, snacks. They make repetitive compound food feel like your own again.

Beyond the Green Zone

Rarely, and only when security allowed, we ventured into the so-called grey areas of Baghdad. There, the city revealed its beauty: antique tea houses, bakeries filled with sweets, modern coffee shops, and streets alive with clothing and accessory shops.

It was outside the gates that I tasted authentic Iraqi kebabs, kibbeh, tabbouleh, and steaks, always ending with dark Iraqi tea and a dessert called Iznud al-Sitt (“woman’s elbow”). Watching the Tigris shimmer at sunset from a new line of restaurants felt like being transported to a different Baghdad — one of luxury and promise.

Lifehack: If you’re cleared to step outside, take the opportunity. The food will remind you that Baghdad is far more than its headlines.

The Contrast

Inside, food was fuel. Outside, food was culture and pride. And I began to understand why Iraqi colleagues often skipped compound lunches — once you’ve grown up with some of the world’s best kebabs and falafel, compromise feels impossible.

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South Sudan — Food as Survival and Community

South Sudan was my first mission in Africa, and it introduced me to food as both a risk and a lifeline.

Juba — Warnings and Adaptations

In Juba’s Tomping compound, I was surrounded by fast food, two restaurants, two grocery shops, and a small Bangladeshi store. At first, I ordered milkshakes and masala chicken. But colleagues quickly warned me: “Be careful with meat and dairy here.”

The hot, humid climate and weak infrastructure meant food safety was always a gamble. Over time, I learned to rely on trusted restaurants, like Turkish and Chinese spots vetted by colleagues, and to buy carefully selected goods from reliable vendors.

Lifehack: In South Sudan, food safety is survival. Listen to veterans of the mission — their advice is worth more than any official briefing.

Aweil — Simplicity and Warmth

Assigned to Aweil in the north, I found even fewer choices, but a warmer community. On my first day, colleagues from Ethiopia and Iraq welcomed me with chicken stir fry and rice — simple, delicious, and unforgettable after a long, stressful journey.

Food options in Aweil included:

• Ciano Restaurant, a mission-wide chain.
• A local cafeteria with traditional South Sudanese food.
• Cooking at home, thanks to a kitchenette that gave me real control over quality.

Groceries were scarce and unpredictable. Sometimes I bought fruit from the mini-market, sometimes from local vendors, sometimes through delivery services that brought meat, vegetables, or hygiene goods. But availability was never guaranteed.

Lifehack: Money doesn’t guarantee quality in Aweil. Flexibility and creativity matter more than choice.

The Reflection

Food in South Sudan was not about indulgence — it was about trust, health, and sharing. Eating safely meant cooking often, but it also meant sitting under mango trees, watching silver monkeys, and sharing whatever was available with colleagues.

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Closing Thoughts — Food as Mirror of Mission Life

Looking back, each mission taught me something different through food:

• Afghanistan taught me adaptation — finding comfort in routine and social hubs.
• Iraq taught me contrast — the difference between food as fuel and food as cultural pride.
• South Sudan taught me resilience — that food safety and community matter more than variety.

“Between gates and checkpoints, food becomes more than just eating. It becomes survival, memory, and connection — a way to taste the humanity that persists, even in the most fragile places.”