Hawa Hassan revisits her migration from Somalia as she visits war-torn countries

For those around the world displaced by war, food is a way to preserve culture and heritage. Hawa Hassan understands this as she was torn from her life in Mogadishu, Somalia and sent by her mother to live with family friends in Seattle. 

Hawa visited Good Food five years ago to discuss her earlier book, In Bibi’s Kitchen, which features grandmothers from eight eastern African countries welcoming you into their kitchens. 

In her new book, Setting a Place for Us: Recipes and Stories of Displacement, Resilience, and Community from Eight Countries Impacted by War, Hawa shares the stories of people who have been impacted by chaos, persecution, and political strife but who have found resilience by gathering around the table. 

Evan Kleiman: Could you share a little bit about your background and why displacement became a focus for this latest project?

Hawa Hassan: Displacement became a focus because this project is of my own history, my personal history. Having been born in Mogadishu during a time of war, and later moving to a refugee camp in Kenya before settling in the US, I understand deeply what it means to leave home and leave behind and build again. This project has allowed me to explore the themes of my own life and myself through food, as all of my work really has done. I lost contact with my family for 15 years, so some of these things that I carry forth, my own self, are answered in this book.

“Where is home?” was a question Hawa Hassan asked people in eight different war-torn countries in “Setting a Place for Us.” Photo courtesy of Ten Speed Press.

Can you start us off by reading your opening paragraph?

“The year is 1990. The air is thick with the putrid smell of burning tires, and the crack of gunfire echoes in the distance. I am four years old, and the city of my dreams is no longer a bustling, burgeoning metropolis, but a vacant and violent war zone. Gone are the weekends where my family would spend together along the coastline, when I would play with my awoowe (grandfather) in the grainy sand. No longer would the gathering of family to sip tea exist. Instead, we’re living in constant fear and uncertainty.  Many families like mine are strategizing on how to flee the country as it teeters on the brink of nothingness.”

Hawa visits a Lebanese neighborhood. Photo by Riley Dengler.

Thank you for that. We’re right now in the unfortunate global position of many countries dealing with situations that are causing people to have to leave their homes. What countries do you zero in on, and how did you come to choose them? Do they share some particulars?

Yeah, totally. Selfishly they exist because I wanted to examine my own identity and my own beloved Somalia. The book focuses on eight countries that have experienced significant displacement — Afghanistan, the Democratic Republic of Congo aka DRC, Egypt, El Salvador, Iraq, Lebanon, and Yemen. 

I chose them because of the scale of displacement and crisis, the cultural diversity of their food traditions, the resilience of their people, but I also chose them because of the historic meaning behind these countries. When you talk about Egypt, you’re talking about the oldest civilization, ancient civilization, around the world. When you talk about Iraq, you’re talking about the cradle of humanity. So I wanted to shine a different light on what it meant to be from a place like Lebanon. Imagine if we all could think about Lebanon as a different type of place.

Were you able to travel to some of these countries yourself for the research for this book?

While I wasn’t able to travel to every country, I did spend time with communities around the world. My original research was done in El Salvador in 2020 in February, right before the world shut down. Later on, I was able to go right back to El Salvador in March 2022. Then, I went to the Democratic Republic of Congo, Liberia, and Lebanon, and then I sent people to the other four countries.

Lebanon has a complex ethnic and religious makeup and has experienced periods of foreign rule. Photo by Riley Dengler.

Was this the first time that you made some of the food of these countries?

Oh, my gosh, yes. Some of these dishes were completely new to me, while others were familiar to me. I fell in love with ingredients that I thought I knew very well but I didn’t because I wasn’t using them to their fullness, like sumac and fenugreek. I use fenugreek. I’m sorry to keep referencing In Bibi’s Kitchen, but I’m an East African girl. In Bibi’s Kitchen feels like a second home to me and fenugreek is a part of berbere, so I knew that very well. Then there were new ingredients that I was introduced to, like dried lime or flavors that some of them were permanent in my pantry, and then others I knew nothing about.

Let’s just take a walk through some of these countries. In Afghanistan, you talk about Ali Zaman, a coffee shop owner in Queens, and you asked him where home is. What did he answer?

It was so interesting meeting with him and we still talk a lot, so with a thoughtful pause, right after I asked him where home is, he says, “Home is somewhere I can sit and have tea with my people.” I asked this question to nearly everyone I interviewed, and that response always carries layers of history, nostalgia, and all these other things that I’ve also known. 

When people ask me where home is, I’m always like, “Oh, where my mother is.” Now that I have a more layered life, where I have people in my life, a husband, and all sorts of other things, now I say, well, “Home is in Brooklyn.” Home, I’ve lived in Brooklyn for 20 years. I’ve never said “Home is in Brooklyn.” So when he said that, when he said, “It’s where I can have tea with my people,” I thought to myself, “Oh, my God, that sounds about right.”

“Home is somewhere I can sit and have tea with my people,” says Ali Zaman, a coffee shop owner in Queens who is originally from Afghanistan. Photo by Doaa Elkayd. 

Let’s go over to the Democratic Republic of Congo. Tell us a bit about it — the population, the number of languages. I know that the DRC has one of the largest populations of internally displaced people in Africa. Tell us a little bit about the place.

Yeah, the DRC, like many places that have historically gone through conflict and have stayed in conflict, is a very complex place. The DRC has a population of over 95 million people. It’s home to more than 200 languages, if you can imagine that. Congo is a very complex place, and I won’t pretend to be somebody who can explain that. I’m not Congolese. I’m not from Brazzaville, I’m not from Kinshasa. There’s two different Congos, but what I hope that this chapter about Congo relates to other people is that there’s so much within Kinshasa, Congo that can be explored, and people should explore, including its food. 

You met Delayla, a woman who set out to create a donut empire. Tell us about her.

Delayla, aka Emily, as she likes to go by, she’s an entrepreneur who started making donuts to support her family during COVID. What began as a small street food side hustle business has now grown into a full-fledged bakery. To me, I think she showcases the power of food and rebuilding lives. She originally moved to Belgium when she was a little girl then moved back home and thought, “I want to be a part of rebuilding my country.” And she’s doing an exceptional job.

Delayla Ndelela (aka Emily) moved back to the DRC from Belgium to help rebuild her country. Photo by Riley Dengler.

We’re always looking for ways to eat more greens. Can you describe the amaranth dish? I don’t know how to pronounce it. 

In my cookbook, when you go to it, there’s a QR code in every chapter. The woman who was the culinary editor is the one who does the voiceover for it, or the voice note for it. So it’s bitekuteku. It’s a dish made with amaranth greens. It’s often sauteed with onions, tomatoes, and a touch of palm oil, which is earthy red oil that people in West Africa use. It’s rich in nutrition and has a slight earthy and spinach-like flavor.

Now we’re going over to Egypt. I know that for your research, you spoke to Rana Abdelhamid, who’s the executive director of Malikah in Queens. What is her work about?

Yeah, Rana, is this like, very unassuming, strong, beautiful, very feisty. You know, I would liken her to a normal New Yorker, but she is Egyptian. She’s the executive director of Malikah, an organization in Queens that focuses on empowering women through self-defense training and community building. So she trains her community on how to fight for themselves — physically, mentally, and emotionally.

So interesting. I love how she said that chicken and rice best represents her country. Can you explain why?

Yeah, she simply says it’s representing comfort and substance. It’s a simple dish yet rooted in her home cooking meals because she’s a girl from New York, through and through, in all of her ways. But this dish, for her, represents across generations.

Originally from Egypt, Rana Abdelhamid founded Malikah in Queens, which teaches women self-defense and financial literacy. Photo by Doaa Elkayd.

I love that. One of the recipes that you share in this chapter is macarona béchamel. A bit surprising. What is it?

It’s literally an Egyptian pasta dish that is baked but with cream sauce. It’s rich, hearty, and often made for special occasions. But it’s lasagna.

Now let’s go to El Salvador, the place where you started this research journey. Why was El Salvador the first place that you wanted to set out for? Or did a trip to El Salvador create the template for what later became this book?

No, I went to El Salvador February 2020. I went for Valentine’s weekend. I was single at the time. I took two friends, and I told them, “You know, my interest is writing about globally displaced people. And I think El Salvador can be a place that I could speak about.” I wanted to talk about the displacement crisis. I wanted to talk about culinary traditions that create foundations for storytelling.

One of the dishes that you talk about in that chapter is one of my favorite things from the Salvadoran kitchen is quesadilla, the cheesy kind of pan dulce not the Mexican tortilla stuffed with cheese. Can you describe it? 

It’s a pound cake, not to be confused with the Mexican dish of the same name. It’s delicate in texture and slightly salty and sweet in flavor, and that’s what makes it a beloved treat. It’s literally a treat.

In El Salvador, quesadilla refers to a sweet cheese bread. Photo by Julia Gartland.