Sardine kofta in Palestine: A love story

As we walk out to join her at the docks, Madelyn Culab looks over at us, one hand resting on her budding belly and the other on her waist. She keeps an eye on her husband, Khadr Bakr, who is out at sea, but not too far out, not as far as he would like – but hopefully far enough to bring back a small haul of fish on this breezy Friday morning.

On the sand nearby, two little girls are playing with an older man. They are Madelyn’s daughters, four-year-old Sandy and two-year-old Safinaz, the lights of their grandfather Jamal’s eyes. She is expecting a third child soon.

There are only a few other fishers by their boats on the shore. The rest are nearby at the local fish market, selling their diminished hauls and catching up with each other on the news.

I had started the day early, buying two coffees with Abdelhakim, a photojournalist I have worked with for years, from a kiosk by the sea, followed by a long ramble through the fish market and what seemed like a dizzying array of boats, nets, traps, tools, and more, all neatly organised following a system that mystified the two of us.

There are no other women out on the docks, Madelyn is the only female fisher in Gaza, in addition to being the only certified rescue swimmer. Now 27 years old, she’s been going out fishing with her father since she was six years old, and was heading out by herself when she was 12.

“I would go out to sea in the rowboat and my father would wait for me on the beach. Then he got sick and couldn’t work any more, so I started fishing alone to support my family.”

Madelyn’s strength of character is apparent, in evidence by the respectful greetings and smiles she gets from the fishers on the shore. Her father-in-law, laughing and playing with the girls on a beached boat, also looks over adoringly at his daughter-in-law.

We’re all looking forward to it – Sandy and Safinaz have picked up on the general excitement and give Jamal a run for his money as he tries to keep them in one piece while their parents work.

Abdelhakim starts taking photos – jumping over boats, crouching here and there to get the right angle, energised by the sea breeze and the fun day ahead, which is making everyone just a little giddy. The light, he says, is glorious.

It’s spring, so it’s sardine season, Madelyn’s favourite fish and time of year. “People love sardines, they’re popular, reasonably priced, and relatively plentiful. So people here cook them a lot.”

Whatever the season, the fisherfolk of Gaza are constrained by Israeli restrictions that limit how far they are able to go out to sea to find fish. Some fishers report having been harrassed by Israeli gunboats even if they have not strayed over the arbitrary line.

Khadr is coming back to shore, so Madelyn walks over to the water’s edge. Two of the nearby fishers approach to help Khadr drag the boat back in – the boat is too heavy for Madelyn during pregnancy. When the boat is in, she hops on because it’s time to go collect all the nets that are – hopefully – laden with fish. Instead of sitting, she stands with her hands on her hips, silhouetted against a bright blue Gaza sky as her 29-year-old husband guides the boat out.

A fisher standing near me says admiringly, “Look at her, look how she’s standing there. Would you know how to stand like that?”

My answer would have to be “no”, as Madelyn’s sure-footed stance would have been difficult to even attempt. It is hard to imagine how much steadier this woman, known up and down the shore for being tough and dependable, may have been if she weren’t pregnant.

The boat comes back again, and a smiling Madelyn offers me a quick ride around the bay, which I quickly decline, knowing that my posture on the boat would not be admired very far or wide.

Now the unloading begins in earnest. The girls run up to be part of the excitement, and Khadr smiles over at them. His face is open, but if you look closely, you can see the shadows in his eyes that his day-to-day cares have cast deep within. It’s easy to see his deep affection for his family: It’s in his grins for his little girls, in the quick wave and shouted greeting to his father, and in the concerned glances he shoots over at Madelyn to make sure she’s not overexerting herself.

Madelyn has grabbed the nets and is removing the fish to put in a crate, talking to us without pause the whole time. Sandy and Safinaz are very excited, swarming around their mother and gleefully playing with the fish as they fall into the crate, silvery and slippery. After a while, Safinaz looks up and declares loudly that she really wants to go into the sea, and off she runs, shouting and running into the water, calling back to her parents to let her go swimming.

This appears not to be unusual because all that happens is that Khadr laughs and tells us both girls are fearless when it comes to the sea, that they would happily go in way over their heads. Granddad is nearby, holding a now-contented Sandy on his lap, happily munching on a candy apple he bought her. Tied loosely nearby are two bright balloons.

When the sorting is done, it is time for Madelyn to go home to deal with the fish and start preparing the meal, so Khadr walks us to a taxi to go to the family home. We all pile in, with Madelyn, the girls, and her father-in-law laughing and chatting, and a box full of sardines in the trunk of the car. Khadr then goes back to finish putting the nets away and to sell some of the catch that the family doesn’t need for the meal today. Some days, local holiday-makers wander onto the docks and ask to be taken on a pleasure cruise, which he really enjoys, so maybe today he will be able to do that.

During the short ride home, Madelyn tells me that they make sure that the family eats part of every catch of fish they bring in. “I take some of the fish home to prepare lunch while Khadr finishes selling the other fish and comes home to eat.”

“Sometimes, customers ask me to cook fish for them, especially during sardine season. They like my dishes and I enjoy it,” she says, adding that she would have liked to open up a small seafood restaurant where she could secure a living for her family through something other than fishing.

“Fishing is beautiful, but it is so difficult in a place like the Gaza Strip’s sea. I have qualifications, but people here are so poor that it doesn’t make sense for me to start a project like a swimming training centre or a small restaurant. It’s bad in Gaza and it’s getting worse.”

She also tells me the reason for the shadows in Khadr’s eyes as he works as hard as he can to replace yet another boat lost to the Israeli gunboats that dog Gaza’s fishers at sea. Every boat blown up, every engine lost to random Israeli shelling of the docks, every boat confiscated means the fisher has to find or borrow about $10,000 to get a new boat if their family is going to eat. And 29-year-old Khadr has lost three so far.

In fact, Madelyn and Khadr started fishing together after one of those incidents, when the engine of Khadr’s boat was destroyed in 2014 by Israeli shelling of the port and docked boats, causing huge fires. By then, Madelyn was already a tough young fisher, working with one of her younger brothers, and it just so happened that they had one fishing boat and another that was used to take people out on pleasure cruises. To help Khadr out, she offered him the “tourist” boat to use for fishing and soon the three had partnered up.

The three young people worked hard, growing up together as they learned how to navigate the world by the docks. Madelyn and Khadr looked out for each other, keeping an eye out so they could sound the alarm if Israeli boats were coming.

And then, as many fairytales go, Madelyn and Khadr eventually realised that they had a different sort of affection for each other and decided to get married in 2018.

Back then, Jamal didn’t think the time was right for his son to get married and start a family. He was worried about his boy, especially after he had disappeared at sea for hours in 2016, surrounded by Israeli boats that shot at his boat and held him there. Madelyn and his father went into a terrified panic, asking other Palestinian boats to go out and look for him.

“My only son … and he was so young … trapped at sea for hours without any information,” Jamal said.

Yet Madelyn and Khadr are still fishing, like their fathers did before them, and Jamal is happy as can be with his daughter-in-law and two granddaughters he adores.

But, Madelyn adds with a sparkle that they cannot go out on the same boat because “Rayesa” (captain) Madelyn and “Rayes” Khadr would not get along if one is under the command of the other. With that, we pull up to the house, we’re there, let the feast begin!

We clamber out and start climbing the steps to the extended family’s home, a third-floor apartment in a building that has certainly seen better days – it is living, decaying proof of how impossible it is to renovate or repair a home when the Israeli government blocks Palestinians from importing practically any building material. In fact, the family had been reluctant to host us because they were worried that we would find their tiny, simple home too tiny or too simple.

Khadr’s mother Wasila opens the door, her face wreathed in smiles as she welcomed us into a bright, cosy, sparklingly clean apartment. Eleven people live in this two-room apartment – Madelyn, Khadr, their daughters, his parents, and his five sisters – but we never for a moment feel crowded because all around us are welcoming smiles and laughter. An uncle visiting from out of town has been invited to join us for the fish feast. He doesn’t want us to take his picture but is happy to sit and chat.

After a warm welcome, Madelyn, her mother-in-law and her sister-in-law head into the kitchen, with Abdelhakim walking along, taking pictures, while I chat with Jamal and the visiting uncle in the living room. We hear animated discussion start up in the kitchen and a few seconds later Abdelhakim pops his head out: “I’m making tea for everyone, who would like some?”

None of the family seem surprised that someone who had just walked into their house instantly felt comfortable enough to start making rounds of tea. A show of hands, and Abdelhakim ducks back into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Around him is a bustle of activity as the women begin the painstaking task of deboning the piles of small silvery fish so they can be transformed into the dishes we’re going to be eating today. But their busy hands – with very serious assistance from Sandy – make quick work of it and soon they’re ready for the next stage.

The stars of today’s meal will be fish kofta casseroles and delicious tahini-baked sardines. In their tiny kitchen with a small, two-burner tabletop stove, a small toaster oven and diminutive counter space, the women will also be preparing fried sardines, warmly spiced rice, and salad, the usual trimmings. The family has gone to a lot of effort to host us today, their modest income and life do not usually allow them to invite people over, even for a meal of sardines. But as they tell us and are showing, they are happy we are there and we’re deeply appreciative of that and of their open arms in welcoming us.

For the fish kofta casseroles, our hosts chop onions, parsley and dill then pound them together with a mortar and pestle with the seasonings – salt, cumin, cloves, ginger, ground cardamom and cinnamon – and add the mixture to tiny deboned sardines that have been lightly mashed. As a final touch, they mix spoonfuls of bright red pepper paste, an essential in Gaza cooking, with its distinct funky, slightly sweet and slightly spicy flavour.

There’s nary a measuring spoon in sight, as experienced hands sprinkle spices and seasonings and another pair of hands mixes until the fish is deemed well-seasoned. Then a bit of flour is sprinkled in – don’t ask how much, just enough to bind the fish together – and when there’s enough, the mixture is formed into little balls.

In the meantime, a fragrant pot of tomato sauce, rich with carmelised onions, fresh tomatoes and more spices, is bubbling away in preparation for joining the fish koftas. Before that happens though, the koftas get a quick fry, or “take a coat” as Wasila calls it, so they don’t fall apart when they’re being baked. Some of the fragrant, delicate koftas are fried till they are cooked through, they will be eaten as they are, crisp and hot.

The koftas, those destined for the oven, are divided among small Ghazzawi earthenware casseroles, tomato sauce is poured over top, a few more koftas are added on the surface, and a generous sprinkle of sesame seeds completes the dish before it goes into the oven.

Madelyn insists that these Ghazzawi bowls impart a special flavour to this dish that cannot be achieved by any other baking dish. She should know, and nobody is going to argue with her because Madelyn has a reputation for having mastered seafood dishes that has travelled far and wide.

Asked again about her dreams of a seafood restaurant, Madelyn shakes her head. She has several qualifications, including a management diploma, rescue swimmer certification and fishing training funded by the Bank of Palestine. She also learned how to sew, but none of these qualifications can help her in the besieged Gaza Strip where opportunities are scarce.

“I often wonder, what more are we supposed to do as young people? We work our fingers to the bone, we educate and improve ourselves, but there are no opportunities because of this suffocating siege. I started fishing more than 15 years ago, but I feel I haven’t achieved anything – if we don’t work one day, we don’t eat that day. What kind of future is that?”

She turns, distracted by the flurry of cooking around us, and we redirect our attention to the preparation of the tahini-baked sardines. Sliced onions, tomatoes and green peppers have been layered onto a sheet pan and Madelyn starts laying filleted sardines on top, they must touch, but it’s best that they do not overlap because the tahini mixture must not pool on top.

The tahini is mixed with lots of lemon juice, some salt, and the same spices that went into the sardine koftas, including the bright pepper paste. When the sauce reaches a magical sweet spot – not too thick and not too watery, it is declared ready and we head over to the oven where the pan of sardines and vegetables is bathed in the sauce and then popped in to bake. The sounds and smells are rising to a crescendo as Khadr’s sister ducks around me as she prepares the side dishes. From the living room sounds of welcome rise, it sounds like Khadr is home.

Khadr is surrounded by his daughters, who seem to have more questions than he has answers. When they settle down, we start talking, mostly about how great his family is.

He talks about hopes for the girls’ futures, and about how he wants them to learn how to fish, sail, surf, and handle the sea. But that’s only until they gain the character-building benefits of knowing the sea; he doesn’t want them to work as fishers because the Israeli blockade has made life so difficult for people in Gaza, especially those who make their living from the sea.

“The sea provides for us one day and cuts us off other days. I don’t want my daughters to rely on fishing because it means poverty, deprivation and extreme risk.

“People assume fish will be plentiful for a city on the sea, that the port teems with all kinds of fish but because of the Israeli measures, the sea is besieged, and we can only sail out for a very limited distance.”

“I’m 29, but I feel like I’m 70 because of the responsibility I bear. I support my family, and the financial pressures are huge. Fishing is not enough.”

In spite of this, Khadr is still an open, uncomplicated, simple soul who loves to smile and welcomes everyone. He had come home a bit earlier than he normally would because we were there that day, and he wanted to spend time with us.

He excuses himself briefly to go say hello to his mother in the kitchen and when he comes back he starts telling us how happy he is with his marriage.

“Marrying Madelyn is the best thing I’ve done because she gets my situation and knows the danger of our profession. Even if we have nothing to eat, she never complains because she knows.”

His father, Jamal, is sitting to one side listening to us. The 58-year-old is also a gentle soul, happy to be retired after 45 years of fishing and to dedicate his time to supporting his only son’s family. He is the one who takes care of the girls while their parents work, and he can’t wait for the third baby to arrive. He is the first to tell you that, from his initial reluctance to see Khadr and Madelyn marry, he has now changed his position a staunch 180 degrees.

Khadr’s sister comes out and spreads a bright Ramadan-themed tablecloth on the carpet, the holy month is only a day away and the colourful motifs send a murmur around the room as we talk about how excited we are for the fast to begin. Soon, fragrantly steaming dishes come out of the kitchen, here come the tahini-baked sardines, plates of crisp fried sardines, koftas and rice, little bowls of salad, and small piles of fresh bread, I am practically rubbing my hands together in glee. In fact, I think Abdelhakim is.

Everyone gets up to wash their hands and come and settle around the food, passing the bread, making sure Khadr’s mother has everything she needs, that the girls were able to reach some food, checking if anybody needed a glass of water. Finally, everyone is sure that everyone else is OK and silence descends as we dig in, the sounds of chewing punctuated by the occasional “Bless your hands!” as appreciation is expressed.

The tahini-baked sardines’ skins have become just a little crisp on top, while the vegetables cooked beneath them have softened and imparted their flavours, mixing with the tahini sauce to make what can only be described as a delightful mouthful when scooped up into an “ear” of bread.

The koftas come out of the kitchen in two different forms, fried crisp and piled on little plates, and baked in Ghazzawi bowls, swimming in a delicious tomato sauce. Both are chewy and well-seasoned throughout, the slight oiliness of fresh sardines lending richness to the mixture. The baked koftas have softened a bit in the tomato sauce, but the combination is so good that I don’t miss the slight crunch of biting into fried ones.
We eat and eat, smiling at each other, passing dishes back and forth, and exclaiming over just how good everything was. I tell Madelyn I am also partial to sardine season, but that I could probably use some lessons on how to make them taste so good. Or perhaps, I correct myself, I will order some of her ready-cooked sardine dishes to enjoy with my family.

Abdelhakim starts praising the lovely day we’ve had, the cooking, the family, and the fish, and somehow from there, we get on to an animated discussion of who is the better fisher: Madelyn or her husband? After a few rounds of teasing, Madelyn puts a stop to things.

“The sea is luck and livelihood, competition doesn’t factor into it. Whichever one of us finds it on any given day, it’s our family’s livelihood.

“We are one, in life and struggles, so our catches go in the same box.”

Jamal murmurs approvingly from the other side, and Wasila breaks into another one of her megawatt yet ultra-quiet smiles. Looking at her careworn features, it’s clear to see that she has struggled and worked hard to raise her own family of nine daughters and one son, sacrificing and pushing. It’s her worries about Khadr and his constant run-ins with Israeli gunboats that seems to haunt her, but whenever her family is safe at home with her, she’s happy.

She looks content here today and, truth be told, her nafas – that special unique quality or “breath” that a cook puts into their food – is incredible; the dishes she worked on were practically singing.

Madelyn tells us that her mother-in-law had gone to the market to get all the ingredients – other than the sardines, of course – for today’s meal and that she had played a major role in teaching Madelyn to cook so well.

As the younger women clear the dishes, Wasila begins speaking softly to us, repeating her earlier welcome and making sure we didn’t need anything. She brushes off compliments about how excellent the food was, telling us instead we were ones who were the ideal guests.

Madelyn comes back and sits down, she wants to show us a webpage she is setting up as a place for the spouses of fishers to communicate and exchange ideas about how to start projects and how best to support their families.

“Every day at sea is a new experience,” Madelyn says. “As a spouse who is also a fisher, I think that we, the wives, can play a role in helping our families.”

We discuss the webpage for a few minutes, then a quiet lull settles on us as the post-feasting effect takes hold. There are smiles and some twinkling eyes, then Abdelhakim stands up suddenly.

“Who would like some tea? I can add sage to it, a great digestive!”

Fork the System is Al Jazeera’s home for all things food. From Syria to Uganda, Bangladesh to Colombia, we look at how food makes us, a forkful at a time, generation after generation.