When it’s hard to put food on the table for your little kids, what do you do? : Goats and Soda : NPR

A mother in Nigeria pretends to cook food in a pot of water to calm her hungry children. In Houston, another mom can’t get to the food bank because the family’s car was flooded by Hurricane Beryl in July. A dad in India says, “Every day, from dawn to dusk, the one thought that floods my heart and mind is that the kids shouldn’t ever go to sleep hungry. I’m painfully aware of how we’re falling short.”

One in four children under age 5 worldwide is unable to access a nutritious diet, according to a report by UNICEF. That adds up to 181 million young children in a state of what the U.N. agency calls “severe child food poverty.”

Rising food prices are part of the problem, found the report, which compiled data from 137 low- and middle-income countries. So are conflicts, climate crises, harmful food-marketing strategies and disruptions in food supply.

Low-income countries have a hard time regulating aggressive advertising of processed snack foods, experts told NPR. As a result, even when families have the opportunity to eat well, many children end up eating unhealthy foods that are cheaper than nutrient-rich options.

Child food poverty is particularly harmful in early childhood — threatening survival, physical growth and cognitive development, according to UNICEF.

“We know that these children don’t do well at school,” says Harriet Torlesse, the report’s lead author and a nutrition specialist at UNICEF, who spoke to NPR after the report came out earlier this year. “They earn less income as adults, and they struggle to escape from income poverty. So not only do they suffer throughout the course of their life — their children, too, are likely to suffer from malnutrition.”

Adding to the urgency, the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation (which is a sponsor of NPR and this blog) issued a report in September called “The Race to Nourish a Warming World,” urging world leaders to increase global health spending to boost children’s health and nutrition.

What’s it like to raise young children when there’s not enough nutritious food to eat? NPR enlisted photographers in nine cities around the globe, most of them from The Everyday Projects, to capture images and reflections from families struggling to get three healthy meals on the table each day.

LAGOS, NIGERIA

“They’re not growing properly because they’re not eating well”

When there’s no food to eat and no money or credit to buy groceries, Toyin Salami puts a pot of water on the stove and pretends to cook. The activity distracts her four children — ages 15, 12, 7 and 4 — and calms them with the hope that food is coming. Eventually, they fall asleep.

“It’s hard to get food, let alone nutritious food,” says Salami, 41, who lives with her family in Alimosho, a community in Lagos, Nigeria’s largest city. “Things are really tough. People even tell me that my kids should be bigger by now, but they’re not growing properly because they’re not eating well.”

Toyin works as a house cleaner, sweeping compounds. Her husband, Saheed, is a bricklayer. When they have food, a typical breakfast is pap (a fermented cereal pudding made from corn). In the afternoon, they drink garri (a beverage made with fried grated-cassava flour and water). In the evening, they have eba (a stiff dough made by soaking garri flour in hot water and kneading it with a wooden spoon) — or just a serving of the liquid form of garri again. An uncle used to bring them occasional treats, but he died.

When money runs out, the family buys food on credit. But if they haven’t repaid their previous debt, they go to bed hungry. Toyin hopes that one day she and her husband can find better jobs or find people to help them so that their children can grow well and have the foods they ask for.

Photos and text by Sope Adelaja

HOUSTON, TEXAS

“Enough for rent but not for food”

Although Emilia Lopez’s husband has worked in construction continuously since the day they arrived in the United States from Honduras six years ago, it’s not enough to cover their monthly expenses for a family of nine.

“There are times when we have enough for rent but not for food,” says Lopez, who relies on government programs that provide funds to purchase food and also on donations from food banks and churches to supply most of the groceries for her family, which includes five of her own children (two of whom are under age 5), a 17-year-old cousin from Honduras and another child she’s taking care of for a family member.

Lopez lives in Houston, where having a car makes it a lot easier to get food. But the family’s car was flooded by Hurricane Beryl, a Category 5 storm that struck in July. “If you don’t have someone you know or transportation, you can’t get around,” Lopez says. “The churches and food banks are far.”

The hurricane also left Lopez’s family without power for days. What little food they had spoiled. In her home country of Honduras, Lopez says there are neighbors everywhere willing to lend a helping hand. “There are doors” in the United States, she says, “but no neighbors, no friends.”

When she has transportation, Lopez visits donation centers once or twice a week to get food. She also buys food using the government aid she receives. But even when she gets two dozen eggs, she says, they’re soon gone.

With the food they have, Lopez cooks dishes that stretch, such as stir-fried rice with shrimp and canned peas. Her youngest children — Jose, 2, and Aaron, 4 — love instant noodle soup, formula (which they still like) and baleadas, a traditional Honduran food consisting of a large flour tortilla filled with ingredients such as beans, cheese and meat.

For occasional treats, Lopez uses the government aid she receives to buy ice cream and chips. Most of the time, however, she makes it a priority to purchase essential items. “The most important thing,” she says, “is what they need.”
 
Photos and reporting by Danielle Villasana

VELLORE, INDIA

“The kids shouldn’t ever go to sleep hungry”

Srinivasan, 30, works in a juice shop on the sprawling campus of the Vellore Institute of Technology, one of the city’s largest universities. For a full day of work, he earns a wage of 300 rupees ($3.58), typical for laborers in India.

Although he makes juice for students all day, Srinivasan says, he can rarely afford to buy fresh juice or fruit for his own kids — 5-year-old son Darshan and daughter Sakshi, 4.

“Every day, from dawn to dusk, the one thought that floods my heart and mind is that the kids shouldn’t ever go to sleep hungry,” says Srinivasan. “No matter what happens to us, their nutrition and their education have been our priority. They have dictated all our choices. And even then, I’m painfully aware of how we’re falling short.”

Inflation has risen in India in recent years, and food prices have gone up at an even faster rate, with food inflation at 9.55% in June, double the 4.55% rate from a year before.

Srinivasan and his wife, Lakshmi, 27, who go by only one name, have rearranged their lives to feed their children. In August, they moved into a smaller home to save money on rent. To supplement their diet, they — along with 9 million other families in Tamil Nadu state — are taking part in the government’s free rations program, where monthly supplies of rice, beans and sugar are free for low-income families.

Even with help from the government subsidy, Srinivasan uses a third of his salary to pay for food. On some days, like during heavy rainfalls in the monsoon season, he cannot make it to work, and the family can’t buy food. Lakshmi tries to get odd jobs cleaning people’s homes for 100 rupees ($1.19) a day when the children are at school, but that’s not regular work.

They don’t own a refrigerator, so Lakshmi buys produce in nearby stores early in the mornings and tries to cook enough for the day. She can afford vegetables about once every three days.

Typical meals for the family include idlis (fermented rice cakes) with sambar (a thin lentil gravy); roti (flatbread) made of ragi (millet) mixed with green beans; or green moong dal (a mung bean dish) with chutney. Chicken is a once-a-month treat. So are fruits, like apples, grapes and bananas, which they buy from roadside vendors depending on what’s cheapest.

On school days, the children take a packed lunch. For dinner, they eat what is left over from the food cooked in the morning. Sometimes it’s not enough for all of them, so Lakshmi and Srinivasan feed the kids and go to bed hungry.

When they go shopping as a family every Sunday, the kids beg for chocolates and cookies. “In school, they see their friends bring in those treats, but we just can’t afford to buy them,” says Lakshmi. It’s heartbreaking to keep saying no, she says, so sometimes they buy a chocolate that costs 1 rupee — less than 1 cent.

Srinivasan goes to work even on Sundays to make ends meet, and sometimes, he skips meals. He gets stomach pains as a result and he loses wages if he can’t go to work when he’s sick, says Lakshmi. That’s why she took on part-time work.

“We’ve learned that putting food on our plates for a growing family isn’t easy,” she says. “It involves skimping, saving and sacrifice.”

Text by Kamala Thiagarajan. Photos by Viraj Nayar.

QUITO, ECUADOR

“The hardest question: ‘Mom, where’s the ham?'”

On tough days, Karen Sanabria’s family skips breakfast and eats a lunch of rice with egg around 3 or 4 p.m. For dinner, it’s just a little bread or tea.

Sanabria, 25, always tries to save some flour to make arepas for her son, Joshua, who is 3 and still breastfeeding. “I make a few, and if he’s still hungry, I only have the option of giving him juice to fill him up,” she says.

Originally from Venezuela, Sanabria lives in Quito, Ecuador, with her husband, Édgar Fustacaras, 38, their son and Sanabria’s father, sister and brother-in-law.

Édgar, who currently drives for Uber, has held sporadic jobs that don’t always pay enough or on time. Rent for the family’s apartment costs $120 a month, and if wages haven’t arrived when rent is due, that can leave them short on money for groceries. If they buy groceries first, they can end up struggling to cover their other expenses.

Sanabria works odd jobs when she can to pay for chicken and other meats. The family buys food to last a week, but by the end of the week they start worrying about where they’ll find the money for the next grocery purchase.

Providing three healthy meals every day is a challenge, and they end up going without shampoo and other toiletries. “Sometimes I need deodorant,” Sanabria says, “but if that money can buy us a pound of potatoes, I’ll buy the potatoes instead.”

When supplies are scarce, Joshua’s cravings peak. “‘Mom, I want an arepa. Mom, I want chicken. Mom, I want meat. Mom, I want chicken and rice. Mom, where’s the ham?'” Sanabria says. “I think that’s the hardest question I’ve ever been asked in my life: ‘Mom, where’s the ham?'”

It’s hard to tell Joshua there’s nothing to eat, Sanabria says. In response to his complaints for food, she sometimes changes the subject or stays quiet. Sometimes she goes to the bathroom to cry. Other times, she gets creative, especially with arepas, a staple food made from flour.

“I make heart-shaped arepas, star-shaped ones, doll-shaped ones, different shapes, and he forgets all he’s been asking for,” she says. “He says, ‘Mom, you saved the day.’ At that moment, I feel like a superhero mom who works miracles.”

All that flour has a downside: The family has experienced weight gain, anemia and infection from an unbalanced diet. “I know it’s not healthy to eat flour all the time, but it’s what we have,” Sanabria says. “The doctor always tells me, ‘Give him more chicken. Give him more meat.’ And I say, ‘Oh my God, I don’t have that.'”

Photos and text by Yolanda Escobar Jiménez

ORANG ASLI SG BULOH, MALAYSIA

“The worry of not being able to feed your children properly is something that never leaves you”

To feed her family, Rosnah has always depended on foraging for fiddlehead ferns and other wild plants in the jungle near her home in the state of Selangor, Malaysia. With increasing deforestation, however, finding edible plants has become difficult.

“I use to be able to gather enough for my family,” says Rosnah, 48. “But now, sometimes we come back with almost nothing.” She and her husband asked that their last names not be used so they could freely discuss their economic struggles.

Rosnah lives with her husband, Roslan, 39, and their children, Daniel, 5, and Hellizriana, 14. Two older children from Rosnah’s previous marriage and a 5-year-old grandson, Qayyum, live nearby.

Roslan is a plantation worker and Rosnah works at a plant nursery, but their wages don’t go far. Food prices have risen and transportation costs are high, making it hard to get from their isolated village to markets to buy fresh food. What’s available and affordable is usually not very nutritious.

Most days, the family’s meals are simple. On a typical morning, breakfast is bread or biscuits and black tea. For lunch and dinner, they eat rice with some greens and salt. Maybe once a week or on special occasions, they cook one of their chickens, usually on a Sunday. Sometimes, there is an egg or small piece of fish. When the family has extra money, they buy something special, such as chocolate, candy, bubble milk tea or KFC.

It’s never enough, especially for Daniel. Rosnah says she often skips meals or takes a smaller portion so that the children can eat. When she can’t sleep from the hunger, she makes plain rice porridge with a little salt.

“As a mother, I always try to put my children first, even if it means I have to go without,” she says. “The worry of not being able to feed your children properly is something that never leaves you.”

Photos and text by Annice Lyn
 

GREENVILLE, MISSISSIPPI

“They harvest the crops, and they’re taken to other places”

Caitlyn Kelly’s three kids like to eat watermelon, strawberries, mangoes and avocados. But she can only afford to serve fresh fruits and vegetables as treats because they cost too much to have every day.

Instead, she tries to make large meals that she can stretch for a couple of days using ingredients such as spaghetti, chicken, rice and, when she has enough money for them, frozen vegetables. She says she goes for frozen veggies because they are easier to store and keep for multiple meals, while the fresh ones are more expensive and don’t last as long.

“My kids actually like fruits and vegetables, but it’s pretty difficult financially,” says Kelly, 33, who lives in Greenville, Miss., a city in the heart of the rural Mississippi Delta. “A lot of the healthier fresh foods cost more, and you typically only get one meal out of them.”

A single mom, Kelly lives with her 6-year-old and 10-year-old. She splits custody of her 1-year-old with the child’s father, who lives four hours away. To earn money, she works at a store that sells food and beverages enriched with vitamins and other nutrients. She works a second job in the afternoons at a flower shop.

For breakfast, she often makes bacon, eggs or microwavable sausage biscuits. Her older two children qualify for free school lunches because of her low income. Sometimes, she skips lunch so her kids don’t have to miss meals. “It’s easier for me to go without,” she says.

One of the ironies of living in the fertile Mississippi Delta, Kelly says, is that agriculture is a major industry in the region, but her family can’t access much edible produce.

“You walk outside your house and see all of these crops growing, but I know that most of these things don’t stay here in the Delta,” she says. “They harvest the crops, and they’re taken to other places.”

Photos and text by Rory Doyle

BUJUMBURA, BURUNDI

“My children eat two meals a day”

On a Friday morning in July, Jeannette Uwimbabazi went to her greengrocer for a kilogram of beans, some matoke bananas, oranges and a few tomatoes to cook for her husband and three children, ages 5, 4 and 2. She promised the vendor she would pay at the end of the month when she gets paid for her job as a child care provider.

Uwimbabazi’s family lives in Bujumbura, Burundi, where food prices have been on the rise, in part because of fuel shortages that have made it more expensive to transport supplies. In one month, the price of a kilogram of beans rose from 3,000 Burundian francs (about $1.04) to 3,500 Burundian francs ($1.21).

But as a child care provider, Uwimbabazi’s wages have stayed the same. Each month, she earns 350,000 Burundian francs ($120 as of mid-September). Her husband is a sociologist by training but has no job at the moment. The money she makes must cover food as well as medical care, school fees and other expenses.

“Since the rise in food prices, my children eat two meals a day — at lunchtime and in the evening,” says Uwimbabazi, 40. “My husband and I only eat in the evening. We’ve done away with breakfast to save money.”

Skipping breakfast is difficult for the children, Uwimbabazi says. Her youngest child cries when he’s hungry. To calm him down, Uwimbabazi gives him leftover food from the previous evening if there is any.

She grows sweet potato plants, known as matembele, in a small garden in front of the family’s house, harvesting the nutritious leaves to supplement the family’s diet. 

It’s hard when her children see other kids eating biscuits or ice cream on their way out of church and ask her to buy them some, she says. She makes excuses for why they can’t have any, and they cry all the way home.

For the future, Uwimbabazi has a dream: She wants to start a clothing business to earn a better living.

Photos and text by Esther N’sapu

GUADALAJARA, MEXICO

They work in the food industry while worrying about food at home

To fund his university studies and goal of becoming a biologist, Alberto Isaac Maldonado Lozano works two jobs — as a cook and as a delivery driver for Uber and Rappi. His wife, Esmeralda Guadalupe López López, also works as a cook in one of the new restaurants in Guadalajara, Mexico.

The city boasts a growing economy and good quality of life. But the couple has to make compromises to provide healthy food for their own children — Ámbar, 9, and Tomás, 2.

The couple knows all too well the irony of working in the food industry while worrying about food at home. At $8 or $9, the cost of a dish in the restaurants where they work is their budget to feed the whole family for a day.

To make sure the kids are eating well, they make sacrifices in their own meals. They get enough to eat, Maldonado says, but can’t eat what they want, like beef and fish. To save money for food, they have also suspended their internet service at home and limit recreational outings.

And they send Tomás to a government-subsidized day care center, where he gets two or three free meals each day. Even when López takes a day off, she sends Tomás to day care. “I know that he will have adequate nutrition, which is difficult for us on many occasions,” she says.

The family shops for food every third or fourth day at a store downtown where prices are cheap but quality is low. They try to prioritize nutritious food like fruit, baby formula and yogurt.

“The hardest part of not providing an ideal meal for your family is knowing that you are not giving them the food they need,” the dad says.

Photos and text by Alejandra Leyva

JABALIA, GAZA

“Mama, please can you get me chicken?”

Suad Ali Al-Nidr’s children often look at old photos on her phone. They see themselves eating shawarma wraps and chocolates. Then they beg her for food.

“Mama, please can you get me chicken?” asks her 4-year-old daughter, Maysoon.

Al-Nidr, 28, is sheltering with her two children and her father at a U.N. school in Jabalia in northern Gaza. Displaced by Israel’s war with Hamas, they sleep in a classroom with 35 people.

Across the Gaza Strip, families are struggling to find food to eat. Nutritious food — including protein — is hard to come by. According to the United Nations, at least 34 children have died of malnutrition since the war began in October 2023 and more than 50,000 require urgent treatment.

Al-Nidr and her family have had to move so many times since the war began that she struggles to remember all the places where they have sought shelter. In February, her husband heard about an aid convoy coming through Gaza City. He went, hoping to get food for the family. As thousands of desperate people gathered, a stampede ensued; Israeli troops opened fire. More than 100 people died, according to Palestinian health authorities.

Al-Nidr’s husband survived but was unable to return home. Israeli forces blocked roads, forcing hundreds to head to southern Gaza. Since then, he has been living in the south. He and his wife try to keep in touch by phone, but he is unable to support his family so Al-Nidr has been taking care of the children on her own.

One day in July, Al-Nidr cooked mulukhiyah, a soup made from jute leaves, for her kids. It’s a popular dish across the Arab world.

“This is the first time we are having mulukhiyah since the war began,” Al-Nidr said. “I could only make it because a friend of mine is growing it in her home and gave some to me.”

She tried to cajole Maysoon into eating a bowl. But Maysoon doesn’t have a lot of appetite these days. She and her twin sister are so weak from hunger, says Al-Nidr, that they lay around most days, unable to play or stand up for very long.

Like many families in Gaza, Al-Nidr and her children have not received humanitarian aid. But she has another thing to worry about: Maysoon is severely allergic to wheat, making their options even more limited.

“I wish I could get a can of tuna or some eggs, anything with protein to give my kids, but when they are available, they are too expensive, and it’s impossible to find any fruits or vegetables,” she says. “We can only afford to eat one meal a day, and usually it’s some hummus or beans, or weeds that we boil in water.”

If aid doesn’t come? She is quiet for a long time, and then her voice wobbles.

“I don’t know what I will do.”
 
Text by Fatma Tanis. Photos by Mahmoud Rehan.

Credits: Visuals editor, Ben de la Cruz. Text editor, Marc Silver. Copy editor, Preeti Aroon. This project was done in collaboration with The Everyday Projects, a global community of photographers using images to challenge harmful stereotypes.