Across Sudan, the clatter of cooking pots has become the sound of survival. For two years, community kitchens run by volunteers have fed millions trapped in a civil war that has shattered the country’s economy and food systems. Now, these kitchens - the last defense against famine - are on the brink of collapse.

A report by Islamic Relief warns that most kitchens could close within six months due to exhaustion, lack of funding, and relentless conflict. The warning follows a UN-backed hunger assessment confirming that famine conditions have already taken hold in parts of Darfur and South Kordofan, with nearly 24 million Sudanese now facing acute food shortages.

“Before March, we could plan for a meal a day,” one volunteer said. “Now there are nights we go to sleep not knowing if we can cook tomorrow. The uncertainty is worse than hunger itself.”

The Last Line of Defense

Unlike international NGOs, these volunteer kitchens operate deep inside conflict zones — places largely inaccessible to aid convoys. Organized through local Emergency Response Rooms, the networks have become the backbone of Sudan’s humanitarian response.

Everyone from teachers and engineers to students takes part, pooling what little they can to serve meals made from donated grains or supplies sent by the Sudanese diaspora. But the system is cracking.

After USAID funding cuts earlier this year, diaspora contributions became the primary source of support. That stream is now drying up. “It was like someone cut a rope we were holding on to,” a volunteer told BBC’s Newsday.

War, Famine, and Fear

Sudan’s war between the army and the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) has turned daily life into a survival test. Both sides routinely obstruct aid deliveries, demanding clearances or blocking routes. The result is logistical paralysis - and in some regions, starvation as a weapon of war.

The Integrated Food Security Phase Classification (IPC) network reports confirmed famine in El Fasher (Darfur) and Kadugli (South Kordofan), projecting that 20 more areas could follow. In El Fasher, volunteers say they were reduced to feeding people animal fodder before the city fell to the RSF last week.

“Conflict still decides who eats and who does not,” the IPC report said bluntly.

Exhaustion and Danger

Many volunteers now work in constant fear. In areas where control changes hands, kitchen workers are often accused of aiding the other side. Some have been killed, Islamic Relief confirmed.

Transporting supplies has also become perilous. Volunteers rely on mobile banking to move money across regions - but if their phones are stolen at checkpoints, so is their funding. Long-term internet blackouts make coordination nearly impossible.

“They depend on this mobile money,” said Shihab Mohamed Ali, Islamic Relief’s coordinator in Port Sudan. “When phones are looted, the money vanishes. Without it, they can’t even buy food to cook.”

Cities of Hunger

In Omdurman, across the Nile from Khartoum, kitchens still function — barely. Even with relative calm and available supplies, prices have skyrocketed. Volunteers ration food, often forced to turn people away.

“Telling a mother we had nothing left for her two children… that’s the hardest part of my day,” said one worker. “She didn’t even cry. She just looked empty.”

The shame of having food while others go hungry, he said, has become unbearable.

A Model Under Threat

These grassroots operations - often hailed as models for UN-led reform that empowers local actors — were even nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize this year. Yet their survival now depends on international recognition and immediate financial intervention.

“My biggest fear is that in six months, the community will be completely exhausted,” a volunteer in Khartoum told the BBC. “We are all getting poorer and angrier.”

The United Nations calls Sudan the world’s largest humanitarian crisis, a catastrophe unfolding largely out of sight. For the volunteers keeping the stoves burning, each meal served is an act of defiance against collapse.

If these kitchens die out, so will the last shared space of hope in a nation starving in silence.