Bladimiro Chuq…
In the hills of Collique, in the eighth zone of Comas, there is a place where the steam rising from the cooking pots not only announces lunchtime, but also resilience, hope, and love for the community. There, the Señor Cautivo de Ayabaca soup kitchen operates. This initiative began during the most difficult moments of the pandemic and continues to support dozens of families to this day.
Carmen Villa Tarazona, one of the women who leads this community kitchen, clearly remembers how it all began. In the midst of the COVID-19 emergency, when work disappeared and fear of contagion prevented them even from going to the market, five families made a decision that would change their lives: to unite so they wouldn't go hungry. "There was no way to feed the family anymore," says Carmen, and it was that need that drove them to organize.
At first, nothing was easy. Carmen remembers cooking with firewood, sharing what little they had, and taking turns providing a cooking pot. Then an old stove and some ingredients appeared. Every kilo of rice, every potato, was an act of solidarity. Little by little, word spread among the neighbors, and more families joined in until this soup kitchen became a true space for gathering and mutual support.
With emotion, Carmen recalls an event that marked the history of the communithy kitchen and for which she feels deeply grateful today. In the midst of their daily struggles, unexpected help appeared. One day, while they were cooking, a man approached, observed, asked questions, and tasted the food. It was Brother Noé, who not only listened to the mothers' story but also returned with food, face masks, hygiene products, and, above all, a commitment. Through him came the ongoing support of Operación San Andrés (OSA), an organization that has been supporting the community kitchen and its people ever since.
Today, the Señor Cautivo de Ayabaca soup kitchen serves 68 families, many of them comprised of single mothers, senior citizens, and people without stable employment. Forty-four children and fifteen teenagers receive a daily meal that makes all the difference. For Carmen and the other mothers, the community kitchen means peace of mind: knowing their children won't go hungry while they go out to earn a living.
“The meal helps us save money, but above all, it gives us peace,” explains Carmen. Thanks to donations, families can pay for electricity and water, buy medicine, or prepare lunch for their children. Beyond the food, the community kitchen restores dignity and hope to those who, otherwise, would have to choose between working and caring for their children. The community kitchen has also restored a sense of belonging to the elderly, who actively participate, cook, organize, and feel useful again. “Here, no one is invisible. Everyone contributes; everyone matters,” says Carmen.
Despite difficulties such as gas shortages, insecurity, and exhaustion, the community kitchen continues. Carmen and her community ask for only one thing: “not to be forgotten. We don’t demand more, just that the support continues,” she says gratefully. The story of the Señor Cautivo de Ayabaca community kitchen is the story of brave women and a community that rose up from necessity and that today remains united around a pot that feeds not only bodies, but also hearts.
