It began with a contradiction I couldn’t ignore.
In the summer of 2016, I was reporting for a French organization when I entered Jad'ah Camp, deep in the Gayara province of Iraq. The temperature was over 50°C. Inside the camp were thousands of women and children — families of former ISIS fighters — living in unbearable conditions. No men over 18. No electricity. No food. No floor to sleep on, just dry soil under the scorching sun.

That same day, my father was fighting ISIS on the frontlines as a Peshmerga commander. I found myself caught between two extremes: war, survival, and loss on one side, and relative comfort and routine on the other. Standing in the camp, I recognized something that stayed with me: how little people had, and how much was missing — especially food, especially in that heat.

On the drive back to Duhok, I couldn’t stop comparing the two worlds. That contrast between extreme scarcity and everyday excess brought back a memory from my childhood. Growing up in a family of seven, I used to argue with my mother about food. She often cooked far more than we needed — at least 30% of it would go uneaten. I would say, “Please don’t make so much.” And she would answer, “I’m not in your stomach, how should I know how much each of you will eat?”
She was right, of course. But even then, I felt a deep discomfort with excess — especially when it led to waste.

Later that evening, I met some friends at a restaurant. As always in Iraq, the food arrived in massive portions. Multiple dishes, free refills, untouched leftovers.

As we ate, I couldn’t stop thinking about where that food came from — the energy it took to grow, harvest, process, and cook. Every grain of rice had a story:

from soil to kitchen to plate… only to be thrown away and become another waste problem we try to ignore. And that thought, paired with what I’d seen in the camp, made something click in my mind: We don’t eat what we really need. And we don’t know how much we need to eat at all.

That’s when the question hit me:
What if meals came in the right amount, based on what our bodies actually need?
What if the body could send a signal, and the kitchen could respond?

At the time, I imagined a futuristic solution — like an interactive chair that could scan your body and tell the kitchen what to make. It sounded impossible then. Just a dream.

But years later, after working across different industries — art, tech, startups, filmmaking — I started to notice a pattern. The most meaningful ideas come from deep emotional truth. From real problems. And I realized that Neunour wasn’t just a concept anymore. It was my responsibility to build it. That’s how Neunour was born. Out of contrast. Out of reflection. Out of pain. But also out of hope. We’re not just building a company. We’re solving one of the biggest human problems:
The disconnection between the body and the food it actually needs. Neunour uses real-time data to close that loop. We go beyond nutrition plans and calorie tracking. We aim to restore a forgotten logic — one where the body guides the meal, not the other way around. And in doing so, we believe we can help reduce waste, improve health, and shape a better future.

This is just the beginning.

We’re here to break limits. And rebuild connection.

Semyan shaboy
Founder of Neunour