
by cnn.com — Tamara Qiblawi and Ghazi Balkiz, CNN — Tripoli, Lebanon (CNN) — A large bag of the thistly gundelia plant arrives at Um Ahmad’s door as it does nearly every day. Wearing a double layered headscarf, she settles into a blue armchair. She has until the afternoon to trim the spines off the wild plant for her customers to cook. “We work on the akoub (gundelia) so that we can live,” says Um Ahmad, using a pseudonym. When visitors walk into her dark, cavernous room to meet her, she doesn’t even look up. A drama series blasts from an old TV. “I get paid 10,000 liras for five kilograms of this,” she mumbles, peeling the stems of the spiny plant with a small curved knife. Because the Lebanese lira is in free-fall, her payment is worth just over $2. “The akoub doesn’t even come every day,” says Um Ahmad, never meeting her guests’ eyes. Um Ahmad lives beneath a centuries-old souk (or marketplace) in Lebanon’s northern city of Tripoli.
Outside, the city roils with violent demonstrations, known as the “hunger protest.” These started just as Lebanon was loosening its coronavirus lockdown, and beginning to contend with poor living conditions exacerbated by the near shutdown of the economy. Nightly confrontations between demonstrators and the Lebanese army have rocked Tripoli over the last week, turning it into the epicenter of the country’s renewed uprising against its political elite. Protests against Lebanon’s political class, which has ruled the country since its civil war and is widely accused of corruption, engulfed its main urban centers in late 2019. At the time, tens of thousands of Tripoli’s protesters flocked onto the streets. The city was dubbed “the bride of the revolution,” both because of its energetic protests and because it was believed to have borne the brunt of political corruption. Tripoli is the poorest city in Lebanon, despite being home to some of its most high-profile billionaires. A slum stretches across the banks of the city’s Abu Ali river, just minutes from pockets of extravagant wealth. The income disparity was always stark, but these days, Tripoli’s locals say it is unbearable. “No one has trust in the banks. No one has trust in the state. There’s injustice, there’s shame and there’s oppression,” says Ahmad Aich, who runs a shoe stand. Aich’s voice rises to a crescendo. As with many Tripoli natives, the conversation begins with the soft tones of a city folk known for their kindness to strangers, but quickly turns into a tirade about living conditions.