BEIRUT (AP) – Shops close, businesses go bankrupt and pharmacies empty shelves – in Lebanon these days fist fights erupt in supermarkets as shoppers rush to get subsidized milk powder, rice and cooking oil.
Like almost all other Lebanese, Nisrine Taha’s life has been turned upside down in the past year under the weight of the country’s crushing economic crisis. Fear of the future eats into her.
Five months ago she was fired from her job at the real estate company where she had worked for many years. Her daughter, who is 21, cannot find work, forcing the family to rely on her husband’s monthly salary, which has lost 90% of its value due to the collapse of the national currency.
The family hasn’t been able to pay rent for seven months, and Taha fears their landlord’s patience won’t last forever. When the price of meat and chicken rose above their means, they changed their diet.
“Everything is very expensive,” she said.
Taha’s family is among hundreds of thousands of low-income and middle-class Lebanese who have been plunged into sudden poverty by the crisis that began in late 2019 – a culmination of decades of corruption by a greedy political class that has looted nearly every sector of the economy.
In recent weeks alone, the Lebanese pound has fallen more than 25% in value. Inflation and prices of basic goods have skyrocketed in a country that imports more than 80% of its basic goods. The purchasing power of salaries has fallen dramatically and savings have evaporated – all on top of the coronavirus pandemic and a massive explosion in the port of Beirut last August that damaged parts of the capital.
More than half of the population now lives in poverty, according to the World Bank, as a persistent political crisis heralds further collapse.
Alia Moubayed, chief executive officer at Jefferies, a diversified financial services company, said that the “sharp contraction in growth, coupled with hyperinflation and devaluation” has pushed more people into precarious jobs, increased unemployment and more than 50% of the population below the poverty line, compared to an estimated third in 2018.
Lebanon has been without a government since it last stepped down in August, and top politicians did not want to compromise on forming a new cabinet that could pave the way for reform and recovery. Street violence and sectarian tensions are on the rise.
“People are dying, and nobody cares!” Taha said as she visited a cousin who owns a perfume shop on Beirut’s commercial Hamra Street. Both wore masks to prevent the spread of the corona virus.
Once a famous shopping area known for its boutiques, bustling cafes and theaters, Hamra Street has changed during the pandemic. Many stores were closed last day, some due to lockdown measures, others permanently due to the economic crisis. Traders in that, still open, complain that they sell almost nothing.
Beggars asked passers-by for money. A woman and her child sat on the sidewalk next to a drawing on a wall that said, “We are all beggars.”
“It can’t get any worse,” said Ibrahim Simmo, 59, who runs a clothing store. Turnover decreased by 90% compared to previous years. He was unable to sell his winter stock during the nearly two-month virus lockdown earlier this year, and now the currency crash is making things worse.
Ibrahim Farshoukh, 28, said he barely pays the rent for his shop where he sells handmade leather bracelets and bags. Sometimes his wife stays behind while he goes out into the street to sell bracelets to passers-by. “The situation is unbearable,” he added.
The vast majority of the population is paid in Lebanese pounds, meaning their income continues to fall as prices skyrocket and pensions evaporate. The crisis has also depleted foreign reserves, sparking stark warnings that the Central Bank can no longer fund subsidies for certain basic commodities, including fuel.
Videos on social media show fist fights in supermarkets as shoppers try to get subsidized products such as cooking oil or powdered milk. In one video, armed members of one of the Lebanese intelligence agencies check identity cards in a supermarket before handing over a bag of subsidized rice.
People who once lived comfortably now cannot afford school fees and insurance premiums, or even eat well.
‘I can’t remember the last time we ate meat. I can’t afford it, ”said Taha, whose husband is a maintenance worker at the airport. The family’s diet now consists mainly of lentils, rice and bulgur, she said.
The collapse of the currency has forced some supermarkets, pharmacies and other businesses to temporarily close their doors as officials warn of growing food insecurity.
Nabil Fahd, head of the supermarket owners association, told the local MTV station that people are hoarding goods that stores can’t replenish – once something sells out, retailers have to pay more in Lebanese pounds for new supplies. We are “in a very, very serious crisis,” he said.
The price of bread, the country’s main staple, has increased twice in the past year – and then, earlier this month, bakers reduced the weight of a packet of bread without changing the price.
Taha blames Lebanon’s corrupt political class for almost bankrupting the small nation.
Assem Shoueib quit his job at a leading Beirut newspaper in 2000 and moved with his family to France, where he opened a Lebanese restaurant near Paris. Walking back down Hamra Street on a recent visit, the 59-year-old said he made the right decision.
“It was clear the country was on the verge of collapse,” he said.