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HOW ARE THE LEBANESE GETTING BY?

Tarek, a cab driver forced to choose between his daughter and his brother

Since the beginning of the crisis, the Lebanese pound has lost more than 95 percent of its value. Inflation is exponential: a few days ago the World Bank reported that, at the end of July, Lebanon had the highest year-on-year increase in food prices in real and nominal terms. Gasoline prices have also skyrocketed. The collapse is violent and far from over. In this context, a question often comes up: how do the Lebanese do it? We asked this question to some of them. They agreed to reveal their accounts to us. Today, Tarek*, a cab driver, is struggling to make ends meet and does not know how to pay for his daughter’s schooling.

Tarek, a cab driver forced to choose between his daughter and his brother

Photomontage by Mark Mansour

“A beggar extends his hand forward, a cab driver asks for alms by stretching it backward.” This is how Tarek, a 34-year-old cab driver, describes his daily life since the beginning of the crisis. His work day is incessant, since he now spends all his time, including the time he was “free” before the crisis, working. This is the only way for him to ensure a future for his nine-year-old daughter.

“There are people who walk around during the weekend,” he says in a weary tone. “I work.”

Since the crisis, he says, the number of customers has dropped by “more than half,” as most employees can no longer afford to take a cab to and from work every day.

“A trip that used to cost LL8,000 now costs LL90,000,” he says.

Tarek’s income fluctuates greatly depending on the demands of the clients who call him. On average, his income is LL15 million per month. From this sum are deducted the costs of renting the car and the red number plate (formerly LL300,000 pounds per week; LL1 million per week), and various operating costs. The young man must allocate a good part of his income to gasoline, whose price has shot through the roof in recent months. Adding to his expenses are oil change — $40 dollars, currently LL1.28 million, every month. In addition, every three months, he spends $18 (LL576,000) to change his brakes. Then there are the expenses he can’t anticipate. If his car breaks down, not only is he deprived of income while his car is in the shop, but the work can also swallow up his entire monthly income.

This income must support at least three people, as well as cover some of the expenses of his mother and brother, who live in the same building, located in Greater Beirut. The two apartments are inherited from his grandfather, and so do not require rental payments.

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However, the mother needs several medicines. If the municipality helps, it is Tarek who has to buy her thyroid medication, at a cost of LL122,000 per month. The cab driver also has to contribute to the purchase of at least one package of diapers per week, at LL180,000 pounds, for his disabled brother. This expense was previously covered by an NGO partially funded by the Ministry of Social Affairs — support that has been cut since the crisis. Before the crisis, her brother used to go to a specialized institution for people with disabilities, but as the crisis worsened, Tarek faced a terrible dilemma: he had to choose between paying for his brother’s care at the facility or for his daughter’s schooling.

“In the end,” he says with a heavy heart, “I couldn't sacrifice my daughter's future.”

The nine-year-old girl attends a private school known for its quality education, but Tarek still owes LL3.5 million for last year, and will have to pay $450 (LL14.4 million, at a rate of LL32,000 to the dollar) and LL11 million this year, spread over four instalments for the years 2022 and 2023. Today, he doesn't know how to cover these costs.

“I’m relying on God,” he says, without much conviction.

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Tarek’s wife can no longer work, having been injured in the Beirut port explosion of August 4, 2020. “A huge block fell on her head. Since then, she has a very sore neck, her whole body is contracted,” he confides, not hiding his anger at politicians being “unable to assume their responsibilities.”

To ensure a decent life for his family, Tarek has a five-amp subscription to a local generator, about LL1 million per month, paying close attention to the consumption meter. He also has to pay LL975,000 a year to the public water utility. The driver must be reachable by his customers at all times, so his telephone bill, of LL500,000 pounds per month, is another unavoidable expense. Tarek is the only one at home with a phone line, so his family have to wait until he’s at home to make calls. The household no longer has internet, as the subscription cost is too high.

Read more from our series:

Fady, a software developer for a US company, is considering leaving Lebanon

His sister, who is married with three children, does everything she can to help their mother and brother. When her children outgrow their clothes, she often passes them on to Tarek's daughter. This reduces the clothing budget of the little one, the only one to benefit, to LL1 million a year.

The sacrifices have obviously affected the family table. “Two eggs must now last for two meals for all of us, whereas before we used to put in several,” he says, before concluding, “God will not let me down.”

* First name has been changed.

“A beggar extends his hand forward, a cab driver asks for alms by stretching it backward.” This is how Tarek, a 34-year-old cab driver, describes his daily life since the beginning of the crisis. His work day is incessant, since he now spends all his time, including the time he was “free” before the crisis, working. This is the only way for him to ensure a future for his nine-year-old...