Passing in front of the community café Ahwak, one would be easily tempted to see there only a simple replica of a neighborhood café, such as exists in Europe. However, Ahwak coffee has so much more to offer.
Behind its turquoise door hides a peaceful refuge for a small community of Tripolitans in search of solidarity and conviviality in a city plagued by political corruption, violence, insecurity and religious divisions. Located in the modest shopping district of Dam w Farez, a stone’s throw from Sahet Al-Nour, the central square of Tripoli, Ahwak and its community constitute a forgotten part of the city – a place where progressives, conservatives, Muslims, Christians, atheists, artists, intellectuals, LGBTQI people, young and old to chat over drinks.
It is an outlet for the problems of Tripoli, particularly flagrant in this city sadly known for its poverty, its waves of fundamentalism and which is home to some of the richest political figures in Lebanon, starting with the interim Prime Minister, Najib Mikati.
The hope of the 2019 revolution
Inside, the lounge-like room is welcoming. Between the pink walls or upholstered in gold prints, sofas and armchairs are arranged around mismatched round tables on which cappuccinos and espressos await. This colorful space reflects an eclectic clientele who, since 2008, have enjoyed the atmosphere created here by the hostess, Sahar Minkara.
Perched on a sofa armrest, she tells us about the time when her fragmented city first federated, during the October 2019 revolution in Lebanon.
“For us, it was a great moment. In the square, people were smoking marijuana. Young boys held rainbow flags. The crowd danced to techno music under the neon sign inscribed with the name of Allah [au centre de la place].”
For a few months, differences of faith, gender and class were forgotten as the country vented its anger against a corrupt and incompetent ruling class that had been in place for decades.
For years, the capital of northern Lebanon has embodied the country’s problems. It has suffered from occupations and conflicts, discouraging investments, letting opportunities slip by and leaving its inhabitants with the feeling of being largely forgotten.
A roots owner
Minkara is one of them, not because she has had to suffer deprivation or unemployment, but because she is the voice of a community that others seek to silence. “The Tripoli you see today is much more conservative than the one I knew in my youth,” she points out.
The owner of Café Ahwak was born and raised in the city. At 47, she does not correspond in any way to the idea that one might have of a Tripolitania. Firstly because it is exceptional for a woman to run a café, and secondly because with her black leather pants, her plain bomber jacket and the wild locks of her rebellious mane, she also contradicts the image Curator of Tripoli.
“The city has regressed at breakneck speed. My generation sees this in every way. We are the last generation to have seen the city in its dual culture, to have experienced its diversity.”
Returning from a year in Australia during the 2006 Israeli-Lebanese conflict, seeing the state of abandonment of his city, Minkara felt the urge to create something positive. Between his friends who emigrated and the villagers from rural areas who left to seek work in the city, everyone was in search of a better life. “I saw a city that was beginning to wither and I told myself that I had to create a meeting place, that I had to stimulate it culturally.”
Cafés, a melting pot of free thought
Minkara wanted to reconstruct a pocket of ancient Tripoli, of the cosmopolitan society that had shaped his childhood. The historical importance of coffee also inspired her: “I think cafes have to