The Ballad of An Immigrant Family

Maria (Reah) Monet-Facoory, Nee: Maria Helena Isaac,
is the 4^th daughter and sixth child of Abraham (Abe) and Gladys (Glady) Isaac

In the late 1800’s my grandparents Tobia and Hala  Isaac migrated from Becharre Lebanon to Dunedin New Zealand. In 1986 my uncle, Tony Isaac, told me what he remembered about the story of his parent’s journey and subsequent life here. I was so inspired I immediately wrote it into what has become ‘The Ballad of an Immigrant Family’. It is written from the perspective of a child sharing the magical story of unknown, yet ‘often heard about’ grandparents. While the accuracy of the details may be disputed due to the subjective nature of an oral history, it is as much about a shared experience as it is about a specific family. When I performed the ballad at an Auckland Lebanese Society function, several new immigrants told me enthusiastically that it strongly resonated with their current experience.  

From a small village in the mountains

Becharre is its name

Two young people, my grandparents

To New Zealand came.

Although first cousins, they’d married

Which was fine by Lebanese law

He was sixteen, she fourteen

They’d a son and wanted more.

They travelled here by steamer

With others of their race

Translating their name into English 

Was just one of the challenges they faced.

Their first child’s birth in Melbourne 

during a stopover of the boat

Meant they almost missed New Zealand

To them a land of hope.

Exhausted on their arrival

And with no place to stay

They felt utterly bewildered

Alone with their new babe.

But others who’d arrived before them

Lent a helping hand

Provided with some shelter

Their new life began.

At first it wasn’t easy

But Grandad, knew the score

With a suitcase in his hand

He walked the streets and hawked.

Language was a problem

Though he managed to get by

Earning a simple living

For himself, his child and wife.

Then as things got better

He expanded as he should

He bought two horses and a cart

And stocked it up with goods.

His business sense and foresight

Told him he must travel

He put in a bed, some pots and pans

And bid his wife farewell.

By now they had three children

Who with their mother, stayed at home

Although she found it lonely

She was busy and she coped.

She knew it must be this way

If they were to survive

The welfare of her children

Was uppermost in her mind.

Grandad headed South

While others headed North

He pedalled his goods from coast to coast

Charting his own course.

He met with many people

He spent much time alone

It gave him time to think about

This place he now called home.

When after three weeks travelling

He went home for a week

He gave his family all his love

In ways he couldn’t speak.

This became a pattern

And so the family thrived

There were yet more children

Such was their new life.

Then came another challenge

The children went to school

‘Now you must speak English

Or be taken for a fool’.

Grandad saw the sense in this

‘It is the spoken tongue

Learn it all and learn it well

It’s easier when you’re young.

Speak it at home as well

Then you will help me too

If we talk it all the time

Our English will improve’.

It wasn’t so easy for Grandma

Her life was in her home

Surrounded by children and Lebanese friends

Her world was with her own.

But gradually she learned it 

And could speak and understand

Though she never learned to read or write 

The language of this land.

Nine sons and five daughters later

The family was complete

With horses, carts and buildings

To earn the food to eat.

But even as he prospered

Grandad’s lifestyle couldn’t yet change

His first-born travelled with him

To learn the selling game.

Grandma once went with them

On a three-month stint

To see more of the country 

And to spend more time with him.

They took along a younger son

One not yet at school

A daughter cared for the rest of the kids

Happy to mother and rule.

After this adventure

And Grandma was back home

Grandad and his firstborn

Set off again to roam.

His strength of mind and body

Was known far and wide

His stern and honest manner

Was compassionate and wise.

His horse and cart were welcome

Everywhere he went

As were his goods, his news, his son

To many he was a friend.

So when mid-stream, disaster struck

And one of the cartwheels broke

He supported the weight upon his back

And to his son he spoke.

‘Go get help as quick as you can

We need a few strong men

Bring back some tools, some rope and a wheel

I’ll hold it up till then’.

But suddenly there was silence

Then a long deep groan

Grandad staggered

The cart fell down

His son was on his own.

He ran up to his father

Shocked and scared to see

The taut, white face and spasms of pain

That wracked his whole body.

His son sped off for help

But it was already too late

All that he and the others could do

Was accept his father’s fate.

So at forty-nine

With his youngest only two

Grandad passed over from heart attack

Having taught his son all he knew.

Now it was left to Grandma

To carry on alone

A scary proposition

But her faith in God was strong.

To her sons she gave the business

To prosper and to thrive

To sire the next generation

With caring, loving wives.

Her daughter’s lives were different

To them fell the nurturing role

Of sister. wife and mother

With a destiny to unfold.

Each was to find a husband

Suitable in his trade

And teach the next generation

Of this family’s name.

That name was deep within them

As custom did expect

The daughters wore it proudly

Holding their heads erect.

In silks or rags or riches

These people travelled the road

Of grief and sorrow and hardship

Of beauty, joy and love.

Often times were hard for them

But they enjoyed their lives

Having fun whenever they could

Working with laughter and smiles.

And now the new generations

Free to love and fall

Explore the richness of their past

Enchanted by it all.