HE PURAPURA MARARA SCATTERED SEEDS
The Ballad of An Immigrant Family
Maria (Reah) Monet-Facoory, Nee: Maria Helena Isaac,
is the 4th 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.
DateBetween 1st January 1986 and 31st December 1986