Condemn Not My Children: The Consequences of Pious Evil

By Kasey Coory

When a deviant priest violates a nun, she is sworn to silence by the church in order to avoid a scandaland then married off to the priests older brother, with unforeseen consequences.

Abandoned by those in whom she has placed her trust, a desperate mother suffers a mental breakdown and is deprived of her children.

Near the end of the nineteenth century, two families immigrate to New Zealand, sparking a story that will follow both from that time through the middle of the twentieth century. As an unholy liaison interweaves the two groups, the emotional tapestry is unravelled and rewoven by women of the following generations, each with her own story of heartbreak and courage. Throughout the tale, sacrilege and defilement are first hidden and then revealed, demonstrating the consequences of ignorance and the condemnation of the mentally ill.

In the sweeping saga set in New Zealand, women from several generations of two families deal with the heartbreak of betrayal from those they most trusted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Jul 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781452529578

Kasey Coory

Kasey Coory is a New Zealander of Lebanese and Italian extraction. As a child he suffered from the intolerance and prejudice of dysfunctional relationships. He brings to life a narrative of a bipolar mother who was ostracized by both sides of her family and the church she is devoted to.

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Copyright © 2015 Kasey Coory.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ISBN: 978-1-4525-2956-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4525-2957-8 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 07/08/2015

CONTENTS

To my mother

I would never have written this book if not for you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The author is a New Zealander of Lebanese and Italian extraction. He brings to life a narrative from his paternal grandfather’s diary, which portrays a pious man in contrast to that of the his incestuous and abusive maternal grandfather.

As a child, the author suffered intolerance of and prejudice towards his mother’s mental illness. His mother, a chronic manic depressive, was ostracised by both sides of her family. The deep maternal bond she had with her eldest child and her abandonment of her subsequent children is the underlying theme of this controversial novel.

CHAPTER 1

1887

Jacob’s Diary

The following is a transcription from the diary of Jacob Habib El Khouri Eleishah Fahkrey of Becharri who was born 1872. The diary is written in Aramaic, the language of Jesus Christ.

I was twelve years old when my father sent me from the Cedar Mountains of Lebanon to the house of my grandfather Elishah, in Beirut. It had been decided that I would become a priest. I progressed well under the tutorage of my grandfather and Father Romonas, who favoured me more than the other students. By the time I had reached fifteen, I was fluent in Greek, French, and Aramaic.

While I was in Beirut, my father purchased an olive grove, and I returned to help with the harvesting, and to enjoy a hiatus from my studies. Everyone agreed that the change of climate and hard work was the cause of the sickness that forced me to be bedridden for six months, soon after the harvesting had finished. But I recovered and spent many happy days in the company of my childhood friends Bolus, Ayaan, and Hashem. I enjoyed myself so much, that I decided I did not want to be a priest after all.

After eighteen months had passed, my grandfather became anxious. I loved my grandfather and could not refuse his wish, so I reluctantly returned to my studies. But life in Beirut had temptations, which I and my fellow students Mansur, Hussain, and others, found hard to resist. Attending parties with singing and dancing, frequenting places of amusement, and being enticed by the coffee houses had negative repercussions on our priestly studies.

I had grown in masculinity, and was tall in comparison to the stature of my countrymen. People complimented my dark blue eyes, which I had inherited from my Phoenician forebears, and we were invited to the places where belly dancing and revelry prevailed. When I turned twenty-one, my father sent word that I should return to Becharri, as he was worried about reports of my behaviour and that he had found a wife for me.

Grandfather, if I obey my father’s wishes and marry, I won’t be able to accede to higher office within the church, I said, seeking an escape from my commitment to the priesthood.

Marriage can bring much happiness and fulfilment, Jacob. The comfort of a good wife and the blessings of a family are part of God’s plan too. The Patriarch may live like a king, but he can never enjoy the love of a child born from his seed, replied my grandfather.

But with the responsibilities of a family, how can I be a good priest? I questioned.

That’s for you to discover within yourself, Jacob. I have lived my life in service to God and my people. And I have fathered seven children who gave me great joy every day. I have been doubly blessed. He paused and as he stroked his long, white beard, he seemed to drift in thought. His one dimming eye watered, and he beckoned for me to come closer.

You are the first son of the first son, and you are blessed with intelligence and a good heart. You must never undervalue the true meaning and concept of family. You can only understand and appreciate the miracle of beginning and being a family, when you are part of the miracle. You will be a better priest for it.

I returned to Becharri and was introduced to Eva, the daughter of Hunna Arida, a well-respected man of considerable reputation for the good works of charity he and his family performed in the village. I fell in love with the beautiful, diminutive maiden the moment I saw her.

She had a light-olive complexion and stood no higher than my chest. Her dark, sparkling eyes shone from beneath her shiny, raven-black hair, which was tied in a knot on her crown. I was disarmed by and taken with the petite beauty of my betrothed, unlike the bold and masculine features of many of my countrywomen. My reservations about being a married priest faded completely, and I thanked God and my father for their intervention.

The wedding festivities lasted for fifteen days, and to my great joy, my grandfather made the arduous journey from Beirut to perform the nuptials. After the ceremony, my grandfather approached me and said, I hope that, soon, all these people present will congratulate me for having a priest for a grandson. But I was already contemplating not becoming a priest, as I had it in my mind to go overseas and make my fortune in another country. The generosity of my father, the customary gifts of money from the wedding guests, and the dowry from Eva’s father would make it possible.

(The author continues his interpretation of the diary

in the prose of Jacob’s writing.)

At the end of the festivities, Eva was brought to the house of Jacob’s father, where the couple would spend the first night of their new life as one. Eva had never been separated from her family. She felt uneasy in her new home and became anxious about her duties as a wife. The sharing of the evening meal with Jacob’s parents, his extended family, and the banter and warm informality of his kinfolk eased her nervousness. But alone in their bedroom, while Jacob bade a good night to his parents and guests, Eva’s misgivings returned.

Eva placed a small bag of camphor under her pillow to ward off any evil spirits that may have travelled with Jacob from Beirut. She prayed she would not disappoint her family. Eva was a child of her time; immersed in folklore, she was suspicious of the unfamiliar. Her existence had been moulded by the isolation of her village in mountainous terrain and by generations of patriarchal and feudal traditions, in an unquestioned obedience to one’s faith and family.

Someone had sprinkled rose petals on the pillows. Eva moved away from the bed as if to distance herself from the intimation. Trying to remember her mother’s advice, she nervously undressed, unsure of the appropriate attire to wear beneath her nightgown. The realisation that she must submit to her husband and surrender her untouched flesh in a ritual of subservience, and the disgrace to her family’s honour, if she did not conceive, increased her apprehension. She reached for the bridal gift of rose water to sponge her body. The thought of odours and fear of the unknown intensified her nervousness. What if he doesn’t like me? Blessed Virgin, help me.

In the darkness, Jacob tried to comfort his fretful bride as they touched for the first time. He whispered his feelings of love, and her trembling calmed. As he gently stroked her hair, she hesitantly yielded to his embrace, and slowly her inhibitions faded into a tingling mixture of fear and anticipation as Jacob’s hands explored her body.

My husband, I’m afraid, she whispered.

I won’t hurt you, I promise. I will never hurt you.

But Eva recoiled her pelvis and barred Jacob’s entry with her hands. His eagerness to consummate their marriage resulted in a torturous attempted coupling.

No! Jacob, no … please.

Jacob retracted from the barrier and endeavoured to calm his breath. The abrupt curtailing of exhilaration rattled his usually sedate persona, and it took a few moments to comprehend and adjust to the unanticipated reaction of a presumed shared yearning. In the still darkness, the quiet whimpering of his bride shamed him. In his impatience to satisfy his own cravings, he had been insensitive to her adolescent fear of intimacy.

I’m so sorry, my husband. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please, God, forgive me.

Remorsefully, Jacob gathered Eva’s trembling body and tenderly cradled her in his arms. Now, now, my little one, there is nothing to forgive. I’m the one who should apologise and pray for forgiveness.

Spooning her to his chest, he kissed the top of her head and silently prayed for deliverance from lust, and guidance for patience and understanding. Eva could feel his warm breath in her hair. His strong arms held her snugly as she drowsily nestled against his body. Comforted by his embrace, she drifted towards sleep.

Eva submitted to the consummation of their marriage three weeks later, two days before her fifteenth birthday.

*     *     *

I think we should go to New Zealand, said Jacob, as they lay in bed, waiting for the night to claim them. My uncle went there to find gold. He stayed even though he never found any. But he has made a comfortable life for himself, and he would welcome more of his family.

Is it far away? asked Eva.

On the other side of the world, across the ocean. We would go by ship. From Egypt, I think, said Jacob.

Ship? asked Eva. She had never seen a ship or the ocean.

"I haven’t yet told my grandfather … that I don’t want to be a priest. I think … no, I know that he will be very angry with me, said Jacob, imagining the look of wrath and disappointment on his mentor’s face. But with the marriage gifts, we will have enough money to start a new life. In a new land."

Land? asked Eva, trying to imagine a land other than her own. Will I see my mother again if we go across the world? she asked, visualising the map of the world that hung on her classroom wall at the school she had attended until she was twelve years old. As she had never travelled more than a few miles from her village, she grappled with the concept of distance. Who will help me in childbirth? she asked herself fretfully.

Of course. When I have made my fortune, we will return with our children for a joyous reunion with our families, said Jacob reassuringly.

I’m your wife, said Eva, masking her fear. Where you go, I must follow. But she was beginning to doubt that her parents had chosen the right husband for her.

*     *     *

Three months after their wedding, Jacob and Eva travelled from Becharri to Beirut and took lodging in a seedy area of the city close to the docks, where they stayed for four weeks. At night, Eva despaired of the hubbub of unsavoury sounds echoing from the squalor outside the window of the room. Is this God’s retribution for my smugness when I delighted in the envy of those who coveted my betrothal to the handsome student priest? Fearful that her soul would be devoured by evil spirits, she spent her days alone in prayer, beseeching the Virgin Mary to return her to her mother and to the cedar trees in the gardens of Becharri.

Jacob was tempted with thoughts of intimacy when he was close to his wife in the confines of their room. But now that Eva was carrying, the teaching of his church forbade intimate contact with her until one year after the birth of the child. Every day, he walked to the docks to enquire about the departure of a boat to Port Said. To pass the time of day, he sat on the pier and prayed that his resolve to abide by the laws of his faith be replenished. Eventually, Haroun Shamoon, who was arranging their passage, came to their room with news of the arrival of a ship and to collect the fare of three pounds for each of them to travel to Egypt.

*     *     *

When Eva saw the ocean up close for the first time, she was petrified and prayed that God would take her to heaven. The smell of salt and the splashes of sea spray on her face, whipped by the swirling wind, terrified her. After Jacob’s considerable coaxing, a weeping Eva relented. With the aid of Haroun, Jacob settled her into the small rowboat for transport to the ship that was anchored in the harbour. Clutching her husband in the small, unsteady cluster of wooden planks swaying and bobbing on a bottomless sea of green terror, Eva prayed for the strength to control her fear.

"Salam," said the captain, greeting Jacob at the top of the gangway as he and Eva bade farewell with a wave to Haroun, who was now rowing back to shore.

"Salam. We are travelling to Port Said," replied Jacob, laying their two small carpet bags on the deck.

That will be three pounds for the both of you, said the captain, ignoring Jacob’s outstretched hand.

But we paid Haroun Shamoon three pounds each for our passage.

Do you have a receipt?

No.

Then, if you want to go to Egypt, the fare is one and a half pounds each.

When they reached Port Said, Eva was overawed by the large ships moored in the harbour and docked along the wharves. She clung to her husband amidst the bustle of people who crowded the docks. The couple met a group of Lebanese people waiting to embark to Australia and New Zealand. They had also been cheated of money and deceived with false promises. Therefore, when they paid their fares to the shipping agent, they all demanded receipts. Dejected by the treatment they had encountered, they decided to wait on the wharf for the ship and to make the best of their troubles. They began to sing and tell happy stories to ease the misery. When it was Jacob’s turn to tell his story, he recited it in poetry, as was the custom of his people.

When I was a little boy my mother dressed me as a girl

So our family would not have to pay the male child tax.

My mother said I was a very sweet and pretty maiden.

Jacob told the story of his life and his new friends listened and laughed. But they cried when he recounted the sadness of leaving his mother.

I am the eldest son in my family with three sisters.

When I told my mother of my journey abroad

She cried and lamented at my departure.

You are my only child, you are my favourite

I will never see you again, please don’t go.

The day I left I promised my mother that

I would return when I had earned my fortune

With riches and the wealth of many children.

Jacob and Eva were allocated a small cabin. That evening, they left for Australia on a German liner which was so large that it took seven hours to pass through the Suez Canal. The Lebanese travellers were the only non-Germans on board and communication was difficult. Eva’s mother had warned her to be wary of the evil eye and the strange-speaking foreigners seemed to embody all that was unholy.

Six days into their journey, the ocean became very rough and everyone suffered seasickness. With the waves as high as mountains and only the sky and the ocean to see, Jacob prayed for the ship not to sink. Eva despaired. Will I embrace my mother again or be lost forever in the hellish depths of the angry sea? she wondered.

They reached their destination and disembarked at Port Nicholson on unsteady sea legs, disorientated and bewildered by the new and strange surroundings. There were three Lebanese families remaining for this leg of the journey. The other families had been forced to stay in Australia when the ship docked in Melbourne as the patriarch of each family needed to have some command of the English language. Jacob had passed the test with the few English words he knew and was allowed to continue on to New Zealand.

The passengers queued within a fenced aisle. A small, scraggily bearded man in an ill-fitting uniform and captain’s hat sat at a desk at the end. Jacob and Eva were the last to be interviewed by the lingual-weary customs official.

Your papers? asked the official.

The brogue of the official confused Jacob, so he guessed at an interpretation and gave the official his papers, who sighed in annoyance upon sighting yet another document of hieroglyphic scribbling.

What’s your name, my good man? asked the official, scratching the back of his head.

Jacob Habib El Khouri Eleishah Fahkrey, Jacob replied, again second-guessing the question.

The official recognised the name Jacob. And what work do you do, Jacob? asked the official, searching the documents for something resembling English. Jacob gave the man a blank stare.

Work? said the official, gesturing with his hands. "Werk? he asked in German. Ah, travail?"

"Ah, oui, français, replied Jacob with a smile. I studied as a priest," he said in French, only to realise from the blank stare of the official that the man didn’t speak French.

"I, ah … learn, ah … stud-ie, as a … khoury," stuttered Jacob, using the few words of English he knew. Unable to call to mind the English equivalent for priest, he used the Arabic word instead. The official sighed again and reached for the alien entry form. In the space for Christian name, he wrote Jacob. In the space for the surname, he transcribed khoury phonetically and wrote Cahoury. With a flourish, he stamped the document with an official seal.

Welcome to New Zealand, Mr. Cahoury.

*     *     *

Jacob and Eva had made friends with Hunna Bechori and his wife on the voyage. With the help of members of their family, who had already settled in Wellington, the couple made arrangements to catch another boat to Dunedin, where Jacob’s uncle resided. When they reached Dunedin, they found his uncle to be very welcoming. They stayed with him until Jacob rented a shack on the outskirts of the city, where the Lebanese immigrants had established a community. The dwelling was small, but Eva, happy to have solid ground under her bed and a roof above, busied herself preparing their home for the child that would soon arrive.

Jacob found work on the waterfront, where his muscular build and large hands gave him an advantage when the stevedores’ foreman chose workers for the loading gangs.

When knowledge spread in the community that Jacob had studied as a priest, he made many friends. His humble nature and generosity made him popular, and he gained in stature and respect. In August of the year 1898, Eva gave Jacob a daughter. He named her Nazel.

A year passed. Jacob’s uncle introduced him to a merchant, Assam Maroun, who had a warehouse of sale goods. Assam suggested that Jacob might like to try hawking to the farmers in the country as a way to earn a living, now that he had some grasp of the language. Jacob relished the idea of being a businessman. He purchased shirts, socks, and other items, which he carried in a suitcase he had specially made with a large belt for carrying the case on his shoulder.

But his new occupation was much harder than he thought. The farms in the countryside were far from the city, so Jacob had to travel, firstly by coach and then walk long distances, to make a sale. The farmers, generally, were suspicious of foreigners and seldom purchased anything Jacob had to offer. He became downhearted. His only consolation in life was his wife. She never complained, asked questions, or told others of their troubles. Instead, she encouraged Jacob to have patience, saying that God was good and that he would answer their prayers one day.

Jacob yearned to sit in the shade of the cedars and smell the land of his birth. He wished he had wings, as he missed his mother and father and longed to see his grandfather with his long, white beard which covered the whole of his chest.

One day, Jacob approached a farmstead and knocked gently on the back door of the farmhouse. A lady appeared. Jacob lifted his hat in greeting. Good morning, lady.

What do you want? she asked, scowling in suspicion.

I was passing by and I think I see if you need something.

No. Thank you.

It no cost to look. You may need something.

I know all about you Syrians. You carry a lot of things that are useless.

Pardon, lady, but I am not Syrian. I have shirts and socks and handkerchiefs of good value, and many other things, Jacob persisted.

If you pass here again, don’t bother to stop, the woman replied dismissively. I’ve heard how you people, being Mohammedans, kill Christians. You are people of bad character, and there is no justice in your country.

Lady, I’m sorry you feel this way, but I am a Christian. And I’m from Lebanon, not Syria. I think it is the best country in the world, as God chose his Son to be born there.

After a long discussion, the farm woman apologised. But she was glad to be rid of Jacob. She hadn’t even offered him a drink of water.

Business slowly began to improve, as did Jacob’s language skills. In 1900, Eva gave birth to another beautiful daughter, whom they named Amelia. God heeded Jacob’s prayers, and he delighted in the birth of his first son, Joseph, in 1902. As Joseph was the first male child, he took the place nearest his father’s heart. Then, in 1904, with the birth of Michael, Jacob decided to christen the newborn, and all of his subsequent children, if God so willed, with English Christian names, in the hope they would more easily assimilate into the culture of the new land.

Jacob travelled further afield and spent many lonely days at a time away from home. The separation from his wife and children sometimes brought on a melancholy that was almost too hard for him to bear. But his diligence and hard work was rewarded, as he was honest and offered good, quality merchandise. With interesting conversation, information, and gossip from the city, he developed a client base of loyal customers who looked forward to his visits. His business acumen and sales grew, and he was able to put a large portion of his income into savings.

*     *     *

Late in the evening, at the outskirts of the city, after three successful days of hawking, Jacob decided to look for lodgings and to rest overnight before heading home. As he searched for an inn along the dimly lit streets, he was approached by a man wearing a coat with a large, upturned collar that covered most of his face.

Evening, friend, said the stranger. That’s a heavy case you have there. Are you a hawker?

Yes, said Jacob. Although tired, he would not refuse a friendly request. I don’t have a lot left now. Would you like to see? Jacob laid the case on the ground and opened the lid. The luminance of the full moon and the glow of the street gaslight was enough to illuminate the merchandise for inspection.

If you wait here, I’ll be back with a friend. I’m sure he’ll want to buy something.

The man returned fifteen minutes later, accompanied by three others. Something about the manner of the men made Jacob a little suspicious, but he was not overly concerned as he knelt on one knee to open the case for inspection under the gaslight. As three of the men bent over the case and enquired as to the price of the items, Jacob was aware that the puniest of the four had moved behind him.

The swift clasp of an arm around his neck startled Jacob to react. He leapt to his feet and grasped his attacker’s arm. Jacob effortlessly threw the puny aggressor from his back at the man in the high collared coat, skittling him to the ground. The other two robbers attempted to close the case and flee, but Jacob stomped on the lid of the suitcase with his boot and trapped one of the thief’s hands in the mouth of the case. The skin tore from the assailant’s knuckles when he desperately tried to retrieve his fingers. The other man lunged at Jacob and shifted him off balance, which allowed the wounded man to gather up the suitcase and back away.

The remaining three men grouped together and circled like wolves. Until now, Jacob had reacted on defensive impulse. But with the impending loss of his livelihood to these cowardly jackals, his temper exploded. His clenched fist jabbed at the closest face, that of the man in the high-collared coat, causing a spurt of blood and a whimpered grunt. The other, unwounded man and the puny attacker both cowardly retreated to stand by the wounded assailant, who waited at a distance with the case. The assailants then fled, content with having secured their ill-gotten gain.

The man who had suffered a bloodied nose drew a knife. Jacob’s blood surged. Taking the initiative, he quickly removed his jacket and wrapped it around his left arm. Unmindful of the danger, Jacob counterattacked in a flash of speed.

Using the jacket as a shield, he grabbed the hand that held the knife and twisted it into the chest of the would-be assassin, who realised he was outmatched in strength as he tried to free the knife with his other hand. But Jacob slammed his opponent’s back against the gaslight pole. Terror flooded into the dark eyes of the assailant, who was now desperate to escape.

In the struggle, the knife twisted upwards and slashed a stiletto line of crimson across the assailant’s chin and through both of his lips. The knife severed the man’s left nostril, which caused him to squeal. The blade then, passing his eye, separated his eyebrow from his forehead. With the letting and the shock smell of blood, Jacob relaxed his grip. The robber dropped the knife to better facilitate holding his slashed face together.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me, said Jacob apologetically, stunned by the profuse flow of blood, which seeped between the disfigured attacker’s fingers. The assailant retreated warily, fearful that Jacob would pounce again.

Jacob watched the cowering thief run off into the night. He had hurt another human being in a rampant fit of anger. Remorseful and exhausted, he collapsed cross-legged on the dusty ground and rested against the gaslight pole.

The long days of travel and the fracas had drained Jacob’s spirit. When dawn broke and the sun’s rays beamed warmth, he prayed. Jacob asked God to send him and his family back to Lebanon to see his parents so he could tell them what had happened while he was away. How he had to carry a heavy case full of goods and how his back and arms ached. And how people would say to him, We don’t want anything today, or Come back tomorrow, or We have too many children and not enough money. Jacob began to think he should start another business, anything but hawking.

When he returned home that evening and told Eva of his misfortune, she consoled him and agreed that he should give up hawking, as he had managed to save a good sum of money. They were always looking for strong workers on the waterfront and she did not want Jacob to be away for long periods. Joseph had become sickly and she worried about him constantly.

Eva’s concerns for their son were well founded. Joseph’s health deteriorated. The need for medicine and constant care put pressure on the family finances. Fortunately, Jacob was in demand on the waterfront and always had work, as the doctor’s bills and the cost of medicine took every penny he earned. The doctor was at a loss as to Joseph’s ailment and lack of appetite, and his parents became anxious as they watched their son waste away. He was loath to eat, and would bring up the food he did manage to swallow.

Michael was still on the breast. In desperation, Eva soaked a few grains of bulgur in her breast milk, which she expressed into a cup, and mashed into a gruel. She spoon-fed the emaciated child a little at a time, day and night. The desperate measure saved Joseph’s life. After a few weeks, Eva added bread crusts and melted cheese to the mix, which the boy seemed to relish. His health improved, much to the dismay of the doctor, who had given up on the child. Many months passed. Persist as his parents did, Joseph refused all other foods and would eat only bread and cheese for the rest of his life.

This is the end of Jacob’s diary

CHAPTER 2

1906

A Brave Rescue

Jacob, my friend. Can you lend me fifteen shillings ’til next week? asked Yusuf, his eyes downcast.

Why? Its payday today, Yusuf, replied Jacob.

I know, but I played cards last night with the Syrians and have to pay them back, or tomorrow I’ll have no balls to play with, either.

Oh.

Jacob, I wouldn’t ask, but Zahraa’s not been well since the baby was born. She cries all the time. We have no family here. She’s homesick for the old country. I can’t seem to make her happy. I thought if I won some money, I could buy her some pretty cloth for a dress.

Yusuf kicked the dust with his boot and turned away, not able to look into Jacob’s eyes. He didn’t know him that well, but Jacob seemed to love and trust everyone. In the three months they had worked together, Yusuf had never heard him raise his voice or bad-mouth anyone, not even the Irish foreman whom everyone hated. Jacob seemed to be content with the world. His dark blue eyes smiled kindly at everyone.

I’m sorry, Jacob. I’ve embarrassed you. Look, I’m sorry. I’ll …

Yusuf, come home with me after work. I’ll see what I can do. Quick! Here comes the Irish. Help me with this bale before he sees we’re not working.

That evening, Jacob took Yusuf to his house. Amelia and Joseph rushed to greet them and clung to Jacob’s legs. The children giggled as their father waltzed them on the toes of his boots to the doorway of the one-room home. The smell of cinnamon wafted from the entrance.

Eva, this is Yusuf. He works with me, called Jacob, bending to tickle the children to remove them and his boots.

Upon entry, Yusuf envied the homeliness of the living quarters and how neatly everything was arranged to take advantage of the cramped living space. A ragged but clean sofa lined one wall and served as seating at the small table that was the centre of family life. A small dresser at the adjacent wall housed crockery and bric-a-brac. At the space near the entrance sat a small coal oven, a bench, and an enamel basin. The focus of the room was the small picture of the Virgin Mary, which hung above the dresser. Behind a curtain, which separated the dwelling, a mattress of straw for the children lay on the floor beside their parents’ bed. Yusuf, his wife, and their baby lived in a tiny, damp room in a vermin-infested, overcrowded boarding house.

Hello, greeted Eva, looking up from the steaming pot of mujadarah she was stirring.

Michael, cradled on her hip, screamed in glee at the sight of his father. With arms outstretched, the boy wriggled to be free of his mother.

Eva, is there plenty in the pot? asked Jacob as he rescued Michael. He kissed his son’s naked belly and, with his moustache, tickled the boy into convulsions of laughter.

Yes, there’s plenty. Eva sighed and smiled.

Yusuf, give me your lunch pail. Jacob ladled the mujadarah into the pail, careful not to spill any as it brimmed, and then walked with him outside.

How much do you have to give the Syrians? Jacob asked Yusuf.

I owe them twenty-five shillings, but I only earned ten shillings this week. That’s why I need another fifteen.

Give me the money, Yusuf!

But, Jacob. I …

Trust me, Yusuf. It will be all right. Give me the money. Jacob’s voice was firm, though his eyes still smiled.

Yusuf reluctantly handed Jacob the ten shillings.

"Tomorrow when you come to work, bring your Zahraa over here to spend the day with Eva. She’s making kebbeh nayyeh and needs help drying the bulgur. Women love to talk and gossip. It makes them happy. Jacob patted Yusuf on the back. Go with God," he said, sending Yusuf home with his pail of Eva’s lovely mujadarah.

When supper was ended, Eva, with the help of Nazel, cleared the table and washed the dishes. Then came the evening ritual of bedtime and prayers, which Jacob loved and cherished. Eva nestled the sickly Joseph on her lap and rocked him gently while Nazel cuddled Michael and Amelia under the blankets in their bed on the floor. Eva’s fingers moved along the beads of the rosary as she softy recited, and the children answered with drowsy responses until their refrains eventually ceased. Jacob watched from his chair, prayer book in hand, as Eva placed Joseph alongside Nazel and covered the children carefully with the blankets. Then she kissed each one lovingly on the forehead. Every evening, in the twilight of the day’s end, this scene of Jacob’s precious family unfolded before him with undiminished joy, each and every time he witnessed the blessing of God’s hand in his life.

Eva rose wearily from the children’s bed, approached her husband, and smiled. Jacob gently took her tiny hand and enclosed it in the palm and fingers of his. Her dark eyes invitingly expressed the reflected love in his deep blue eyes, with the unspoken knowing that Michael had past his first year, and it was time to bring forth another child.

Have you finished your prayers, husband? asked Eva.

Soon, in a little while, whispered Jacob, regretting his promise to Yusuf and the errand he must undertake. You go to bed. You look tired. I’ll be a little while longer.

Eva stood at their bed next to the children and began to undress. Jacob forced his eyes back to his prayer book and read each word of prayer in deliberate concentration until he heard the rhythmic sound of his wife in slumber. He rose from his chair, donned his jacket, and turned the lantern to its lowest glow. He made sure the children were covered and his wife asleep before departing the house, quite unsure how the evening would end.

Carroll Street sloped upwards to a backdrop of hills at the edge of the city. Tents, shanty dwellings, and modest houses lined each side of the dusty, gutter-less road. The Lebanese community, deposited here by the Scottish founding fathers, out of sight of the city centre called it Little Lebanon. The constabulary seldom ventured into the enclave, not from fear, but because there was little crime or disturbance to investigate. The Lebanese seemed to take care of their own and, in general, were law-abiding and hard-working.

Before the Lebanese arrived, the street had housed a community of merchants catering to the Chinese prospectors who flocked to the goldfields of Central Otago in the 1860s. Dunedin prospered with the wealth dug from Gabriel’s Gully, the initial discovery, which then spread throughout the region. When the gold petered out, so did the opium dens and the brothels. But the stigma of the street lingered. To the good Christian Scottish clans, the area would forever be regarded as a heathen Gomorrah. Though the Lebanese emigrants were Maronite Christians, they had adapted to and now embraced Roman Catholicism.

The only officials to enter the precinct on occasion were the city’s health inspectors. Their mission was to eradicate any diseases or maladies before they spread from the impoverished, wretched Lebanese to the God-fearing populace of the Scottish Protestant community. Each dwelling was inspected monthly for signs of rats or other vermin. The inspectors were also expected to rule on the cleanliness of each dwelling, but the standard for evaluating cleanliness was based on the inspectors’ own living environment. After a few inspections, Eva was informed by the health inspector that he would not be returning.

In the long twilight of evening, Jacob strolled the dirt road towards the Syrian quarter. The hollow sound of ivory dice rolling on wooden tawleh boards mingled with laughter and chatter. Mothers called their children for bedtime as adults parlayed in doorways or over makeshift candlelit card tables set up beneath lean-tos. A myriad of Arabic accents floated in the air with the smoky whiff of hash from bubbling shishas and the sweet, sickly anise aroma of arak.

Jacob felt contented and happy. This may not have been his village of Becharri, but the many utterances of "Salam" and nods from familiar faces warmed his heart. The children were ragged and dirty, but most were healthy and none were hungry. Those who had, gave to those who had little. The concept of family was melded into the emigrant psyche for survival.

Jacob approached the area where the Syrians in the community had settled, just far enough away to preserve independence, but close enough for safety and well-being. The murmurings from the three-walled ramshackle building at the end of the lane beckoned him tentatively. Out of sight in the dark, Jacob watched six card players shuffle, deal and push coins to the centre of the table.

A cone of softly glowing, smoky haze, from a single oil lamp suspended from the low ceiling, lit the table. People watched from their vantage points, some sitting and others leaning against the fragile walls. Only the faces of the seated players were visible