Lebanese Coffee

A Beginning to a New Beginning

I did return to work. Child number three was in good hands — just a door away from my office. Yes, an office… but this time not in an Australian school, rather overseas.

When I say I love to learn, I truly mean it. This included picking myself up and learning all about my heritage — where I came from, what the people are like, how za’atar and kamoun are made, what the social interactions feel like. These things had always been distant to me. Mum and Dad had evolved into Aussie–Lebanese people, but I wanted just Lebanese. (Or whatever is left of Lebanese these days, given the oppression they’ve endured.)

Before long, I found myself school-hunting. Why? Why am I like this? Couldn’t I just enjoy the coastal drives? I did plenty, don’t worry — but my heart couldn’t settle. I hadn’t picked myself up and left family, friends, and life behind just for the luxury of visiting a country. I wanted my kids rolled in the dirt, living the real experience — meeting kids their age, speaking the language, learning how to interact. I wanted that for me, too.

So I landed a job teaching English and enrolled my kids in school.

How could I only speak English to communicate? (Not that my Arabic was amazing.) But those little ones only knew Arabic. A challenge needed — a challenge accepted. With love, hand gestures, fun, and more… they surprised me! They were so capable. Was it the system? From Kindy to Grade 6, they were phenomenal. Their drive and resilience had to come from something deeper than good grades.

Then came the next step — my potential was recognised. Meetings with the heads to become one myself. I was baffled by what God had in store for me. I had asked for a challenge, but I didn’t expect it to take me this far.

The challenge came in layers: sweet, bitter, and oozing wisdom.

The first bite was sweet — still high from my Aussie bank account, family visits, and tourist vibes. Basically, La La Land.

The second bite felt like a rush of Lebanese coffee… or more like give me a Lebanese coffee to get through each hour. Bank account decreasing. Working five days. Petrol station strikes. Electricity shut-downs. Freezing winters with diesel fumes.

The third bite oozed wisdom. I made lifelong friends who slapped me out of shock mode and invited me to coffee breaks. (Yes, we still needed the coffee.) We were in this together! I finally found the “dirt” I had been looking for — right on my doorstep, plenty of it.

Work was rewarding — I became Program Coordinator, led new initiatives, and worked on projects. The knowledge and experience I gained became my lifeline, my drive, my way of stimulating myself and surviving life.

My children became super learners. Life forced them to adapt, innovate, and push through. The daily hot shower became a luxury. Questions like:

Do we have water? Is it heated? What if my shower is longer than 60 seconds? What happens if I drink the water? Do I come out sticky or refreshed? Do we have conditioner? Which supermarket has the good one? Should I walk there? No hot water today — back to square one.

Life overseas was exhilarating enough to exhaust you. This was a beginning to a new beginning.

Back in Australia, I could breathe in the fresh air and appreciate the basic human rights that people in Lebanon are stripped of. (Accessing medication there at the time was a luxury — even with a bribe.)

Back to my first curiosity: teaching English to Arabic speakers. It all made sense. Learning English is a piece of cake compared to deciding whether you should have a shower or not.

Yes, I miss the coastal drives, and I yearn for Lebanon to this day.

Special thank you to Nour, Hayat, Laila, Hoda, Aunty Mariam, and all the lovely people who surrounded me.