Today, Maher is known around the world for the wine he makes at Sept, his biodynamic winery in the hills above Beirut. He planted the first vines in 2010 and it wasn’t until 2017 that he produced his very first Syrah but his story starts with the death of his father during the Lebanese Civil War.

Where do you live/are you from?

I live between two places. I have a family house in the village of Nahleh in the mountains north of Beirut that my father built. Most of my time is spent there but I collect my orders throughout the week, then I load up the car and head down into the city itself. I make my deliveries, collect payments and clear through any other administrative work that needs sorting out.

The winters can be pretty harsh but 90% of the work I have to do is up here at the winery. It’s probably a 90/10 split between village and city life.

What were you doing before Sept? And what made you take the leap?

Okay. So I'll go back to when I was a child, back to 1990. I was seven years old and Lebanon was coming to the end of a civil war. In February that year things really flared up and Eastern Beirut broke up. As Christians at that time, in that place, it was really unsafe for us. We had to flee from our house so we went to my uncle's place. But when we got there, bombs started hitting the area. The Christian militia were fighting back but the army overran them. After that, they came and arrested my uncles because they were ex-militia.

My father worked for the state, he was in civil intelligence. He’d tried to negotiate with the army not to take my uncles but they weren’t interested. A little while later, he decided to try again. He walked out the house and my grandmother followed him, she was trying to stop him, trying to keep him safe. At the same time, the army started hitting the street again. He heard a bomb coming and threw himself on top of her. He saved his mother but took the full force of the blast. He spent a week in hospital but died from complications - lack of blood, lack of meds, lack of everything. He was 33. That was when everything changed for me.

Growing up, life was hard. My mother worked three jobs to keep me and my brothers alive. For me, it was complicated, because I was very close to my father and I was old enough when he died that I was aware of everything when it happened. I remember the moments before he left the house so clearly. He went into the bathroom and was shaving. And I asked him “why are you shaving now?” He looked at me, smiled and said, “don't worry”. That was the last time I saw him.

My mother is a very strong woman, a very smart woman and for her, the most important thing was school. As a single mother, it amazes me that she managed to get us all through education. It was a struggle and of course, we couldn't always get what we wanted but that made us appreciate the little things.

After I finished school, I just couldn’t imagine myself living in Lebanon. I felt stuck. I was sad and everything felt heavy. Wherever I went in Beirut, I remembered that day. There were reminders everywhere. That was a really heavy burden for a young lad and one day I snapped, I couldn’t take the grief anymore and I told my mother I had to leave. I enrolled at university in France and when I was accepted, I left Lebanon for the first time in my life.

Initially it was super tough and not just for me. My mother had to send me half her salary so I could survive at the beginning. At the same time, it was an amazing chapter of my life. I was able to disconnect from some of the anger and the grief for the first time since I was seven.

I was living in France and I was dealing with the realities of being alone, being in a new country, learning a new language, a new culture, new everything. It was like a punch in the face but it also taught me that it’s when things are tough that I thrive.

In the first three months after I moved to France, I was homesick, I was alone and I was sad. I was so lonely and where I was living was awful, a real shithole. Most nights, I’d sit up drinking shitty wine listening to music from back home. I’d stay up late into the night and for that short period of time, I’d forget about myself because it would remind me of my family and of the days we spent together up in the mountains.

I was completely focused on my education. It meant that my grades were some of the best at the University but I was completely antisocial. I just wasn’t comfortable with myself and I couldn't let anyone in. At the end of the day, I was embarrassed. I literally had nothing, most nights I was hungry because I didn’t really have the money to buy food - at least not to entertain. I would buy a couple of potatoes and a 50 cent bottle of wine and that would be my dinner. Because I had so few distractions, I really turned inwards. I spent the whole year connecting with my father, trying to understand what was going on in my head.

One night, I was sleeping on the floor. And I remember saying to my father, “It's okay. This will make me stronger.” and I had this real sense that he agreed with me. The next day I woke up and I felt so much stronger, like he had my back. Another time, I was outside and it was freezing, literally -6°C. I was waiting for my student permit for three hours and I had that same conversation with my Dad “It’s okay Dad. This will make me stronger.”

It started to feel like his presence was a support instead of a burden. When I realised that, everything changed. The light slowly started to come back and I started meeting and spending time with people, I started doing sports again and I started going out. I got a part-time job and was able to help my mom.

So I graduated with good grades and I started a career in Paris. Life was good. I worked as a data science and business management consultant for corporate clients. Although, when I look back, I can see that I was never really meant to do that. I’m someone who takes pride in my work and my work ethic - I’ll be out tending to my vines from sunrise to sunset for weeks at a time but when I was consulting, I rebelled against it. I started coming in late, I was told I had to be clean shaven so I grew a beard - stupid stuff.

Around 2008, things started to build up and feel wrong again. One of the things that I really noticed was that I’d go out with girls and, on the surface I’d fall in love - but I couldn’t ever really commit. As soon as things looked like they were going to the next level, I’d be out of there. I realised that was a common thread with all my relationships and when I asked myself why, the answer was really clear. If I committed to a relationship in France, I might have to stay. 

When I saw that, I knew there was something out there more important than my life in Paris and it all came back to my father. He was 33 years old when he died. He didn't have the time to realise whatever dreams he might have had. So I promised myself that before I turned 34, I would start something in his name.

Why wine? What drew you to it in particular?

I knew that I’d been searching for happiness. I mean, the whole reason I left Lebanon was because of how unhappy I felt there but I’d started to realise that if you don’t like what you do, it doesn’t matter where in the world you are. Every time I went back to the mountains above Beirut, or even thought about them, that was where I felt true happiness.

A friend of mine from work suggested that we cycle around the South of France and that whole area reminded me of home. That’s where the idea came to me. This area that’s known around the world for beautiful wine looks and feels just like my Dad’s place in Nahleh. Could I grow vines and make wine there?

I mean, I knew nothing about wine. Literally zero. But once the idea formed in my head, it stuck and all roads started to lead back to Lebanon. I came back home on leave and was with my Mum up in the mountains and I told her what I was thinking. I’ve always been known as a dreamer, for thinking big and she just thought this was another dream. But I started buying every book I could find on making wine, on soil, types of vines, nutrients, everything. It became an obsession.

There was something about the idea that fitted. It fit with how I’d felt being in the corporate world, I could start something and I could be my own man. It fit with my promise to do something for my Dad. It was his land and I could create something of value on it. It fit that I could be somewhere where I felt truly happy.

I feel like that combination, but especially the feeling that I was fulfilling my father’s legacy, is what kept me going. It was a crazy idea, I know that now. From 2009 when I decided to do it, through to 2017 when I sold my first bottle of wine, I needed that drive, that commitment and purpose to keep me going.

Has the transition from one career to another been easy? Any major direction changes or bumps in the road? Did it go how you expected?

Yes and no. In 2009, the financial crisis hit and at the same time, I quit my job. I remember my boss telling me I was making a terrible mistake, that I wouldn’t find another job, especially not in Lebanon. When I told him I was going back to start a winery, he just laughed. He also offered me a six month business development position that I could run from Beirut. The money was good and he was right, the global market was all sorts of messed up so I took it. I figured it would take time for anything I did on the land to come to fruition so at least being back in Beirut, I could get things started. After that, I ended up picking up two or three other jobs that I did to make ends meet and I had a great time. I’d left Lebanon when I was really young and I was getting the chance to rediscover the country as an adult.

By 2012 I was able to clear my father’s land, create terraces and plant some vines that I bought from a winery in France. That was one of the craziest things I’ve ever done. When the vines arrived, it was mid winter and it was one of the coldest we’d had in Lebanon for years. I ended up planting them all by hand by myself. The soil was frozen solid and it took me two weeks of working from sun up to sun down in some of the harshest conditions to plant 3500 vines but I loved every minute of it.

Still, that cost me $20,000 and it’s not like you can start bottling wine a couple of weeks after planting vines, these things take time so I had to find another job. That’s part of why I had to plant the vines when I did rather than waiting for things to get warmer. I’d picked up a job but it was in Saudi Arabia and it started a month after the interview - so I couldn’t hang around.

As you probably guessed, half of the vines died over the winter but I replaced them that summer and it was then that I really felt like I started to connect with the land. I was using my hands to create something and that felt amazing. I really started to believe that this was what I was born to do.

So by that February, I’d found myself back in corporate life and everything that I hated about it in France was ramped up 10,000 times there. But, I kept at it, I knew that the money I was earning was fuelling my future. For two and a half years, the only thing I spent money on was tickets back to Beirut so I could work on the land whenever I got time off. Then, one day I was invited to an underground party in Riyadh. It was one of the few weekends I couldn’t make it back home and for two and a half years, I’d gone to work, come home, had dinner, gone to sleep and repeated that so I thought ‘why not, what’s the worst that can happen?’

Almost immediately, I realised how out of place I felt. It was all mega rich guys and girls, all partying on their parents’ money. There was alcohol, drugs - whatever. It was nuts. So I started drinking to try and relax, to fit in. By 3am I was done. I had to leave so I got into my car and strapped on my seatbelt. Then I realised how drunk I was. I’d finished a bottle of whisky to myself but I was in Saudi right? The country is dry so if I got caught with alcohol in my system, I’d have gone to prison. So I started the car up and got myself to the highway then suddenly, I felt like I was flying.

The next thing I knew, I was looking at my hands on the wheel. My knuckles were white and I couldn’t open them, I was holding on so tight. In that moment, I realised that I was still alive and then I completely blacked out. I don't know for how long, maybe a minute, maybe less. Then I opened my eyes and I saw dust everywhere. I looked to my left and I could see the highway above me. I’d been on the highway, and now I was below it on another road.

Of the whole car, it was like the driver’s seat and the area just around me was ok but everything else was totally trashed. I must have flipped and somehow landed back on my wheels but I was so far gone, I tried to start the car. I wanted to go home. Of course it wouldn’t start so I tried to open the door but it was jammed shut so I had to climb out the window. Once I got out and I saw the car, I cried like a baby. I thought about my mother and I sat on the side the road, just crying my eyes out. I called my flatmate and told him where I was so he could come and get me.

Then this guy appeared in front of me and said “Come with me.” I looked up at him and just stared at him until he grabbed my hand, pulled me up and walked me over to his car. I sat down and the first thing I saw was a joint in his ashtray. Funny the details you remember in these situations. Anyway, he took me back to his flat but by the time we got there, my flatmate had arrived at the accident and called me. He told me the police were there and I had to come back.

So we got back into the car and headed back. When I got there, the policeman was clearly angry that I’d left the scene but he told me to give him my residents’ permit. It’s an ID card everyone in the country has to carry and it has your name, date of birth, religion and so on printed on it. So, my name is Maher Harb, it’s an Arabic name but I’m Christian and this guy was just staring at me, then staring at the card. Staring at me, staring at the card. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that I could be Arab, speak Arabic but not be Muslim. He asked me “Why aren’t you Muslim?” and at that exact moment, I knew I was going to be ok. I smiled and I said “Brother, I just survived that” pointing at the car “today, Christian or Muslim, I love god more than anyone alive." He looked at me and just hugged me.

He let me go and within three or four days, I’d quit my job and left Saudi. If all of that wasn’t a sign, I didn’t know what was. So I took some time to myself, I got my bike and I cycled the Camino de Santiago trail for 11 days. It was during that trip that I realised it was time to commit to being a winemaker properly. I enrolled in a masters and started travelling around the world learning as much as I could from as many real life experiences as I could find. I knew I needed to learn the craft, to be a craftsman.

After that, I moved back to Lebanon to work as a consultant in a wine shop in Beirut and started running courses. Actually, it was while I was doing that that I realised the knowledge I had was unique because of all the experiences I’d had over the years. This was 2015 and it had already been 5 years since I planted the first vines on my own land and had immersed myself in learning as much as I possibly could.

So, in 2016 I took another risk and took out a bunch of personal loans to buy 5 fermentation tanks and from that, I was able to make my first 5000 bottles in my garage. That was a huge moment for me. I finally felt like things in my life were in harmony.

What lesson(s) have you learnt that you would tell other people who aren’t fulfilled doing what they’re doing?

I believe life has an energy and I see that so many people have the capacity to do amazing things but not everyone digs in. You need to put yourself in situations that force you to look deep in yourself, otherwise, it’s all too easy to live your life without realises what you’re capable of.

Everyday, I'm surprised how Sept is evolving but at the same time, I never doubted it. From day one from when I was in France in 2009 and I told my boss that I wanted to become a winemaker, what brought me here is belief. I didn't have anything when I made that statement. But I had my imagination and my will and my passion. I used to close my eyes and imagine myself here, producing wine and I never had any doubt that I’d make it work. Of course, that was hard for my family to understand and they were afraid. But I believed in myself and I invested in myself. I spent time and money to learn, to understand and that backed up my passion and my belief with substance.

For me, this whole winemaking journey has also been about personal development and I love that I’m creating a platform to build a community, for others to enjoy and to learn. That for me, is just as important as the wine itself.

If you have an idea, a dream, a passion, get after it. Every day you spend in a situation that doesn’t light you up, is a day you lose from your life. The moment you decide that you want to make a change, that you start to understand yourself better - even if it takes you a lifetime - that’s the moment that you really start living. It’s so easy to choose the comfort zone, to tell yourself the challenge is too great, that you’re afraid, that it could take 10 years to be successful. So what? The moment you decide to step outside of your comfort zone, to chase down your dream, that’s the moment you start to live for you.

Do you think people are born to be entrepreneurs?

I think it’s a skill and it’s something that we have to learn. I think that we, as human beings, are born equal. I see equality in all of us, I don't see one person as better than another. What creates inequality is society and belief systems. We are born with the capacity to be whatever we want to be. Everything that holds us back starts with our environment, our family and our parents. That’s not to say they know they’re putting barriers in the way but as children, they are our guide and they reflect society’s beliefs onto us.

Do you think people are born to create?

I do. In my mind, the only reason some people are less creative, is because they take fewer risks. For me, creativity and risk are interconnected. I don't think you can create anything if you’re afraid of thinking outside the box, or of looking like you made a mistake. You have to separate yourself from the mainstream to be able to create and we’re programmed not to do that.

Tell us about a project you’ve worked on. Why does it stand out to you and what did you learn during the process?

The process of branding Sept was a project that brought so many threads together into a single tapestry. So, why Sept? Sept is seven in French and sure, France has had a huge impact in Lebanon and of course I worked in France but the number seven has a much deeper meaning to me.

When I was a teenager, I used to write the number seven on my books. I don't know why, I just used to doodle and it was always that number. There was just something about it that always attracted me. To the point that I had it tattooed on my wrist after riding the Camino.

So in the process of finding a name for the brand, I wanted a name that related to my father in an abstract way. Something that was obvious to me but maybe less so to the world. When I was at Uni, I studied economics. I'm a mathematician, I’ve studied numbers all my life and so I started to look for a number that related to my father. I was 33 when I was going through this process and that was the age he was when he died. 33 felt right, so I went to register it. I couldn’t believe it when I was told I couldn’t because another winery had already taken the name. It wasn’t until later that I found out Lebanon is on a latitude of 33.

Anyway, I was disappointed but the way my brain works is that I just figured that if the name was already taken, it was the wrong choice in the first place. It was shortly after that that my brother called me up. He’d done some research in to numerology and had looked at my date of birth and my Dad’s. He said “Man, have I got a surprise for you! I know why you feel such a strong connection to the number seven. If you calculate your life path number, it’s seven.”

Numerology and astrology kind of go hand in hand and was developed by Pythagoras. And when he told me that, it all kind of clicked. Of course, I was seven when my Dad died. It felt like everything had fallen into place and I just had this feeling of peace inside me. I felt like things had gone full circle and that my Dad was there looking out for me again.

Any other words of wisdom or anything else you’d like to share?

Sept has been well received from the first 5000 bottles I made in my garage. But I approach my marketing in a very different way to all the advice that’s out there now. There are thousands of books about marketing and advertising, and how to succeed. So many of them focus on making everything as slick as possible. I’m not saying this is the right thing for everyone, but I haven’t ever done any marketing in the true sense of the word.

At the beginning I started knocking on doors to start selling my wine in restaurants. People would immediately ask for a 30% discount. And I was very clear from the beginning with all those people. I’d say, “Listen, I know you don't know me, but I believe that my wine is the best wine in Lebanon. No one's getting a discount.” Some of them wouldn’t go for it but those that did are still customers today. They believed in me and I made sure I supported them in kind.

I focused on creating the best possible wine that I could and people started talking about it. Of course, Sept is on Instagram and Facebook but I don't force it, I’ve never forced it. The way I see it, is that if you're doing a good job, things will come to you because you’ll stand out with what you're doing and the quality that you’re able to create through that focus on the job at hand.

If you’re running a boutique brand, you don't have to lose money on advertising. I’ve never paid a cent for my marketing and I’ll admit, that at the beginning that was a gamble. But I always had the attitude that if you like my wine, great. If you don’t, that’s also fine. As long as you’re authentic and you can be creative people will be drawn to you. Be yourself, document what you’re doing, let people see your good days and your bad days.