A tribute to JD

JD passed away this morning…

I met Jiwandas (JD) a few years ago, during an interview that I gave for a role at  the Engro Foundation.  What most of my friends, I think don’t know, is that that was the darkest time in my life. I had been shamed and discriminated against in a very high profile role at another organization by my CEO, and my self-esteem and faith in my own ability was shattered. A few months after quitting, I came to Engro Foundation to work on one of their projects.JD was my boss. 

I was a passionate, at times impatient person who wanted to do good for the world. I had radical ideas about education, alternative learning and wanting to do things differently.  What I got in JD at that time was a teacher and mentor. He would sit and listen to me for hours, share ideas and advice on what I could do.  He was patient and allowed me to grow, just like any other teacher would.   When he handed over Engro’s Education Program to me a few months later, he knew that I had no experience in the Education sector. When I told him that, he said you have enough experience working in communities and that is what you need. He spent the next few months, helping me learn, get exposure, visiting other schools and organizations. He patiently waited as I made mistakes, struggled, never being authoritative or critical of me.  He pushed me towards the Katcha program, telling me that I had passion for those communities. The Katcha Education program, which changed so much of my outlook on development, still remains the best part of my work these days.  JD helped me to start believing in myself again.

At this time, I would also use my days off to start a water service in a fishing community.  He was my go to person to get advice about so many things, whether that was the patriarchy I faced working with a male CBO there, to structure of the enterprise, to where I could get funding for the project.  When we were ready to launch, he had moved out of Engro to East Timor to be part of the Child Life fund. Yet he made calls to his friends and colleagues in Pakistan for them to fund my project.

When he came back to Engro a few years later to run the Thar CSR program, he offered me a job. I said I couldn’t do it, as it was attached to coal mining. We disagreed on coal mining-  he thought that resettlement and coal mining would lead to more development. I strongly disagreed, and yet I told him that if it was to happen, I was glad that he was there to oversee the resettlement, because he would be the best person to do it.  

JD and I both worked at a corporate foundation, and yet we both felt like outsiders. I would often go to him frustrated when I didn’t agree with something happening in the company, but he always reminded me of the good that Engro was capable of.   At times he also got cynical . I would say him to we should develop worker based enterprises. He would laugh and say ‘ naukri sey nikalwayengi kya’. He knew from experience which fight to take up and whoch one  to forego.

JD signified love and hope. He had so much love for the people he worked with, whether that was his colleagues, his peers or the communities he worked for. He had a strong intuitive knowledge about people. He could read people easily and could empathize with them. He could feel the pain of the people he worked for, and that was his biggest strength. Yet he was most humble and symbolized softness and humility

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JD was from a rural village in Kandhkot, I felt he often felt himself to be not good enough for the modern work environment. He would often joke about his English not being good enough for Engro, often saying to me, that he would fail the Engro english admission test, if he had to give it. I would tell him that this was not important that his wisdom and experience was far more than any language skill. 

But I think he never knew how good he was, how many lives he touched and how many people he inspired. Perhaps that’s where his humility came from, but I wish he could know in his life, how many people learnt from him and looked up to him.

I was supposed to see JD last week, after he came back from Thar,  but we both got busy, rescheduling for the upcoming week. I had wanted advice on the organization I am starting. Never did I think that I would now be going to his funeral.

JD, you will be missed, and always fondly remembered as a mentor, friend and a loving comrade.

What Alex taught me...

My friend Alex died 4 years ago in Ottawa-killed by a drunk driver. Since then I have wanted to write a tribute, and have tried many times, with many unfinished drafts. A few weeks ago, we tried to go to her grave. We didn’t make it in time, and the cemetery shut down.  But I think I finally got some strength to write about her.  

This is to Alex, one of the bravest and the most authentic woman I know.


I still remember the first day I met her; she was campaigning for the SAC ( now known as the University of Toronto's Students Union) elections.   She came up to me, and asked me why I was supporting someone who was running against one of the members on her ticket.  I told her it was because he had asked me first, and the other guy was kind of cocky.   She began to then tell me about what her ticket wanted to do and how it should be my politics I should support; not an individual. I tried to explain.  She talked over me.

I couldn’t decide whether I liked her or whether she was just very annoying.

That summer, after being elected, I worked in the SAC downtown office, where she was one of the executives.   I was new to a political, semi white environment.  Although I had been in Canada for about 5 years till then, I had maybe 2 white friends, who I had lost in touch with after high school ended.  I felt like an alien and an outsider to the student union.  There was also a strong right vs left fight in our board and I was often called the wild card, getting calls from people  from both sides before a meeting to try to secure my vote. I tried to vote with my conscience in what I felt was right, even if that is not what strategically with the progressives.

But of course I didn’t have right wing politics. And I think the only person who understood me at that  point was Alex.  She understood my passion for the marginalized. She knew I understood race, class, gender through my experience.   When I was concerned about Norman Finkelstein speaking at U of T, as it may hurt many Jewish peoples feelings, and we represented the entire student body. I was called the right wing swing card vote again. I remember speaking to her about it, getting into a long conversation about identity, solidarity and oppression. She understood where I came from and accepted my position.

But this was a side of Alex that people rarely saw.

To many people, especially many men, Alex was aggressive, outspoken, offensive and an unrelenting political junkie. Her famous tease was  that she made many of the men in our student union cry.

I think it was people close to her, who saw the passion, her utter love and pain for the poor and the marginalized. But to me, Alex was a lot more than just someone with passion.

Some called Alex manipulative and sensationalist.  Conservative groups hated her, ridiculed her and would often  effigies of her. She was the most talked about student leaders of our times.

But what Alex was a strategist, a doer. She was a die hard progressive  who believed in the fight; and believed in fighting to the end, no matter how tough things get.

I would at times, not agree with her way of doing things. She was perhaps more confrontational than I was, more driven and had a whole lot more faith in what she was doing.

But this is what I loved about her the most. She defied stereotypes.  She was different. She wasn’t the unloving, non-intuitive strong woman stereotype, and yet she was who couldn’t be intimidated, once she started.  She would cry after a hard meeting, or if someone had harassed her.  And people did, as they often do with strong women to intimidate them even further.  And yet she would start again the next day much stronger.  To me she was the complete woman. Vulnerable and strong; and yet she understood what other women, would go through in politics. I remember her hosting women only sessions to encourage women to speak more at our board meetings.

That summer Alex and I walked around in Toronto, exploring, going out to new lunch places. These were some of my most special times with her.  Being from Mississauga, I didn’t know much about Toronto neighborhoods. She would take me around, telling me stories of friends who might have lived in a specific area. She was also the one who introduced me to Kensington, who introduced me to China Town, introduced me to Sushi on Bloor (a most memorable place for so many of us).
Many have called Alex feminist, activist, lifelong leftie. But to me those are labels that don’t do her justice.   Alex understood power. She understood and could empathize with people who could be or were subjected to unjust and oppressive power. She was intuitive. I could easily talk about what patriarchy did in my life and how power structures existed in the society I came from.

That year, while Alex was vice president, there was a lot of infighting as there often is in student politics.  A lot of men with different politics than her vilified her and would subject her to criticism and at times ugly back room conversation.  I wondered if it would be different if Alex was a man. Alex often fought back by building alliances and solidarity with other people.  If she wanted your support she would ask for it. She would push you to strategize with her on an issue she believed in.  She was in for the fight, whether that was for better local representation or lower tuition fees . Her resilience and her fight was what I most admired about her.

That year, I remember we got closer as political comrades and as friends.  I would call her for advice. That year we had a lot of tension between our student body on the Israel- Palestine conflict. I had been spit on and rounded up at Kings College Circle by a Zionist group. Having her by my side for support, made it easier for me to take it head on.
A year after that she was taking a year off and be part of the Canadian Federation of Students ( a national student organization), while I was leading the student union on my campus.   That year was filled with controversies. We had run on a ticket, and certain things were expected from us.  I wasn’t agreeable to some. She despite being an avid supporter and close to the ticket, was still open to hearing my side of the story.

 And I think this is how our relationship was different.

Alex was always seen as unrelenting and for some had a ‘by any means necessary’ attitude.  I always experienced her to be different. She understood the importance of women doing something for change, and always understood that it was an individual's process and yet  a collective process that we all had to go through, especially as women. Even when we disagreed, she was emphatic to my choices, always tried to understand them. She listened to me, we argued but always gave each other the space to go through own processes of evolving and of growing as women leaders.

Alex was blond and a North American woman and had grown up in a very different culture. I was a South Asian woman used to a very different world, and a different power structure, a world she knew little about, and yet we understood each other.

At that time, I  had become  an angry, at times aggressive and loud student leader. I was controlling of others and demanded at times perfection from other organizers who I led.  I was vocal, spoke up and believed in principles.  Growing up in a family system, where women were known to be unfeminine if they weren’t agreeable and adapted, I hated this aspect of myself.   I thought of myself as unfeminine and difficult.

But I think Alex always saw the positive in that. She saw the leadership in me, a lot more than I saw it.  And this was her biggest gift to me.  Through her, I realized that it was ok to be vocal to be strong, to speak up even if it was unpopular.  She always let my critical consciousness thrive and was proud of me a lot more than I was.

I was different and even though I hated myself, she always saw that as my strength and as my uniqueness.

It has been 10 years since that time, and 10 years since I moved to Pakistan to do development and political work. Alex passed away 4 years ago.  We had lost touch while I was here.  Her last email to me was when she in law school excited to start her law career. I had been busy and hadn’t replied to her email.

In my recent trip to Toronto, after 6 years I walked around in many of the streets and neighborhoods, she had introduced me to.  My last time there, six years ago had been with Alex, talking about old times, when we were both political junkies and how we had changed so much politically, about our relationships with men and how, challenges of doing political work outside our university lives.
This time, as I walked alone, I thought of her and how much she inspires me even after her death. I immensely feel her loss as a friend, a fellow comrade and a feminist.

So many of my friends from that time have changed, many of them with regular jobs, married with children and homes.  Many had changed their line of work and considered our work in those times to be idealistic.

I have changed too.  After doing political work for some years, I am now engaged in apolitical community development work. Recently I have decided to leave behind a well-paying development job to start an organization who works with grassroots movements. And yet I am so scared, so scared of leaving behind a somewhat mainstream comfortable life.  I am scared about money, about not having enough, about being a burnt out political junkie who hadn’t achieved anything.

During this trip to Toronto, I was looking for some remnants of my past self, for validation for my recent choices. I was looking for my crazy radical self who wouldn’t think twice, before fighting for the rights of the marginalized, who would leave their comfortable job in a second to do larger political impact work. But going back, I didn’t find that self. I only thought of Alex and how she would have called me out on it, probably called me cowardly for not following my dream.  I thought of Alex who wouldn’t have given up, who would have still fought no matter what it meant.

A friend from those recently told me. ‘You were always different.  I never expected you to live an easy comfortable life, you were always meant to do bigger things than yourself’. I told him that I wasn’t sure that if I ever was, but I knew that Alex was, she was meant to really change the world.
Even though my friend isn’t with us. Her memory remains with me.  Her memory reminds me and inspires me to speak up, to organize for change, even if it is unpopular, even if that means that I would be ridiculed, and even if it means that in my world, I would be alone. Because as she was ..to stand with the oppressed, the poor with solidarity and love is an individuals purpose.


But more than anything, her memory gives me the strength to be different.