It appears that it has taken the loss of an altruistic soul, and the agony of probing each crevice in the gaping cavity he left behind, to fully comprehend his worth.
A smarting handful of months have gone by since the passing of Abdul Sattar Edhi in July. Ironically, heightened xenophobia, dwindling empathy for those with unfamiliar lives and the first world’s convulsive turn inward and away from the needs of the “other” have all recently compounded our necessity for the late humanitarian and his other-centric paradigm. It is this narrowing of our worldview that has added a poignant element to Edhi’s legacy; not only were his efforts aimed at the rejected, but he was and remains a representative of the world’s Muslims, a people deemed “other” in recent years.
Abdul Sattar Edhi was born in British India in 1928, 19 years before the establishment of Pakistan and India as separate states. His mother was credited with emphasizing selflessness in his upbringing; Edhi would care for her when she became paraplegic in his pre-teenage years, a situation that turned his attention to social service. Edhi lived and worked in Karachi, Pakistan following the partition, and he soon left his job to open a free dispensary in the city. After some time, he established the Edhi Foundation.
True to his ideology, the motto of the Edhi Foundation reads: “Serving Humanity Is the Spirit of All Religions.”
The organization takes a hands-on, multi-pronged approach to welfare in a country in which crippling poverty is no stranger. A fraction of the foundation’s endeavors include an ambulance service, orphanages and homes, animal shelters, a slew of children’s services, hospitals, educational initiatives and efforts to give the anonymous or little-affording deceased a dignified burial — all free of charge.
What is most unorthodox about Edhi’s involvement in the foundation is that it was not confined to administration. Rather, he delved into service to an extent unusual for an individual at the head of an ambitious organization. Edhi himself lived ascetically and left little distinction between personal life and his welfare efforts. Take, for instance, the foundation’s adoption effort tailored to abandoned children, many of whom are born to impoverished or unwed parents — the program began when Edhi installed a hammock on his front porch, meant for parents who could not care for their child to leave the baby anonymously and without public loss of dignity. Edhi also adopted many of the children himself. What is more, he routinely drove the ambulances in his emergency service and frequented his orphanages, where, according to the Edhi Foundation website, he was lovingly referred to as “Grandfather.” Most strikingly, as a part of his graveyard service he often opted to prepare and bathe the bodies of the deceased — many of whom had passed brutally and without family or funds — himself, personally providing them with a dignified burial in the tradition of their faith.
It goes without question that Edhi was an exceptionally giving man, but I wish to broaden the scope of our examination and to view his work in the context of the culture in which he moved. Inextricably embedded in Pakistani culture and Islamic tradition, as well as in many other cultures and faiths, is a ubiquitous calling to personally take upon oneself the responsibility of promoting civic welfare. What makes this tendency distinct from what we see around us is the normalcy with which public service is meted out despite a paucity of resources; culturally, it is categorized as standard conduct and not as formal volunteerism. Examples of civilians’ service efforts include the “Wall of Kindness” in Karachi, one of a handful across the world. A location for the donation of food and clothes, the system is designed for recipients and donors alike to approach the wall, indistinguishable from each other. Classes for homeless children who yearn for an education are routinely led by older students in the city; refusing to accept monetary donations, the student leaders encourage the community to donate school supplies for their makeshift classes, which are conducted under bridges.
Edhi was certainly a causal element in the creation of this culture, but he was a reflection of it, too. In an increasingly xenophobic and Islamophobic world, we are so quick to fall prey to fear-mongering as to forget the sterling values that form the foundation of the culture or faith we are instructed to reject. The world received a shock in the wake of Edhi’s passing, and with the very same jolt came the clarity that the man and his deeds are inseparable from his values and identity. Through “service of humanity in the spirit of all religions,” Edhi left us with a sorely needed reminder of what a Muslim, and a Pakistani, really looks like.
This article credits https://edhi.org for providing information about the founder and the foundation’s services.
Contact Alizeh Ahmad at alizeha ‘at’ stanford.edu.