When I met Edhi

I had lived in Karachi for over decades, but this was my first (and only) visit to Mithadar. The year was 2004. I had come to meet Abdul Sattar Edhi in his office. I felt transported back in time, his office was so bare. 
It had a few antiquated chairs and tables. There was another visitor, a girl draped in a white chadar. She had fresh henna on her hands and her fingers dazzled with gold rings. I was curious, what was she doing there? She said, “I was just married two days ago, I had a tough time getting out of the house. I didn’t even tell them where I am going. I just wanted to give Edhi the cash I received at my wedding. She carried a wad of cash in a big brown bag under her chadar. 
Edhi walked in — a small man, who grew in stature every minute. The girl went up to him, almost trembling with reverence. “I can’t tell you how much we love you and your work. Please accept this money and I am studying law, when I become a lawyer, I want to work for you.” Edhi looked almost humble and grateful as he accepted the cash and said he would get her a receipt. The girl almost said with anguish, “No!” and left. 
Edhi left a deep impact on whoever met him. People trusted him totally even at a time when Pakistan was considered the world’s second most corrupt nation. Edhi ran Pakistan’s largest charitable organization solely on charity. When he asked for money, millions were collected within hours. And he was very proud and thankful for that. He told me, that Pakistanis were the most generous when it came to charity, in ratio to how much they made or had. 
Edhi went to school only till second grade and did not come from a rich family. When Edhi started his first dispensary in 1951, in Karachi, the city had only one ambulance! By the year 2000, Edhi’s charitable foundation entered the Guinness book of world record for having the largest fleet of emergency services — 1,800 ambulances, 28 rescue boats and two planes. 
Edhi gave all the credit for what he achieved to his mother. He said his mother would give him two paisa (monetary unit in India) when he went to school, urging him to spend one paisa on himself and the other on a needy person. When he was no longer in school, she would ask him what he had done to help someone that day. 
“If I had not done anything, she would not give me lunch. We used to live close to a railway station, so I would quickly run over there and offer porter services for free to a needy passenger. Then go home and tell her.” 
Edhi’s mother keenly observed who the poor and needy were around their neighborhood. She would then make packets of food or money and give it to Edhi, emphasizing that the best charity was where the left hand did not know what the right hand gave. 
So, Edhi would secretly leave a package at the door knock on it and run and hide before the knock was answered. His mother also told him that it was his duty to give charity to the deserving, therefore he really had to research to make sure he was giving it to the right person.
Edhi said the lesson his mother taught him, combined with the super simple lifestyle they led, contributed to his thinking about the needy. He took up selling paan (betel leaves prepared and used as a stimulant), and other wares on the street, just to raise money so he could open a dispensary. Ultimately, he even fund raised on the streets. He gave people receipts which said if they were dissatisfied with what Edhi was doing with their donation, they could get that money back, anytime. 
It was not always easy to run even a charitable institution in Pakistan. The corrupt officials did not spare even Edhi. He said someone had donated a piece of land to Edhi. Karachi Development Authority (KDA) officials would not transfer the deed easily. They asked for a bribe. They said, what do you care Edhi, you get so much donation, it is not your money, give us a little bit. You can always get more. Edhi said he had to appeal to the president to get the work done. 
How did it feel to be the one of the most loved and trusted person in Pakistan? Edhi laughed it off saying, he had been rejected by seven women, before Bilqees agreed to marry him. They rejected him because he had nothing to offer them. He owned two pair of outfits, a thin mattress, a kerosene stove and a few utensils. 
Edhi died at age 88 on Friday July 8. Dramatic headlines only confirmed how loved he was. “Pakistan becomes an orphan — Edhi dead”, “Pakistan’s Mother Teresa dies.” One man, frail, poor, uneducated showed us that if there is a will, there will be a way.

Source: Arab News