Nasreen, my heroine

My first memories of Nasreen are from class nine in Holy Cross School, when she had her unruly hair tied, under Sister Joanne's admonition, into two reluctant pigtails. My last memory of her was waving me goodbye from the verandah of my parent's house, where she had come to visit me, wearing a white cotton jamdani sari, her long hair flowing freely down her back, on January 8, 2006.

She died seven months short of hitting 48. Maybe because she was destined to leave us so soon, she achieved so much. Nasreen befriended those who had no one beside them. Acid burn victims, for whom we indulge in the luxury of sympathy, were treated by her as friends.

Who among us will be so big hearted as to share with total strangers our homes, our lives and our friendship? It was Nasreen, in whose house these women and girls found a welcome abode. Nasreen treated them the same way as she treated us: with sincere friendship, warm humour and an indulgent tolerance.

Nasreen was among the first people who championed the cause of acid burn victims, arranged for their reconstructive surgery in Italy and other parts of Europe, and organized advocacy campaigns against acid violence. Nasreen was vocal about women's reproductive health and rights. She was passionate and true in her thoughts and work. She was her own self, unpretentious and original.

Nasreen had time for everybody, her father and elder brother when they were alive, her mother, her siblings, her nephew, her many friends, her husband and, above all, in recent times, her daughter. Despite being the busiest among us, she was the one who would make time to visit us when we visited home. Despite her big achievements, she always remained our Nasreen.

I have never seen Nasreen lose her temper or be abusive or malicious about anyone. She had a ready chuckle which followed remarks made in her deep distinctive voice. In this day, when most of us are busy chasing personal betterment, Nasreen thought only of what she could give. She adopted her daughter and spent the last year and a half as a contented mother. She had dreams of setting up an orphanage in the name of her brother Moni, who had died several years ago.

Nasreen left us all after our SSC exams to study in the US. She received her degree in nutrition from Berkeley and could have easily opted for a life of material gain and comfort in any country of the world. But she chose to come back to Bangladesh and to follow her vocation as an activist and a development practitioner.

At BRAC she worked to promote the use of backyard vegetables as a source of vitamins to prevent blindness, at Helen Keller, she devoted her efforts for policy reform and programmes to benefit the visually impaired, and finally, at ActionAid she ran programs in disaster management, education, rehabilitation of sex workers, and campaigned for equitable benefits of LDCs in global trade. All the time, she championed women's rights.

In her professional and personal life, Nasreen broke barriers and set new standards of progressive thinking.

Nasreen used to insist on calling recipients of acid violence as survivors, not victims, to give them courage, to make us look at them not with pity, but with respect and a determination to resist this form of violence.

If she were with us today, as we are shocked and lost at her going away, I am sure she would chuckle in her characteristic way and tell us to focus on what she achieved, and what we shared together.

Among all our friends, she had to leave first, but only after making an impact and leaving a legacy. I know I speak for all our friends when I say that while we learn to deal with our terrible loss, we salute her memory and cherish that legacy; and feel proud and complete for having had her friendship.

Fahmeeda Wahab, one of Nasreen Huq's school friends, currently working as a Development Officer, Canadian International Development Agency, Gatineau, Quebec.

[The namaj-e-janaza of Nasreen Huq, country director of ActionAid Bangladesh, will be held today (Friday) after Juma prayers at Dhanmondi Eidgah Mosque.]