World Humanitarian Day - Carrying Their Legacy
- Author
- Aug 18
- 4 min read
World Humanitarian Day - reflection
Amidst ongoing humanitarian catastrophes around the world, I think it is all the more important to remember the origin of World Humanitarian Day. It is not just a day of hashtags and slogans. It started from tragedy - from the ongoing wars and conflicts where so many have devoted not only their energy and effort, but also their lives.
The first time I realised what it truly takes to be a humanitarian was on 19 August 2003, when the United Nations mission headquarters in Baghdad was bombed, killing 22 staff. This is the origin of the World Humanitarian Day. Among those killed was Jean-Sélim Kanaan.
When that happened, I was in neighbouring Jordan, working at the UN Refugee Agency, UNHCR, in my second year as a JPO. The first year was a rather “normal” country operation where I worked to help refugees from Iraq (persecuted by Saddam Hussein’s regime) resettle to a third country. In the second year, the situation in the country of origin for many refugees started to change drastically, as we know now how it unfolded.
By several months into 2003, we started to have “field missions” to border areas with Iraq, and to set up tents for those who might flee out of Iraq - then we thought it would be just a temporary camp. By August, though, the camp was operative, with special emergency mission staff members.
That is when I heard the news of the bombing in Baghdad. Immediately, email messages flew among colleagues who had worked in Kosovo earlier, including me. One of them wrote:
“No, this cannot be true — Jean-Sélim was among them…”
But he was.
A brief encounter in Kosovo
I had met him very briefly in Pristina, Kosovo, in the autumn-winter of 2001. At that time, I was working, as a UNV, in the UNOPS team led by my mentor in humanitarian aid, Basil Comnas. Towards the end of my time there, Jean-Sélim and another colleague visited our office. Both had close ties with Basil. I remember admiring - and perhaps even feeling a little envy for - the professional companionship they seemed to share, what they had done together earlier, and the sense of purpose that bound them.
Jean-Sélim looked young (later I found out he was the same age as me), but he was already respected in the humanitarian world. I had very few exchanges with him. I think I told him I would soon leave Kosovo to start as a JPO with UNHCR in the Middle East. I don’t recall exactly what he said in reply. But what stayed with me was his presence - the aura, the confidence, and perhaps a trace of sadness or bitterness in his face that I could not name. That brief encounter left me with an impression far beyond words. It gave me encouragement at the start of my own journey as a humanitarian aid worker.
When the news of his killing reached me in Amman, it felt unreal. For those colleagues who had truly worked alongside him, the grief was genuine, urgent. For me - who had only a fleeting encounter with him - the impact was nonetheless deep. The brutality of his death, terrorism directly targeting humanitarian work and its very symbol, amplified that impact. It left me with a profound realisation of what it really takes to work in the humanitarian world.
Remembering Kenji Goto
Since then, every year on this day of World Humanitarian Day, I of course remember Jean-Sélim. And I also remember Kenji Goto, whom I call a humanitarian journalist. He was killed in Syria in 2015. I crossed paths with him twice - once in Amman, once in Lusaka - both times at UNHCR offices.
Towards the end of 2002, the UNHCR Representative called me into his room, saying: “Join me to meet with the Japanese journalist who came to interview me,” and that was Kenji.
About a year and a half later, in Lusaka, I bumped into Kenji in the corridor of the UNHCR office. He was preparing a documentary film about the repatriation of Angolan refugees back to Angola, from Zambia.
The anguish and small painful mission I carried out in the hope of saving Kenji, in January 2015 - I will save writing about it for another time. He was brutally murdered in that month, despite the #IamKenji campaign.
Carrying their legacy forward
On 19 August this year, in the morning, I thought to contact Hitoshi Eiga to ask about his guesthouse in Hokkaido, Japan. In the middle of our message conversations, I suddenly remembered he is a Baghdad bombing survivor, so I mentioned it. He replied:
“I consider it my second birthday.”
Surrounded as we are today by humanitarian disasters, catastrophes, even total collapse that can make us feel useless, restless, and almost hopeless, I remember these encounters with true humanitarians. I celebrate their lives, and above all, carry with me the inspiration they left.
Their legacy reminds me: do what I can do, make the contribution I can make — however small it may be.
For me, it is now to do that through coaching, facilitating, and teaching, as an “ex” humanitarian aid worker who (I want to consider) has “evolved” and transitioned from the direct implementation of humanitarian aid in the field. So it is me.
If you are intrigued by this article and want to try my coaching or facilitation, please feel free to contact me: chizu[at]synergyfacilitation.com.
Comments