Sir Frank Peters

The entire village of Haydarabad, Akkas Market, were in a deep state of shock and grief this week when it’s most famous son, a true-to-life walking legend, exceeded his visa to earth and was recalled back to Heaven by Allah. He was 48 and died of a heart-attack.

Ali was one of those people comparable to many of the great interesting people you read about, admire and even envy, in biographies, or watch with jaw-dropping amazement in TV documentaries.

On second thoughts he was more than that.

Ali had created his own unique niche. Even the word ‘unique’ short-changes him somewhat on his true to life value and the positive attitude he generated throughout and encouraged others to do, especially in villages.

His early years were challenging, to say the least. Many young people – adults too – would have just thrown in the towel, raised their arms in the air, blamed Allah, and surrendered to whatever life may befall them, or just opted out entirely in despair, but he was not like other people.

At the age of 15 his world rotated 180-degrees. His father, disbanded him, his mother, his three tiny-tot sisters Shaheda, Moriam, Halima and his brother Ali Nawaz.

He went to bed one night comforted by thoughts of multi-coloured dreams only to wake up the following morning shouldering adult responsibilities.

Overnight Ali became the head of the house, a job he hadn’t even applied for, and the surrogate father to all the open starving mouths around him.

His first job was in a garments factory that paid the paltry sum of 7,000-taka a month, but it was the only means of family survival,

There was no social security in Bangladesh at the time (and still isn’t) and depending on outside family help wouldn’t yield much… they were just as poor, or void of compassion.

When Allah gave Ali brains and the ability to think of ways to better support his needy family, He was most generous.

Ali was every garment factory’s dream. Show him once and that was enough. He had a photographic memory and the intelligence to execute what the task required.

During his tiffin breaks he studied the work of colleagues who were earning bigger salaries, and eventually transferred to that section… and then another… and then another, increasing his take-home salary by leaps and bounds.

He was so successful at what work he did, the management labelled his work “The Ali Akbar Quality”. Much to his embarrassment, an announcement came over public address system, that said: “we are seeking Ali Akbar quality work from all.”

Umpteen times he turned down ‘promotions’, which would have given him an increase of salary, less stress, and less work to do. But there are no flies on Ali (if they were they were dead!).

He calculated by getting the promotion he would get an increase in salary, less hours of work, but less take-home pay and, remember, he had a mother, four siblings and a dog to feed.

He pushed his own personal glory and prestige to the side and concentrated on giving the life-saving support to his loving mother and siblings.

Remarkably, despite the financial odds stacked up against him, he went on to achieve remarkable success. His three sisters graduated from university. Ali, Shaheda, Halima and his stepdad – the celebrated and renowned Guru Suruj Dewan – were homeopathic doctors and served the community on a pay-if-you-can-afford-it basis. Moriam became a lawyer. His brother, Ali Nawaz, opted-out of further education and went into the grocery business.

The Ali Akbar Fun’n’Games and Cricket Tournaments were what spread his name far and wide. F’n’G was a weekly festival of fun, entertainment, and amusing family activities.

In 2004 it became the highlight of family entertainment in his village, where there wasn’t any. American, German, British, European ambassadors, and the MD & CEO of Biman Airlines were among many of the VIP guests who encouraged his efforts and participated as fun-loving judges

The Ali Akbar F’n’G was a concept nowhere else to be found in Bangladesh, if not in the entire world. It did not seek to discover the next great star of sport in Bangladesh it was purely for Fun, Family entertainment, Friendship and for all to enjoy.

Two to three hundred youths made the pilgrimage to the site weekly. Every game had free entry with substantial prizes and there was also a lottery that gave away up to a hundred prizes. Everyone who attended including babes in their mothers’ arms was given a ticket. Everyone went away with a prize, even if only a smile on their face and joy in their heart.

The indelible mark he left in the minds, hearts, and souls in the village didn’t stop there.

He also orchestrated an English Language Club. Every young participant who took part was required to learn two new English words daily. Each week they were tested. Those who got all right, were given candy as prizes. When they learned 100 English words they received 100-taka.

Although they were only required to learn two, many took a keen interest and learned many more. One local boy, Amer Hamja, came to him just a day before Ali totally unexpectedly died and thanked him profusely. He said it inspired him to become a teacher in English.

Rajowl Karim, now a success in Saudi Arabia, learned English like duck takes to water. Sorif Islam, a celebrity chef at the Meridian Hotel is another one who is grateful, but there are countless more.

Ali is survived by his mother Hamida, his wife Poppy, his two beautiful children Angelina and Frank, (whom I’m thrilled to say he named in my honour), and his three sisters – Shaheda, Moriam, Halima – and his brother Ali Nawaz.

The body of Ali Akbar is in the grave, but he will never die while the people who loved, admired, and appreciated his compassion and excellent qualities remember him.

I’ve known him for 25-years (he says 26!) and in all that time I’ve never known him to use foul language, to be dishonest, only to help, especially those worse off than himself. He was of exemplary character. He was a total gentleman. The entire village only had good to say about him.

I’m convinced if it weren’t for the heavy polluted air in Bangladesh, his halo may have been visible.

Thank you dear friend, Ali, for the wonderful human being you have been and bringing joy into thousands of lives. Be assured your tombstone inscription will read, as you so humbly desire:

“I am who I am… I’m nothing more; I’m nothing less… I am Ali Akbar.”

The writer is an humanitarian, an anti corporal punishment crusader, a former newspaper and magazine publisher, a human rights activist and mentor to his dearest friend Ali Akbar.