What would John do? - Memorial tribute to John K. Bingham, 25 July 2023
Dear Agnès, dear Bingham-boys, or bud as John would call you, dear family, friends,
I cannot believe a year has passed since John left us for what he would call ‘a better place’ – and I sometimes struggle to believe he really is on the other side, is he really? He is still so present in my thoughts – as I am sure he is for many of you. And I very often find myself asking the question: What would John do? When times get rough, or when people are in need, I ask myself: What would John do? And then I try to follow his path...
I had the privilege to work and walk alongside John for 7 years, after he hired me in 2011 to come and work with him at ICMC. What started there and then in Switzerland organizing this global gathering of NGOs and civil society for migrant rights, the so-called the Global Forum on Migration and Development, became a life-changing journey with him, and with so many others. It led us from Mauritius to Morocco, from the hallways of the United Nations to the minister’s offices in Bangladesh, and from new Global Compact for Migrants and for Refugees, to dealing with the very harsh reality for refugees and migrants on the ground – still going on today sadly.
We worked and worked, and worked, across time zones, late at night, early in the morning, perhaps sometimes a bit too much for John’s own good, for our own good – but I guess we all felt it was needed. And through it all John was our leader, my Boss, my mentor, my friend!
John had so much grace and generosity in him, so much humility and humour, so much fire and vision. The list of what I remember and have learned from him is endless. So just a few examples:
1. I remember him for how really cared for the people he worked with, for me – generous in his praise, a postcard, a present, always taking time to listen – and every year he would bring in a whole turkey to cook in our tiny office oven to celebrate Christmas with all colleagues. Except for the turkey (I am a vegetarian;) I am trying my best to do same for my own team and colleagues now.
2. I remember him for how he loved telling stories, for example of working on the streets of Long Island with undocumented migrants, or in the camps in Thailand, where refugees there taught him the expression “happy-sad” – happy-sad is exactly how I have been feeling lately.
3. I learned from John what it means to truly care for those in need and walk-the-talk. I admired him and his family for sheltering migrants in his own house, or I remember that one time we were followed by a crowd of Syrian refugee kids in the streets of Istanbul after he had given one of them all the cash he had left.
4. I also learnt from him that the number of puns that you can make with my name is apparently endless; Christmas will never be the same again as I am hearing him sing ‘Merry Wies Maas’
5. I miss John for how he lifted us, how he lifted me up, how he believed in us, in me. And John is always there with me, when I tell my own team now to keep their “Eyes on the Prize” as he would say, and to focus on what really matters for those we are serving.
6. I think of John whenever I eat with a spoon (no meal without a spoon according to John), or when I eat my food compartmentalized (first the veggies, then the potatoes…); but I also think of him when I see - really see- a homeless person, or when I am seeing the consequences of climate change; as John was the first person to ever, and always, ask me: aren’t you Dutch people worried your whole country will be under water soon? I am John, I am, worried what we are heading towards; sometimes I am happy for you, that you no longer have to bear witness. But most of the time I miss you by my side to tell me what to do.
7. And last on the list: I cherish how John brought in his family to work with us as volunteers, translators, musicians – he was so proud of all of them. But I also cherish how he brought me into his family – in Geneva, France, in New York and on Long Island - sharing time, meals, and laughter with Agnès and the boys, with John’s siblings, nieces and nephews. And of course with John’s mum – the first thing she ever said to me back in 2013 was: “you must be an angel” – to which I responded “no you are the angel here” – oh how I hope the two of you are reunited now somewhere, somehow.
So what would John do if he was here with us today? I am sure he would crack some jokes, put out some bad puns, he would pass around a bag of candies to all of you, he would take a moment to remember the countless voiceless people who cannot be here with us ….[silence]….… and he would surely read a poem of a local poet.
Here is a Dutch poem I “gave to John” when I left ICMC in 2017. Translated it goes like this:
I have put a stone in a river on this earth, and now I know I will never be forgotten
I provided proof of my existence, because, by moving that one stone
The water will never flow the same way again
John, with his “stones”, has diverted so many rivers in his life into the right direction, including mine, and I’ll be forever grateful for that. As John wrote to me in one of his last e-mails: ‘Here's to moving the stone in the river; here's to more.’
The last message I ever wrote to John – a few months before his passing - included the final words my mother spoke before she passed on the ‘a better place’ two years ago. My mom would always tell us to celebrate life and be thankful, with this phrase: “Children, my children, what a good life we have” – it’s a phrase often repeated with a smile in my house. And I hope, among all the grief we feel, Agnès, sons, siblings, friends, we will remember John with a smile on our face, and continue to celebrate life, his life, and continue the fight for migrants in need, for climate justice, for humanity, for our own children, and for their children, as John would want us to do.
We are missing you, Boss, more than you can imagine, but we are continuing to ask ourselves “what would John do?” – John you would keep the faith, he would do the right thing, and would just get on with it – and I will forever try to follow your path…
I really hope you are resting in peace Boss.