bout de papier, Vol. 10, No. 3 (1993) — Summer 1993 // Été 1993, p. 27
A friend of mine once told me that he measured a person’s worth by the shoes they wore: I started to keep my eye on people’s feet. In mid-1982, when Derrick Haro first reported for duty at Trade Commissioner Service headquarters, I was the training officer who welcomed him aboard; I looked him up and down, and checked below: Derrick wore great shoes!
It was the beginning of a choice friendship that ended last May on a bad road near the Caspian Sea. Derrick was in Tehran, his fourth posting (after having served the Canadian Foreign Service so exceedingly well in Riyadh, Buenos Aires and Houston), when fate showed its ironic hand. Travelling with good Australian friends and their family on a road that he had sworn he would never visit again because it was too dangerous, the inevitable happened.
I was very saddened to learn of this tragedy, not only as one is to learn of any death, sudden or expected, but because Derrick — who had experienced ups and downs — was about to move into his first real program managership in Tehran this summer and he was justifiably feeling good about himself. As Ambassador Paul Dingledine said at Derrick’s memorial service: “in his private life he enjoyed more than his share of personal triumphs. But he also suffered more than his share of personal traumas. Despite the turmoil that at times surrounded his life, his standard of service to Canada never faltered.”
During Derrick’s training year in 1982-83 he stood out because he had presence, self-confidence and a contagious sense of humour. When we bundled him off to Arabic language training at the end of his first year, I made myself a mental note to watch as his career developed because I liked his potential and his personality.
It was not until the spring of 1990, however, that our paths were to cross again. I was about to move into a job in Middle East affairs and was trying hard to find new people to become part of the team. When Derrick agreed to leave Houston to join the group in the G Branch, I was very relieved indeed.
There, Derrick took charge not only of the complex workings of Canada-Iran trade relations but also handled Syrian enquiries as well as the difficult counselling related to the then-busy Iraq-invasion-of-Kuwait environment.
As Louise Fréchette, who has been his Ambassador in Argentina, said earlier of his talent: “Derrick plunged into the byzantine world of his new work with enthusiasm and flair.” He was a quick study; he wrote like a dream: fast and clear and persuasive; he had initiative; he enjoyed his work and provided sound counsel; but, for me, it was his friendship and outrageous wit that were the cherry to top the cake.
As has been said by others, Derrick was: “kind, sincere, honest;” and his “infectious laugh lightened our days. His spirit and enthusiasm encouraged us all. He was a man of principles, and he had the courage of his convictions, even when the pursuit of those convictions caused him considerable pain. We will miss him very, very badly.”
During one particularly telling event, we were in the final throes of preparing for an important economic commission with a major Middle East trading partner; the centrepiece was to be an umbrella Memorandum of Understanding but we did not have one ready. Time was running against us (as these things seem to always do); I hauled Derrick away from his regular duties and set him to work on a file completely foreign to him; within three short days — in the midst of patching the fires that were part of his normal activities — Derrick produced a nifty document that went as far as we could go without giving away the candy store yet was couched in such language that it was irresistible to our normally difficult bilateral partner. In the process of obtaining approvals from the legal division (with respect), it became apparent that Derrick had even them in awe.
At a celebratory staff party soon after, Derrick ceremoniously jumped up on a table, took a pose, and with stentorian baritone rhymed off the complete poem by Edgar Allan Poe The Raven; we shivered under the spell, at every “tap, tap, tapping..”
This was pure, distilled, Derrick: that special blend of the burlesque with brilliance.
As Paul Dingledine said to those gathered to pay tribute to Derrick at the Consolate Church in Tehran: “(he) was a true son of the Foreign Service … For we here in this church, the Foreign Service mentality will prevail. Those strange and mysterious hands into which we all put our fate have once again made an unexpected decision and Derrick, in our minds, has now been reassigned. Though we grieve in our hearts… we wish Derrick well in his next, and his last, assignment.”
I join all those who have expressed their grief at Derrick’s loss to say to his family and close friends how highly we valued him and how very much he will be missed.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 10, No. 3 (1993) — Summer 1993 // Été 1993, p. 27. Read the rest of this issue →
