When You Lose it, There is Nothing Left

A life lesson from a lost set of keys

Yusif was a quiet man who worked for our office as a driver. He did his job competently, kept the vehicles spotless, and was always available when we needed him. He was also a refugee who fled the disputed Ngorno-Karabakh region that turned into a battlefield between Azerbaijan and Armenia when the Soviet Union collapsed. Yusif lost much because of the war: many of his family members, possessions and home, and his business. He fled with his family to Baku, the capital and largest city in Azerbaijan, where they lived in an abandoned classroom at an old elementary school.

During our annual month long trips home, I always left the keys to our house and car for safekeeping with him. He didn’t live far from us, so he checked our house regularly. I felt comfortable knowing he was watching out for us.

One year, on my return from home leave, I arrived before my family and was met at the airport at three in the morning by a smiling Yusif, who warmly shook my hand and welcomed me home. He insisted on helping me with my luggage and we walked out to where he parked the gleaming Landcruiser. We caught up on each other’s news during the 45 minute drive from the airport and soon we were at my front gate. Yusif reached into his pocket for the house keys, but couldn’t find them. I told him not to worry because I had another set, so I thanked him and went straight to bed for a few hours of sleep before going to the office.

At the office, I noticed that Yusif was not at his desk. Good, I thought, he took my advice to stay home and get some rest. I needed something delivered to a government office, but learned from my assistant that both office vehicles were gone. “Where’s the Landcruiser,” I asked her. “Yusif took it to the airport,” she replied. I assumed he went back to meet one of our staff who was flying in from the field.

About noon, Yusif knocked on my open office door. I motioned for him to sit down and asked who he met at the airport. He stared at his folded hands for a moment, then looked up. He took something from his pocket and handed it to me. It was the set of keys I left with him when I went on leave. I asked him where he found them.

“After I left you at your house, I went back to the airport to search for your keys until I found them.” I then learned he spent the rest of the night and most of the morning looking for my keys.

“But Yusif, those keys weren’t important. I have several sets and there was no need for you to lose sleep over them.”

He looked at me for a moment with those sad, tired eyes and said something I will never forget.

“Sir, you trusted me with your keys, and when trust is broken, there is nothing left.”

How does one respond to something like that? There simply are no words. I could only walk over to him and give him a big man hug.

Yusif, I want to be like you.