Waleed Abu Seifan / Southwest Asia and North Africa (SWANA): Program Development Manager at Digital Opportunity Trust (DOT) 

12 October 2026

When I think of Youssef, what comes to mind first is not a particular moment, nor a specific sentence he once said, but his presence.

There was something reassuring about him; a calmness that never imposed itself, a smile that seemed almost always present, and a warmth that made conversation easy from the very beginning. Some people make you feel comfortable in their company without needing much time, and Youssef was one of them. He carried a certain quietness with him, as though even the most complicated things could always be discussed calmly and without haste.

Today, I cannot recall one particular conversation with Youssef, nor can I quote something he said in a specific meeting. The details have blurred with time, but strangely, the feeling of the person has remained very clear. His smile remained. His calmness remained. So did that simple sense of reassurance he seemed to bring with him into a room.

Perhaps there is something important in that.

We do not always remember exactly what people said. Memory does not preserve every detail for us. But we often remember very clearly what their presence felt like, and how we felt when we spoke with them. Some people leave us with a story. Others leave us with a phrase. And some leave behind something that is harder to define: an impression, an atmosphere, a trace.

That is what has remained with me of Youssef.

I remember that talking with him was easy, and that he liked ideas. More importantly, he liked exchanging them. Conversation with him was not simply an opportunity to present what he thought. It was a genuine space for back and forth, for questions, for looking at an idea from another angle. He listened, discussed, added his thoughts, and allowed the conversation to find its own direction.

There was a considerable difference in age and experience between us, yet I do not remember ever feeling that difference standing between us in conversation. I never had the sense that one person was speaking from a position of authority while the other was expected simply to listen. A conversation with Youssef was, quite simply, a conversation between two people facing an idea worth discussing.

I value that quality greatly in people: the ability to carry years of experience, knowledge, and perspective without turning them into a barrier between oneself and others. To remain curious. To remain willing to listen. To remain capable of entering a real conversation without already knowing where it must end.

This is how I remember Youssef: calm, friendly, smiling, present without being loud. Someone whose company carried a certain sense of ease, and with whom a conversation could move from one idea to another without rush or performance.

Perhaps that is why it does not trouble me too much that I can no longer remember the details of our conversations.

I have forgotten the words, but I have not forgotten Youssef.

And perhaps, in the end, that is one of the most beautiful things a person can leave behind in the lives of others: the details may fade, but their presence remains.