PERHAPS many great people are marked by one peculiarity: the need for their presence is felt only after they are gone. I was struck by such a peculiarity when I got news that Asmara Nababan had passed away in Guangzhou, China, at the age of 64.

I recalled the way he laughed, his pleasing baritone voice, his chained eyeglasses always hanging from the neck, and his habit of closing eyes while folding arms as he seriously listened to the speaker. T