FROM the first time that I saw him in 1962 near the University of Indonesia, Onghokham always wore a crumpled shirt and khaki trousers. He carried a bulging leather bag chock-full of books and stuff. He often rode his bromfiets, which was a worry as it rocked unsteadily and gave off a piercing shriek as though in pain.

Even then his hair was thin, and his glasses slipped down his nose—things that impressed me as a brand-new student. His manner