NOSTALGIA UK

A visit by an OP* (1994)

When I decided to pursue my degree in Guildford, several friends, including Shaikh, told me to look for someone named Mawardi. His name seemed to be well-known, popular among my batchmates at the Morrison’s Academy in Crieff and those who had studied at RMC (Royal Military College in Sungai Besi). Mawardi had been at both of these prestigious schools.

I don’t recall ever reaching out to him before arriving in Guildford. My plan was to look for him only after I had settled in. But somehow, he found me first. I suspect it was Shaikh who told him I was coming down from Glasgow. In those days, with no mobile phones, getting in touch required a little more effort. After a few days at the uni, Mawardi managed to track me down. I can only guess that he got my floor’s landline extension and called me through that. Each floor had a communal phone back then, and students could contact one another using assigned extensions.

This part, I remember clearly: One evening, he came to visit me in my room at the Battersea Court. The element of surprise was part of the fun back then ... there was no Google, Facebook, Instagram and the likes. I had never met Mawardi and had only a vague idea of what he might look like. When I opened the door, there he was—a man slightly shorter than me, with dark skin, neatly cropped inky-black hair, and a well-trimmed beard without a moustache. The beard made him look more mature than he was. I was 18, and he couldn’t have been more than 20. When he smiled, his teeth were flawless—both in color and alignment.

I invited him in. I remember sitting in my study chair while he took the single-seater sofa provided in the room. That was when I got to know him.

There aren’t many people in life who are naturally careful with their words—who speak with deliberate thought, choosing respectful phrasing, maintaining a calm tone, and balancing speech with silence. He seemed to be one of them.