Andrè Zammit writes...

With the sudden passing away of Louis Naudi, the 25 graduates of the 1945-52 course of engineering and architecture are now down to eight.

Louis was one of the most popular members both inside and outside the university. His sense of humour was limitless and contagious.

As we approached the end of the course, he started working on an album on the lines of those of US universities.

I was one of his assistants and, though the work was never completed, I remember some of the verses. For one who was thinning on top, we selected ”a hair on the head is worth two on the brush”.

Even some of the professors were included. Louis had written a long poem, on the lines of Goldsmith’s Deserted Village, which we cannibalised for the purpose.

Louis was a cousin of my Zammit Maempel cousins, who organised weekend hikes. He was always there with his accordion and he could climb cliff sides like a monkey.

He was the route finder and the shepherd dog who collected the stragglers. He was the most popular of the party.

After graduation, I became very friendly with Dom Mintoff. When he was elected prime minister in 1955, he asked me to take over his very large practice.

I declined, as I had graduated in municipal engineering in London and had already declined my Uncle Alfred’s practice.

Dom asked me to recommend one of my colleagues, and I plumped for Louis. He found him very reliable and with Dom’s younger brother, Raymond, they formed a very strong partnership. Years later, we collaborated on the extension of the Marsa power station for several years.

At other times, Louis spent some time in the missions in America, where he built a school for the orphans and also helped with the teaching. Later, he also worked in the Middle East, I believe in Bahrain, and he kept a correspondence with me. On his return to Malta, he built his magnus opus, the church of St Theresa in Birkirkara, in collaboration with Giorgio Pacini.

Louis was very active in the Men of the Trees and similar associations. He built himself an isolated house at Madliena, actually at Ta’ Stronka, where he lived his last years as a recluse.

He kept his sense of humour to the end. When he met a colleague and they started counting the survivors, they had one too many. “But Sweru died,” the other chap said. “Oh, he never told me,” said Louis.

When I wrote my first book of reminiscences, which I called I remember, Louis was at the launch and he told me that I would remember so many other things in due course that I would have to write another book, which I would name I forgot. In fact, seven years later, I did so.