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Penelope had an extraordinary war service. She parachuted into France to rescue agents who had got into trouble. She made many such missions, including two rescues of the famous agent, Odette. I asked her what it was like, living at Wisma.
"What you have here in the physical sense is women mostly. Women who've travelled the world. Many professions, ways of life, been through the whole gamut of life and Subud experience. Different types and characters. Some are noisy and some are quiet. Some think like teachers. I think like a social worker. All these people are trying to live together and carry out what Subud is. That's what makes it hard for the staff. It isn't easy to have to deal with all these different characters.
"The nitty-gritty of life goes on here. But whatever happens there is the latihan hall to go into. People have to live in dignity and die in dignity. We were the pioneers, building a tradition for Subud in England and the world. So you have to have your hardships. It wouldn't be possible to create a place like this at all if the worship of God wasn't here. Some people have found it too strong to stay. The latihan here is not like an ordinary group latihan because we've already thrown off a lot. So it's not your usual stomping, shouting thing. The passions are gradually dying. We notice the difference when other people come. What we get through here, we don't have to do up there."
Miranda was formerly a warden at Wisma Mulia.
"The first week I came here my walk changed. I never spoke about it for years but other people said they'd noticed it. The meaning of the walk was a gift for giving me courage and I had that walk the whole time I worked here, for five and a half years. I really did need courage because I knew nothing about this kind of work. There was no blueprint. I had to create the blueprint. There was a lot I had to learn. How to be in front of death? How to be in front of frightened people? How to create harmony in a kitchen where a lot of women were working? But it was all given. All I had to do was never to show fear and everything was all right.
"We've had eleven deaths here. Always I had to appear as if I'd been doing this all my life. But I always felt: 'It's all right, you'll be shown what to do and how to behave.' They were marvellous deaths and what happens is the place becomes very light and people have something special in their eyes. They're not afraid, they're very happy. We do latihan and people go in to see the body if they want to.
"And for the families who come here we have a special service. They come back here afterwards. Its usually like a party. When Linda died it was summer and we had a marquee and hundreds of people came. It was just like a big garden party, including one young man who'd been at Watcombe House where she'd worked and he was in jail for stealing, but the governor let him go to the funeral. He came with two wardens and they thoroughly enjoyed themselves too.
"Several people are buried at the local church. One lady, Rachel, had her ashes scattered on Ascot racecourse. She was a great race goer. Another wanted her ashes in the garden, so we solemnly did that here. For Lutfi, we scattered his ashes in the canal. He and I used to talk a lot about water. We both said we'd like to be buried at sea and that was the nearest he could get."
"We've made mistakes at Wisma, no doubt," Simon told me as we walked by the nearby canal one day: "But people have lived here and died here superbly. The local doctor has said to us straight out: 'By God, you people know how to die.' And there's no higher praise in Subud than to have a person outside Subud say that."
"People die so well here. They die peacefully and with their dignity. The way little Elizabeth died, or Machmoud, or Virginia. I was with Harold just before he died. They were superb. When David's mother died, she dressed in her best clothes and just died sitting in her chair. Elizabeth died talking about where she was and how lovely it was. Just before she died she said: 'I've just been to the mountain and back.' And then she smiled and she was gone. Virginia died in her sleep. Machmoud walked himself to death. He had cancer, but he died with dignity. The whole thing is there in those deaths. We go and latihan in the room after people die and the whole thing is there. When Virginia died Machmoud received how it was and she'd gone like a ball of light from under the water up into the sky."
The last time I went to Wisma Mulia I talked to Alison Starr.
Alison and her husband, Roland, were instrumental in bringing Bapak to the west. While living in Cyprus they saw an article by Husein Rofe in a spiritual periodical in which he mentioned his "guru" Bapak. They wrote to Bapak who sent Rofe.
"He came and we talked to him in our garden, " Alison told me. "Even though he was arrogant, I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit. A breeze rushed over me and I had to go upstairs and lie down."
She does beautiful surrealistic montages made up of pieces of paper cut from magazines. She also paints. She showed me a painting of sunflowers which also had two little blackbirds in it. "I always put in two birds. I don't know why, but they always come in. I don't mean to."
In her pockets she had many slips of paper on which she'd written memories and also quotations from Bapak. "You might like this one," she said giving me a slip of paper. It said: "But what is lucky for us and for Bapak, though we become forgetful as we get old, just like other people, yet there is something within us that does not forget, and that is our connection with life."
She also gave me a picture of Bapak. "Are you sure you don't want it? I asked her. "You've had it for a long time." No, I don't think I'll need it. I'll be going soon. I'm eighty something, five I think."
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